[3rd Person]
Inside a ruined church, where shattered stained glass allowed irregular beams of dusty light to enter, Olga sat at an oval table beside a boy with long, wild black hair.
The disheveled strands fell over his shoulders like curtains of dark silk, framing a face marked by a distant expression.
Cute...
He was charming. It should be a crime for a boy to be this adorable.
The worst part was that Olga couldn't maintain eye contact with him for very long before her face flushed intensely, while at the same time her stomach fluttered with a swarm of restless wings.
Each time their eyes met, even for just a second, she felt her body burn, as if every cell was vibrating at a wrong and addictive frequency.
But a little earlier, before the meeting, Olga had caught the boy who stirred her heart lying in another girl's lap. Strangely, for a brief second, something dark and irrational sprouted within her chest — a feeling she couldn't understand, though she certainly didn't like this disturbing sensation.
It was as if something alive and venomous had coiled around her ribs, squeezing, suffocating. In that moment, his smile, so relaxed, so intimate with another person, felt like a blade being slowly dragged across her skin.
Hmph! If he wanted a lap, why not mine?
This thought crossed her mind as her eyes landed on her own thighs, wrapped in orange tights. In her head, her thighs were in no way inferior to those of that maniacal servant who liked to play mother.
The white-haired girl herself had already noticed that, from time to time, Altair's gaze occasionally drifted to her thighs covered by tights. In her mind, the only conclusion was that hers were clearly superior to the other girl's.
Her gaze returned to the black-haired boy who had his head resting against the back of his hand, while the 48th Master of Humanity raised her other hand, lightly poking his cheek provocatively.
The proximity between them only worsened Olga's expression.
But what really bothered Olga was seeing Minamoto-no-Raikou practically glued to his side. With her vision dominated by this single image, those same disturbing feelings began to grow again inside her.
Her fingers clenched involuntarily, nails pressing against her palms until they left crescent-shaped marks, while her teeth dug into her lips with force...
Olga shook her head from side to side, trying to dispel this feeling that, honestly, didn't seem like the healthiest thing in the world.
In her mind, she attributed these impulses to her deplorable physical and emotional state.
She had been fighting exhaustion since the beginning of the meeting, after having spent hours in extreme danger. The dark circles under her eyes, poorly disguised by makeup, were a clear sign of exhaustion.
It didn't help that years of poor nutrition caused by anorexia still affected her body, even though she had "overcome" this disorder.
Stress, lack of rest, and inadequate nutrition had reduced her to a shadow of her former self.
Deep in her heart, Olga hated to admit it, but if she were alone, she would have given up long ago.
As a leader, she believed she didn't have the right to stop, regardless of her personal problems. Still, this same leader was physically and emotionally leaning on a teenager only a few years younger than herself.
An adult relying on a teenager... was, in her own words, "the height of shame," but this was her reality.
Even though Lev Lainur Flauros had always been her emotional anchor, in just a few hours, Altair's help seemed more genuine and honest than Lev's.
Why?
Why does the help and recognition of a boy seem more sincere than those of a man who has always been by my side?
These questions echoed through Olga's mind.
Lev Lainur Flauros had always helped her when everyone didn't believe in her, but she couldn't compare the years of support from this man with Altair's few hours. It was as if this young monkey king's help was something more sincere.
To avoid sinking into this emotional swamp, she shook her head from side to side again, trying not to lose herself in these thoughts.
But the movement caught Cú Chulainn's attention, who looked at her as if she were going crazy.
Altair, with his chin resting on the back of his hand, opened his eyelids, revealing golden irises that shone like ancient coins under the dim light of the environment, crossed by blood-red pupils that fell upon the woman, who wasn't far from having a mental breakdown.
"Hey, are you okay?" he asked worriedly, with crimson irises and concentric rings glowing faintly, staring at her.
For a moment, she lost herself in his gentle gaze.
The butterflies in her stomach twisted in erratic spasms, beating against the walls of her abdomen like moths frantically trapped against a light bulb as she stared at him, unable to look away, even when her own cheeks began to burn.
"Olga?" He tilted his head to the side, a bit confused.
Hearing his voice, she snapped out of her trance.
"What...? Yes, I'm fine." She looked away, slightly confused, twirling a strand of hair around her fingertip.
The strand slid between her fingers, coiling and uncoiling, as if that small ritual could organize her confused thoughts.
"Great." Altair gave a slight sleepy smile.
"Hey! Hey! Kids!" Cú Chulainn, the Son of Light, casually propped his feet on the table. "Right, let's get back to the point. From your words, my class was altered by a goddess?" he asked, with a slight gleam passing through his eyes, enjoying a bit more than he should the teenage romance atmosphere forming between the two.
"Exactly!" Altair nodded his head.
"I see..." Cú Chulainn moved his hand, pretending to stroke an imaginary beard. "So this Norse deity, who should be a man, gave you the 18 primordial runes and runic magic through a secret agreement between you two."
"Once again you're right."
"That's absurd, man."
Cú Chulainn raised his hand, massaging his head. For a moment, he almost considered making this supreme Norse goddess his mortal enemy. How dare she take his beautiful and wonderful spear from him?
One should never mess with a man's spear without his permission. Where was the consent?
Not even the most beautiful of women had the right to touch his spear.
Letting out a sigh, Cú Chulainn removed his hand from his face, turning his eyes to the boy before him. "I don't mind teaching you, but I'm not exactly the best teacher for this sort of thing."
Unlike Altair, Cú Chulainn had received his 18 primordial runes through his beautiful-thighed teacher, while the slightly androgynous boy had received them directly from Odin himself.
"No problem, I just need some guidance." Altair raised his thumb, showing a smile.
"Ok! Ok! I don't know if we'll have time for this in a singularity, but let's see what we can do." Crossing his legs one over the other, he massaged his neck. "Now, getting back to the main subject: our plan is simple, we're going to split up."
Hearing this, the redhead who had been poking her companion's cheek with her fingertip frowned.
"Split up? Why?" asked Ritsuka, looking directly at Cú Chulainn. "Have you guys never seen Scooby Doo? That never works out."
The boy with red pupils, still leaning on the back of his hand, opened his lips. "Because we're being targeted by a long-range Servant."
Ritsuka shook her head at these uncultured people, who simply ignored her reference. Being the smartest person in this church was truly a curse she had to bear.
Wait a second...
Ritsuka raised her hand, placing it over her lip.
Who is Al-kun talking about?
"Who?" Ritsuka tilted her head to the side, blinking her eyes, confused.
"Forgot about that Archer's attack? He's definitely still after us." Altair moved his hand, massaging his neck.
"The Archer is still chasing us?" Ritsuka brought a finger to her lips, finding it a shame she could no longer poke the companion sitting next to her.
"For sure. That guy is a tough nut to crack." Cú Chulainn furrowed his brow, showing a sarcastic smile.
There were few people in this world he truly hated, and that damn archer was one of them.
"You two are like cat and dog." Altair rested the back of his hand against his cheek.
"Seriously? A dog joke? With me?" Cú Chulainn shook his head, pretending to be offended.
"They're always fun, Hound of Ulster."
Altair's voice cut through the air with a provocative tone, while his dark eyes fixed on the Celtic warrior before him.
Hearing the boy's words, Cú Chulainn rolled his eyes, beginning to regret this title.
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