[Altair Brando]
Resting my hands on my knees, I flexed them from side to side.
Looking around, I could only think that the simulation room was incredibly convenient... for the simple reason that we were in a perfect replica of the cave where we had faced King Arthur.
Is it too soon to feel nostalgic about the good times?
Even with that thought, perhaps a different simulation would have been better, but Olga had insisted it should be this one.
You didn't need to be Sherlock Holmes to realize she was trying to confront the trauma of nearly dying and being betrayed head-on.
Without a doubt, this place didn't bring good memories for her.
To confirm my thought, Olga stared at the rocky walls with a trembling gaze that matched her trembling hands.
Looking at her, I let out a sigh. From personal experience, it's not at all healthy to force someone to relive a trauma, but no matter what I said, I certainly wouldn't make her change her mind.
In the few days I'd been by her side, it was noticeable how stubborn and proud a person she was.
[Maybe that's why you two get along.]
Huh!? I'm not a stubborn person.
[If you say so.]
This little rebel is getting a bit insolent... she must be entering her teenage phase.
With a smile rising on my lips, I shifted my gaze to the Master and Servant duo.
Unlike the director, the red-haired mage seemed to be in a more relaxed state than I thought. If Olga is an arrogant and stubborn girl, Ritsuka adapts quickly to almost any situation. She also had a clear desire to become stronger, not just physically but mentally as well, which was quite admirable.
Meanwhile, our dear Mash was in her Servant outfit, which was quite revealing, making it hard not to look at her.
Trying to dispel that not-so-pure thought, I finished stretching by cracking some bones while my lips parted. "Alright, are you ready, mes dames?"
"You like putting on a little show, don't you?" Ritsuka raised her finger pointing at me, giving me a provocative smile.
"Every man likes to show off a bit for the girls." I shrugged. "But can you start?"
"Start?" Olga asked with a hesitant tone in her voice. Even Mash seemed quite uncertain about beginning our combat training.
"Yes, the first move is yours." Giving the girls a slight smile, I raised my hands stretching my back.
Even though we were at a short distance from each other, for Mash, who was a close-combat fighter and shield user, there wasn't much advantage in initiating an attack. For her, it was more advantageous to let the opponent make the first move and then counterattack.
On the other hand, my dear Olga didn't have much combat experience, especially with her new body.
I suppose I can give her a gentle nudge at this point. "Olga, you make the first move."
"Me!?" She raised her finger pointing at herself.
"Al-kun, I don't think that's how it works." Ritsuka scratched her cheek, seeming uncertain about how the director would attack me.
"Of course it is, Petite Rousse..." I crossed my arms over my chest, staring at her. "Instead of using magic, she's going to rely on her skill, or rather, on my skill that any clone of mine could use."
"But I have no idea how to use this skill, Fornari." Olga lowered her eyes, looking at her hand, seeming like a confused little girl who had been thrown into an amusement park.
[Even though she's theoretically a clone of yours, Al probably can't use your abilities as if they were something natural... especially because her body is now a servant's. It's as if she were suddenly forced to drive a Brando without having a driver's license.]
Hmm... I see. Maybe I should guide her a bit more. I raised my hand massaging my chin, thinking of a simple way to explain. I guess the best result is to start with the basic tutorial.
"Ok... let's start with the Robe of the Monkey King." All my clones could use a weaker version of the mantle, so I imagined she could too.
"You talk as if it were easy, Brando." Olga raised her arm crossing it over her ample breasts.
"Hmm..." Seeing that my dear director would need a bit more guidance, I approached her.
"Brando!?" Olga exclaimed, her cheeks gaining a red coloration.
"Ma chérie..." I circled her body staying behind her, making the redness in her cheeks increase even more.
She became quite cute when embarrassed.
With that thought passing through my mind, I moved my palm pressing her belly, making her face look like a kettle, but she didn't push me away nor did she seem bothered by my touch.
"Just imagine that a second skin is growing on you." My hand moved up over her smooth belly, pressing it to her torso. "A resistant and warm second skin that's part of you..." My hand passed over the lower curve of her breasts, sliding over the soft fullness until reaching her white neck. I pressed it gently with my fingers, feeling her hot, moist sigh escape through her parted lips. "Imagine this second skin covering your body." The tip of my finger brushed her red lips, wet and parted, tracing the contour delicately. At the same time, my face approached her neck, my hot breath falling on her skin, making her body shudder and arch against mine.
As if her body obeyed my commands, the Robe of the Monkey King began to materialize, wrapping around her delicately. Each thread of the fabric seemed to fuse with her skin, adapting perfectly to her forms. Originally this armor was masculine attire, but when it enveloped her, it enhanced her silhouette even more, adhering to her curves with precision. The tight fabric highlighted her thin waist, generous hips, and the majestic rise of her breasts, accentuating each curve with an almost supernatural elegance.
Moving away from her, Olga, with a red face, opened her eyes looking at the armor on her body.
Curiously, Ritsuka also had redness on her face.
"This is incredible... but it doesn't have his scent..." She murmured, brushing the tip of her fingers over her body.
Moving away, I tilted my head to the side not really understanding the last part. Back to my original position, I turned to Olga, who was lightly pressing her belly.
"Great! Now slap your ear."
"..."
"..."
"..."
My words seemed to create a small whirlwind of silence, which Olga herself broke.
"What!?" Her golden eyes staring at me couldn't help but blink.
"Mon cher, just trust me."
She hesitated for a few seconds, but eventually tilted her head and gently slapped her ear with her palm. The moment she opened her mouth to complain, a small piece of stone slid from her ear and fell into her hand.
She widened her eyes, staring at the small stone in her palm. But as if the very small piece of stone told her its name, our dear director opened her pink lips.
"Ruyi Jingu Bang!" Instantly, the copy of Ruyi Jingu began to grow, transforming into a two-meter staff.
"Wow!" Ritsuka exclaimed, open-mouthed.
"It's just like Altair-senpai's." Mash also looked at the stone staff.
Although it really was similar to mine, it would still only be a copy, which made it an inferior version to mine. Even so, it was still more valuable than some Noble Phantasms of certain Servants.
"Now, swing it in my direction and say: 'Grow.' Then, immediately after: 'Expand.' In that order." I raised my finger like a teacher, feeling it was a shame I didn't have glasses at that moment.
Still a bit confused, Olga followed my instructions. She positioned her feet firmly on the ground, holding the staff with both hands. Then, with a fluid movement, she swung the Ruyi Jingu in a wide arc in front of her before thrusting it toward me.
"Grow!"
At her command, the staff shot in my direction like a gray missile. The violent recoil made Olga slide several meters backward, her feet leaving tracks on the ground, but she maintained control, quickly adjusting her posture. Her arms trembled slightly with the effort of directing the weapon that was growing exponentially.
When the Ruyi Jingu was halfway between us, Olga twisted her left wrist in a precise turn and shouted:
"Expand!"
The staff exploded in width instantly, transforming into a massive gray barrier that completely blocked my vision.
Hmm... she got the hang of it quickly.
While I was thinking this, the staff was exploding at high speed in my direction, almost as if it were a gray projectile.
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