The night wind howled past his ears. Shane held Erza and circled once against the backdrop of the enormous moon, and the turbulence in his chest finally settled a little.
He looked down at Magnolia, delicate as a model beneath him, and quickly fixed his gaze on the street where he'd taken off.
He adjusted his wings, dove in a smooth arc, then bled off speed sharply as he neared the ground—landing lightly in front of Ultear.
The sudden stop kicked up a gust that blew Ultear's black bangs and made her squint instinctively.
"Why are you back?"
There was a hint of regret in her tone. She didn't understand why he hadn't simply carried Erza home and left it at that.
Shane gave her a strange look, then released his bridal carry and let Erza stand steadily on her own feet.
"You were still out here. I'm not just going to leave you alone on the street and head back with Erza."
"...Unnecessary."
Ultear went silent for a beat, then turned her head away and muttered the word under her breath.
Sometimes Shane's behavior felt extremely rational; other times he was as childish as a kid.
Watching her walk off without a word, Shane spread his hands in confusion, then turned to Erza—who had her eyes closed, like she was still savoring the high-altitude experience.
"Did she just treat me like a grade-schooler who waits for someone to go to the bathroom together after class?"
"Mm…" Erza tilted her head back and pondered seriously for a while. "So you have been to school, Shane."
The three of them returned to the house in the eastern forest.
The room they'd once set aside for Ultear was still there. Shane hadn't really paid attention to it, but whenever Erza did her regular cleaning, she would also tidy that room—so it was ready to stay in right away.
After getting their guest settled, Shane returned to his own room and collapsed backward onto the soft bed.
The excitement of breaking the "lock" still hadn't fully faded. With a thought, the water-blue short spears appeared in his hands again.
A cool, familiar weight settled into his palms. He lifted them and focused.
The outlines of the spears began to stretch and warp—then, in an instant, they transformed into two completely different weapons.
Longer. Sharper. Enormous in length. Their main color deepened into a dark, ink-black, with only the central sections inlaid with lines that looked like icy blue crystal.
In this new form, the Noble Phantasm carried both the piercing lethality of a long spear and the heavy presence of a broad sword.
"This has to be close to two meters," Shane muttered, feeling the solid, heavy balance in his grip.
Even just by appearance, it was obvious the power had jumped far beyond the short-spear form.
Along with the wings, this transformation was clearly a result of the lock being released.
Still, Shane wasn't satisfied. He tried to sense whether the second release added any new abilities.
Unfortunately, other than the form change and a boost to raw power, no additional effects manifested.
What he did feel, though, was that the "martial skill inheritance" bound tightly to these weapons had gained a new layer of proficiency.
He instinctively shaped his hands into motions of swings and blocks. Unfamiliar muscle memory poured into his mind.
And he realized this new experience wasn't about spear technique itself—
It was "how to fight as an alien species": how to coordinate the black wings for aerial maneuvers while wielding these long-handled killers—how to engage, dive, and thrust in midair.
"That's not bad." Shane nodded. The disappointment eased.
He'd never had wings, never flown under his own power. Without this kind of "experience," figuring out mature air-combat technique on his own would've taken an insane amount of time.
But that very infusion of air combat experience also made him greedier.
"Why couldn't Lancer have been Archer…"
He couldn't help imagining how perfect it would be if he were holding a bow instead of spears.
Hovering thousands of meters up, taking absolute air superiority with dragon-wing speed, then sniping with a bow from beyond visual range—
Just picturing it made his blood buzz.
With Lancer's mobility layered on top, he could come and go at will, fight exactly when and where he wanted.
His enemies wouldn't even touch the edge of his clothes—only flee in despair beneath his arrows.
"Ugh…" Shane sighed and dismissed the twin spears.
"If I could use two class cards at once, I wouldn't have this problem."
Lancer's mobility with Arash's crimson bow—
With that kind of dream combo, he suspected he could kite and outplay most mages in this world even without true-name release, staying practically unbeatable.
After checking everything he'd gained from this breakthrough, Shane gradually calmed down, letting his overexcited brain settle.
"First: Lancer's Second Release gave me dragon-like wings. That basically confirms it—he's not just 'connected' to dragons. He's an Heroic Spirit with dragon blood."
He reviewed the new clues.
"But Lancer's wings aren't the classic fleshy, scaled dragon wings from myth. They're closer to metal alloy—mechanical, weaponlike. Why?"
That question made him itch with frustration.
This release didn't just give him new answers—it raised even more questions.
"Is this like the Muramasa situation… some special 'individual' or 'facet'?"
He combed through every mythological system and heroic legend he knew. Almost nothing widely known matched what Lancer was showing.
"No." But then he shook his head and rejected that conclusion. "Even Muramasa wasn't completely out of nowhere. There was still a real anchor point—'swordsmith.'"
"So if I get more clues, I can guess Lancer's true name."
The difficulty didn't discourage him. It made him more competitive.
"Transcendent martial skill. Absolute speed. Mechanical dragon wings…"
He closed his eyes and rearranged the keywords again and again in his mind.
And with those thoughts—plus the first sense of familiarity with his new power—he finally fell into a deep sleep.
It felt like he'd barely closed his eyes before a crisp knock-knock-knock sounded at the door.
Shane opened his eyes blearily and glanced at the clock. The hand had only just passed seven.
They'd returned late, and he'd spent half the night researching the new ability. He hadn't slept more than a few hours.
"If it's not urgent, Erza shouldn't be waking me up this early…"
He dragged himself up and opened the door.
But instead of the crimson-haired girl he expected, it was Ultear—already dressed, expression cool and composed.
"Let's go. We're catching the seven o'clock train," she said flatly.
"Do we really need to rush like this?" Shane rubbed his head with his hand like a comb, messing up his already chaotic bed hair even more.
Ultear shot him an obvious eye-roll, her tone edged with mockery. "And whose fault do you think that is?"
"Fair." Shane got choked up—she wasn't wrong.
With no comeback, he leaned out and yelled toward the kitchen, "Erza—don't make the eggs runny today!"
When Shane woke up late, breakfast was usually handled by Erza and her absurdly precise body clock.
After shouting, he turned and slipped into the washroom.