At this moment, all of Shane's focus was sunk into that dim lake.
He had no awareness whatsoever of the anomaly outside—or of Erza barging in.
Because what he was seeing was far more than what Erza could see.
In his vision, the silent, filthy lake—dead for who knew how many ages, never once touched by human feet—had finally welcomed visitors.
They were a group of "people" dressed in luxurious silk.
In the center of the escort was a woman wearing a gentle smile.
She had golden hair that looked like flowing sunlight, and on her back were a pair of rainbow wings like a butterfly's—each soft beat scattering tiny motes of light.
Even from far away, she naturally evoked the image of the compassionate spirits and fairies of myth… or even a goddess.
"But… that's only how she looks."
Shane's consciousness floated in midair, watching coldly, and he gave his verdict in his head.
He'd always thought he wasn't very sensitive to other people's emotions—more the type to pretend he didn't notice unless someone said it out loud.
But maybe because, in this world, the people around him—
whether it was hot-blooded, simple Natsu, stubbornly earnest Erza, or smirking, cynical Ultear…
their smiles were all too real, too clean, too untainted.
After being surrounded by that for so long, Shane almost instinctively sensed something wrong beneath that woman's gentle smile.
It was too perfect—perfect like a mask that had been worn for years, long since hardened into place.
"A vision is the reflection of an Heroic Spirit's deepest memory… What does this fake-smiling woman have to do with Lancer?"
His mind spun at high speed.
In an instant, a Greek-myth level soap opera automatically assembled itself in his head—
like the classic story where Queen Anteia fails to seduce the hero Bellerophon, then turns around and falsely accuses him of violating her.
"Is Lancer a tragic Greek Heroic Spirit?"
Shane felt a surge of anticipation. He held his breath and watched, waiting to see what she would do.
The woman moved gracefully under her attendants' protection, every step elegant.
But when she reached the edge of the reeking lake—
it was as if something tugged at her. The footsteps that should have carried her away stopped abruptly.
She turned and looked back at her followers.
"Is there something in the lake?"
The attendants all shook their heads, covering their noses and mouths.
"My lady. There is only filth in there—something revolting."
"No."
The woman shook her head lightly.
She did not heed their warnings. After saying only a few simple instructions, she did something that left everyone stunned.
She lifted her skirt and stepped forward—
without hesitation, she walked straight into the stinking swamp-lake.
Splash…
Dirty water instantly swallowed the hem of her magnificent dress. Fetid sludge stained the skin that had been so pale and beautiful.
Yet she behaved as if she felt nothing at all.
That perfect, gentle smile never left her face.
And the direction she went—
was a place Shane knew all too well: the location of the meat-mass.
Watching her willingly let herself be defiled, even embrace the filth, Shane couldn't help widening his eyes.
"Did… I misjudge her?"
He began to doubt whether his earlier judgment had been too subjective.
Maybe this woman truly was a compassionate saint.
Shane locked his gaze onto the woman and the meat-mass. His instincts told him the core of this vision was about to unfold.
The woman dove down to the lakebed and reached the amorphous, writhing lump.
Before a "creature" that didn't even have a shape—something that could only squirm in the gloom—she showed not the slightest disgust or fear.
Instead, she stretched out both hands with a tenderness like she was holding a priceless treasure, and without the slightest hesitation, pulled the meat-mass into her arms.
"Hello, little fairy."
Shane heard her voice—beautiful as a stream flowing over smooth stones.
"Or should I say… good morning?"
She looked down at the thing in her arms and asked with a smile,
"My name is Aurora. And you—what's your name?"
A name?!
The moment he heard that word, Shane's breathing caught and his heart started pounding wildly.
At this moment, he couldn't care less whether her smile was sincere or fake.
To Shane, a woman asking that question was the most beautiful, most lovable angel on earth.
He stared at the meat-mass, tense all over.
If this was truly a reflection of the Heroic Spirit's deepest memory, then surely—
surely there would be an answer here.
And then he saw a miracle.
With that gentle greeting, Aurora held the meat-mass close and slowly rose toward the surface.
During that ascent, the formless, nauseating lump began to undergo an astonishing transformation.
Its surface smoothed. The chaotic flesh reorganized and stretched.
A pale arm emerged from the sludge.
Long legs unfolded in the water.
That lump of meat… gained a body.
When they broke through the surface and bathed in moonlight, the thing in Aurora's arms was no longer that revolting monster.
It was a girl with long silver hair and golden eyes.
Her features were flawless, her posture noble and refined—everything about her made one think only of words like beautiful and perfect.
"Is this… Lancer's true form?"
Shane watched in shock.
He understood instantly why Lancer's vision would preserve this moment.
For a monster that had once struggled in filth, the instant it became a human girl—intelligent, beautiful—
that moment was likely the meaning of her entire life, the "day of birth" worth engraving into eternity.
But that only made Shane more curious.
How had the woman—Aurora—done this?
Was it that she recognized the meat-mass had the potential to become human?
Or did she possess some kind of "enlightening" authority—something that could forcibly turn rotten flesh into a person?
Shane couldn't know.
This was only a tiny fragment of Lancer's long life, and no matter how curious he was, the vision wouldn't give him the full truth.
He could only suppress his hunger for answers and fix his gaze on the silver-haired girl who had just been "born."
"Your name… tell her your name!"
But—
the newly born girl didn't speak.
She simply lay in the woman's arms, those golden eyes unblinking as they stared at Aurora.
In that gaze was focus, yearning, and absolute, unguarded trust.
That look…
Shane had only seen it once before—when Erza looked at him.
"Wait…"
A chill ran through him, a faint sense of foreboding.
"Isn't this… eye contact lasting a little too long?"
"Don't just stare—say something!"
But his desperate prayer never reached her.
The scene froze.
In the next instant—like film snapping—
the dim lake receded like a tide, and the stench at his nose vanished with it.
In its place came familiar warmth and the clean scent of wood.
The room returned to reality.
"…!"
Shane's eyes snapped open. He stared at the familiar ceiling, numb and hollow.
"Just a little more! Just a little more time—if I had one more moment, I could've learned Lancer's True Name!"
It felt like reaching the last page of a mystery novel, seeing only the first stroke of the killer's name—then having the page ripped away.
"Shane…"
As he drowned in the grief of "losing the True Name," a hesitant voice—still carrying shock—spoke beside him.
Shane blinked and turned his head.
Erza stood by the bed, her eyes still wide with lingering disbelief.
She looked around at the black sludge-lake that had vanished in an instant, then back at Shane sitting there, shoulders slumped, and she seemed completely stunned.
"Just now… was that your magic, Shane?"
She hesitated, then couldn't stop herself from asking, as the last image resurfaced in her mind—the figure born from the filth, beautiful enough to steal breath.
"And… that silver-haired girl in the black lake—who was she?"
"I don't know," Shane answered reflexively, his voice full of resentment. "If I did know who she was, I wouldn't be stuck like this!"
Then, halfway through—
Shane's eyes went wide. He stared at Erza with pure disbelief.
"Wait… no. That's not right!"
"How do you know about that?!"
"You saw it?!"