Ever since three Servants had descended into the Shadow Realm, the castle in the demonic realm had been in ceaseless turmoil.
Especially, the tension between the women competing for Kay's affections remained taut from the breakfast table all the way to bedtime.
Late at night.
The sky over the demonic realm was ashen by day or night, and the air within the castle lay cold and still.
In Scáthach's enormous bedroom, Kay lay fast asleep.
After a day spent preparing the feast and getting drained by all the power plays, he'd passed out the instant his head hit the pillow.
"Heh heh heh... Seizing his momentary lapse in attention, this Tamamo shall occupy the bed first."
At the end of the dark corridor, a fox tail swayed.
Using Kiyohime's silent stalking technique, Tamamo approached Scáthach's tightly shut bedroom door without so much as a footstep.
With a flick of her finger, she cast a talisman into the air, and the tightly locked door slid open without a sound.
"Oh my, our Master... Even his gentle, slumbering form is just so cute."
On the bed, Kay lay spread-eagle, the covers kicked aside. Scáthach was nowhere in sight.
Seeing this as a heaven-sent opportunity, Tamamo licked her lips and quietly climbed onto the bed.
"Master~ the night is so cold. Let me use my soft, warm tails as a blanket to cover you..."
Just as Tamamo loosened her kimono sash and began to snuggle into Kay's embrace...
In the darkness, a red flash flared, and the icy tip of a spear stopped just a hair's breadth from Tamamo's throat.
The murderous intent radiating from the spear's tip made Tamamo's golden fox ears stand on end.
"…A beast that slinks into a lord's empty bedchamber without invitation merits having its neck cut and hung at the castle gate, according to Ulster's customs."
From the deep shadows in the corner, Scáthach emerged, her red eyes gleaming.
Clad in pajamas, she nonetheless gripped Gáe Bolg in her hand, the spear poised to draw blood at any instant. She had only stepped away to patrol the boundaries of the demonic realm.
"Oh my, you nearly scared me. I was just about to offer my body to warm Master through the night since he might shiver in the cold. But with the lawful wife absent from the bed, isn't it the concubine's duty to occupy the vacated space?"
Even with the spear's tip at her throat, Tamamo didn't flinch, responding with a sly, provocative smile—the trademark taunt of a fox.
"Your excuse is pitifully thin. Your pitch-black intentions are practically leaking out from your tail."
"Black, you say? Do not slander my pure, pink-hued dark longing for my Master. And..."
Tamamo's eyes slit foxishly, and blue talismans fanned out between her fingers like throwing stars.
"You're the one who dropped your guard and left your husband's side. Yobai is a common method of winning love in the East."
In the end, Scáthach and Tamamo erupted into a literal cat fight, settling their dispute not with sheer force but with a duel of rune magic.
Even amid that deafening racket and tremors, Kay merely furrowed his brow and pulled the covers over his head—yet not once did he wake. It was a rock-solid sleep technique honed in the chaos of his eight sisters.
Ultimately, that night's yobai uproar ended as anticlimactically as it began, when Jeanne d'Arc Alter, driven mad by the noise, burst out waving her banner and berating the racket.
The next morning.
At the outdoor training grounds.
The three Servants sat side by side in the shade atop the castle wall, observing Kay's training.
"Do you want to die?! You're too slow to react! How many times must I tell you to loosen your strength before it sinks in?!"
Wham!Crack!
Scáthach's ruthless kick slammed into Kay's midsection.
Kay spat blood and was sent sprawling dozens of meters away, clad only in his bare body with no armor. The sound of his ribs crying out in agony echoed all the way up to the wall.
"…Is that woman seriously insane? Was she trying to kill him?"
Jeanne d'Arc Alter muttered with a pale expression. Though she'd never formally learned how to fight, in her era they never resorted to such savage training methods.
"Even if he can recover, that's just too extreme... And emotional scars, I can't heal those either."
Tamamo bristled her tails and paced anxiously, her feet tapping.
Medusa folded her arms and silently stared at the dust swirling around the training field.
At the edge of her gaze, Kay, blood-soaked and scraping at the dirt, forced himself to stagger upright.
"…Heroes can be found in the most unexpected places."
The light in Kay's eyes had not extinguished.
He readjusted his stance. Lacking sufficient mana, he had to drive his body to its limits; lacking innate talent, his only recourse was to repeat the motions until they became instinct.
"You idiot. If you tense up, you lose speed. Again!"
Scáthach lunged again.
But this time, Kay's reaction was a bit different.
Instead of forcing out his fist, the moment the tip of Scáthach's spear came at him, he subtly twisted his torso to slip past it.
The spear's blade grazed Kay's cheek, shearing strands of hair, yet avoided inflicting a mortal wound.
"Hmm. That wasn't bad just now."
Scáthach offered a curt compliment as she withdrew her spear.
"…Haah, damn. If you're going to praise me, do it before you strike."
Kay panted heavily, then collapsed, sprawling out face-up on the ground.
As the three Servants observed that harrowing display from the wall above, an odd ripple stirred within each of them.
Jeanne d'Arc Alter bit her lip.
That ordinary, magic-less man had not faltered even in the face of overwhelming force. Not driven by hatred or vengeance, but solely by the desire to protect someone, he struggled on with every ounce of will.
'…Hmph. What a fool. To go that far when he has no talent.'
Jeanne d'Arc Alter's cheeks warmed with color.
Rough and unpolished though it was, Kay's sweat-drenched back rising again and again looked strangely... admirable.
Tamamo clasped her hands together, tears of admiration welling in her eyes.
Even Medusa stared at Kay through her blindfold with an unusual heat in her gaze.
"…Although his aptitude falls short compared to Cadmus or Perseus, that resolve and tenacity are on par with those called heroes. Indeed, with something clear to protect, he might even prove stronger."
Medusa saw in Kay a reflection of her past self—standing alone against monsters to protect her sisters.
There was a familiar aura about him: a man so kind-hearted he took devotion and sacrifice for granted. She silently prayed he would not walk the same path she had.
After training finished, Scáthach departed to hunt down the high-grade evil spirit reported near the castle, while Tamamo returned with a towel to tend to Kay.
"Master, no matter how high Britain's standards may be, must you push yourself this far?"
"Huh?"
Sitting beside him, Tamamo asked why he was pushing himself so hard.
"Scáthach may be a monster, but that doesn't make you weak, Master. From what I see, you are a warrior on par with the Genji of my era. I'm certain you're considered a formidable force in Britain as well. Isn't this enough?"
"…That may be true. But listen, Tamamo. If I become satisfied and stop here, I can't get any stronger. In Britain, power is justice and power is the law. Before arbitrary might, I can't protect the people I hold dear."
He wanted to protect those who meant the most to him.
He wanted to be someone who could support his siblings and serve as a pillar for the children.
Without strength, without anything, one cannot safeguard the ones they cherish.
That was the law of the world, and he'd learned it at far too young an age.
It was a tale from long ago.
It concerned Kay's mother, whom the Artorias had never even met.
She was the mother of Kay, whom the Artorias had never met.
Sepin was an ordinary woman by any measure, a devoted wife and loving mother.
While Ector was away on campaign, she was ambushed and slain by Vortigern's forces as they waged war against Uther.
The young Kay, thankfully hidden by her in the cellar, survived—but he was forced to face his mother's lifeless body.
After that incident, Ector retired and chose to live quietly with his only surviving son, dedicating himself to his family.
Perhaps it was his reputation as the Undying Black Knight, but that was the legacy of his service and loyalty to King Uther.
The young Kay could do nothing more than quake in the cellar, hearing the sounds of his mother's final moments.
Powerlessness.
As a mere child with no power, Kay remained helpless.
He was no special-born hero like Heracles, who protected his siblings by slaying the serpents sent by Hera.
He had been nothing more than an ordinary boy.
And that was a fate all too common in Britain.
"Until now, I thought I'd done my best with what I had. Yet, compared to my siblings, it was still pitifully little strength. Coming here and enduring this grueling training, I can feel myself growing stronger. If I grow, at least I won't be a burden to my siblings. I can be a pillar for the children. That's why I won't stop."
"…I see. Truly a foolish man. Even if that effort… even if that hope goes unrewarded?"
"I've never sought a reward. No, for me, the reward is seeing those children live happily. Isn't that success enough?"
"You might be betrayed by those you trust, you know?"
At Jeanne d'Arc Alter's comment from beside him, Kay let out a short laugh.
"Betrayal, huh... Even if I am betrayed, I won't regret it. I just need to become someone I can be satisfied with, someone I can acknowledge in myself. Men are meant to live by their convictions and die by them, even without reward, aren't they? A head of household, that's his role. You don't raise children as a provider just to get paid back, do you?"
"Honestly, why are knights always such idiots?"
"I'm not a knight, I'm a warrior."
"Same difference!"
"Heh heh. Thanks for your concern."
They wondered.
Would this man's efforts, his devotion ever be reciprocated?
Or would he meet the same fate as they had?
Even if he never receives his due, they vowed they would not let him reach the same tragic end as they did.