Jayr POV - Nasuverse, Moon, SE.RA.PH, Tsukumihara Academy - 2030 AD
Morning comes slower than expected.
After the chaos of the Elimination Battle, the weight of Helena's loss, and the uncomfortable truths we uncovered, I thought sleep would be a battlefield of its own.
Instead, it passes like a wave retreating from shore, leaving quiet in its wake.
Warmth reaches me before consciousness fully does. Nero is curled against my side, bare skin soft against mine, her breathing steady and unguarded.
Golden hair spills across the pillow in gentle curls, the strands catching what little light filters into the room.
For a moment, I let myself stay still and just breathe, 'After Helena… after everything… this stillness feels almost foreign.'
Nero shifts. She stretches like a satisfied cat, a low hum escaping her, and when her eyes open, she gives me that slow smile she never shows anyone else, "Good morning, my Praetor."
Her voice is warm and smooth, completely free of yesterday's tension.
I rub a hand over my eyes and smile back at her before saying, "Morning. Did you sleep well?"
She answers with her usual confidence, "Well enough to destroy another opponent." Then her expression softens just a little as she adds, "And you?"
I sit up, rolling my shoulders while reassuring her, "I'm still getting a little bit used to the recent upgrades that have been granted by my Blessing, but I'm functional."
Her eyes narrow in that way that says she knows I am understating the situation, but she doesn't push, though. Instead, she slips out of bed, every movement fluid and deliberate.
The blanket falls away and reveals her entire, bare, regal form as she walks toward the bathroom, then she calls, already turning on the shower, "Come. Let us prepare for the day. This is the beginning of the Third Selection, is it not?"
I slide out of bed, stretching my limbs and follow her in while replying, "Yeah. If the pattern holds, the announcement for the next match will come in the afternoon."
Nero steps into the steam with a thoughtful expression and says, "Which means, we have the entire morning free."
I step under the water beside her and reply, "Exactly, and we need to find Aletha before anything else."
At this point, Nero's lips curl with a faint grimace as she rightly guesses, "To warn her about our new 'friend', Kang Yaling." The name drips with disdain.
I nod and say, while letting the water run down my face, "If a Champion like Helena fell to her power, then an unaware Aletha may be at risk too. The sooner she knows, the better our chances of avoiding another nasty surprise."
We finish showering at a relaxed pace, neither of us says much, but the silence is comfortable.
After drying off, we dress and move to the small kitchenette. The breakfast is simple and completely unnecessary, but it helps centre me.
While I cook, Nero leans against the counter and hums a light melody I don't recognise.
She looks almost carefree, as if last night's weight hasn't settled on her shoulders at all. Maybe that's her strength, maybe it's one more mask she wears with ease.
Either way, it helps me, it steadies me.
Once we finish eating, Nero dissolves into her Spirit Form with the usual swirl of golden sparks that flash in the air as she fades from sight, her presence still lingering faintly like a warm echo.
I adjust my shirt, open the door, and say out loud, "Okay. Let's find Aletha."
We step into the hallway, and immediately, something feels wrong. The air carries an odd tension, like static before lightning, even the usual hum of the campus feels muted, and this has nothing to do with the usual sombre atmosphere that lingers after an Elimination Battle.
At the same time, Nero's voice whispers into my mind through our bond, [Praetor… Something is amiss here.]
Her tone is steady, but the concern behind it is sharp. I let my senses widen, stretching my awareness through the hallway, catching every reflection, every heartbeat, every shift of air.
At the same time, I answer Nero through our bond, [I feel it too.]
We start moving, slow and alert, my steps are measured while Nero's presence wraps around me from her Spirit Form, faint but warm, a silent flame at my back.
The deeper we go, the more obvious it becomes that something swept through this place with clear hostile intention.
We climb the stairs to the second floor, and I watch the railings, the corners, the far end of the landing.
Nothing moves, but the tension refuses to fade. Instead, it grows thicker, like we're walking into the nucleus of whatever happened here.
Then I see the first one.
A body.
I stop so fast my foot scuffs the ground while Nero reforms beside me instantly.
Her figure is still mostly hidden, a gold outline to anyone else, but to me, she's clear.
Her eyes widen with controlled shock as she mutters, "Jayr…"
The next moment we see them, more bodies.
Bodies.
A cold jolt runs through me, at least half a dozen of them. Masters lie scattered across the corridor, some slumped against walls, some collapsed mid-step, sprawled on the floor with expressions frozen in shock.
I kneel beside the closest body while saying, "I know." One look is enough for me. No hesitation. No wasted motion. No second strikes.
Then I look at the other bodies around us, none of them shows signs of a struggle, no defensive wounds, no magical backlash, no scorch marks or shattered familiars, just a series of clean, abrupt endings.
Every one of them was killed with perfect precision.
Nero lowers herself into a crouch beside me, her green irises sharp with analysis as she notices the same, "These were not panicked kills. This was not a frantic fight. This was…" She hesitates, searching for a word her pride will allow before she concludes, "... Clinical."
I tilt one of the nearby bodies gently, checking the angle of the neck while thinking, 'The trachea is crushed inward with pinpoint precision. Whoever did this knew exactly how much force to apply and where. No wasted movement. No hesitation.'
While thinking that, I say, "A fingertip strike. Direct. Compressed. This one never even inhaled after the hit."
I move to the next Master close to the previous one, 'Bruising blooms just above the carotid. A perfect strike. Enough impact to rupture the artery but not enough to break the skin.' Making me mutter, "Carotid burst. Instant collapse."
Another lies a few steps away, 'The sternum has a small, clean indentation, just large enough for a knuckle. I can tell from the pattern of compression what happened. One pulse of force to the heart. Instant arrhythmia. Death in under a second.'
And another one, 'A clear palm imprint to the solar plexus. From the colour of the bruise, it is clear that it was used just enough force to make the diaphragm collapse. Brutal but efficient.'
I stand and take in the hallway again, watching every single corpse around me, where all the signs present make me reach one single conclusion, "All the signs point to Bajiquan. Refined to the killing level. Extreme close-quarters, force condensed at the moment of contact. Not just practised, mastered."
Hearing that, Nero's voice hardens in my mind as she wonders, [Is this the work of a Servant? An Assassin class Servant?]
In response to that, I quickly add, [You are right. This is the work of an Assassin class Servant and not just any Assassin class. This is Li Shuwen's signature.]
And then I notice something else, a faint distortion lingering in the air above the bodies. Mana patterns. A spatial fold primed to activate. It's a trap.
I walk a few steps forward and stop exactly where the magical residue feels strongest while still keeping the facade of the Master who just found the bodies and is checking on them.
After analysing the nearby wall for a few moments, I walk away from it, checking yet another corpse while informing Nero, [There is a teleportation Codecast. One that triggers when someone enters its immediate radius.]
Nero's golden figure stands beside me and leans close while asking, [Another's trick?]
I say keep my focus on the nearby corpse and reply, [Yes. I recognise this. This is Julius B. Harwey's setup. It's exactly like what he used in the original timeline of Fate/Extra.]
Hearing that, Nero tenses, ready to fight, but I quickly stop her and say by speaking through our link, [Don't. Stay hidden. Let the trap take me. We are dealing with a regular Master Servant pair. There is no need to reveal yourself.]
Nero hesitates, only for a heartbeat, then complies, and the golden figure standing beside me fades away as she fully returns to her Spirit Form while I keep playing the part of the unaware, concerned Master.
The next moment, the hairs on the back of my neck rise as I'm overtaken by an eerie chill, a sign that the hidden Servant is about to act.
Then, the invisible Servants grab me and fling me backwards, right in the direction of the teleportation Codecast on the wall and just as I'm going to crash into the wall, the teleportation Codecast activates.
Instead of colliding with a wall, I suddenly find myself in unfamiliar surroundings; the teleportation Codecast did its job.
I calmly take a look around and immediately get a sense of deja vu before I realise, 'Ah... This is the Coliseum. The details are different, but the framework is the same. Still the same underwater arena as a basic setting.'
As I'm looking around, I notice the figure of a sinister man with piercing eyes who's wearing clothing that looks aflame.
He is a tall, muscular man with bright red, spiky hair styled in a low ponytail.
He has a fair complexion, sharp facial features, and a serious, slightly stern expression.
The man is dressed in a striking red and black Chinese-style outfit with white trim, and the red part of the outfit is adorned with golden dragon patterns.
The outfit includes a high-necked mandarin collar and is fastened with traditional Chinese knot buttons.
The sleeves of the outfit are long and black, leading to his hands, which are clasped together in front of him.
He wears loose-fitting black pants and simple black shoes with thin red soles.
Naturally, he is the Assassin class Servant of Julius B. Harwey, Li Shuwen.
(Image Here - Li Shuwen)
He is a legendary martial artist from China from Yanshan County, Hebei - Cangzhou (1864~1934), who, despite being born in modern times, carved many legends.
Having been born in the deathbed of the Qing Dynasty, Li Shuwen distinguished himself soon after beginning to take lessons in Bajiquan, ascending to the point of being extolled as the strongest in the history of Chinese martial arts.
A prominent martial artist in the history of Chinese martial arts, renowned as "a second strike is needless, so long as there is one, it will suffice". Otherwise, he is known as Demon Fist Master of the Bajiquan.
Rather than learning 1,000 techniques, he personified a literal one-hit kill by thoroughly polishing up a single technique.
The progenitor of the Li clan's branch of Bājí, Li Shuwen, excelled in the use of the spear to the point of being nicknamed "Divine Spear Li".
The "Six Harmony Great Spear" that he used was a basic weapon of the Bājí-branch, and, if one is to accept this extreme logic, it can be said that the unarmed techniques of the Bājí-branch, the Bājíquán, are nothing but preliminary steps to learn the techniques of this great spear.
It is said he has brought too much hatred due to killing too many opponents, and finally had his life ended by being served poison by the victim's relatives.
Li Shuwen keeps his cold gaze focused on me as he says, "Human life is fragile. Even if you are a Magus, you look like a meat puppet to me. I've grown tired of strangling cormorants. For once, I wanted to feel what I was doing..."
Then he takes his stance and asks, "Want to feel something, young man?"
Li Shuwen shifts his footing with a quiet scrape, and the air around him seems to thicken. One breath ago, he was at rest, a stone in still water; now something changes.
His right foot slides forward, his weight sinks, his spine stays straight, but his body tilts just enough to feel like a coiled spring while his shoulders loosen.
His elbows angle down, almost brushing his ribs, his hands rise in front of him, not high, not low, shaping the space between us like he is already closing it.
There is nothing dramatic about it, no flare, no wasted motion, yet it feels as if a door has opened and I am standing inside its shadow.
His stance is narrow but rooted; everything about him funnels inward.
Power drawn close, held tight, ready to burst, I easily recognise the structure of Bajiquan.
Short range. Sudden force. The kind of posture you take when you plan to finish a fight before the other person has a chance to think.
His gaze settles on me, steady and direct, not hostile, not friendly, just focused.
I feel my own pulse rise because that stance means one thing. The next move will come fast.
The moment seems to stretch thin, like the air is waiting for something to snap.
Li Shuwen stands in front of me with the iconic Bajiquan's fighting stance; he does not blink, he does not sway, he carries the kind of stillness that only comes from a life sharpened to a point.
I shift my weight just a hair, and that is all it takes.
He moves.
His heel brushes the floor, and his body shoots forward. There is no warning, no telegraph, only a blur of fabric and muscle.
I feel the space in front of my face bend as his fist cuts through it, but I'm ready. I drop my chin and roll my shoulders aside, making his knuckles skim past my cheek while heat trails behind them.
Even if surprised by my reaction, Bajiquan hits like a battering ram at close range, and he is already inside my guard.
Without any hesitation, his elbow rockets toward my ribs, but I calmly react as I slam my forearm down to catch it; the impact is powerful enough that it generates a strong shockwave that would have at the very least rattled through the spine of a regular opponent, but for me, this is nothing.
Most Masters would be dead before they even registered the movement, but I've trained all my life for this, lived for this.
The next instant, I react on instinct, my hand snaps up to hook behind his neck.
I try to draw him off balance with a pull and step, the Pankration ingrained in me by Grandfather is built for this kind of chaos, where strike turns to grapple without thought.
I angle my hip for a throw, and for a moment I feel the shift, his weight begins to climb onto my centerline; But then, he slips free.
He rotates around my grip with a smooth turn of his wrist and shoulder.
My fingers slide off him as if he is coated in oil, before he retaliates and snaps a short punch toward my sternum.
I catch it with both palms and redirect upward while his feet scrape a semicircle as he pivots, already closing distance again.
I shoot a kick toward his thigh to break his stance, and he checks it with his shin and steps in even closer.
His forehead almost touches mine. I can smell the faint metal scent of his sweat.
His hand curls while a grin forms on my face as I prepare to take advantage of his next strike.
Just as we are about to make our moves, a blaring sound breaks the moment, a signal that the system has noticed us and is ready to act.
Both of us freeze, the sharp sound cuts across the arena and everything stills.
Li Shuwen lowers his fist by a few inches, his eyes stay on mine, steady and unreadable, before he says, "You understand the fist. And more than that… You understand killing intent."
I relax my stance and calmly smile while replying, "I trained in Pankration. The old version."
Li Shuwen's lips curl into the faintest approving smile. "Ooh, then you and I speak the same language. I'm glad you came this way, young man. What a shame we've run out of time. The system's limits stopped us before we could even finish the warm-up. Hopefully, we'll fight again someday. I'm looking forward to it."
Then, as white light envelopes me, Li Shuwen gives me one final nod of acknowledgement before the world disappears.
The next moment, I'm standing where I was originally, but it isn't over yet, as in front of me now stands a young man who looks just as surprised as I expected; he is Julius B. Harwey.
Julius B. Harwey is a 25-year-old man with short shoulder length, black hair and blank, cold black eyes.
He wears a large black coat lined with fluffy black fur; he also wears blue gloves, light blue zipper pants, and blue shoes.
(Image Here - Julius B. Harwey)
He studies me with cold precision, assessing me in silence. He had clearly expected the trap to kill, or at least injure, anyone caught in it.
Instead, I'm standing here without a scratch, making him wonder, "How did someone like you manage to evade that? I thought you were a small fry. Maybe you have a superior Servant or hidden abilities... Either way, you managed to survive the Demon's Fist."
Then, Julius's aura changes; it sharpens, honing into a point as if it were a wicked blade, one directed straight at me as he concludes, "It's ideal to dispatch you here."
Just as Julius is about to step forward and make his move, I make mine and, moving much faster than he can react, I appear behind him and, with a confident smirk on my face, I tell him, "The half-brother of Leonardo B. Harwey, Julius Belkisk Harwey, right? Are you sure that you want to make such a careless move against someone who survived the Demon's Fist Li Shuwen?"
Julius doesn't respond, unable to react to the sudden change, while I add, "Now, it is better if you focus on protecting your half-brother and stop this shady business. After all, there are many 'monsters' that can easily wipe out both Leo and Gwain among the Masters taking part in this Holy Grail War."
In response, he simply snorts out loud before he starts to walk toward the end of the hallway while muttering, "... I'll remember you."
Once he's gone, Nero briefly materialises beside me again and says with a smug grin on her face, "Well, that was a rather rude morning greeting." Before quickly fading back to her Spirit Form.
In response, I exhale slowly and say, "Yeah. Come on. Let's find Aletha."
The rest of the campus is quiet, too quiet, but we continue searching, and while doing that, I tell Nero everything I know about the man who attempted to attack us, Julius B. Harwey, also explaining why I didn't retaliate as harshly as I could.
Julius was born as the eldest son of the Harwey family. He was an illegitimate child, but in truth, Julius is a Designer Baby, a term that refers to a child created with artificially modified DNA.
As a child of the Harwey family, Julius had high expectations placed on him, but it became clear while he was still in the womb that he was powerless and defective.
The Harwey family threw him away as garbage for the reason "this child will bear us no profit", but Julius managed to survive thanks to his strange willpower, and in time, he crawled up the ladder to his current position.
At a young age, he was experimented on by removing his kidney without being in an anaesthetic state to see his pain response, and the results showed him to be a failure with no ability.
The Harweys concluded that he lacked the qualities of leading the family and was scorned for his existence.
When Julius turned six years old, Leonardo B. Harwey was born.
Julius was fond of Leo's biological mother, Alicia, who showed him love and acted like a mother to Julius.
The short time Julius spent with her was the only time he was able to be like a normal child; however, it ended all too soon.
Disdained as a defective product, he was given a harsh first test of his skill.
When Leo was three, orders were given to Julius to assassinate Alicia to help secure Leo's inheritance. Julius was shocked as this was too sudden, and there were no signs of warning.
It was a moonless night, and he walked along the familiar path he often took to Alicia's room. Beautiful long golden hair. A calm and peaceful sleeping face. A small clicking noise resonated in the room as he started to pull the handgun's trigger. Alicia's gentle voice haunts his head.
Alicia's final request to Julius was to protect Leo, and Julius accepted this role and supported Leo because of her words.
Julius lost the only person who had ever tried to cheer him up, and at the same time, he finally proved his worth to the Harwey family, but people started to despise him like an Evil Spirit whose hands were forever tainted.
In order to be "profitable" for the family, his youth was essentially discarded, and his body was forced by various medicines to rapidly develop into an adult body.
After completing his first job, his existence was finally deemed to have some value, and he was placed out of sight and out of mind in the Harwey assassin unit.
This is why he has so much combat experience despite being as young as he is.
With time, he was able to gain enough sway over the other members of the unit through sheer willpower rather than relying on talent or his household's authority.
As Leo was selected to be the next head of the Harwey family, Julius became an Assassin in the Harwey Foundation's counter-terrorism unit, being its captain and a skilled assassin who has worked in the shadows to eliminate many enemy forces.
Basically, the reason why I let Julius go with a simple warning is that I felt some pity for his atrocious upbringing and wanted to give him a second chance.
While telling Nero all that, we finally find Aletha near the outer walkway, leaning against the rail and letting the artificial breeze brush through her hair.
She greets me with her usual bright smile, though she looks a bit tired.
We talk a bit about the Elimination Battles, the difficulty, the strain of watching other people being erased, then I take a breath and tell her everything, about Helena, about Kang Yaling, about the distortion of desire, about the danger.
Aletha's smile fades while her expression sharpens, serious and determined. She thanks me, genuinely, and promises she'll be careful.
As we finish talking, our portable terminals beep at once, and when we look at them, a familiar message appears:
[The next combatants will be announced on the second-floor bulletin board.]
I exchange a look with Aletha, and she says, "Well, let's go see who we're up against this time."
Like that, we head upstairs together.
A small group of remaining Masters have already gathered around the bulletin board, whispering, tense, afraid.
I push through the crowd and read the newly posted match-ups, and in a moment, my eyes stop on my name.
Masters: Jayr Pucci vs Julius B. Harwey
Battleground: The Third Chimeric Lunar Sea
And just like that, my next opponent is decided.