In the southeastern Lostbelt, the Storm Border emerged from the Imaginary Numbers space precisely within the frozen forest region. The colossal warship instantly devastated a vast expanse of the icy woods before coming to a halt on a nearby snowy plain.
"Russia, Scandinavian Lostbelt... why must they all be frozen wastelands? Is this how every Lostbelt appears?" Shiomi sighed helplessly as he traversed the frozen forest.
Like the Russian Lostbelt, the Scandinavian Lostbelt's temperatures plunged to levels unbearable for ordinary humans, rivaling those of the Antarctic Chaldea. Thus, after the warship concluded its submerged transit and came to rest, the first expedition team to disembark consisted of Shiomi and his three companions.
"It is indeed unusually cold. It seems, like the Russian Lostbelt, it diverged from pan-human history for some reason, with this frozen landscape being its most defining feature." Scáthach caught a drifting snowflake, crushing it swiftly between her fingertips. "If the Russian Lostbelt's divergence point was the meteorite that struck Earth in 1570 AD, bringing harsh conditions..."
"What about the Scandinavian one?" Morgan removed her hat, shook off the snowflakes, and replaced it.
"Ragnarök," Artoria took up the thread. "When I think of the Scandinavian realm, that's the first thing that comes to mind."
"If Ragnarök unfolded differently, leading to an alternate outcome, that makes sense too."
Scáthach paused, her gaze settling on Shiomi and Morgan. He reached out to adjust the cloak draped over Morgan's shoulders. Before departing, Morgan had somehow found a white robe that fit her perfectly.
"I meant to ask earlier— is this a new garment?" Scáthach inquired.
"No, it's an old one," Shiomi interjected, explaining for Morgan. "I thought these garments had been lost long ago, but it turns out they were preserved all this time."
Morgan explained with a faint smile, "They were stored at our former home in Orkney, later entrusted to Habetrot for safekeeping. Considering the Lostbelt might be prepared this time, we didn't plan to storm the headquarters. On a whim, I... Would my husband think I'm deliberately acting childish?" By the end of her words, her cheeks flushed slightly.
"How could that be? The clothes have always fit perfectly. Wear them whenever you want to—what's the big deal?" Shiomi affirmed, seeking his master and Artoria's opinions.
"They do fit perfectly. In fact, this look suits a witch's identity better," Artoria nodded in agreement.
"Or rather, it suits Caster's identity. This outfit probably won't work for wielding weapons in close combat," Scáthach added her approval.
Morgan, however, furrowed her brow slightly, one hand pressed to her chest. "I just can't figure out why this part feels much tighter than before. This dress used to be quite loose..."
"It means certain parts are growing, too. That's the advantage of being a Paradise Fairy." Shiomi smiled brightly, then slowly turned his gaze toward the other end of the forest, his expression becoming serious as he said,
"We've been walking for about an hour now, yet I sense no signs of human habitation. It's practically like a primeval forest."
"It's not entirely uninhabited. Didn't we just battle a giant?" Scáthach encouraged Shiomi cheerfully. "That must have been a Jötunn from Jötunheim."
"They were drawn by the warship's landing. After witnessing our power, they retreated naturally," Artoria remarked with keen interest. "But if even giants exist here, perhaps this Lostbelt holds all Nine Realms intact."
"Let's keep moving for now. If we don't find any signs of human settlements within another hour, we'll turn back." Shiomi spread his hands helplessly. "We didn't bring any camping gear. We can't just improvise and camp out in this freezing wilderness, can we?"
"It's no problem. This cold can't touch us. If my beloved disciple really can't stand the chill, we can just hold you close to keep warm." Scáthach affectionately wrapped her arms around Shiomi's back, offering what seemed like encouraging words. Shiomi couldn't help but scratch his head. "That would just end up consuming extra heat, wouldn't it?"
"The King of Knights' cloak is quite thick and soft. It might make a decent cushion," Morgan suggested, tugging at Artoria's cloak.
"Wait, isn't that a bit... inappropriate?" Artoria hesitated as she considered whether to contribute her cloak, not even thinking that they should be opposed to camping in the Lostbelt at that moment.
Cheerful voices echoed through the woods, shaking snow from the treetops and startling birds into flight. A bone-chilling winter wind swept through the woods, ruffling everyone's hair. The four, who had been lighthearted and carefree just moments ago, suddenly shifted their expressions, becoming tense and on edge.
"Just when we said there'd be no one around, people show up," Shiomi remarked calmly.
"We were warned when leaving Storm Border," Morgan replied calmly, her demeanor mirroring that of her time in Britannia. "This Lostbelt is shrouded in a vast Barrier. Every move we make may be under the watchful eye of the Lostbelt's ruler."
"A convincing statement." Scáthach's smile sharpened, though not directed at her. "They're coming."
As Artoria spoke, she stepped forward abruptly. The 'Invisible Air' coiling around her Holy Sword instantly unleashed, sweeping a blizzard through the forest. Then, the relentless snowstorm was cleaved in two. A dark-skinned Servant clad in silver armor stood within, a face radiant with exhilaration.
"Excellent! Taking down the Russian Lostbelt's guy calls for just this kind of finish!" Caenis's gaze fell upon Shiomi, then swept over the others. Upon seeing Scáthach, she froze.
"You... Could you be Scáthach of the Land of Shadows?"
"Oh? To think another Heroic Spirit recognizes me at a glance. I don't recall where we've met?" Scáthach chuckled. "Indeed, I am Scáthach."
"Hahahaha! This is truly a masterpiece! One of Chaldea's Servants is actually that Scáthach!" After a few laughs, Caenis abruptly stopped, her gaze turning cold as she fixed it on them. "But none of that matters. Since you're Chaldea's lot, there's no need for pleasantries."
"Such an intriguing statement. Care to elaborate?" Scáthach pointed her crimson Gáe Bolg at Caenis. "Unknown Heroic Spirit."
"No, Master. This one's Spiritual Rank..." Shiomi added calmly.
"I know that well enough." Scáthach smiled knowingly.
Caenis bared her teeth, their cold, white gleam unnerving.
"Exactly! I am no Heroic Spirit—I am a Divine Spirit!"
Before the words had fully left her mouth, Caenis lunged forward.
"If you are a Divine Spirit, then this is only fitting!"
Accompanied by a voice sharp as a blade, Scáthach met the attack head-on. The crimson spear collided with the lance and round shield, sparks of intense heat flying.
...
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