The foul stench in his mind still hadn't fully faded. Shane unconsciously rubbed his fingertips together, feeling a faint chill.
"Meat… filth… dragon… and Lancer…" He rolled the unrelated words around on his tongue, trying to force a clue out of everything he knew.
But his thoughts were a tangled mess.
If it were only "dragon" and "filth," he could at least fish up a few matching images from the long river of myth.
For example, Xiangliu from The Classic of Mountains and Seas—a nine-headed serpent that devoured mountains; wherever it went, the land became a swamp. It constantly vomited poison, creating bitter, stinking marshes, and its stench could even kill birds and beasts that passed by.
Or the Hydra of Greek myth, slain by Heracles in his second labor—fond of swamps and corruption, its heads regrowing when cut, its blood lethally toxic and rank.
Those beings, more or less, fit the "filth + dragonlike" theme.
But the problem was: even if the traits lined up, Shane couldn't connect them to "Lancer."
Neither Xiangliu nor Hydra had anything to do with the image of a spear-wielding warrior.
"Wait!"
A spark hit him—he realized he might be wedging himself into a dead end.
"Am I being too biased?"
He thought back to his previous summons.
Whether it was Arash's "snowy mountain" or Senji Muramasa's "sea of fire," the first vision hadn't shown the hero's actual body at all.
It had shown their most famous legend, or the scene most deeply etched into their memory.
So—was it possible that the meat-lump wasn't the summoned Heroic Spirit itself, but instead a key "marker" or "associated scene" from that Spirit's life?
That thought struck like lightning and immediately ran away with him.
If that logic held, then everything suddenly made sense.
This summon's target was a Heroic Spirit strongly tied to Dragons, manifesting as a Lancer.
And somewhere in their legend or life, they must have had a profound intersection with a formless, rotting, "meat-lump" kind of existence.
The more Shane thought, the more excited he became—the more convinced he was this direction was right.
His range of possible true names widened dramatically.
"Spear… and dragons…"
The first name that surfaced was Saint George, the Christian saint who rode a white horse and pierced a dragon with his lance.
Of course, it was only a casual guess—Shane wasn't certain at all.
But regardless, after that brain-storm, he'd finally found a direction to work from.
Now all he needed was to wait for the second and third visions, narrowing the possibilities step by step.
With that, the tension in his mind finally eased a little.
Even if he still hadn't solved the true name, at least he had a coherent line of reasoning.
He exhaled softly, fingers rubbing the new card in his hand, ready to study the Lancer's abilities—
When suddenly—
Hmmm—
The Eclipse Gate, which still hadn't fully shut, lit up again.
A strong, steady white glow instantly drew everyone's attention.
It wasn't blinding, but it carried the unmistakable "warp" of time and space.
Shane, Layla, and King Toma all turned toward the door.
Under their gaze, the light slowly condensed. A blurred human outline formed within the halo, becoming clearer and clearer.
The figure stumbled as she stepped through the gate's veil, her footing unsteady.
A woman—golden hair, and a face—
Shane's pupils tightened slightly. His eyes flicked between Layla and the newcomer.
Too similar. Way too similar.
Aside from messier hair, different clothing, and the exhausted look of someone weathered by hardship…
Her features matched Layla's by at least ninety percent, like long-lost sisters.
The golden-haired woman looked dazed. She blinked hard and scanned the area in a panic.
When her gaze swept past Shane and Toma and finally landed on Layla, she froze—then a stronger emotion surged over her face.
"What year is it? What year is it now?" she demanded breathlessly.
Layla stared at the woman's near-identical face, disbelief written all over her eyes.
She drew a breath and answered as steadily as she could: "X777."
"X777… four hundred years…"
The woman murmured the words, as if confirming something vital. Her tense shoulders loosened a fraction.
"It worked… I really made it four hundred years into the future…"
But the relief lasted only a moment.
As if she remembered something urgent, panic replaced it instantly.
"The children—! There should be five children with me! Where are they?!"
Five?
Shane's mind jumped immediately to the five streaks of light that had shot out earlier.
He pointed up at the hole the gate had blasted through the ceiling. "I don't know if those were the 'children' you mean, but when the door cracked open, five lights of different colors shot out, smashed through the ceiling, and flew away."
The woman followed his finger, stared at the hole, and stood there in a stunned daze.
Layla watched her, her hand unconsciously pressing against the family book she carried, thoughts spinning.
"That's… a lot to take in," Shane muttered under his breath, wisely choosing not to interrupt what was clearly a Heartfilia reunion.
Given their resemblance—and the Eclipse Gate's time-bending nature—his mind was already racing with implications.
King Toma, too, recovered from the shock. As a king, he quickly displayed tact and composure.
"It seems you all need time to sort this out. This isn't the place to talk. Why not come to the palace and rest for a while? I imagine you have much to discuss."
Shane went along readily—he also wanted somewhere quiet to examine his new Lancer card.
He exchanged a glance with Toma, and the two turned and headed up the stone stairs, leaving the space behind for the two women.
"Shane-san, I truly didn't expect someone so young to possess magic of such astonishing sophistication!"
On the way back up, King Toma's enthusiasm suddenly poured out in full.
"That burning wilderness filled with endless swords! That strange space, as if it existed apart from the world itself! No wonder you're a Fairy Tail wizard!"
His warmth surprised Shane.
After all, he'd dragged the king into a Reality Marble without permission—an obvious affront.
Shane had expected at least some displeasure.
But Toma hadn't mentioned it even once. Instead, he focused entirely on the wonder and power of the magic itself.
The nonstop praise, the gleam of hungry curiosity in his eyes—Shane quickly concluded one thing:
The king of Fiore was a magic nerd who couldn't walk away from new, powerful spells.
~~~
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