In truth, even now Shane still couldn't figure out why Ultear's attitude toward him had changed so drastically all of a sudden.
"Just because I helped her fulfill her lifelong wish? Helped her see the mother she'd been dreaming of?"
He grumbled bitterly to himself, nowhere for the grievance in his chest to go.
To him, that reason felt far too flimsy—nowhere near enough to make her go this far…
He lowered his head, eyes falling on the girl in his arms now that she'd quieted down, and couldn't help complaining inwardly:
"Are you seriously that easy to win over? Your whole persona just collapsed!"
"Hm?"
As if she'd sensed the resentful, rather rude gaze above her, Ultear tipped her chin up. Those deep black eyes swept over him calmly.
"Uh… I'm just worried… you might be cold?"
Shane's breath caught. Survival instinct kicked in, and he forced a smile that looked more like a grimace, grabbing the first excuse he could.
As if afraid she wouldn't believe him, he even supported her back and pulled her deeper into his arms—using action to "prove his innocence."
The moment the words left his mouth, he realized how stupid they were.
An ice mage feeling cold… yeah, right.
"…I'm fine."
Thankfully, Ultear couldn't be bothered to call out his flimsy excuse. She just tossed out two flat words, then shifted to a more comfortable position—settling in like she was entitled to being pampered.
Seeing that smug, high-and-mighty victor's look on her face filled Shane with a deep, humiliating sense of defeat.
"Damn it…"
He swore silently:
"I can't stay stuck in this passive, getting-pushed-around position forever!"
"At most… at most I'll pretend to bow my head for a week… no, a month!"
"Give me a month to mentally prepare, and then I'll confess everything to Erza and take back control!"
"And then…"
He stared at the flawless side profile of the girl in his arms, grinding his teeth:
"I'll show you what happens when I get my hands on you."
"Your eyes."
Ultear's voice drifted up—lazy, but still carrying a commanding edge.
"Understood!"
Shane's expression instantly flipped into a gentle, harmless mode, replying smoothly.
Even he wanted to spit on himself for how obediently bootlicking he sounded.
He hypnotized himself over and over:
This is strategic submission. This is lying low to strike later. A necessary sacrifice for my future counterattack!
To keep himself from thinking stupid thoughts and getting caught again, Shane handed flight control over to muscle memory and sank his consciousness into the depths of his inner sea.
Now that he knew Lancer's true name, he still hadn't summoned them yet.
And with nothing but travel time ahead, now was perfect.
"After unlocking the true name, flying should get even faster—getting to Prague in the northern lands sooner. Two birds with one stone."
More importantly, the joy of unlocking a new ability would let him forget, for a little while, the cruel reality of being toyed with by Ultear at will.
He drew a breath in his mind and, facing the Book of Heroic Spirits floating in that inner sea, silently spoke the name:
"Lancelot."
…
"What is he doing now?"
In the real world, Ultear frowned, sensing something wrong.
A second ago Shane had been full of turmoil and inner drama. Now his expression went blank, his eyes losing focus—clearly drifting off.
Before she could even ask—
Suddenly, the arms that had been holding her loosened without warning.
At the same time, the invisible force that had been supporting them against gravity at high speed—snapped off like a power cut.
"?!"
Weightlessness hit.
"Shane?"
No answer.
"Shane!"
Ultear's pupils tightened.
With no propulsion, the two of them began to plummet from several thousand meters up, dropping in freefall.
The wind up there roared like a beast, tearing into their ears—so violent it was hard to keep their eyes open.
Her shouting got no response. The Shane who'd been lively just moments ago, full of thoughts, was now dead silent.
He wasn't even breathing. His chest didn't rise or fall.
"Idiot!"
Ultear grit her teeth. Panic flickered in her eyes—rare, raw—but her body reacted instantly.
She wrapped both arms around Shane's limp form.
Then she flipped herself in midair, turning her back downward, locking Shane above her and shielding him with her body.
A faint cold spread from her.
"Ice Make…"
Her mind raced, calculating their trajectory. She planned to cushion the moment of impact by forming massive ice crystals, pairing it with Time Arc to reduce the blow.
Whether she could survive a fall from this height… she wasn't confident.
But there was no time to hesitate.
"Bzzzz—!!!"
The wind cut her face like blades.
Ultear focused completely, eyes locked on the rapidly approaching ground.
Then—
A huge, vigorous, downright terrifying surge of magic burst from the boy in her arms, without warning.
The magic was violent and chaotic. No spell structure formed—yet the sheer density of leaking power twisted the surrounding space in a very real way.
Their plummeting speed, like a falling meteor, began to slow—unnaturally—under that brute force.
"He woke up?!"
Ultear's eyes flashed with hope.
But Shane's eyes were still shut tight. His face was warped by agony, as if his soul were being torn apart.
"I have to wake him!"
Ultear's chest tightened. She didn't think—she slammed a hand onto Shane's burning-hot chest.
A thin layer of frost spread from her palm, trying to force him back by physically cooling him down.
It seemed to work.
The violent twitching of his eyelids eased a little.
Finally—
When they were only a few hundred meters above the ground, Shane forced his eyes open.
His face was deathly pale, drenched in cold sweat.
"Sorry…"
His voice was so weak it sounded like it might snap—yet he still regained control immediately.
"Whoosh—"
Black dragon wings unfurled again behind him. They trembled, unstable, but they stopped the fall.
The two of them glided for a stretch and finally landed in a barren patch of open ground.
"Thud."
The moment his feet hit, Shane looked like every ounce of strength was drained out of him. He collapsed.
Both hands clamped over his head, knuckles white. He curled into a ball, fighting not to scream.
"W-What happened…?"
Even Ultear—normally unshakable—looked rattled now. She supported him, at a loss, all composure gone.
"He was fine just a second ago!"
"It's… not serious…"
Shane forced the words out through clenched teeth, sweat pouring:
"Just… give me… a minute… to rest…"
Before he could finish—
His body went limp.
He lost consciousness again, sinking into a heavy faint. Even his breathing became uneven and broken.
"…!"
The wilderness wind sighed through the trees, whispering over the empty land.
Ultear silently laid him down.
She looked at his pale, pain-twisted face, lips pressed tight—then knelt carefully, sliding one hand under his head and easing it onto her lap.
Her long legs, wrapped in thick, glossy black stockings, pressed together as she sat—forming a soft, lavish pillow.
Her fingers, cool at the tips, gently smoothed the painful crease between his brows.
Those eyes that always looked like thin ice now reflected only his face—carrying a trace of something even she didn't seem to notice herself.
Fear.
"Idiot…"
…
Time passed.
Night fell. A full moon climbed high, spilling cold light across the plain.
At last, Shane's awareness clawed its way out of the murky pain.
He opened his eyes.
Above him was a sky full of stars—and a pair of black eyes staring down at him with icy contempt.
"G-Good morning…"
Shane tugged at his lips, trying to joke the tension away.
But the sound that came out was hoarse, like it had been dragged across sandpaper. Even he startled at it.
And with the moon hanging bright overhead, "good morning" sounded ridiculous—barely even a joke.
Ultear didn't bite.
Her voice was cold and hard, like she was interrogating a criminal.
"Explain."
In the moonlight, her expression held no softness at all—only the sharp, dangerous edge of someone ready to kill if he didn't give a satisfying answer.
In moments like this… Erza really is better…
Shane couldn't help missing that red-haired girl—who'd fuss over him first, worry written all over her.
But after he'd just dragged Ultear through a several-thousand-meter freefall, he had no right to complain.
He shrank his neck a little and answered quietly:
"My… magic practice… went wrong."
This wasn't a random excuse.
Up in the sky, when Shane had tried to call the name "Lancelot," the backlash from the class card had hit like a tidal wave—nearly shredding his soul.
He couldn't make sense of it.
Normally, backlash like that only happened when the "true name" was wrong.
But the strange part was—he had gained "Lancer" power feedback in that instant.
Shane grumbled inwardly:
"If the true name was correct and the power responded… why did it still backlash like a failed identification?"
"Is it because the owner of 'Arondight' is historically disputed? Or because the gender mismatch causes a conceptual conflict?"
He didn't know.
He tried to sit up, but his head still felt like hundreds of steel needles were twisting inside it. The pain surged, making him grimace again.
Ultear said nothing.
She just supported his shoulder and helped him sit.
Only then did Shane realize he'd been lying on her lap the whole time.
He glanced at her legs.
Her posture was stiff, like she was trying not to react, and her black stockings even showed faint impressions where his head had been resting.
"It's already night… how long did you stay like that?"
Shane asked, genuinely surprised.
"Don't ask pointless questions."
Ultear snapped back, face turned aside so she wouldn't meet his eyes.
"…."
The thanks on Shane's tongue got stuck in his throat. He clenched his fingers, irritated.
Couldn't this woman say one nice thing, even once?
But then he realized something.
She'd noticed he was waking immediately—meaning she'd probably been watching him the whole time.
That awkward concern softened his irritation.
He followed his instinct and said it anyway:
"Thanks."
Ultear gave a small, dismissive snort.
"Stop causing trouble."
Her face stayed cool and flat—yet the hand supporting his arm grew subtly gentler.
Shane clicked his tongue.
He honestly couldn't tell if she was just tsundere, or if this was simply her default personality.
Since he couldn't read her anyway, he turned his gaze away.
If he couldn't figure out the backlash now, he could at least test Lancer again.
"Hah…"
Shane took a steadying breath, cleared his mind, and sank into focus.
"Lancer."
In the next instant—
"Vmm—"
A crisp, lake-like magic flooded through him.
Under the moonlight, his black hair seemed to answer the call—dropping to his waist in a heartbeat.
The moonlight itself washed the color out, fading it layer by layer until it became pure, snow-white silver.
A cool, watery-blue glow gathered around his body and solidified.
Delicate, ornate armor—elegant and cold as lakewater—formed over him.
Silver hair stirred in the night wind…
And the boy's presence became something entirely different.
~~~
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