"...I see. Judging by the weight of your prana, it seems you truly are Lucius Tiberius."
"Hmph... To utter the name of Rome so casually. Ordinarily, such insolence would cost you your head. Yet, I shall grant you mercy, for Rome is in a benevolent mood today."
The Emperor continued, her voice resonating with authority. "Rome has spoken her name. Thus, it is your turn. What do they call you, knight?"
"I am Elius, a Knight of the Round Table."
"Elius... So you are the man spoken of in rumors—the one who subdued the peerless Lancelot!"
I hadn't realized word had spread that far. It was somewhat embarrassing, yet perhaps a fearsome reputation served its own purpose.
"Very well! This Rome shall personally test whether those rumors hold any truth!"
In a flash, Lucius bridged the vast distance, her blade descending like a falling star. Reflexively, I brought my sword up to meet her strike.
The impact was deafening. A thunderous roar erupted, far beyond the mere clash of steel. The very earth beneath us buckled and splintered under the sheer pressure.
The force was enough to rattle the bones in my arms. To avoid being crushed, I surged my Prana Burst to its absolute maximum, forcibly parrying her blade away.
Despite being thrown back, she landed with the grace of a feather. Upon the scorched earth, she looked at me and laughed—a sound both haughty and exhilarated.
"Hahaha! To not only block Rome's strike but to repel it? You are indeed a warrior worthy of my attention!"
"...Where does that monstrous strength come from? It doesn't feel like a standard Prana Burst."
"Do you truly think this Rome would reveal her secrets so easily? You are a swordsman, and so am I. Therefore, let our blades be our conversation!"
"......"
She wasn't wrong. There was no need to explain one's mysteries to a foe. But in truth, it mattered little to me whether I understood the source of her power or not.
If she intended to crush me with raw force, I simply had to redirect that force elsewhere.
"Now... let us enjoy this further!"
Crimson lightning began to crackle and spark from the Emperor's sword, Florent. Cloaked in the baleful radiance of the demonic blade, she charged once more.
Knowing that mundane steel could not withstand those crimson bolts, I channeled my own magical energy into my blade, Twilight.
The blade began to thrum with a golden luminescence. While I could opt for a full True Name Release, the weapon was equally potent when condensing that energy into concentrated slashes.
Crimson thunder met golden radiance. Sparks from the Holy Sword and embers from the Demonic Blade scattered in every direction like dying stars.
In the span of a single breath, dozens of exchanges passed between us. With every clash, I dissected her style.
Our speed was equal. Her raw power held a slight edge. But... in terms of pure technique, I was overwhelmingly superior.
"...I have seen through you."
"What...? Gah!"
Channelling a sudden burst of prana, I performed an upward parry that sent her reeling back once more. Though she landed with her usual poise, I was already upon her before she could recover her stance.
My blades became a blur of steel. Where our exchange had been equal before, I now took the initiative, driving her back with relentless precision.
Crash! Crash! Crash!
"Ngh...!"
She seemed pushed to the brink, yet Lucius held her ground with gritted teeth. I aimed a lightning-fast strike at her throat; she managed to block it, but not cleanly—a shallow red line opened across her cheek.
Lucius touched the wound with a gloved hand, stared at the blood on her fingers, and broke into a peal of booming laughter.
"Haha, Hahahaha! Delightful! This is truly delightful! To think someone could not only match Rome, but overwhelm her and draw blood!"
She continued, her eyes wide with a manic joy. "To think that I, the Emperor praised as the strongest on the continent, would be outmatched in swordsmanship! It is a travesty that a swordsman of your caliber serves as a mere knight to the lord of this tiny island!"
She leveled Florent toward me. I met her gaze, silent and unwavering.
"Enter the radiance of Rome. You possess the right. Nay, perhaps there is no one else in this era more qualified than you. Join me, and I shall allow you to stand by Rome's side—a place no other has ever, or will ever, occupy."
"...Stand by Rome?"
Confused by her phrasing, I muttered the words back to her. At this, Lucius grinned with a profound, meaningful smile.
"Indeed... standing at my side. I offer you the position of Prince Consort—a title I have never permitted another, making you the only one to stand as an equal to this Rome!"
"...Come again?"
My mind blanked at the absurdity of it. What was a Prince Consort? It was the title given to the husband of a Queen or Empress.
In other words... she was proposing. To her enemy. Right in the middle of a war. My rawest, most sincere thought was simply this:
...Is she mad?
We had been trading lethal blows intended to take each other's lives just a second ago, and now she was asking for my hand in marriage?
I was so flabbergasted that words failed me. I stared at her, half-expecting her to be joking. But the Emperor's eyes were filled with an unmistakable, piercing sincerity.
With a heavy sigh, I shook my head.
"I must decline. I already serve a Lord I have pledged my life to."
"Hmm... A rejection. Well, no matter. If you refuse, I shall simply conquer you and claim you as my prize."
"I shall make you Rome's possession!"
Adjusting her grip on her sword, she lunged at me once more.
***
The Roman Emperor, Lucius, had initially viewed this expedition to Britain with little interest. To her, Britain was but a speck of an island on the edge of the world.
The only reason she had marched her legions was the whispered promise from a certain magus that the 'Mystery' of the Age of Gods still lingered there. It was mere curiosity—an attempt to cure her eternal boredom.
Rome, the Empire founded by the Great One. Lucius, its inheritor, had wanted for nothing since her birth. If she desired something, she bought it. If another owned it, she took it. Even the most forbidden of arts were hers to learn.
She was the ultimate arbiter. Through her status, she attained everything—wealth, knowledge, and martial power found in the blood of the Colosseum. But she soon realized that such perfection only bred isolation.
Because she was so peerless, no one could stand on equal ground with her. No one could match her in wealth, strength, or authority. The world's strongest warriors fell before her blade. The most powerful kings were crushed by her armies. Even the richest of men fainted in the face of her coffers.
To have everything and yet have no equal—it was a hollow, echoing existence. Lucius had tried to fill that void by conquering neighboring nations, expanding her borders, and gathering talent, but the emptiness remained.
Then, the magus spoke of the lingering Mystery in Britain. She wondered if such a thing could finally satisfy her soul.
And there, at the gates of the white castle, she met him—a swordsman wielding a holy blade. With hair as dark as the midnight sky and eyes as bright as a sun-kissed lake, he held the gates alone against her entire army. He did not buckle; he overwhelmed them.
In that moment, Lucius knew. This man was different from the masses she had encountered before. He was not her inferior. He was her equal—nay, his mastery of the sword perhaps even eclipsed her own.
The sting of the cut on her cheek was a joy she had never known. For the first time, her heart pounded. She wanted to know this man named Elius. She did not want him beneath her feet; she wanted him at her side.
For the first time in her life, Lucius Tiberius felt her hollow heart begin to fill. And having found the source of that completion, she vowed that she would never, ever let him go.
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Extra: A Normal Day in Chaldea
In the quiet of the Chaldean library, I was once again being pestered by the Lancer, Cu Chulainn. He was tugging at my arm, insistent as ever on a spar.
I sighed and resisted. I had sparred with him once out of courtesy, and now he sought me out daily.
"Hey now, Master! Don't be like that! It's just one spar!" Cu Chulainn grumbled, clicking his tongue.
"That 'one spar' happens every single day. Why are you so obsessed with me?"
He shrugged. "Because you're the only one who actually accepts. Everyone else just tells me to bug off because it's 'too much work'."
"Probably because you ask them every five minutes. Besides, have you actually beaten me even once? Your precious Gae Bolg gets parried every single time."
As I spoke, I caught a glimpse of long purple hair behind him. It was Scathach. It appeared she was looking for her pupil. I looked past him and suggested, "Have you tried asking Scathach? I'm sure she'd be delighted to spar. In fact, she's right behind..."
"What? No way! I'm staying away from that old hag. She won't just spar; she'll turn it into a 24-hour hell-training session."
...Typical Lancer luck. He just walked right into his own grave. I watched as Scathach's eyes began to glow with a murderous light behind his back. Completely unaware of his impending doom, Cu Chulainn continued to dig his hole.
"And listen, Master! I won't get parried today! Today's the day I show you the true 'kick' of Gae Bolg. Come on! Let's go feel the bite of this spear!"
"...I'm not sure about that 'bite'. You haven't exactly pierced many hearts with it. In that last Holy Grail War, didn't you only manage to pierce a normal kid who barely knew magecraft?"
"Hey! That counts!" Cu Chulainn bristled.
"He was a civilian. Have you actually pierced a Servant's heart with it? All I remember is you using it to pierce your own heart on a command spell's order. Also, seriously, look behind you."
"Huh? Why..."
He turned around. There stood Scathach, radiating the aura of a vengeful demon.
I whispered, "Good luck."
"Oh? Setanta... I just heard something very intriguing. Is that how you truly feel?"
"M-Master... I mean, Shishou! It was a misunderstanding! I have a perfectly good explanation—"
Scathach didn't wait. She grabbed him by the scruff of his neck. "And did I hear you call me an 'old hag'? I see you've grown lazy. It seems I need to re-educate you. I'll give you all the sparring you've been begging for. Personally."
"No! Wait! Help me, Master! Spare me!"
I gave him a half-smile and a wave. "Scathach, don't hold back on the curriculum."
"Heh. You have my word. I shall be thorough."
"Betrayal?! Master, I'll get you for this!!"
"Enough talk. Move!"
"GYAAAAAAGH!"
With a final scream, Lancer was dragged away by his teacher. Finally, some peace and quiet. I returned to my book. Did I feel bad for him? Not in the slightest.
And so, the sound of Lancer's screams echoed throughout the Chaldean simulation rooms. And all was well in the world.
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Author's Note: I wanted to pull Altria, but after spending 150 Saint Quartz, I only got these two... well, at least I got Salter, so I should be satisfied. BUT WHY DID YOU APPEAR AT THE END, CU?! Thus, today's extra chapter is a celebration of Lancer's suffering!