After leaving the imperial palace, Novia first went home to pick something up, then headed for the arena. He had taken Nero as his apprentice about a year and a half ago, and this was the first time she had invited him somewhere, so he accepted. However, he declined her offer to come pick him up personally.
The sky was clear and bright. Though the afternoon sun shone overhead, the cold wind still howled. As people walked along the stone-paved streets, most of them offered some form of greeting when they saw the silver-haired youth, and Novia, as always, answered with a smile.
The Roman arena stood on the outskirts of Rome, facing the sea.
The massive stadium possessed an overwhelming presence, making the surrounding buildings appear far smaller by comparison. Towering arches as high as buildings themselves stacked three or four stories high, forming thick oval walls that enclosed the vast arena within.
This space had been built purely for humans to compete against one another. In ancient Rome, this "entertainment" was a legitimate right granted to citizens. Roman poets had called it "bread and circuses," and the Roman arena was its most representative symbol.
In theory, the Roman crowds coming to watch should have been packed shoulder to shoulder. In Novia's memories, whenever similar events were held over the past few years, the Roman arena would inevitably be packed to the brim. Even with several entrances, each one would still have long lines of people squeezed together.
For some reason, it now seemed as though he had rented out the entire place. There was only him—or rather, Nero had rented it out for him.
The moment Novia sat in his assigned seat, the music in the arena suddenly grew louder, the performance stirring his blood.
It seemed to have been waiting specifically for his arrival before beginning.
Soon, the music abruptly fell silent. Seizing the instant the arena became quiet, a petite figure walked onto the runway extending toward the front and bowed to the sole audience member below. Nero's voice rang out as well.
"Today's event shall be hosted by me, the Charioteer rivaling the Sun God and Artist rivaling the Music God Apollo."
"In the past, gladiatorial duels held in arenas were rituals dedicated to the Roman Gods. Yet I belong to Christianity, the faith of the Lord."
Her amplified voice resounded throughout the entire arena. If there had been anyone besides Novia present, they surely would have erupted into thunderous cheers, displaying just how eagerly they anticipated it. Yet the silver-haired youth merely smiled and clapped softly.
"Then today, I shall imitate the famous feat of the great Heracles and dedicate it to my teacher, Novia, who baptized me—"
As she spoke, the girl revealed a slightly savage smile beneath the sunlight. Then Nero, dressed in an outfit called the Crimson Noble, snapped her fingers, and the sound of a cage door being pulled open followed.
"Namely, the Lion's Naked Chokehold."
Your Gifted Primal Fire
Compared to the more ancient gladiatorial performances, the beast fighting spectacles of ancient Rome had a much shorter history, only being accepted by the Romans around the second century BCE.
Gladiators rarely, if ever, fought savage beasts, because doing so would harm their status. Beast fighting was carried out by professional Beast Fighters, and Beast Fighters and gladiators were two entirely different professions in ancient Rome.
Without professional training, beast fighting was far less entertaining and important than gladiatorial combat, amounting to nothing more than an ordinary "sport." During beast fighting, it was not only Beast Fighters battling animals to the death; Romans also drove all kinds of fierce beasts to slaughter one another. The scenes were exceptionally bloody, but the ancient Romans loved watching them.
Generally speaking, Roman politicians and emperors would stop at nothing to please the masses, making each beast fighting spectacle grander than the last... Nero holding one for only a single person was instead a rare sight.
"Roar!"
After being starved for several days, the lion immediately opened its bloodied maw once freed from its restraints. Sharp fangs glinted coldly beneath the sunlight as it released a deafening roar and pounced at the blonde girl.
Nero took a light breath, clenched both fists, and prepared herself for battle.
After all, she had no intention whatsoever of using magecraft. She intended to rely solely on her physical strength.
The instant the lion leaped, the girl swiftly sprang to one side, nimbly evading its first attack. She immediately swung a punch at the lion's head. Her fist grazed its mane with a sharp whooshing sound.
The lion roared in pain after being struck, but it did not retreat. Nero pressed her advantage, attacking with both fists, each blow making the lion stagger.
Her fists were like iron hammers, smashing viciously into the lion's body. Yet the swaying lion was unwilling to show weakness. It tried to counterattack the girl with its sharp claws and fangs, but unfortunately, it was a step too late.
The blonde girl's left arm had already hooked beneath the lion's jaw in a V-shape before tightening. Her right arm followed, laid horizontally behind the lion's head. Her left hand gripped the joint of her right arm from below, while her right palm pressed against the back of its head and pushed forward with force. Her body arched as she began the chokehold.
When Nero's arms, carrying the strength of her entire body, collided with the lion's throat, they directly stopped blood from flowing to its brain, sending the lion into shock.
As time passed, a dull crack rang out. The lion's powerful body seemed to be instantly crushed by an invisible force. A shattering sound came from its throat—the sound of bones being ground apart, clear and chilling.
Seeing that she had completed the naked chokehold, Nero casually tossed it aside as though throwing away garbage.
At that moment, her heart was filled with a sense of reality. She loved this feeling of being able to remain in control at any moment while facing extreme danger to life itself, because it allowed the girl to display her worth.
The lion traced a brief arc through the air before beginning to fall in a suffocating slow motion. Its golden mane trembled beneath the sunlight, every strand seeming to speak of unwillingness and despair.
The lion's limbs flailed weakly a few times, as though trying to grasp its final hope of survival, but they ultimately fell limp.
When the lion's body struck the ground, dust rose into the air. Its chest heaved violently several times, then gradually stilled.
The lion's eyes remained open, but they had lost their former vitality, leaving behind only endless emptiness and confusion.
"How was that?" Nero smiled happily from the bottom of her heart, her eyes narrowing. The beast's blood had splattered across her face, lending her a hint of madness. "Master, I did well, didn't I?"
"Very well."
"Really?"
"Really."
"Really really?"
"Yes, without a doubt. The way you strangled that lion was extraordinarily beautiful, yet you showed it only to me. That makes me immensely happy."
Their brief exchange only deepened the girl's smile.
"Then that's wonderful!"
Nero nodded slightly, her hair swaying. She could clearly feel her expression becoming brighter and brighter. It was as though each answer made her body lighter, almost enough to float into the air.
Novia smiled faintly as well. In his gaze and words, the girl could not sense the slightest trace of falsehood.
Come to think of it, the blonde girl's current behavior did fit the Nero from Type-Moon that he remembered. Outgoing, eloquent, fond of extravagance and luxury, eager to show herself off; when it came to governing, she treated the people like her own children, while somewhat disregarding the Senate's authority.
Whether the girl's feelings came from the bond between teacher and apprentice or from the hazy affection between a man and a woman, that question did not stir the slightest ripple in his heart. No matter which it was, as long as he could restrain her, that was enough.
Novia had no intention of examining what considerations, feelings, or thoughts lay behind everything she had done.
He merely accepted the purest part of it and responded with a simple smile to the blonde girl, whose actions until now had been exceptionally admirable and who spoke to him with pride fitting for her age.
The next instant, Novia rose and stepped onto the runway, placing the item he had prepared long ago into Nero's hands—
"This is...?"
Nero examined the red-and-black object Novia had given her with considerable confusion. It looked suspiciously like a sword.
"This is a weapon I forged specifically for you." Novia's smile did not waver in the slightest. "The stone that fell from the sky a few months ago—Rome's magi called it Tears of the Star. Since it was not something possessed by this world's stars, it was an unknown fragment of hope from a traveler's star. In any case, I forged it into a weapon. I hope you like it."
"This is because I did something that made you proud, Master. Because I have become valuable to you, that is why I received this gift?"
The blonde girl's shining eyes gazed directly at him without wavering. She raised one hand high as she spoke.
"You do not need to belittle yourself." He merely gave her a radiant, gentle smile. "From the day I baptized you, I should have taken on this obligation. I am not merely trying to comfort you."
"Nero."
And he simply called the girl's name.
If spending a few smiles and words could put Nero at ease, Novia naturally would not hesitate.
"...Its name." After speaking, Nero puffed out her cheeks sulkily and pursed her lips. "What is this sword called?"
"Perhaps you can name it yourself."
"I want you to name it."
The girl tried saying so in an expectant tone, her eyes quietly staring directly into Novia's.
"Then let us call it Primal Fire."
"Primal Fire..."
As she spoke, the girl raised the sword in her hands before her chest, her slender fingertips slowly stroking it.
"This is the connection between you and me, Master... right?"
She murmured softly.
The days that followed were not particularly dramatic. Nero simply held large-scale competitions many times in her own name, seeking the people's attention and winning their support and devotion.
Meanwhile, aside from carrying out his usual propaganda work and assisting with political affairs, Novia quietly waited for news from Shiyali in Britain.
At last, the one-year deadline arrived, and the purple-haired girl sent word from Britain as promised.
Human, the Strongest Dragon Is Truly Angry!
When Novia arrived underground near Londinium in Britain, the first thing he saw was darkness.
The air was mixed with intense magical energy, so dense that the slightest carelessness could cause its power to wither all the surrounding land. Moreover, the density of the magical energy only grew higher and higher.
Yet the space was not entirely dark. At the four corners of the magecraft workshop burned flames sustained by magical energy, casting the whole place in dim gloom. Wisps of smoke rose alongside the faintly flickering firelight, looking exactly the same whether viewed from near or far. There were also the alchemist's Aether Lines spread throughout the entire space.
And deep within those lines, at the secret place where the Aether Lines converged, the head of the Dragon of Albion was slowly being transformed, its very existence changing completely into a blue-black "spear."
Before it stood a purple-haired girl: Shiyali.
She wore the uniform of the Atlas Institute and stared at the countless Aether Lines embedded in the dragon's head. Her body did not move in the slightest, and even her breathing was incredibly faint. One might have mistaken her for dead.
Whenever the Aether Lines tightened, her body trembled faintly as well.
Before Novia arrived, Lucius had told him that over this past year, Shiyali had devoted nearly every waking moment outside of eating and sleeping to the Dragon of Albion.
Though the purple-haired girl would never mention the hardships she had endured over the year, Novia understood perfectly well. One only had to see the sweat soaking her cheeks to understand how exhausting this task truly was.
After all, this was the Dragon of Albion. Even as a corpse, magical energy still surged throughout its body. It possessed traits mixed from serpents, reptiles, and bats, along with powerful limbs whose scales were as thick as armor. In appearance, it resembled the "dragons" found in legends all over the world.
A dragon.
A creature humanity could never oppose. Only heroes had a chance to slay one; the blade of anyone who was not a hero could not harm it in the slightest. The strongest demonic beast upon all the earth, absolute fantasy, a being powerful enough to be regarded as a great calamity by heroes who protected the world.
In the world of magi, the old generally surpassed the new, because the ancient fantasies of distant antiquity were even connected to the gods, becoming Mystery after the passage of countless years.
What was more, the one here was a true dragon in every sense. It was not a "dragon" born from the influence of dragon factors left on the surface after the Age of Gods. While alive, it had been a pure-blooded dragon capable of instantly destroying the self of an ordinary person merely by being observed.
Just as Novia had thought, Shiyali had spent the past year enduring as she transformed its head.
Enduring her fear of the dragon, the limits of her mind, the erosion of her soul, refusing to lose to the sensations that had descended upon her body.
The sharpness of the Aether Lines she used rivaled that of an incomparably precise high-pressure water cutter. Countless lines continuously made tiny alterations to the dragon's head again and again. Aside from the design blueprints Novia had provided being extremely precise, she had undoubtedly added even more detailed refinements herself.
After all, the Atlas Institute had always excelled at manufacturing weapons.
However, Shiyali had informed Novia a few days before completion not only because she trusted her own calculations, but likely also because of her unwillingness to concede. She probably wanted Novia to personally witness the instant of success, proving that her status as a candidate for the next head of the Atlas Institute was by no means undeserved.
Time passed bit by bit. Just before the date changed, Novia saw the scale of magical energy within the dragon's head, wrapped in Aether Lines, explosively rise.
Something was successfully born. In an instant, the underground space changed.
A blue aurora was born.
An aurora that could never have appeared thousands of meters underground.
Magnificent, gorgeous—or perhaps malicious—bands of light surrounded the underground space, gleaming as though blessing the birth of something.
The world shrouded in darkness seemed to become an endless ocean of blue light in an instant.
This was because the gleaming Blue-black Armament had been born—
Shiyali tiredly released the Aether Lines. The object radiating blue light emitted a series of resonant hums, then was carried along the lines and placed before Novia.
"Done. This is the weapon forged according to your design concept, completely remade from the head of what you call the Dragon of Albion..." She paused briefly, changed her tone, and continued. "However, although your blueprints were very precise, there were some parts I simply could not alter in the way you specified. So I could only use what I believed to be the correct method. Please forgive that."
"It is fine. The fact that you managed to do this much is something for which I should thank you."
Novia reached out and took the "spear." Then, after seeing Shiyali retract her Aether Lines, he walked straight toward her.
"Indeed, your contract with me only lasted until its completion."
After saying only that, Shiyali calmly took deep breaths, her expression blank as she watched the silver-haired youth approach.
She was now exhausted in both body and mind. A year of pent-up endurance had left her in such a state that anyone could easily deal with her. Magi were generally self-serving and placed efficiency above all else. Since she had exposed herself at her weakest point in advance, she had to be mentally prepared for the consequences.
She could not say she regretted it. She merely felt an indescribable unwillingness.
Novia did not say much in response. He simply lifted the purple-haired girl onto his back with one hand and headed toward the surface.
"Please put me down. I have not reached the point where I need to rely on others. There is no such clause in our contract."
The girl stared down at Novia beneath her with irritated purple eyes.
"As expected, if I had simply asked to carry you out, you would never have agreed." The silver-haired youth did not turn his head. "So it is more convenient to act first."
"...The Mystery and treasures everywhere in this place are enough for you to establish an organization capable of standing alongside the Atlas Institute and the Wandering Sea."
"It is enough that I obtained this 'spear' here. Besides, this corpse of Albion is covered in disgusting little grubs that are neither human nor beast. I think the best choice afterward would be to bury this thing underground, lest it get out someday and cause trouble everywhere—"
"Cough, cough."
Before Novia could finish speaking, a voice sounded from the "spear" in his hand.
Before you continue