Silver hair whipped wildly in the moonlight, each strand gleaming as if liquid rcury ran through it.
Ultear, who had been watching Shane in silence, felt her pupils tighten slightly.
The boy in front of her looked like an entirely different person.
His plain black hair had turned into a cool, icy silver, and the familiar face was now wrapped in an aloof, noble aura that kept everything at arm's length.
That water-blue armor didn't look out of place at all—if anything, it fit him the way dragon scales would, as though it had grown naturally from beneath his skin.
"…So beautiful."
Ultear unconsciously whispered the thought in her heart.
Calling a man she liked "beautiful" felt a little awkward, but no matter how she searched for words, she couldn't find anything more accurate for what she was seeing.
But that admiration lasted only an instant.
In the next mont, a shudder born of pure instinct crawled up Ultear's spine and flooded her entire body.
It was the reflex of a small, fragile lifeform confronted with sothing vast and incomprehensible—an animal's built-in reaction.
Not appreciation of "beauty," but primal awe toward a "higher-order being."
As for Shane, he was imrsed in a fullness he'd never felt before.
A body that had always been too dry and hollow from a lack of magic was now filled in an instant.
Like a drought-cracked earth finally receiving rain—
No, "rain" was far too mild a word.
It was a stormburst from the heavens, flooding the parched riverbed called "Shane" in seconds—until it overflowed into a roaring deluge.
"Vmm…"
Shane's gaze sharpened slightly. He casually directed it toward a tuft of weeds pushing out from a rock crack not far away.
With nothing more than a thread of magic leaking under the guidance of that look, the air trembled as if it couldn't bear the load.
Pat.
That stubborn weed—one that wouldn't bow even in a wilderness gale—was instantly crushed by the dense, almost physical pressure of the magic in the air. It flattened against the ground, quivering like a vassal prostrating before a king.
"This is…"
Ultear's breath caught.
As a prodigy whose innate magic had once been so strong her body couldn't contain it, she could sense at once how strange this magic was.
It was too… heavy.
If a normal mage's magic felt like flowing wind or water, then what was spilling out of Shane right now was rcury—dense, lethal, and weighty.
The air around them seed to turn thick and sticky, and even her skin prickled with a faint, persistent sting.
"He got stronger again…"
Ultear's expression grew complicated.
Shane's growth always defied the normal logic of gradual progression—long stretches of quiet, then a sudden, unreasonable leap.
But the boy being stared at didn't notice any of her reaction.
All his attention was captured by the "heart" inside him:
[Dragon Reactor Core B].
A violent, scorching existence—like a perpetual-motion engine.
Feeling blood hotter than magma and heavier than rcury pump through every limb with each beat, Shane examined Lancer's capabilities and couldn't help sucking in a sharp breath.
[Strength: C]
[Endurance: A ]
[Agility: B]
[Mana: A ]
"I have to admit—this kind of statline really does justify the price of four permissions."
Just feeling those dazzling paraters made Shane's breathing quicken.
It was almost a flawless hexagonal status sheet with no obvious weaknesses.
Setting aside the two A attributes brushing the peak of Heroic Spirits, even the "weakest" stat—Strength C—was a full tier above the biggest weakness of his other two Heroic Spirits.
He clenched his fist hard.
The air in his palm detonated with a crisp crack.
Before experiencing it himself, "mana like the sea" had only been a vague phrase. Even Makarov or Gildarts had never given him this kind of imdiate, visceral shock.
"So this is… a dragon's heart?"
"You really can't imagine what you've never seen…"
Shane murmured.
At this point, even if it was still hard to connect "Lancelot" with "dragon" in his head, the hard data and bodily feedback left him no choice but to accept it:
Lancer—no, Lancelot—was a giant dragon wearing human skin.
And that heart didn't just bring overwhelming, terrifying mana.
It also carried a domineering kind of "environntal erosion."
Shane could feel it: if he stayed in this form in one place long enough, the surroundings would gradually change into sothing with a special nature.
"Like… a dragon's nest?"
He couldn't find a perfect analogy.
The simplest, most obvious sign was that the ambient mana density kept rising.
If an ordinary human stood here, they'd probably start showing symptoms like "oxygen poisoning," except with mana—mana intoxication leading to organ failure.
It was like the natural radiation of a higher lifeform onto a lower environnt.
"That's… absurd."
Shane couldn't help but mutter.
It really was the kind of effortless power you'd expect from the strongest Phantasmal Species—mythic apex predators worshipped across eras and cultures.
Once he'd adjusted to the surge, he forced himself to calm down and turned back to the mystery of the "backlash" that had nearly made him fall out of the sky.
If the true na release succeeded, why had there been backlash?
As he probed deeper, the joy on his face slowly froze, replaced by sothing more uneasy and strange.
"…It's like before—there are two phases?"
Just like how a person might be called different things in infancy, youth, and adulthood—
The na "Lancelot" didn't seem to represent this Heroic Spirit's entire life. Or rather, it couldn't capture the whole essence.
There was another na.
Beneath the shining title of "knight," sothing deeper was hidden.
Or… another form.
For a mont, Shane didn't know whether to celebrate or despair.
The good news: based on past experience, that ant Lancer's terrifying power right now was only the "initial phase."
If he could identify the true na of the second phase, there would likely be another outrageous leap.
Just imagining it made Shane's heartbeat speed up.
But the worry followed imdiately.
If there was another true na, then Lancer's [Vision] wasn't over.
Shane's face darkened.
That would an a fourth vision.
Up until now, every Heroic Spirit's visions had capped at three.
First encounter. Deep dive. Curtain call.
"If the first three were already this brutal… then the fourth…"
A dreadful image surfaced in Shane's mind.
If the visions grew more realistic each ti, then the fourth might actually break the barrier between illusion and reality, slam into the real world, and smash everything here to pieces.
Smack! Shane abruptly raised a hand and slapped himself across the mouth.
"Shut up. Don't go planting flags."
These "good things never happen, bad things always do" situations were exactly the kind that ca true if you tempted fate.
Shane shook his head hard, forcibly driving those thoughts out.
"Whatever happens, the power is real."
He clenched his fists again, feeling the surging dragon mana inside him, and a bright glint flashed in his eyes.
Then he shifted his focus to another ability listed under Lancelot:
[Peri Dancer B]
~~~
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