In the southeastern Lostbelt, the Storm Border erged from the Imaginary Numbers space precisely within the frozen forest region. The colossal warship instantly devastated a vast expanse of the icy woods before coming to a halt on a nearby snowy plain.
"Russia, Scandinavian Lostbelt... why must they all be frozen wastelands? Is this how every Lostbelt appears?" Shiomi sighed helplessly as he traversed the frozen forest.
Like the Russian Lostbelt, the Scandinavian Lostbelt's temperatures plunged to levels unbearable for ordinary humans, rivaling those of the Antarctic Chaldea. Thus, after the warship concluded its subrged transit and ca to rest, the first expedition team to disembark consisted of Shiomi and his three companions.
"It is indeed unusually cold. It seems, like the Russian Lostbelt, it diverged from pan-human history for so reason, with this frozen landscape being its most defining feature." Scáthach caught a drifting snowflake, crushing it swiftly between her fingertips. "If the Russian Lostbelt's divergence point was the teorite that struck Earth in 1570 AD, bringing harsh conditions..."
"What about the Scandinavian one?" Morgan removed her hat, shook off the snowflakes, and replaced it.
"Ragnarök," Artoria took up the thread. "When I think of the Scandinavian realm, that's the first thing that cos to mind."
"If Ragnarök unfolded differently, leading to an alternate outco, that makes sense too."
Scáthach paused, her gaze settling on Shiomi and Morgan. He reached out to adjust the cloak draped over Morgan's shoulders. Before departing, Morgan had sohow found a white robe that fit her perfectly.
"I ant to ask earlier— is this a new garnt?" Scáthach inquired.
"No, it's an old one," Shiomi interjected, explaining for Morgan. "I thought these garnts had been lost long ago, but it turns out they were preserved all this ti."
Morgan explained with a faint smile, "They were stored at our forr ho in Orkney, later entrusted to Habetrot for safekeeping. Considering the Lostbelt might be prepared this ti, we didn't plan to storm the headquarters. On a whim, I... Would my husband think I'm deliberately acting childish?" By the end of her words, her cheeks flushed slightly.
"How could that be? The clothes have always fit perfectly. Wear them whenever you want to—what's the big deal?" Shiomi affird, seeking his master and Artoria's opinions.
"They do fit perfectly. In fact, this look suits a witch's identity better," Artoria nodded in agreent.
"Or rather, it suits Caster's identity. This outfit probably won't work for wielding weapons in close combat," Scáthach added her approval.
Morgan, however, furrowed her brow slightly, one hand pressed to her chest. "I just can't figure out why this part feels much tighter than before. This dress used to be quite loose..."
"It ans certain parts are growing, too. That's the advantage of being a Paradise Fairy." Shiomi smiled brightly, then slowly turned his gaze toward the other end of the forest, his expression becoming serious as he said,
"We've been walking for about an hour now, yet I sense no signs of human habitation. It's practically like a prival forest."
"It's not entirely uninhabited. Didn't we just battle a giant?" Scáthach encouraged Shiomi cheerfully. "That must have been a Jötunn from Jötunheim."
"They were drawn by the warship's landing. After witnessing our power, they retreated naturally," Artoria remarked with keen interest. "But if even giants exist here, perhaps this Lostbelt holds all Nine Realms intact."
"Let's keep moving for now. If we don't find any signs of human settlents within another hour, we'll turn back." Shiomi spread his hands helplessly. "We didn't bring any camping gear. We can't just improvise and camp out in this freezing wilderness, can we?"
"It's no problem. This cold can't touch us. If my beloved disciple really can't stand the chill, we can just hold you close to keep warm." Scáthach affectionately wrapped her arms around Shiomi's back, offering what seed like encouraging words. Shiomi couldn't help but scratch his head. "That would just end up consuming extra heat, wouldn't it?"
"The King of Knights' cloak is quite thick and soft. It might make a decent cushion," Morgan suggested, tugging at Artoria's cloak.
"Wait, isn't that a bit... inappropriate?" Artoria hesitated as she considered whether to contribute her cloak, not even thinking that they should be opposed to camping in the Lostbelt at that mont.
Cheerful voices echoed through the woods, shaking snow from the treetops and startling birds into flight. A bone-chilling winter wind swept through the woods, ruffling everyone's hair. The four, who had been lighthearted and carefree just monts ago, suddenly shifted their expressions, becoming tense and on edge.
"Just when we said there'd be no one around, people show up," Shiomi remarked calmly.
"We were warned when leaving Storm Border," Morgan replied calmly, her deanor mirroring that of her ti in Britannia. "This Lostbelt is shrouded in a vast Barrier. Every move we make may be under the watchful eye of the Lostbelt's ruler."
"A convincing statent." Scáthach's smile sharpened, though not directed at her. "They're coming."
As Artoria spoke, she stepped forward abruptly. The 'Invisible Air' coiling around her Holy Sword instantly unleashed, sweeping a blizzard through the forest. Then, the relentless snowstorm was cleaved in two. A dark-skinned Servant clad in silver armor stood within, a face radiant with exhilaration.
"Excellent! Taking down the Russian Lostbelt's guy calls for just this kind of finish!" Caenis's gaze fell upon Shiomi, then swept over the others. Upon seeing Scáthach, she froze.
"You... Could you be Scáthach of the Land of Shadows?"
"Oh? To think another Heroic Spirit recognizes at a glance. I don't recall where we've t?" Scáthach chuckled. "Indeed, I am Scáthach."
"Hahahaha! This is truly a masterpiece! One of Chaldea's Servants is actually that Scáthach!" After a few laughs, Caenis abruptly stopped, her gaze turning cold as she fixed it on them. "But none of that matters. Since you're Chaldea's lot, there's no need for pleasantries."
"Such an intriguing statent. Care to elaborate?" Scáthach pointed her crimson Gáe Bolg at Caenis. "Unknown Heroic Spirit."
"No, Master. This one's Spiritual Rank..." Shiomi added calmly.
"I know that well enough." Scáthach smiled knowingly.
Caenis bared her teeth, their cold, white gleam unnerving.
"Exactly! I am no Heroic Spirit—I am a Divine Spirit!"
Before the words had fully left her mouth, Caenis lunged forward.
"If you are a Divine Spirit, then this is only fitting!"
Accompanied by a voice sharp as a blade, Scáthach t the attack head-on. The crimson spear collided with the lance and round shield, sparks of intense heat flying.
...
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