Chapter Thirty-Nine: The Attack of the Substitute

“I clearly used the Golden Fleece as the catalyst, didn’t I? That should have only summoned Medea, right?”

In response to Roland’s question, Medea lifted her head, her expression earnest. “But I am Medea. Even though my physical form is still that of a young girl, my future legend has already overlapped with me. To be honest, it troubles me too. I only just graduated from my teacher yesterday, and suddenly all those future memories—and that infamous reputation—were thrust upon me.”

She knew all too well what tragedies her nature would give rise to. The memories of her youth left her longing, almost unconsciously, for a romance that began with courtship, but the future memories warned her sternly never to give her heart away.

If she ever did, what awaited her at the end would likely be betrayal.

The fusion of two legends endowed Medea with experience and two different Noble Phantasms, but also left her with a deeply conflicted mind.

Unable to trust others, yet yearning for love, she retreated into a kind of avoidance. The Holy Grail and the like barely interested her—she simply wanted to take things one step at a time.

If her Master could accept her, she would see what came next. If not, she would straightforwardly sever the contract and await her own end once her magical energy ran dry.

Now, shrouded in the legend of the Witch, she wrapped her soul in thorns, pricking any who dared approach. But if someone could cross that barrier and take the first step toward her, Medea was willing to try again.

“How could it turn out like this? How is it even possible?”

It wasn’t that Roland didn’t understand the current situation—after all, he’d once fallen into that game called FGO, and in the singularity of the Final Ocean, he’d encountered her in an even younger form.

What he couldn’t grasp was how such a phenomenon had come to be.

“If you really want a reason, Master, I suppose it could only be you,” Medea paused, a breathtaking smile lighting up her beautiful face.

“To the modern world, you carry an otherworldly presence—your magic, your soul, and that indefinable sense of anomaly. Perhaps it’s only natural you would summon someone out of the ordinary.”

Roland quickly realized what he’d overlooked among the powers bestowed on him by the Lord.

“A naturally noble rank, is it?”

He chuckled, neither admitting nor denying. “Well, in the end, I suppose it doesn’t matter.”

As she gazed at the surprise and delight on Roland’s face, Medea felt a sweet, healing warmth fill the emptiness inside her.

Even if the Betrayer Witch was one possible future, right now, she was still the pure Medea—shouldn’t she be allowed to love?

The future was uncertain, the past ever-present, but in this moment, the joy and trust this man felt for her, infamous as she was, felt real—and that was enough.

“So, Master, do you dislike Medea at seventeen?”

Medea pouted, hiding the corners of her lips that curled upward in delight.

“I...”

A girl, combining innocence with a witch’s allure, was acting coy toward him—Roland had no power to resist.

As Medea’s cold, pure beauty took on a rosy flush and became even more bewitching, the air between them grew thick with unspoken feelings.

Suddenly, Roland felt a small hand tug sharply on the hem of his trousers.

Sakura Matou clung to his leg like a koala, her eyes full of grievance, wearing the jealous pout of a long-suffering wife catching her husband in the act.

Roland, caught off guard, guiltily loosened his embrace on Medea’s waist, but soon realized how absurd his reaction was and reached out to gently pat Sakura’s head.

“All right, Sakura, our work is done for today. Time for bed.”

“No...”

Precocious though she was, Sakura still couldn’t understand Medea’s emotions, but she sensed, instinctively, that something was amiss.

“It’s all right, Master,” Medea replied with a generous smile, crouching down slightly to speak to Sakura. “You’re called Sakura, right? Let’s get along well from now on.”

As she spoke, she winked at Sakura from an angle Roland couldn’t see.

Hmph, her body might still be that of a girl, but with future memories at hand, she’d mastered the arts of a devoted wife far ahead of any competition.

As for this little chick—let her come back in ten years and try again!

What a wicked woman!

Sakura puffed out her cheeks in indignation. Taking advantage of Medea’s retreat, she quickly clambered into Roland’s lap, burying her head like an ostrich hiding in the sand.

“Sakura, be good now...”

Roland was oblivious to the rivalry playing out between the two girls. He simply stroked Sakura’s hair gently. Her actions during the contract with the Lord had made him drop his guard around her, and his naturally forgiving attitude toward her plight softened even further.

But soon, the smiling Medea’s face clouded with regret.

“Let’s sleep together...”

Sakura, her face pressed into Roland’s shirt, spoke in a muffled voice.

“What?”

“I want to sleep with Lord Roland—Sakura is scared to be alone.”

“Just for tonight, as a special exception.”

Seeing how clingy she was, Roland sighed and continued to stroke her hair affectionately.

“I’ll take Sakura upstairs to bed, then. By the way, Caster, your specialty is setting up workshops, isn’t it? I’ll leave that to you tonight.”

“Yes, Master.”

This brat! I haven’t even done such a thing yet!

Medea’s face darkened as she agreed aloud and silently trailed after Roland.

“Why are you following me?”

“Because the center of this base is Master’s room, isn’t it? Making that the anchor for the barrier’s formation will make it far more effective.”

“Is that so?”

“Of course. I may be just a Caster, but I know a thing or two about magic.”

Medea straightened her developing figure with pride, the perfect curves of her body forming a tempting silhouette.

Roland eyed her with suspicion—his room was hardly a leyline, but given the wisdom of a magician from a divine age, perhaps she knew best.

He hadn’t planned to do anything, anyway. After settling Sakura in, he sat at her side to keep her company. Though reluctant, it was late and he’d been through much that day. Once Sakura lay on the soft bed, the familiar scent of Roland calmed her nerves, and she soon drifted off into sleep.

Watching the girl’s peaceful face beside Roland, Medea felt a gentle warmth well up within her, washing away her previous irritation. Only when Roland looked her way again did she hurriedly wave her staff.

“Since we’re focusing on concealment, Master, I’ll set up a barrier to hide magical energy. Its range is limited, but its stealth is top notch. Even a Servant entering this place in person wouldn’t trigger any alarms.”

In her element now, Medea’s confidence returned. “And a magician as inexperienced as you, Master, wouldn’t even know you were under surveillance within the barrier.”

“Is... that so?”

Roland watched the invisible lines of power weaving and shifting through the air, and instinctively reached out his hand.

Why did this barrier feel so real to him, as though he could touch it?

Before his hand could make contact, a pink, semi-phantom hand emerged from his fingertips, reaching ahead to grasp the intangible barrier.

—The bomb is set.

A tactile sensation echoed from his soul. Acting on instinct, Roland pressed his thumb down.

The next instant, without a sound, every magical strand in the barrier vanished as though they had never existed.

“My barrier is gone! Not even a trace of intrusion or destruction...”

Medea, busy setting up a second, stronger barrier, cried out in alarm and turned anxiously to Roland.

“Master, is there an enemy attack?”

“No, not exactly,” Roland replied, just as puzzled, as he summoned his Stand.

“This would probably be... a Stand attack?”