Chapter 20: Shadow Realm -3-
Life in the Shadow Realm was extreme.
Mornings were a hellish grind of blood and splattered flesh; afternoons were another kind of battlefield—the kitchen.
But once the brutal training ended and it was time to prepare the evening meal, a semblance of peace settled over this cold, oppressive wasteland.
Kay stood before the cutting board, humming a light tune.
A kitchen knife was gripped in his hand, and on the board lay a grotesque slab of monster meat that Scáthach had brought back.
“Hey, Master. Are you sure this stuff is even edible? Why is the blood blue? If I drop dead after eating this, it’s on you, alright?”
Kay poked the meat with a look of disgust, grumbling under his breath.
Even if he knew he'd likely get beaten for it, Kay’s personality wouldn't let him stay silent; he had to get it off his chest.
“Stop whining and just cook. As long as you remove the poison glands properly, the texture will be quite chewy.”
Scáthach was leaning back nearby, resting her chin on her hand.
A cup of wine sloshed gently in her other hand. In centuries of solitude, her sole amusement had become watching this insolent disciple grumble while he cooked for her.
“Easy for you to say. If I nick the wrong spot and it bursts, my hand's gone. Anyway, what do you want today? I'm taking orders.”
Kay deftly slid the tip of his blade, separating the monster's poison glands and tossing them far away.
“Hmm.”
Scáthach’s crimson eyes stared into the void as she fell into deep thought. She looked more serious now than when she was plotting battle tactics.
“That fried dish you made last time. The one that was crispy on the outside and bursting with juice on the inside... I find myself craving that.”
“Ah, sweet-and-sour pork. Got it. I have a cut that's similar to pork, so I'll make it. But on one condition: absolutely no pouring the sauce over the meat today. You dip it. I'm warning you!”
“Why do you insist on interfering with how your master eats? I prefer the batter to be moist and tender, fully soaked in sweet sauce.”
“The soul of a fry is the crunch! If you're just going to pour sauce on it, why go through the trouble of frying it at all? You might as well just boil it! Don't you dare desecrate the crispiness!”
Kay ranted passionately, veins popping in his neck as he held the kitchen knife. This was his unshakable philosophy: dipping was the only way.
“Quiet. How dare a mere disciple talk back when his master decides to pour the sauce? Perhaps your ribs weren't broken enough during today's training?”
Scáthach narrowed her eyes and toyed with Gáe Bolg, which was planted in the ground. A chilling murderous intent surged through the air.
“...Tch. Fine, do whatever you want. Might makes right. But don't you dare complain later that it's soggy and tasteless. I'll flip the whole table.”
Kay pouted and turned back to stoke the fire in the hearth.
For a conversation between a legendary Godslayer and a disciple training for his life, it was an absurdly mundane and juvenile squabble.
However, Scáthach watched Kay’s grumbling back and smiled silently.
For hundreds of years, those who approached her were always one of two types.
They either trembled in fear and prostrated themselves, or they charged at her like beasts, desperate to prove their strength.
This arrogant, ordinary boy was the first to throw everyday tantrums at her, even nagging her about how to eat a meal.
Of course, that was only among the 'ordinary.' In the distant past, there had been a few others, like Cú Chulainn or Fergus.
But that was centuries ago. Even for an immortal witch, those memories were from a very long time ago.
Not bad. It feels like there's actually someone living here.
Scáthach drained the rest of her wine in one gulp. Even the simple act of waiting for a meal was a strange but pleasant stimulation for her.
Since the food was still in the preparation stage, Scáthach left for a moment to attend to some business.
Once the prep work was mostly done, Kay headed to the back of the castle to wash off the sweat and grime. There was still some time before dinner, and fried food had to be served immediately to stay crispy.
Though the Shadow Realm was a desolate place steeped in the aura of death, Scáthach had used rune magic to draw up geothermal heat and create a hot spring. For Kay, it was the only oasis where he could soothe the fatigue of the day.
“Phew, now I can breathe. My body is absolutely wrecked.”
Kay rolled his aching shoulders and stripped off his clothes, tossing them into a basket.
His skin was a map of scabs and deep purple bruises. His forearms, which had barely blocked Scáthach's kicks that morning, were almost completely numb.
“That damn witch... her kicks are like battering rams. Are her bones made of iron?”
He was grumbling to himself as he stepped into the thick steam of the bath—and that was the exact moment it happened.
“...Huh?”
As the steam cleared and the sound of water rippled, an unbelievable sight unfolded before him.
Smooth, porcelain skin and a nude form with curves so perfect that no artist, even after a lifetime of work, could ever hope to replicate them.
With long, deep violet hair flowing like the night sky, Scáthach was soaking in the water.
“Uh... ugh?!”
Kay froze like a stone statue.
His mind went completely blank. His heart hammered against his ribs so violently it felt as if it might leap out of his throat.
No matter how much they bickered or how casual their relationship had become, facing the legendary queen's naked body head-on was a problem of an entirely different dimension.
“...Is that you, Kay?”
Scáthach turned her head with a languid motion.
Any ordinary woman would have screamed, dove under the water, or unleashed a torrent of curses. At the very least, she should have looked flustered.
But she was the strongest warrior of the Celts and the mistress of this wasteland. Her concept of shame and modesty was fundamentally different from that of a normal human.
“Oh dear, I was already in here. You really are tactless.”
Far from being embarrassed, she actually leaned her upper body out of the water and spoke with effortless composure.
Her ample breasts, her slender waist, and the water droplets glistening on her collarbones struck Kay's vision with violent clarity.
“Aaaaaah!! I-I-I'm sorry!!”
Kay's face turned a shade of red that looked like it might explode. He jumped back, clamping both hands tightly over his eyes.
“I'm covering my eyes! I didn't see anything! I swear! Please, just spare me the assassination techniques! I haven't even finished frying the pork yet!!”
“Ho?”
Scáthach's lips curled into a smile, clearly amused by Kay's frantic reaction as he trembled with his eyes covered.
With a splash, she walked toward the shallow edge of the pool. Water droplets trailed down her dazzling, nude form.
“Why such a fuss, boy? To a warrior, the body is merely a shell of bone, flesh, and muscle—a weapon.”
“N-no! Still, there are boundaries between men and women... no, between master and student! This is crossing the line!! In Britain, a situation like this would lead to a bloodbath!”
Kay desperately scrambled backward with his eyes still covered, but he happened to back straight into a cold rock wall. He was trapped.
“Hmph. How narrow-minded. My body is not inferior to the finest statues sculpted by the gods. It is only proper for a warrior of Ulster to admire and praise such a beautiful form. Stop hiding and open your eyes.”
Scáthach stepped completely out of the water and approached until she was right in front of Kay's face.
The droplets falling from her wet hair, the sweet and dizzying scent of her skin, and those hypnotic crimson eyes.
“Open your eyes, Kay.”
“N-no! If I open them, you'll stab me with your spear!”
“It is an order. Admire your master's body.”
Faced with such a resolute and absurd command, Kay flinched and slightly parted his fingers.
Before him stood the perfect, naked form of a goddess, devoid of a single shred of shame.
The beauty was so overwhelming and surreal that even the adolescent urges that had flared up were quelled, replaced by a sense of pure awe.
“...Wow, you really don't have a single scar on your body.”
It was a pure, honest observation that slipped out without him thinking.
Scáthach chuckled and stroked her smooth shoulder and arm.
“There are very few weapons in this world capable of piercing my skin. And even if they did, I could erase the trace completely with Primordial Runes. What do you think? Quite charming, isn't it?”
With a mischievous grin, she leaned her face close to his ear. Her wet, bare chest brushed lightly against his own bare torso.
“Tell me. Do you want to hold me?”
“...!!”
Kay looked as if steam was about to erupt from his head.
“W-what are you talking about! I've never even been in a relationship! Stop saying such weird things!”
“Hm? What's this? Were you a virgin?”
“Of course I was! I spent all my time taking care of my sisters; I didn't have time for dating, let alone... anything else! Or did I look like some kind of degenerate to you?!”
“Heh. I've heard that among the Germans, those who preserve their virginity for a long time are praised as great heroes. Ulster is the same. One who maintains their purity is seen as a possessor of great mental fortitude—a champion of purity.”
“Champion my ass! Anyway, I'm leaving!”
Kay let out a yell, grabbed a single towel from the basket, and bolted away at full speed.
He ran so frantically that he nearly tripped and face-planted at the exit.
“Hahahaha!!”
Scáthach's hearty, joyful laughter echoed through the steamy bathhouse.
“What a cute boy. Fergus was practically desperate to hold me, yet I thought this one was only a novice with the sword—it turns out he's a complete amateur as a man as well.”
The queen happily swept her wet hair back and immersed herself in the warm water once more.
The tedious, repeating eternity of her existence was becoming far more colorful, thanks to this timid, grumbling, ordinary disciple.
Then came dinner time.
A mountain of sweet-and-sour pork, which Kay had fried with all his heart, sat upon the stone table.
However, a strange silence and awkwardness hung between the two who usually spent their time bickering.
Kay kept his head bowed low, using his chopsticks to poke at his portion of meat.
The shocking scene from earlier was seared into his mind. Even when he closed his eyes, those perfect curves flickered before him.
I'm going crazy. I can't tell if the food is going into my mouth or my nose. Why is that witch acting like nothing happened?
Scáthach, meanwhile, was as relaxed as ever. In fact, she seemed to be in an even better mood than usual.
She picked up a piece of crispy meat, grinned, and lifted the entire bowl of sweet-and-sour sauce.
Then, right in front of Kay, she poured the sauce in a torrent over the mountain of fried pork.
“Hey!! What are you doing!! I told you not to pour it!!”
“I do as I please. Sweet-and-sour pork is best when it's thoroughly drenched in sauce.”
Scáthach popped a piece of the now-soggy meat into her mouth.
Chew.
“Mmm, this is the taste. The juices and sauce blend together for a very tender bite. Aren't you eating?”
“...I'm not. A fry that's lost its crunch is a dead dish. You eat it all.”
Kay grumbled in a small, defeated voice and set down his chopsticks. Scáthach propped her chin on her hand and, noticing the tips of Kay's ears turning red, felt a surge of playfulness.
“What's the matter? In the bath, you couldn't take your eyes off me and your face was beet red, but now you can't even look up? Is the meat not going down?”
“Pffft!!”
Kay sprayed the water he was drinking in a magnificent fountain, falling into a fit of coughing.
“Cough, cough! W-who said I couldn't take my eyes off you?! I was desperately trying to cover them, but you ordered me to look!”
“Hmph. How timid. I suppose you've become overwhelmed by my figure, and now you feel pathetic, reduced to just a boy who fries meat?”
“Am I a pervert?! I'm from Britain! Back home, if you did something like that, you'd go straight to prison or get your head lopped off by the knights!”
“This is my domain. Here, you follow the rules of Ulster and my law.”
Scáthach raised her glass and smiled seductively.
“Now, let us toast. To my first wimpy disciple who survived the sight of my beautiful body.”
“...Toast my foot. Next time, I'm putting a bunch of poisonous mushrooms in your food.”
Though he pouted, Kay gave in and lifted his wooden cup, clinking it against her golden one.
Clink!
The cheerful sound broke the silence of the wasteland.
Amidst the hellish training, a strange current was blossoming—one that transcended the bond of master and student.
Who could have known what would happen next?
Two years later.
After several similar situations, three years had passed since Kay first arrived in the Shadow Realm.
“Today, I'm landing a solid hit, and I'm claiming that reward.”
“Claiming it, are you? Heh, you really are a beast.”
“Whatever.”
A significantly stronger Kay stood before Scáthach. One held a rugged sword, the other a rugged spear.
Kay's physical strength had grown immensely since his arrival. While his muscle mass could have easily made him bulky, Scáthach had used runes to regulate his growth. She ensured he developed compressed muscles, maintaining a lean frame because excessive bulk only makes one a larger target.
Consequently, his silhouette remained similar to before, but the internal power had changed—a fact evident in the sheer intensity of the aura he exuded.
“Heh, come then, Hero of Britain. Let us see if your attack can actually reach me today.”
“Here I come!”
Nice chapter.