Three years in the Shadow Realm.
It was a period that felt like an eternity, as if Kay’s very flesh and bones had been gouged out and painstakingly reassembled.
Kay vaulted off the ground, driving his crude sword downward in a powerful overhead strike.
Both his strength and speed had become razor-sharp, incomparable to the day he first fell into this nightmare realm. The sound of the blade cleaving the air echoed with a chilling sharpness.
"Straightforward. You've focused entirely on speed."
Scáthach didn't move an inch. With a casual motion, she used the butt of her spear to flick Kay’s blade aside.
That light strike mercilessly twisted the trajectory of his attack.
"Guh!"
Kay struggled to recover his balance, but Scáthach’s spear was already arcing toward his wrist.
KAAANG!
A shockwave erupted, sending the sword flying from Kay's grip. The blade spun through the air before embedding itself deep into the ashen earth far away.
"Losing your weapon... you are disqualified as a warrior."
The moment his weapon was gone, Kay transitioned instantly into hand-to-hand combat.
He seized the briefest opening as Scáthach withdrew her spear and charged headlong into her guard.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
His fists, knees, and elbows rained a relentless barrage of blows, targeting Scáthach’s vital points without a moment's pause.
Yet Scáthach remained serene. With her spear held behind her back, she deflected every single strike using only one hand.
"Good spirit. But you are still far from the mark. Your movements are clouded by emotion; your intent is far too easy to read."
Just as Scáthach pushed Kay’s punch aside with the back of her hand and aimed a strike at his jaw—
"I wanted you to read it!"
Kay flexed every muscle in his body, unleashing a devastating right hook loaded with his entire weight and rotational force.
The blow carried the full weight of Kay’s resolve.
Scáthach raised her left arm to block.
Foolish boy. With a trajectory like that, I can easily parry and counter...
In that instant, Kay’s eyes flashed.
The tension in his right shoulder, which had seemed ready to explode, vanished in a heartbeat.
For the first time, Scáthach’s eyes widened in surprise.
A feint to lure my guard?
The right hand had been a decoy.
The true strike originated from the rotation that surged from his firmly planted left foot, traveling up through his waist.
Twisting his torso, Kay delivered a perfect left liver blow, punching upward from Scáthach’s blind spot on her right side.
THWACK!!!
A heavy, dull impact ripped through the air of the Shadow Realm.
It wasn't the legendary spear of Cú Chulainn or the sword of Fergus. It was simply the crude fist of an ordinary man who had spent his days cooking for his younger sisters.
But that fist landed squarely in Scáthach’s ribs.
"...!!"
Scáthach’s eyes snapped open. She felt a visceral impact unlike anything she had experienced in ages.
Though she possessed the body of a witch who had touched the Root, this flawless strike, piercing through a moment of carelessness, delivered a shock that was entirely foreign to her.
That shock awakened the warrior's instinct she had suppressed for centuries.
"You...!"
Scáthach’s crimson eyes glinted coldly, and her spear swung like a flash of lightning.
It was an instinctive counterattack. A lethal killing intent washed over Kay’s entire body.
A sudden gale whipped up, tossing Kay’s hair.
The cold edge of the crimson spear stopped exactly one millimeter from Kay’s Adam's apple. The sheer air pressure emanating from the tip drew a thin bead of blood from his throat.
Silence fell.
Only the sound of ragged breathing remained.
"...Haah. Damn. I almost died."
Drenched in cold sweat, Kay collapsed flat on his back. Every ounce of strength drained from his body.
Scáthach looked from the spear in her hand to the panting man on the ground.
"...Ha, haha."
A short, breathless laugh escaped her crimson lips.
"I nearly countered in earnest without even realizing it. To think my instincts would be drawn out by someone like you."
Scáthach withdrew her spear with a smirk.
For the first time in hundreds of years since the era of Ulster ended, she had allowed a valid hit. And it had come from a pupil who possessed not a shred of natural talent. Of course, the actual damage was negligible.
It was merely a strike strong enough to make her blood boil.
"Your growth is staggering, Kay. You've exceeded my predictions. To relax your strength and shift your trajectory in a split second... your tenacity is truly vicious."
"Hah... huff... Of course. I... I spent so much time image-training while mincing meat... just to land this one hit..."
Scáthach sat down beside the fallen Kay and gently brushed the sweat-soaked hair away from his forehead.
"Of course, if it had been Setanta or other geniuses, they would have landed many such hits long ago. Your fist couldn't even crack a bone, so the physical damage is virtually zero."
"...If you're going to praise me, just do it without the caveats."
"But the fact that you reached me is what matters. A promise is a promise. You landed a valid hit."
A strange heat began to flicker in Scáthach’s crimson eyes.
"I shall give you the reward I promised. The thing you desired so much."
"...Eh? Really? What is it? Sigurd's magic sword? Or Dagda's Cauldron?"
Kay's eyes sparkled as he bolted upright.
Scáthach stood up and slowly began to lower the zipper of her purple tights.
"I grant you the right to embrace me. Come to my bedchamber."
"...Huh?"
Kay froze, his expression completely blank.
As he sat there with his mouth agape, as if his brain had suffered a total system failure, Scáthach narrowed her eyes.
"What is it? Don't tell me you're refusing?"
Her heart gave a sudden, sharp throb.
Emotions she had forgotten as a woman surfaced for the first time in centuries.
In the past, Cú Chulainn had rejected her bed. He had viewed her only as a teacher and eventually slept with her sister instead. As that bitter memory overlapped with the present, her crimson eyes trembled slightly.
Is this boy... rejecting me too?
But then.
"...Ugh."
Thick tears suddenly began to stream down Kay's face.
"Why—why are you crying?!"
Kay collapsed back onto the ground and began to sob uncontrollably.
"Is it real... are you really going to do it with me...?"
"I—I already told you yes. Do I look like a liar?"
"I... for nearly sixteen years... I spent every waking moment taking care of my sisters... ugh!"
Kay's pent-up sorrow exploded.
He had been reasonably popular with the village girls, and if he had wanted to, he could have visited a brothel to lose his virginity any time.
But he had spent his days and nights caring for his sisters, leaving him with no such luxury.
"I thought my virginity would end on a chopping block... I can't believe I'm finally being rewarded...!"
"..."
Scáthach let out a bewildered laugh.
It wasn't the serious rejection she had feared, nor was it the noble anguish of a hero. It was simply the ecstatic wailing of a man who had been a virgin for over a decade.
"...So it's not that you dislike older women, then."
When Scáthach asked tentatively, Kay wiped the tears and snot from his face with his sleeve and looked at her with absolute seriousness.
"What does age have to do with it?! You're basically a big sister! Besides, what man in the world would refuse a breathtaking beauty who's waiting for him naked?! To be honest, you're exactly my type!"
It was a shout of 100% pure, unadulterated sincerity.
At that blunt and crude confession, Scáthach felt a strange, tickling sensation in her chest.
The raw honesty of this ordinary cook felt far more pleasant than the polished praises of a thousand heroes.
"...Hmph. You beast. Go wash yourself and come to my room. I'll be waiting."
Scáthach turned away, a deep crimson blush blooming on her cheeks for the first time in centuries.
That night.
Tense and swallowing hard, Kay opened the door to Scáthach’s bedchamber.
The room was dimly lit by candles, and a strangely sweet fragrance lingered in the air.
"You've come."
On the bed, Scáthach lay reclined, completely naked, without a single shred of clothing to cover her.
Faced with such overwhelming, unshielded sensuality, Kay nearly felt his legs give out.
"Um... Master. Are we... really doing this?"
"A promise is a promise. And I, too... feel my blood boiling for the first time in centuries."
Scáthach’s gaze shimmered with seduction.
In truth, this was her first time as well.
She had set the condition that only one who could defeat her would be allowed into her bed, but no one had ever met the requirement. Cú Chulainn had come close, but he had slept with her sister and then abandoned her.
Though she had unintentionally remained a chaste witch for centuries, she maintained the poised air of a seasoned queen.
Kay approached the bed and, with trembling hands, began to remove his clothes one by one.
His revealed physique was a masterpiece of compressed muscle, forged through three years of hellish training. It was the body of a man—rough, yet solid.
Scáthach slowly scanned Kay's body from top to bottom.
Her gaze lingered on his lower half, specifically on the member that had not yet fully awakened.
"Hmm."
She nodded, as if evaluating him with professional expertise.
"Well, it's adequate. A passing grade. Though it still falls far short of the size of Fergus, who was known as the Great Stallion—"
At that moment.
Seeing Scáthach’s naked body from such a close distance pushed Kay's patience past its breaking point.
Throb!
In an instant, Kay's member surged with blood and began to swell.
It wasn't mere expansion. It was the moment the seal on a beast, suppressed for over a decade, was finally broken.
"—Eh?"
Scáthach’s eyes widened.
The object she had just judged as "adequate" was now transforming into something violently imposing, veins bulging along its length.
It wasn't just long; it possessed an overwhelming girth and an intimidating presence.
Even compared to the legendary Fergus of her memories, it didn't pale in comparison... no, it was perhaps even more monstrous.
This was the "magic sword" of a man whose body she had personally forged toward perfection.
"This... what on earth is this..."
Scáthach swallowed hard without realizing it.
The queen's leisurely expression vanished, replaced by a mixture of tension and anticipation. She felt a sudden, searing heat between her thighs.
"...Sorry, Master. I've been holding this in for over ten years."
Breathing like a wild animal, Kay climbed onto the bed. His reason had long since evaporated.
"Heh... you truly are something, Kay. To overturn my expectations once in battle, and now again in bed."
Scáthach licked her lips and wrapped her arms around the neck of the man looming over her.
"Let us see if that incredible tenacity of yours holds true at night... Test me to your heart's content."
That night.
Within the deep castle of the demiplane, beast-like cries—whether of agony or ecstasy—echoed unceasingly until dawn.
The next morning.
Kay woke up with muscle aches that made him feel as if he had been beaten senseless.
The memories of the previous night rushed back like a storm. It had been a conflict more intense than any training—a literal Celtic battle of attrition in the bedroom.
"You're awake."
A languid voice drifted from beside him.
Scáthach lay half-covered by the sheets, propping her chin on her hand as she looked down at him.
The usual icy coldness was gone, replaced by the sleepy, seductive smile of a woman who had slept deeply.
"Uh... good morning. Is your back okay?"
"Hmph. What about you? I never imagined I would be the one declaring defeat in bed. Against your mindless stamina... and that monstrous weapon, I had no way to win."
Scáthach admitted her defeat honestly, her cheeks flushing red.
It was the first defeat of her life. And yet, it was incredibly sweet.
"Kay."
Scáthach gently stroked his cheek.
"I shall take you as my consort. Stay by my side in this Shadow Realm forever as my husband."
It was the queen's proposal.
But Kay didn't waver at the sweet offer. He gripped the blanket tightly and looked away.
"...I'll have to think about that."
"What? Think about it?"
"Last night was last night. My family in Britain comes first. I'm definitely going back someday."
Kay turned his head shyly, but his voice was filled with unwavering resolve.
Scáthach stared at him blankly for a moment, then let out a small laugh.
"Hahaha... You really are arrogant to the very end."
She had expected him to be completely captivated by her charms and cling to her. Instead, he was playing hard to get even after spending a night together.
Yet, she found herself liking that steadfastness even more.
"Very well. If you wish to return, then try to break me completely and leave. But mark my words, Kay."
Scáthach climbed on top of him, whispering seductively into his ear.
"You will eventually fall completely in love with me. I will tame you so thoroughly that you won't even remember the women of Britain."
The morning in the demiplane broke with the queen's sweet declaration of war.
The ordinary boy had finally become a man, and his hellish life in the Shadow Realm was entering a brand new phase.
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