“Master, since we already know the other might be the seventh person, wouldn’t it be fine to directly make him our companion?”
Settling Emiya Shirou properly, Medea propped herself up with her tin staff and asked.
“You’d better not mean brainwashing.”
Surtr glanced at Medea, who had a serious look on her face.
“Mhm.”
Medea nodded, seemingly not feeling there was any problem with this; after all, the two sides were enemies to begin with.
But Surtr shook her head.
“Forget it, we have the advantage now, there’s no need to go to that extent. We just need to make sure the other can stand on our side when necessary.”
Although she didn’t consider herself a good person, doing such a thing to a good kid was clearly a bit hard to bring herself to do.
Besides, in the animations she watched in her past life, brainwashed protagonists would always wake up for various reasons and then wipe out the villains.
She certainly didn’t want to be the one who gets wiped out.
“Very well, whatever you decide.”
Since the other had said so, Medea had no objections.
“Then let’s go to the Matou Family next. As for the two of us, there should be no problem in terms of combat power.”
No matter what the other party is doing behind the scenes, at worst, she could just burn everything to ashes with a single fire.
Picking up avalon, Surtr tossed it into her backpack and walked toward the door.
Opening the classroom door and stepping out, she saw a harmless-looking guy with blue seaweed-like hair walking toward this side.
Matou Shinji.
[Client: Matou Shinji]
[Quest: Desires to acquire magecraft talent]
[Reward: 50 Primogems]
So cheap.
Surtr paused in her steps.
“What’s wrong?”
Medea asked from behind.
“We’ve run into someone from the Matou Family. Let’s check for any intelligence before we go.”
Since the other party had delivered himself right to her door, she had no reason to refuse.
Stepping aside, Surtr made room for Medea to cast her spell.
Five minutes later.
Surtr and Medea left the classroom, leaving behind the red and blue duo sleeping in each other’s arms.
“Master, you really have a bad sense of humor.”
Medea gave her own Master a peculiar look.
“I was just afraid the two of them would catch a cold.”
Surtr shrugged, feeling that she had done another good deed.
As for what strange rumors would appear in the school tomorrow, she could only say that the students’ imaginations were simply too rich, and it had nothing to do with her.
“Though come to think of it, Matou Zouken actually summoned a Servant as well. No, I suppose it should be expected.”
Surtr recalled the intelligence she had learned from Matou Shinji.
The content wasn’t much, but what was worth noting was that Matou Zouken had found a butler in a black robe to take care of his daily life.
No matter how one looked at it, this was Cursed Arm Hassan.
Furthermore, in recent years, the other party felt that the atmosphere at home was becoming increasingly bizarre and was considering whether to move out.
It was probably Matou Zouken’s doing, but Shinji basically had no clear idea. Read this novel at novelping.com for the best experience.
After all, he was basically an existence that had already been given up on, and there wasn’t much he could find out.
Still, Cursed Arm…
Unlike heroes like Lancer who excel at frontal combat, as long as Hassan was caught by Surtr, he would only be instantly killed.
However, she would have to wait for the opponent to approach on his own; the opponent’s agility was very high, and if he was truly determined to run away, she might not necessarily be able to catch up.
It required a fatal strike.
“Medea, you go first later, I’ll support you.”
After a brief consideration, she said to Medea.
“Eh, I go first?”
It seemed as if she had heard something incredible.
“Master, I am merely a fragile and powerless Caster. You wouldn’t want to punish me just because I teased you a moment ago, would you?”
Medea sobbed tearfully.
Surtr would have believed her if not for the fact that not a single tear was shed.
Still, this kind of feeling wasn’t bad; she recommended more of it.
“I just want to lure Hassan out. Don’t worry, with me here, you won’t be in danger.”
Surtr said.
A Master protecting a Servant sounded somewhat inverted, but comparing the frontal strengths of the two, Medea felt there was no problem with this.
“In other words, Master plans to play the pig to eat the tiger?”
Medea understood.
“That’s right.”
“Very well, but Master had better rein in the restless magical energy on your body; Servants are very sensitive.”
Medea understood, her gaze lingering on Surtr as she reminded her.
The most intuitive way to judge a person’s strength was to look at the magical energy radiating from them.
Ordinary people have no magical energy, hence they are weak.
Mages store some magical energy in their bodies, but not much—just a bit stronger than ordinary people.
And Servants themselves are composed of magical energy, visibly strong.
The magical energy radiating from her own Master was completely no less than a Servant’s; no matter how one looked at it, there was a problem.
“If you’re not good at it, I can teach you the technique to conceal magical energy.”
This technique had little meaning for Servants, but her Master was human?
There shouldn’t be any problems.
“Then I’ll leave it to you.”
She truly wasn’t good at it, or rather, completely clueless.
After all, why would a Fire Giant ever need a skill like concealing magical energy?
Finding a quiet corner, according to Medea’s instructions, Surtr closed her eyes and began to try.
If she compared herself to a ball of fire, what she needed to do now was to rein in the flames on her body to a degree where people wouldn’t notice, while maintaining the same total amount.
It shouldn’t be hard.
Not hard.
Medea stood to the side, watching the expression on Surtr’s face go from calm to tense, to distorted, and finally turning ferocious. You are reading on g.com, the official source.
Those who knew would think she was concealing magical energy; those who didn’t would think she was suffering from some kind of inner demon.
Furthermore, instead of concealing anything at all, Medea felt that the other party was like a bomb about to explode.
She quickly retreated a dozen meters and cast a shield on herself.
If she were to be taken away by her own Master’s self-destruction, that would be far too hellish.
“Master, if it doesn’t work, forget it. I’ll go make a breath-concealing talisman for you first; it shouldn’t be a problem for a short time.”
Medea said.
Just as her voice fell, Surtr’s charging movement abruptly halted, and immediately after, like a deflated ball, she slowly shrank down.
Did it succeed?
Medea blinked.
In her perception, the other party’s power, which had previously been as restless as raging fire, had become gentle and introverted.
To use a metaphor, it was like changing from a fountain into a lake.
Without careful probing, it seemed one would only mistake the other party for a somewhat stronger mage.
Opening her eyes, Surtr curved the corners of her mouth.
“No need, but this is a bit tiring. Let’s hurry over.”
It felt like using reins to restrain a group of violent, fiery horses.
To be honest, it was a bit tiring.
“Why did you retreat so far? Don’t tell me you thought I wouldn’t be able to control it and would explode?”
Surtr gave a weird look to Medea, who had already retreated to the corner of the wall.
“Haha, how could that be? I trust Master very much.”
Laughing awkwardly, Medea walked quickly to Surtr’s side and swiftly changed the subject.
“Let’s hurry and go, right as it’s getting dark anyway.”
“Fine then.”
Surtr didn’t dwell on it much either, shrugged, and walked straight in the direction of the Matou Family.
After a while.
The Matou Family, in the dark basement.
The emaciated old man stood atop the high platform, before him a pool of black sludge covering the entire space, exuding a heavy malice.
Suddenly, a hoarse sound came from his mind.
“Master, a Servant is coming. Judging from the direction, they should be coming for us.”
“Oh, which pair?”
The old man asked.
His voice was dark and damp, as if a lump of thick phlegm was stuck in his throat.
“It looks like it should be Caster.”
“Caster? Heh.”
As if hearing some good news, the old man let out a chuckle.
The wooden staff in his palm struck the ground.
A low sound echoed through the basement.
Beneath the old man, the sludge began to make a sticky sound.
Streak after streak of crimson gazes poked their heads out from beneath the mud, and a huge shadow stood in the center of the mud, almost filling nearly half the space.
The old man’s sunken eye sockets were filled with fanaticism.
“Then let them come. Just right, they can’t wait to taste the flavor of a Servant either.”