After a quick wash, Surtr collapsed onto the tatami mattress in the temple’s guest quarters.
The soft bedding enveloped her frame, and her tense muscles finally eased on their own accord.
Transmigration, high-stakes duels against ancient heroes…
everything that had unfolded in just a few short hours was exponentially more thrilling than her entire previous life combined.
It was honestly a small miracle she could remain this remarkably level-headed.
‘Guess my adaptability is just off the charts.’ Muttering to herself, Surtr pulled up her holographic interface and tapped into the System Shop.
The storefront mechanics were fairly self-explanatory, divided neatly into a Limited-Time Rotation and a Permanent Catalog.
The Permanent Catalog exclusively stocked commodities native to the current world, refreshing with every multiversal hop.
Surtr casually swiped upward, the dazzling assortment of mystic items making her head spin slightly.
Mostly because of the absurd price tags attached beneath them.
With a measly three hundred Primogems to her name, she couldn’t afford a single high-tier goodie.
A standard B-Rank Noble Phantasm—like certain red and yellow popsicle armaments—commanded an eye-watering cost of nearly a thousand Primogems.
Looking at it from this perspective, the 2,333 Primogem fee for Random World Travel was practically a bargain basement steal.
[Naturally.
It is, after all, a core built-in feature of this system.] The system popped in to offer a smug remark.
Turning her attention to the other tab, the Limited-Time Rotation only showcased ten curated items, cycling once every calendar month.
Absolutely anything across the multiverse could appear here.
Judging by the slashed numbers, they seemed to carry decent promotional discounts, though whether it was a genuine bargain remained anyone’s guess.
[This system guarantees absolute commercial integrity for all valued hosts.] At least, that was the corporate pitch.
Browsing through the inventory, she could only describe the lineup as a wildly chaotic grab-bag.
The single item that instantly hooked her attention was labeled [Surtr’s Potential Token].
According to the tooltip, it was used to upgrade combat talents and break through ability caps, though the name felt suspiciously on the nose.
‘Are you sure this thing wasn’t tailor-made just to bait my wallet?’ Surtr questioned in her mind.
[Items in the rotation automatically manifest into forms matching the host’s conceptual cognition.
The system bears zero responsibility for naming conventions.] ‘Fair enough.’ Surtr accepted the explanation.
After checking the price tag below the token, she decisively closed the interface, shut her eyes, and prepared for bed.
Even after a hefty discount, the token still demanded a whopping two thousand Primogems.
Who on earth had that kind of disposable income right now?
Besides, she had zero urgent need for power-ups at the moment.
Time to sleep.
Perhaps because the nonstop whirlwind of today’s events had drained her mental stamina, rhythmic, peaceful breathing soon filled the quiet room.
Before long, Miss Surtr plunged into another dream.
The narrative of the dream unfolded across an ancient era when gods still walked alongside mortals.
The protagonist was a radiant, enchanting young princess.
She was the jewel of a prosperous kingdom, the favored disciple of the goddess Hecate, and the darling of divine magecraft.
Showered in endless love and adoration, she was destined to live out a fairy-tale life of pure bliss had fate not intervened.
Until a magnificent, grand vessel known as the Argo sailed across the azure sea.
A sudden surge of burning fury and suffocating sorrow seized Surtr’s chest the moment she laid eyes on the ship and the figures standing upon its deck.
The initially lighthearted myth took a dark, horrific plunge, resembling a cheerful magical girl anime that abruptly mutated into a psychological horror.
Exile, betrayal, cold-blooded murder, retribution…
until the weeping witch drowned every single thing in her path beneath the vengeful sea of dragonfire.
When she opened her eyes again, the dreary night had vanished, replaced by crisp morning sunlight filtering softly through the tatami paper screens.
Surtr lifted a hand, massaging her aching temples as she muttered under her breath.
“Catching a front-row seat to that kind of tragic disaster on my very first night…
talk about a terrible omen.” “Even if it happens to be the unvarnished truth, don’t you think dropping a review like that right in front of the person involved is a little uncalled for, Master?” A delightfully husky, alluring voice drifted over from right beside her.
Surtr turned her head, only to find Medea lying casually on her stomach across the adjacent pillow.
Come to think of it, they had shared the same guest room last night, albeit in separate futons.
Medea had discarded her heavy, obscuring black robe.
Resting her chin atop her pale, slender forearms, her pointed, elf-like ears were fully exposed to the morning light, while a pair of piercing blue-violet eyes stared teasingly back at Surtr.
She was dressed in nothing more than a whisper-thin nightgown.
From Surtr’s elevated vantage point, the soft, generous curves of her chest were visibly squished against the mattress, offering a dangerously breathtaking view.
Waking up to a visual feast like this, it seemed today’s luck was off to a fantastic start.
“My bad.” Quietly averting her eyes, Surtr offered a straightforward apology.
Even if it was an involuntary side-effect of their contract, peeking into someone else’s traumatic memories wasn’t particularly polite.
“Though under normal circumstances, shouldn’t Masters be oblivious to their Servant’s dreams?” “Well, I am a Caster from the Age of Gods.
Sensing magical resonance across our spiritual link isn’t exactly difficult.” Medea pushed herself up slightly, leaning closer toward Surtr with a playful glint in her eyes.
“So, Master…
after witnessing my glorious past firsthand, do you have any closing thoughts to share?” “Thoughts?
What, did you want me to write an essay review?” Surtr raised an eyebrow.
“Not really…” Medea’s tone faltered slightly, betraying a trace of quiet hesitation.
She probably didn’t even know what kind of answer she was secretly hoping for.
“I already told you last night.
Whether you committed arson, butchered your enemies, or robbed people blind in the past, you’re the Servant I chose.
I’m not about to judge you for ancient history.” With that, Surtr rolled out of bed and reached up to detangle a shredded pillowcase snagged on the tip of her obsidian horn.
While she thought her new demon horns looked undeniably badass, they were an absolute nightmare for sleeping she had already punctured a hole clean through the temple’s feather pillow.
She genuinely wondered how those big-horned Caprinae operators back on Terra managed to get a good night’s rest without destroying their furniture.
If she ever got the chance to visit, she’d have to ask in person.
“Honestly, if your phrasing were just five percent gentler, I might have actually shed a tear or two.” Medea’s brow twitched.
Even though she knew her Master genuinely harbored zero malice toward her past, hearing it delivered with such blunt nonchalance left her completely unable to act sentimental.
“Next time, guaranteed.” After a brief wrestling match with her black dress—which came loaded with far too many stylish straps and metallic buckles—Surtr stood before the full-length mirror, admiring the crimson-haired reflection staring back at her.
‘Damn.
I really am ridiculously gorgeous.’ A face and figure that could easily contest her top-tier looks from her past life.
After lingering in the room a bit longer, Surtr led Medea out to survey the grounds of Ryuudou Temple.
Under the continuous subtle influence of Suggestion magecraft, the resident monks had already packed up their luggage at dawn, enthusiastically embarking on a spiritual pilgrimage to the West to fetch Buddhist scriptures.
From this moment on, the entire mountain was their private fortress.
As the central spiritual leyline node of Fuyuki City, Ryuudou Temple was a goldmine of ambient mana.
Establishing a Territory Creation workshop here would be exponentially more potent and efficient than setting up anywhere else in town.
Furthermore, the core ritual framework of the Greater Grail was situated directly inside the Great Cavern beneath Mount Enzou, making future infiltration remarkably convenient.
This temple was destined to turn into a warzone.
For the monks’ own safety, sending them packing on an all-expenses-paid vacation was the best possible outcome.
Once heavy artillery and Noble Phantasms started flying, she wouldn’t have the spare hands to play bodyguard for innocent civilians.
With the mortal residents cleared out, the immediate priority was pinpointing the exact subterranean entrance to the Greater Grail.
Even though she knew the Greater Grail slumbered within Mount Enzou’s belly, the Three Founding Families had heavily obfuscated the magical pathways, requiring specialized detection to crack.
Medea had proactively taken on the scouting task.
Without direct map coordinates, Surtr had expected it to take a few hours at least.
“Master, I have secured the entrance to the Greater Grail.” Medea’s telepathic transmission echoed through their spiritual link.
“Already?
How long has it even been?” Surtr didn’t hide her astonishment barely twenty minutes had ticked by since Medea walked out into the courtyard.
“On the contrary, it was ridiculously easy precisely because they used bounded field magecraft to conceal it.” Medea replied with a smug, effortless chuckle.
When a bright orange gets tossed into a basket of green apples, spotting the odd one out takes zero effort for an Age of Gods sorceress.
“Honestly, if those modern magi had simply piled a bunch of ordinary boulders in front of the cave, I might have had to waste an extra ten minutes digging through rocks.”