19 Chapter 19, Eve

The inn provided us with a free breakfast (rice, miso soup, grilled fish, tofu, and unlimited servings of green tea) the following morning. I used [Structural Analysis] on the dishes I didn't recognize, as glimpses into their history also broke down their recipes, adding them to my growing repertoire. When Robin wobbled in and sat down with a pained grimace, I offered free healing with a Mend stave. That earned me a relieved kiss, which I happily accepted.

Nowi kept sending me and Robin knowing glances as we ate, her wide smile reaching from pointed ear to pointed ear. The two thumbs up she flashed us made it pretty obvious the Manakete knew what we'd been up to last night.

When Laurent joined us (looking rather ruffled, despite his best efforts), he was surprised to see me without my Keaton Mask, asking what the occasion was. I simply replied I'd grown tired of it as I nibbled on my tofu. Laurent was obviously overjoyed to see the face of his teacher again, as his small smile persisted until he was called away by the blue-haired Anna running the Bathrealm.

When he returned, he looked like a man whose balls were trapped in a vice, and was suspiciously missing his wallet too. I asked if he needed any help, but he assured me the matter was taken care of.

We left the Bathrealm after we were all well fed, departing through an Outrealm Gate identical to the one that'd dragged us into this wild mess in the first place. This time we weren't abducted like cows beamed up by aliens, and were able to stroll through the Gate's serene portal at our leisure. When we emerged from the other side, we found ourselves at the Outrealm Gate on the island south of Ylisse.

Before we left, I placed a hand on the Gate and shut it down using Naga's grace. This way, there'd be no more unfortunate adventurers getting lost in random Outrealms, plus if Plegia ever discovered this location they'd be unable to take advantage of the Gate. Could Gangrel or Validar utilize the Outrealms? I didn't believe so, but why take that chance?

Robin and I then told Nowi and Laurent our plans going forward: we were splitting up for the time being. Our companions were free to do whatever they wanted while Robin and I traveled in each other's company. The plan was to meet up a month later, at Southtown, before heading to Ylisstol to meet the Shepards.

Laurent was quick to protest, fearing I'd blindly stumble my way into a Plegian trap of sorts without his guiding presence. Nowi, on the other hand, gave us an over-exaggerated wink before telling us to have fun.

Since Laurent wasn't taking "no" for an answer, I flat out told him, "Robin and I plan on going at it like a couple of Taguel in heat, so unless you want to live in a tent that'll stink of sex for a month you'll give us our damn privacy."

This was one of those rare moments where our walking dictionary was tongue-tied, while Robin was pinching my side in embarrassment. His head was ceaselessly snapping between myself and Robin, as if the two of us being together was causing an error in his software.

Nowi promised to watch after Laurent while he was rebooting. When we sailed our way back to Southport, I gave her a chest full of gold (and a few rupees, just in case) and told her to use as much as she needed to keep the two of them clothed and well fed. When we parted (with Laurent waving robotically), Robin and I hopped on my Master Cycle Zero before speeding off.

While extensive cuddle times were definitely on the menu, I might've fibbed a bit; it wasn't the main reason we temporarily parted ways with our friends.

"Plan B?" I repeated as I kept the Master Cycle Zero cruising at a comfortable speed, passing over the flat fields of Ylisse.

"I trust you, Link," Robin said, hugging me from behind a little tighter. "But I'm a tactician. Preparing for the worst is something mother hammered into my bones. While I don't doubt you'll keep me safe from Grima, I'll feel better with a backup plan."

After a bit of discussion, Robin and I agreed to keep the truth of my origins a secret between me and her. While I felt kind of bad excluding Nowi and Laurent like this, I also trusted Robin's judgment. With only the two of us here, we were able to speak freely.

We continued this discussion off the Master Cycle Zero when we parked alongside a clear river for lunch. The outfit the Eternal Dragon had gifted me during my Class Change was a seamless blend of my iconic green outfit and Fire Emblem armor, and currently stored away in my Inventory, leaving me to wear a plan white tunic and faded trousers.

[Hero's Armor, Rank: S]

A set of protective clothing fashioned and assembled by the Eternal Dragon and the Golden Eternal, wearable only by their chosen Champion. It has been enchanted to forever be lightweight yet durable, as well as repair itself should damage be incurred. So long as their Champion wears the Hero's Armor, he will be blessed with +7 to DEFENSE and +7 to RESISTANCE.

Protection: 50

Durability: 50/50

Magic Cost: 5

Sure it was great and all, but it wasn't something I wanted to wear 24/7. Besides, with the Inventory I could equip and un-equip it in a flash.

"So what is Plan A?" Robin asked as she gathered firewood.

"This." I drew the Master Sword from its sheath, which was strapped across my back. I didn't keep it in the [Inventory of the Wild Hero], as I felt most at ease when the sword was physically close. Plus, if (for whatever infinitesimal reason) Naga's SYSTEM was compromised again I wouldn't be left without a reliable weapon. "The Master Sword, my weapon from my original dimension. It's also been called the Blade of Evil's Bane."

"With a name like that, it's not hard to imagine what it can do." Robin set down the firewood to observe the Master Sword closely. After mustering her determination, she reached forward and touched the flat of the blade. "Huh, nothing's happening."

"Never knew you considered yourself evil," I said, lighting the firewood with a Traced Fire tome, then taking our trusty iron cooking pot out of the Inventory and placing it atop of the roaring flames.

"Well, I am the Heart of Grima."

"Sorry to break this to you, but that heart's all Robin. Believe me, I checked."

Robin laughed, then glanced down at the Mark of Grima on the back of her scarred right hand. "Think it can do anything about this?"

I shrugged, then gently poked the Fell Dragon's Brand with the Master Sword.

Nothing happened.

"Guess not," I shrugged.

"So how does Plan A play out?" Robin moved our conversation along.

That … was a good question. I knew the Master Sword could protect Robin thanks to the Eternal Dragon's assurances, but how exactly would it do that? Would it keep the Fell Dragon away like a bottle of Grima-Begone? Were we both immune to the influences of dark magic so long as we were within a certain radius of the Blade of Evil's Bane? Or was Naga banking on me cutting down Future Grima the instant the Wings of Despair popped up in front of us? I was 100% on board with slaying the Big Bad before the story official started.

"I actually don't know," I admitted sheepishly. "Guess we'll know when we know?"

Robin gave me a deeply unimpressed stare. "Those words are a tactician's worst nightmare."

I smiled apologetically, but it did raise an interesting point. Even if the Master Sword successfully repelled Future Grima, if I failed to kill the Fell Dragon on the spot what was stopping the six-eyed body-snatcher from trying again later? All it had to do was wait for Robin and me to separate before making a second attempt, and I doubted Robin would want me hovering over her 24/7 like some sort of helicopter boyfriend.

Robin was right, there was no harm in a backup plan, and I had just the thing.

Setting aside the Master Sword, I took two rupees out from my Inventory: one yellow, one silver. Using [Alteration], I molded the precious stones like clay, granting them new shapes. The yellow rupee was fashioned into a stylized Loftwing (near identical to the one emblazoned on my Hylian Shield) with the Triforce secured in its talons; the Triforce of Power and Courage were empty outlines, leaving only the Triforce of Wisdom. As for the silver rupee, I Altered it into a wheat-style necklace chain. I then wove the chain through the hole I opened in the Loftwing's beak.

Satisfied with the design, I utilized [Alteration]'s secondary aspect: granting traits. I copied my Master Sword's ability of [Anti-Evil] onto the palm-sized pendant while giving the necklace chain [Durable] to reduce the likelihood of it breaking.

"What've you got there?" Robin asked curiously.

"Your Plan B," I said, holding the necklace out for her to wear. She accepted without question, brushing her long white hair aside so I could clasp the accessory around her neck. "If all else fails, I'm hoping this'll protect you."

"It's beautiful," Robin said softly as she admired the rupee-turned-pendant. "Does this symbol signify anything?"

"It means you're the smartest person I know," I said, kissing her cheek, which rapidly flushed crimson. Even after our raunchy night together these small acts of affection still elicit such a reaction; it was adorable. "Ideally, since Grima's an evil dragon with anger issues, my Master Sword will either repel it or cut it down to size. Even if the dumb lizard tries to possess you from afar, that necklace should keep you safe."

Robin shook off the heat flooding her cheeks. "That's a lot of faith to have in one sword."

I picked up my Master Sword with a fond grin. "She's been with me for several lifetimes. How can I not trust her?"

"She? Do you plan on naming 'her' as well?" Robin asked teasingly.

"No need, she already has one."

Thanks to [Structural Analysis], I likely knew more about the Master Sword than any of my previous iterations. There wasn't a single aspect of the Sacred Sword that escaped me, including the spirit that slumbered within the blade for the past few millennium after sealing away the Demon King Demise.

I activated [Alteration] once more, this time focusing on my Master Sword, giving it the trait [Manifest].

Light burst from the legendary blade, along with a figure close to Robin's height and relative size. They appeared as though they'd been masterfully chiseled from a block of sapphire, as their eyes bore no pupils nor did their face betray a hint of emotion. The feminine figure wore a shawl that was half blue and half violet, with a large cerulean jewel embedded in the center of her chest atop of her purple miniskirt, its color identical to the Master Sword's cross-guard.

This was none other than Fi, spirit of the Master Sword.

["May we meet again in another life …"]

"… Master Link?" Fi spoke. The tune that played from her lips resembled musical notes more than words, yet I understood them with ease.

"Hello Fi," I said gently, my heart teeming in remembrance. "Welcome to another life."

"Identifying user. Processing. Identification confirmed. Subject is positively recognized as Master Link." Her crystalline lips quirked into a tiny smile. "I am … happy to see you again, Master Link."

"Ditto, Fi." I then motioned to Robin, who was gawking. "This is my girlfriend, Robin Nirvid."

Fi tilted her head in Robin's direction. "Greetings, female companion of my master."

"A-Ah, greetings? It's a pleasure to meet you," Robin replied, then pouted at me. "Do you really still only see me as a 'friend'?"

Ah, I forgot; the term "girlfriend" wasn't widely used in this age.

"Sorry, sorry. 'Girlfriend' is a word from my previous world. It's like … the middle ground between a regular friend and a wife. And last I checked, I haven't put a ring on that finger yet."

"O-Oh," Robin stammered, her blush returning. "Girlfriend, girlfriend … not a horrible way to definite our relationship."

"Master Link, have you already performed copulation with this non-male acquaintance?" Fi suddenly asked. Although her tone was robotic, my sass-detector was definitely picking up some cheek.

"Vigorous copulation," I happily confirmed, enjoying Robin's stammer.

Fi studied Robin once more, then said, "I much rather preferred her Grace as your lifetime companion, though there is a non-zero chance this opinion may be a result of bias in my programming."

"Wait, who?" Robin glowered, and I swear her eyes briefly flashed magenta.

"Ah, interesting fact about me," I chuckled, scratching my head a bit awkwardly. "I have a tendency to reincarnate every so often, though I usually don't remember my past lives. In my very first one, I was in a romantic relationship with a girl named Zelda."

"Was this Zelda … pretty?" Robin grumbled.

"Her Grace was the human incarnation of the Goddess Hylia," Fi reported.

"You married a goddess?!"

"In a different life," I told Robin, cupping a hand around her cheek so her eyes met mine. "In this life, there's only you."

"… I know, and I get that, but it's hard not to feel inadequate when you learn your boyfriend … is that the term?" I nodded. "Boyfriend married a deity, and I'm just … just me."

I laughed lightly, then kissed her lips so she knew, beyond the possibility of doubt, who resided in my heart.

When slowly leaned apart, she was smiling. "I'm being silly, aren't I?"

"Maybe. Then again, it's not every day you wind up with a reincarnating boyfriend."

Robin agreed wholeheartedly. "Only you could be so ridiculous."

"Master," Fi spoke up. "Although I am overjoyed to see you again, why have I been summoned? Our contract was completed with the defeat of Demise. Our relationship as servant and master was concluded."

"Do I need a reason to see an old friend again?" I asked.

"… you do not, but my purpose remains undefined."

"Well, what do you want to do?"

"Unknown. The mission parameters given to me by her Grace were fulfilled eons ago."

"This world has its fair share of evil that needs their collective asses kicked. Want to help me with that?"

Fi made a jingling sound, like wind chimes, which was her version of a laugh. "Master Link, your vocabulary has acquired a number of vulgar additions since I last saw you."

I shrugged helplessly. "What can I say? It's been a while."

"Indeed it has." Fi's pupilless eyes never wavered from mine. "You asked what I wished for myself. I have chosen a new function: I wish to accompany you on your journey once more."

I beamed. "Nothing would make me happier."

With a ballerina's flourish, Fi bowed. "Then I, Spirit of the Master Sword, renew the terms of our bond. So long as you have need of me, I shall forever remain your stalwart companion, Master Link."

Off to the side, Robin was watching our interaction with an eagle's eye. "They're … really close. It'd be weird to be jealous of a sword, right? Oh Robin, what've you gotten yourself into?"

I laughed humorously at her groundless worrying. Still, if she needed a quick refresher on where my affections lied, I sure didn't mind giving her a reminder. I wrapped my arms around her waist, prompting a startled squeak as she was snapped out of her grousing, before kissing her; deeply. After a few surprised seconds she was enthusiastically returning the gesture.

Lunch was delayed for a hour.

Lon'qu breathed in the training ground's heavy air, cooled by the external weather and heated by the indoor braziers to produce a stifling mix that could temper the most unworthy warrior into a peerless sword; or break them in twain.

In a movement he pounded in the marrow of his bones, he drew his silver katana from its sheath and slashed it across his target: a clay water jar. His blade struck the pottery … and shattered it into a hundred irreparable pieces, spilling its contents all over the floor.

"Another failure," Lon'qu grunted in annoyance, glancing at his troubled reflection in his blade.

As of late, his growth had plateaued. No matter how hard he pushed himself, he wasn't experiencing any noticeable improvement. He sought to correct this by seeking instructions from Gregor, the mercenary Khan Basilio hired to put some spine in his warriors, but the sellsword merely took his gold after defeating him in a duel of trickery; an utter waste of time. Lon'qu then turn to his Khan for guidance. After a brief spar, which Lon'qu grudgingly lost, his Khan suggested this exercise: slicing open a water jar without spilling a droplet of water. Khan Basilio gave a demonstration, and Lon'qu was awed when the Khan's mighty axe passed through the clay pottery so cleanly it didn't even break, only sliding apart when Lon'qu gave it a tentative nudge.

The cut was so clean the jar didn't fall apart until after it was disturbed.

Lon'qu spent the last month futilely attempting to replicate the feat, and without success. No matter what he tried, the accursed ceramic would fragment like glass. What was he lacking? Speed? Power? He practiced his form until it was flawless, yet still it wasn't enough!

If only he could seek the advice of another, but the only one who came to mind was his goal: the Huntsman. However, the Huntsman of Regna Ferox traveled with the wind, making it impossible to know where the world would lead him next.

*Rustle*

A disturbance. Lon'qu gripped his katana tightly as he heard the doors to the training grounds open behind him. What was the meaning of this? He had reserved this arena for the entirety of the day, a privilege granted to him as the Khan's champion.

Another Plegian assassin, no doubt, here to claim his head. Lately, the desert kingdom had been dedicating a great deal of manpower attempting to infiltrate and sabotage the kingdom of the Khans. Spies snuck their way across Longfort almost daily, and while many were felled by its defender's javelins a fortunate few still managed to climb across the corpses of their compatriots to slither their way into the snowy lands of Regna Ferox. From there, the lowly dastards did everything in their power to bring harm to Feroxi lives while poorly disguised as Ylisseans.

Cowards, the lot of them. Khan Basilio and Khan Flavia were not fooled, but pretended to fall for the ridiculous ruse to pull the wool over Plegia's eyes.

This wouldn't be the first time Plegia sent their throat-cutters after Lon'qu, and he doubted it would be the last. For whatever reason, the Mad King was determined to cripple or kill Regna Ferox's greatest warriors, as even the Khans had been targeted more than once by their cravenness.

Lon'qu didn't have time to waste spilling the blood of Plegia's arbiters of treachery. He had training to do! So he waited, keeping his back turned to his intruder while his keen ears tracked their approaching and noisy footsteps. It was as though they weren't even bothering to be stealthy. Once the assassin was directly behind him, Lon'qu spun around while slashing with his katana—!

—and watched as its tip was leisurely caught between the intruder's two fingers.

"Hello to you too," the blue-eyed trespasser said.

That voice! It was unmistakably familiar! Then Lon'qu studied his foe's stature, the manner in which he carried himself, and instantly recognized which warrior it belonged to.

"Huntsman!" he gasped, surprised to see the fabled hunter without his iconic mask.

"Lon'qu," the Huntsman greeted, releasing his katana. What strength! Try as he might, Lon'qu could not pull his weapon free until his mentor deigned to let it go.

As expected of the peak he sought to surpass!

Peering over the Huntsman's shoulder, he spotted his mentor's white-haired companion standing a respectable 30 paces away. Good, her consideration was much appreciated. She waved, and he returned her greeting with a stiff nod.

"What brings you here, Huntsman?" Lon'qu asked respectfully.

"Robin wanted to gather some information, and we decided to start at Regna Ferox," the Huntsman replied.

"Information? Of what sort?"

The Huntsman mulled before replying. "Think you can keep a secret?"

Lon'qu stood straight. "I would sooner cut out my tongue than betray your confidence."

"Extreme, but good enough. Plegia's going to declare war on Ylisse soon, and chances are Regna Ferox will get involved. Robin's been making plans, and wants to speak with Basilio and Flavia to see if they're willing to share any up-to-date info."

War! Lon'qu gripped his katana with renewed fervor. What better place to test his mettle than on the battlefield, where only the strong survived? But could he consider himself as such? His swordsmanship had stagnated, deprived of improvement for months. Could he have reached his limits? Was this the end of his path?

No! He refused to accept such an outcome!

"What've you been up to?" the Huntsman asked, eyeing the broken water jugs strewn across the floor. "Smashing pottery? Very nice. You've my complete seal of approval."

Ah, but wasn't this a most fortuitous opportunity? He wished to seek advice from his mentor, and now here he was!

"I request your aid, Huntsman," Lon'qu said with a bow.

"What's up?"

"It is a task Khan Basilio assigned to me: to split a water jar without spilling a single drop of what lies within. Khan Basilio has demonstrated that it is possible, yet I have failed time and time again to measure up to his expectations. I beseech you for your aid."

"Huh." The Huntsman stroked his chin. "I've broken plenty of pottery in a thousand different ways, but this is a new one. Can I give it a go?"

Lon'qu nodded eagerly. "Allow me." He fetched one of the hundreds of water jars lining the walls, delivered by his Khan's servants. Many grumbled he was burning through Khan Basilio's treasury with the number of ceramics he'd destroyed, but Lon'qu paid them no mid. Wealth was but a shackle to a true swordsman.

He grabbed one of the water jars and carried it over to the Huntsman, placing it before his mentor.

The Huntsman did not hesitate for a moment. He drew the sword strapped over his shoulder, a magnificent blade Lon'qu had never seen before, and swung it with contemptuous ease. It passed through the man-sized pottery, entering one direction and passing through the other.

Nothing happened.

Holding his breath, Lon'qu reached forward and tapped the tip of the water jar with his hand. Its top half slipped off its bottom half, split in two by a clean and precise diagonal cut.

Incredible! The Huntsman achieved what Lon'qu struggled to accomplish with a single attempt! He truly deserved to be the peak Lon'qu sought to reach.

"Hmm, I think it's more fun when you break these things into a million pieces," the Huntsman said, resting his masterful sword over his shoulder.

"How did you accomplish this?" Lon'qu almost begged, desperate for a concrete answer.

"I don't know what to tell you. I gave it a shot, and this is the result."

Lon'qu barely wrestled down his disappointment. Could the answer be talent? Did he simply lack the innate ability of a true genius?

"Hey, Fi. What do you think?"

Before Lon'qu could ask who the Huntsman was speaking to, his sword lit up as a feminine figure sprung forth from the blade.

"HRRRRRK!" What loathsome devilry was this!? Summoning females with but a word? Curses! Truly, this must be the result of magic most foul! Lon'qu already felt the familiar chill of dread writhing throughout the marrow of his bones, sapping his strength and will to fight.

"Whoa there," the Huntsman said, grabbing Lon'qu's wrist before he fled. "Fi might look like this, but she's not a girl."

Lon'qu's phobia stalled in its tracks. "W-What?"

"Master Link speaks the truth," the female(?) spoke in a manner Lon'qu never heard before; a mix between speaking and singing. "I am neither male nor female. I am Fi, Spirit of the Master Sword."

"A … a spirit?"

"Correct."

Lon'qu gradually relaxed. "I see. I apologize for my unsightly behavior." How did the Huntsman come to travel in the company of a spirit, and one inhabiting a sword? Lon'qu was intrigued, but kept to his priorities.

"Apologies are unnecessary, but accepted. Now, please attempt to duplicate Master Link's feat. I will analyze and deconstruct your movement patterns and all other variables to provide you with a satisfactory answer to your query."

The spirit was basically saying she would tell him what he was lacking, correct?

Precisely what Lon'qu wanted.

"Thank you for your aid," Lon'qu said before acquiring another water jar and slashing it with his katana. As with all his other attempts, the clay pottery acted as though it were bludgeoned by an untrained half-wit's club.

"Data acquired," the spirit reported in its monotone voice. "Analyzing. Analysis complete. Master Link, when you utilized me the Master Sword move in an undisturbed trajectory; a perfectly straight line. Subject Lon'qu's weapon failed to achieve this, as I detected slight tremors that disturbed his sword's circuit. A hypothesis has been formulated, but more data is required to reach an equitable conclusion."

"She said she needs to see more. Can you do a few practice swings?" the Huntsman translated.

Lon'qu obliged; anything for an answer. So he gripped his katana with both hands and flowed through the familiar motions he'd practiced a million times over, shifting from one stance to another as he cut down imaginary foe after foe.

"Data acquired," the spirit announced. "Compiling. Hypothesizing. Conclusion acquired. Master Link, there is an 89.21% likelihood that Subject Lon'qu suffers from a subconscious state of extreme nervousness that is affecting his performance."

"What is she saying?" Lon'qu demanded.

"That there's something troubling your heart," the Huntsman said.

"She insinuates I lack the heart and spirit of a warrior?" Lon'qu scowled, insulted by the mere notion.

"Incorrect. There is a strong possibility Subject Lon'qu's hesitation is connected to his gynophobia."

"My what?"

"Your fear of women," the Huntsman said.

Lon'qu felt the icy winds of Regna Ferox chill his bones. His phobia, which he normally grit his teeth and fought through, was the source of his inability? Then … then that meant …

"… I am forever lost, for this is one curse I shall never be rid of," Lon'qu murmured, his head sunken as his powerless hands nearly dropped his katana.

"Incorrect. I detect no dark magic afflicting Subject Lon'qu."

"He meant figuratively," the Huntsman explained.

"I see. I apologize for my error."

Lon'qu knew exactly why he feared the opposite gender, and it was a stigma he would never be rid of, for it was the result of his greatest failing. If this was Ke'ri's will, then there was nothing to be done but accept it.

"You're giving up?" the Huntsman asked, his disappointment a dagger to Lon'qu's kidney.

"This is an affliction I shall never be rid of," Lon'qu said solemnly, despising this weakness he was forced to bare before the man he admired.

"… maybe not."

Lon'qu's head snapped up, hating the hope he felt. "You have a solution?"

"Possibly, I need to speak with an Anna first."

The red-haired swindler? How could such a fox aid him? But if his mentor thought he was on the cusp of a solution, who was Lon'qu to argue?

"Then I pray for your success," Lon'qu said, bowing deeper than before.

Finding an Anna wasn't hard, as they usually congregated in places of heavy commercial traffic. The money-grubber accepted my request, and agreed to expedite it when I slipped her a green rupee. She also had some stat boosters for me, so with a few more rupees I got my hands on another Seraph Robe, as well as a Spirit Dust, Speedwing, and two Talismans. I used them all on the spot, along with the spare Energy Drop I'd forgotten I had in my Inventory.

Despite their Family's best efforts, not a single Anna managed to find a Goddess Icon, a booster for luck.

It'd take a while for the Anna to fulfill my request, but Robin and I had no plans on staying in Basilio's castle for long. Once the shopkeep got her hands on the requested item, I asked her to hand it to the Khan, who'd hopefully pass it along to Lon'qu.

Nevertheless, Robin and I chose to rest here for a day. She went off to squeeze Basilio for more information on current affairs, while I occupied a separate training room to sharpen my skills.

My current focus was my newest skill: the Spin Attack. After a bit of practice, I discovered there was a difference between using the skill myself and activating it through Naga's SYSTEM. The SYSTEM was the epitome of efficiency, as all it took was a mere thought for the Eternal Dragon's grace to acquire the necessary amount of magic and channel it into the desired object in the most efficient manner possible. The skill was charged instantly, without any magic power wasted.

On the other hand, bypassing the SYSTEM and doing it myself showed how lacking my control was. Whenever I charged up a Spin Attack, my magic would wastefully bleed from my Master Sword, dissipating uselessly into the air. I'd wind up wasting ten times the amount of magic it took to pull off a regular Spin Attack.

Obviously, using the SYSTEM would be the way to go, but I refused to become completely reliant on it once again. Sure, my Spin Attack was sloppy as heck—which was why I couldn't use it too many times against Zelgius—but that simply meant I needed more practice. The SYSTEM showed me the goal I wanted to reach, so all I needed to do was press forward one step at a time.

It was slow going, but progress was being made. My end goal was to try and find a way to use all my skills, Personal and otherwise, without the SYSTEM's assistance. Was it possible? I didn't know, but that wasn't going to stop me from trying.

"Look who's working hard!"

I craned my head, feeling the sweat bead down my face. It was the one-eyed Khan, marching into the training room with a strut to his steps.

When I noticed him staring, I asked, "Something on my face?"

"More like a certain lack of something," Basilio said as he studied my appearance. "Ogre's teeth, that's another bet I lost to the witch."

I snorted. "Do I want to know?"

"Just a friendly gamble between Khans," Basilio waved off. "Nice to see you've finally ditched the mask. You've been wearing the damn thing for so long my people don't recognize you without it!"

I flushed, albeit slightly. "Got attacked trying to pass through Longfort." Darn guards flat out cursed me and Robin when we approached. They didn't take kindly to me "impersonating" the Huntsman of Regna Ferox, and I needed to knock a few heads before they stopped trying to impale us. "Did you need me for something?"

"A few things, yeah."

I could train and talk at the same time, so I moved onto my next experiment.

Increasing my focus to its utmost limit, I held out my left hand and let my magic circuits hum.

"Heard you've been lending my champion a hand," Basilio continued, watching with keen interest. "Thanks for that. Lon'qu's a genius when it comes to the sword, but he's hit a bit of a rut. Nothing I've tried has knocked him out of it, so anything you can do for him is much appreciated."

"What've you tried?" I asked through grit teeth, struggling to maintain my concentration.

"The usual. Extra training, extra food, extra fun. When none of that worked, I thought it might've had to do with Lon'qu's fear of the fairer sex, so I paid a few of my female guards a little bonus to ambush him in his room."

Magic coalesced and crackled in my outstretched palm. Sweat drenched my furrowed brow as I fought to maintain the process.

"You weren't worried about Lon'qu accidentally killing your guards?"

"Nah, they're well trained, and once the surprise wore off he booked it before trying to find his katana a new home in my handsome mug. Don't think he appreciated them attacking him in their birthday suits."

The energy I'd gathered warbled, and my magic circuits flickered like old light bulbs dying when my focus nearly broke. "You told your guards to attack Lon'qu while they were naked?"

<R-Reproducing the accumulated years.>

Nevertheless, I wrestled the wild magic back under my control with sheer force of will.

"Bwa ha ha! Of course! Why do things by half measures?" Basilio laughed. "Besides, the proud warriors of Regna Ferox train hard to sculpt bodies the gods would envy! They're more than happy to flaunt what they've got!"

I stared at the bald cyclops incredulously. "I'm seriously surprised Lon'qu didn't quit on the spot and become Flavia's champion."

"He probably would've, if the sight of the witch didn't send him running for the hills, as nature dictates," Basilio admitted sheepishly. "By the way, I just got back from being grilled by your lady friend. She wanted to know everything we had on Plegia, including the hush-hush stuff. Were she anyone else I would've accused her of being the worst spy imaginable and lopped her head off on the spot."

With the completion of the final step, my magic solidified and took the form of the object I was attempting to Project: a simple iron sword. Even with a passing glance, anyone could tell something was off with the blade. Its edge was duller than wood, and its body resembling plastic instead of metal.

Basilio snorted. "Having problems, Huntsman?"

"Of a sort," I grunted, dismissing the failed Projection. [Projection, Trace Version] was heavily reliant on accessing the SYSTEM's Catalogue, so using it without the aid of the Eternal Dragon's grace might be an endlessly uphill battle.

Even so, I was determined to figure this out.

"So what'd you do?" I asked the Khan.

"Answer every last one of her questions truthfully," Basilio said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Gods, I thought she'd never run out. But it did make me wonder: why the sudden interest in our southern neighbor?"

"War. Plegia's going to be making a move against Ylisse soon."

An eager glint shone in the Khan's singular eye. "That so?"

"Has the Mad King been taking any action against Ferox?"

"That he has. Spies, assassins, the works. Most don't make it across Longfort, and those that do don't live for very long. It's more annoying than anything else, but that just means they're sending their best to Ylisse. We've also gotten into a few scuffles with soldiers wearing Ylissean regalia. I know"—Basilio said before I could interject—"they're not actually Ylisseans. I might only have one eye, but I'm far from blind. They're Plegians trying to strain our relationship with the halidom."

I was glad Basilio hadn't fallen for the deception. "What'll Regna Ferox do once war breaks out?"

Basilio folded his arms. "Depends on Ylisse."

That could mean any number of things, but considering what I knew about the West-Khan I had a good handle on his intentions.

"Good to know. Anything else?"

"I see you're all business today. No, nothing else, though I did hear from a certain bird that the two of you are planning on staying the night. I've got my people setting up your usual rooms."

"We only need one."

Basilio's one eye became perfectly round, before a toothy grin adorned his bearded mug. "Well, well! When did this happen?"

"Recently."

"Bwa ha ha! So you finally found a lass willing to make a proper man out of you! That's my boy!" Basilio bellowed, slapping my shoulder over and over; I barely budged. "Always knew Robin would be good for you! You be sure to cherish that one!"

"That goes without saying," I grunted, brushing the Khan's hand off. "And if you come busting through our door like the damn Kool-Aid Man, I'm chucking you off the tallest tower your castle's got."

"Don't know who that is, but sounds like my kind of guy! Relax, Huntsman! Even this handsome devil knows when his mug's not wanted! Ah, but to hear you've finally experienced the joys of manhood! I was actually worried you'd live the rest of your life as some dull priest! This calls for a celebration!"

"You just want an excuse to break out the mead."

"Lies and slander! A Khan needs no excuse to indulge after a hard day's work!"

"If the rates here weren't so great Robin and I would be renting a room elsewhere," I snorted.

"What? You punks don't pay me anything!"

"Exactly."

Basilio leered at me. "Now that I think about it, you and your buddies have been mooching off me quite a bit lately."

"Mooching? I thought you were repaying the person who made you regnant Khan, as well as introduce you to your current champion that's won you the last two Grand Tournaments. Or is Flavia right, and old age is making your memories spotty?"

"Why you little …!" Basilio stomped over to one of the training room's plentiful weapon racks and grabbed a steel axe. "I think a certain youngling's gotten a bit of a swell head! As his elder, I do believe it's my sacred duty to deflate it a bit!"

I laughed as I drew my Master Sword. "If you wanted an excuse to spar, you should've just come out and said so."

The West-Khan's irritation as blown away as I exposed his ruse, revealing his eager smirk. "I know, but I thought I'd make you sweat a bit first!"

"It'll take way more than the likes of you to pull that off!"

"Ha! Them be fighting words, boy!"

"The name's Link, old man!"

"Whatever you say, whelp!"

Nothing else needed to be said as we lunged at one another, our weapons clashing with a resounding CLANG!

"What happened next?" Robin asked as we walked down the cobbled roads of Northtown, a bustling city of Ylisse.

"What else? I won, easily," I chuckled as I held her hand. It was a wonderfully cloudless day, so we chose to spend it on a date. None of the passing townsfolk recognized us, as I was without my Keaton Mask and Robin's hair was the same raven shade as her mother's; a simple application of [Alteration]. We had fun going through all the colors of the rainbow before settling on this color. It looked good on her. "Basilio's a lot stronger than he used to be. I'm proud of him. He must've been training hard."

"But you still won."

"I still won."

"They say Regna Ferox's Khan is normally their greatest warrior. Any thoughts on taking over?" Robin teased.

"Sounds like a pain. Besides, I've got everything I'll ever want right here," I said, pressing my lips against my girlfriend's knuckles. "Why be royalty when I've already got you?"

"Charmer," Robin laughed lightly. She was steadily immunizing herself against my sweet-talk. I'll need to bust out new material if I want to see that blush. "But don't forget we agreed to live in a giant castle, with plenty of room for Nowi's treasures. Rather than build one from scratch, it'd be easier to move into one that's already made."

"Just give the word, and I'll kick Basilio's ass a second time."

"Hmm, tempting, but no thanks. Regna Ferox is a bit too cold for my tastes. I'd prefer a place in Ylisse."

We raised our joined hands, letting a pair of playing town children run between us.

"How about Valm?" I suggested. "Never been there myself, but I bet the weather's grand, and they'll have plenty of castles fresh for the taking. I'm sure the Mila Tree will be a sight to behold."

"What's that?"

"A super giant tree somewhere in the middle of the Valmese continent, so tall it reaches the clouds. Hey, why not build a castle atop of the Mila Tree?" The idea had me jazzed! "It'll be awesome! Imagine waking up every day to a view like that, the world laid out beneath our fingertips! Sure, we'll have to be neighbors with Tiki, but I don't think she'll mind too much."

"Who?"

"A Manakete, like Nowi, but way older. Like, maybe three or four thousand years older? Old enough to have traveled and fought alongside Marth."

"The Hero King?" Robing gasped, amazed.

"The very same. These days, I think she's supposed to be a priestess of Naga. Not the Eternal Dragon, but our world's resident Divine Dragon. Tiki's revered in Valm, and called the 'Voice of the Divine Dragon' by many."

Robin gave me a flat stare. "Let me get this straight: you want to intrude upon the sacred dwelling of Naga's priestess?"

"She's a priestess of Naga, and I'm a Champion of Naga," I shrugged. "I'm sure we'll get along fine. Plus, all she really does is sleep the centuries away. She won't even know we're there. Heck, she might even be grateful! For all we know, she sleeps on a stone slab! This is her chance to rest her head on an actual bed!"

"And if the Mila Tree is as tall as you say, won't we have to constantly walk up and down the darn thing if we want to go anywhere?"

"We can ask Nowi for rides, maybe Tiki too when she's awake. And if they're busy you could learn Warp magic. Oh, we should definitely learn Warp magic! Imagine how much easier traveling would be if we could teleport wherever we wanted!"

Robin shook her head in fond resignation. "You come up with the craziest ideas."

We walked past several food stalls along the way, and I saw how the local delicacies made Robin lick her lips. So I took out a pair of cream and honey crepes from my Inventory (one of many premade meals ready and waiting to be eaten), handing the one with wildberries to Robin while I enjoyed the crepe with strawberries.

Robin gave her crepe a nibble and squirmed as she delighted in the magically-reinforced flavors. I gave my own a bite, relishing the sweet taste dancing across my tongue.

"I keep forgetting you know so much about this world already," Robin said, offering me a sample of her wildberry crepe. I enjoyed a mouthful, while she tried my strawberry desert. "Say"—she spoke softly so we wouldn't be overheard—"what's the future like in the story you read?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure you want to know? Those events took place in a different version of our world."

"I know, but I can't help but be curious. Besides, it'll still give me a bit of insight into Plegia's actions."

Well, if she wanted to know I wasn't going to deny her. So I started at the beginning and told her all I remembered.

The glimpse into the Doomed Timeline, where a controlled Robin stabbed Chrom after the two of them vanquished Validar.

The amnesiac Robin being discovered by Chrom, Lissa, and Frederick.

The four of them joining forces to repel a "bandit" attack.

Battling the Risen that fell from the same time portal Lucina, Chrom's future daughter, emerged from.

Robin being introduced to and joining the Shepards.

The Shepards traveling to Regna Ferox to request support against Plegia.

Fighting as champions in the Grand Tournament to make Flavia regnant Khan.

Gangrel's treachery at Border Pass.

The assassination attempt against Exalt Emmeryn.

The Shepards rushing to save Emmeryn when she was taken from Ylisstol.

The Exalt's death, when she sacrificed herself to take the terrible burden of choice off Chrom's shoulders.

Chrom's depression, and then his newfound resolve as he lead his friends and allies against the Mad King of Plegia before putting an end to the tyrant once and for all.

Robin absorbed my every word, dedicating it all to memory. I could almost see the gears turning inside her head as her tactical mind extrapolated the information and began formulating plans and countermeasures.

"Hey, the chances of the same thing happening here are slim," I reminded.

"Certainly," Robin agreed, before a gleam alit her eyes, "but it still gives me ideas."

I grinned. When the war started, Plegia wouldn't know what hit them.

Our conversation then wandered into Robin's plans for Future Grima. While we already had a Plan-A and Plan-B, her tactical mind refused to be satisfied with only two contingencies. It was far too late to try and find other means of staving off Fell-Dragon-possession, so Robin decided to prepare for worst case scenarios: if the unlikely occurred and her memories were compromised despite our best efforts.

Plan-C was a diary Robin had already filled to the brim with passages detailing her whole life, so her memories would be preserved in another fashion.

Plan-D was a series of lifelike pictures presenting the most important moments of her life. I was in nearly every single one of them.

This went on and on until Robin formulated a workable Plan-R. With every contingency, I felt a bit dumber for not cluing her into Future Grima's plotting years ago, as I had a strong feeling she would've found a way to protect her mind and soul even without the Master Sword had she been forewarned.

Hindsight, man; hindsight.

"As for Plan-S," Robin continued, licking the crepe cream clean from her sticky fingers. I could only stare in amazement as she laid out plan after plan like they were free coupons. "I actually need your input for this one. Have you heard of the Wellspring of Truth?"

"I think so?" It was certainly tickling a memory. "Where'd you hear it?"

"Rumors and hearsay, mostly. Traders who've frequented Valm say there's an unusual spring housed in some forgotten ruins, and that its waters 'reflect one's true self'."

Then it clicked.

Aversa's Paralogue.

"Ah, that wellspring," I said. "Yeah, I know of it, and it does exist. I think looking into its waters shows you glimpses of your past."

Robin hummed in satisfaction. "Perfect! A visit to the Wellspring of Truth will be Plan-S, though I have to say I'm surprised. I didn't think the story you read would've explored what many have dismissed as an unsubstantiated rumor."

"The main reason I know if it is because Aversa will be there."

Robin's eyes immediately hardened at the mention of her adopted sister. "Aversa? Explain."

"Um … this takes place long after the Ylisse-Plegia war, but I'm pretty sure Aversa was having doubts about her past, so she traveled to the Wellspring of Truth for … well, the truth. Suffice to say, she doesn't like what she finds."

I was well aware there was bad blood between Robin and Aversa, especially after their last catastrophic meeting where Validar's protégé verbally and mentally tore Robin down. So when Robin heard my words, it stretched her lips into an utterly savage smile.

"Tell me everything."

Lon'qu was frustrated.

No, the cloying—suffocating—hand reaching down his throat and constricting his heart couldn't be summed up with such paltry words. While his mentor had shed light on the cause for his stagnation, the solution was not so simple.

Lon'qu tried, he tried, to overcome his fear of women. He pushed himself so far out of his comfort zone that he remained lost in a turbulent sea. He tried speaking with Khan Basilio's female warriors, but was barely able to speak out a single word. He tried sparring with them, praying combat would boil his blood and purge him of his foul weakness, yet often found himself retreating shamefully before weapons were even crossed. He even tried seeking aid from Khan Basilio once more, hoping his Khan would have an inane solution to his ailment, but it was not to be.

Ke'ri's curse would not relinquish his guilty soul.

In an unconscious act of pure immaturity, Lon'qu unleashed his woe onto the inanimate objects of his living quarters. Furniture, tapestries, and other garnitures were reduced to debris by his unthinking sword. He didn't know how long he raged in his impotence, but when he finally came to there was not a single fixture left standing.

Lon'qu was rasping for air, struggling to expunge his incompetence.

His katana was a disgraceful mess of chips and cracks, having been swung with all the thought and care of an uncultured barbarian.

His fingers were bleeding, having gripped the handle of his weapon so tightly his nails fractured.

Yet his meaningless flailing had done nothing to alleviate his worthless cowardice.

Someone knocked on his ajar door.

Struggling to get his wheezing under control, Lon'qu listlessly turned to see who it was.

"You renovating?" his Khan jested, kicking aside the strewn rubble as he entered.

Despite his internal demons, Lon'qu did not forget to show his respect.

"Khan Basilio," Lon'qu said with a weak tilt of his head.

"I've got a letter for you." The Khan held up a roll of parchment, secured with a wax seal.

"If this is another of your asinine attempts—"

"It's from the red-head, the one the Huntsman made a requisition of," his Khan interrupted, cutting down Lon'qu's petty grievances on the spot.

Lon'qu stared at the scroll as if it were his final salvation. This was the item the Huntsman believed would aid him in overcoming Ke'ri's curse. Was it a magic scroll? An enchanted artifact that would rid him of his fears? He darted forward and snatched it from his Khan's hand, breaking the seal without a second thought and frantically unfurling it.

He nearly hurled it into the nearest hearth an instant later.

It wasn't a magic scroll.

It was a letter.

From the parents of Ke'ri.

Dread colder and more merciless than the frozen tundras of Regna Ferox billowed through his haggard soul. What torture was this? Why would the Huntsman believe the doubtless words of condemnation from Ke'ri's sires would heal Lon'qu's festering scars? If anything, their well-deserved hatred would only mutilate him further.

Ke'ri, a child whose warm friendship saved him from the cold streets of Chon'sin's slums.

His friend, who was callously felled protecting him from honorless brigands while he fought and struggled in vain.

Her death was his curse, one that made him fear any close relationship with another woman would inevitably lead to their bloody end.

The hollow chasm that was his heart grew silent.

Perhaps this was for the best.

He was the failure that robbed Ke'ri's parents of their beloved daughter. He deserved the lashings of their revulsion, to be crucified by their resentment.

So bringing what steel he could will himself to bear, Lon'qu choked down the nausea thrashing its way up his throat, opened the letter once more, and forced himself to read.

He didn't believe the words presented before him.

The letter slipped from his numb fingers, and he shuffled past his Khan, deaf to Khan Basilio's words of concern. He didn't know where his feet were taking him, but he didn't resist. He left the warmth of his Khan's castle, and into the harsh cold of Regna Ferox. His unfeeling legs pushed through the knee-high snow, and into the nearby woods. The temperature dropped harshly, as the tightly packed trees blocked out even the smallest rays of sunlight.

Yet the cold did not bother him.

Not when the words of that fateful letter were seared into his mind.

[To the child known only to us as Lon'qu, We are Han'su and Lei'wei. If our names mean naught to you, then perhaps you will recognize us as Kei'ri's father and mother.]

The sun fell and the moon rose, yet Lon'qu had yet to move an inch.

[Make no mistake, our parting words to you bore no falsehood. The day we lost our little flower, we loathed you from the depths of our ancestral souls. We blamed you for her unjust death.]

Another day rose with the sun and died with the night.

[But those were cursed words born of fresh loss and blind anger. We know you fought as a demon of vengeance to keep our little flower safe, and that her life was felled to protect your own. The ebb and flow of the stars and sky has a way of clearing one's hearts, and ours were filled with the darkness of grief. Now, they feel only understanding and mercy.]

By the third day, Lon'qu's parched throat lost its voice, while his desiccated lips were devoid of color. The lack of food, water, and sleep was causing mild hallucinations. His leaded limbs were bereft of warmth, allowing the tips of his toes and fingers to begin to blacken as frostbite staked its claim.

Yet while his body verged upon death, his mind was never sharper.

[We are grateful, Lon'qu. Grateful that you fought for the sake of our little flower, grateful that when she died, she was not alone. We no longer blame you for Ke'ri's death, and we know with our heart of hearts that she would not either.]

The manacles weighing down his soul were left behind with his fading body. His spirit was free of fear, of doubt, of constraints.

In this brief moment of oneness, he stood atop the peak he'd only seen from afar.

[So please, fear not the failings of your past. Look forward, and be a man you can be proud of. One Ke'ri would be proud of.]

Using strength he should not have, Lon'qu calmly reached for his ruined katana. He grasped its bloodied handle with unfeeling fingers, and aimed it at the tree before him.

He struck.

Nine attacks, all unleashed nigh-simultaneously.

A small smile graced his lips before unconsciousness embraced him, and he collapsed.

Basilio's troublesome champion was gathered up and shipped to his castle's infirmary mere seconds later. He'd obviously been keeping an eye on Lon'qu; it wasn't as if the lad had gone far, after all. He didn't have the slightest inkling on what was going through his champion's head, but his gut told him to leave the lad be. Lon'qu was going through a metamorphosis, a defining moment that would either make or ruin the lad's future, so he wouldn't interfere.

Instead, Basilio had a few warriors stand guard so no one would bother Lon'qu.

After his champion finally collapsed, with a team of priests and clerics fussing over the lad while cursing his recklessness with every adjective they knew, Basilio strode forward and approached the tree Lon'qu had cut.

It was still standing.

Basilio cautiously neared until he was right in front of the pine tree. Then he raised one fist, and gave it the gentlest of knocks.

It collapsed into dozens of separate pieces, each cut smoother than glass.

"Well done, young man," Basilio said, his grin brimming with undiluted pride.

I felt it in my bones: the fated time was soon approaching.

Before we faced our destiny, both Robin and I each had someone we wished to speak with.

I drove us to a secluded corner of Ylisse, the Master Cycle Zero easily navigating between the tightly grown trees. After passing through the labyrinth of forestry, we entered an oh-so familiar clearing.

In it was a lone cabin, expertly constructed and refined over the years, allowing a single individual to live here in solitude with relative comfort.

That person was none other than Morgan Nirvid, Robin's mother. The raven-haired sorcerer was sitting outside on a rocking chair, leisurely reading the thick tome on her lap while reclining in the noon sun.

She looked up when she heard my Master Cycle Zero approach, but her grey eyes were immediately drawn to the passenger hugging my waist.

After seven years, mother and daughter were finally reunited.

"R-Robin?" Morgan croaked, staggering from her chair on shaking legs. She was struggling to rein in her emotions, as if she was afraid this moment was merely a dream.

Robin slipped off the back of my Master Cycle Zero, and greeted her mother with a watery smile. "Hello mother … I'm home."

Morgan practically shot towards her daughter, colliding into her with a flying hug. The two hit the grass, possibly winded, but neither cared as they tightly embraced their loved one.

I didn't interrupt, standing aside so mother and daughter could have all the time they needed.

When they finally separated and hobbled to their feet, Morgan glared at me with a distrustful scowl. Ah, there's that paranoia she was infamous for. Although her black raccoon eyes were gone, I suppose ingrained habits were hard to break.

"And who are you?" Morgan demanded.

I swear, nobody recognized me without that damn Keaton Mask.

"It's me, Morgan," I said, procuring the fox mask from my Inventory and waving it in front of my face.

Morgan blinked, confronted with her second impossibility of the day, then snorted. "I suppose it's an improvement."

"Mother!" Robin lamented.

I didn't mind. If anything, I almost missed the former Plegian noble's biting wit. I let the two of them get reacquainted while I prepped a meal. Morgan was intrigued when she saw me procuring food from my Inventory, and I'd little doubt she'd be questioning me about it later, but for now all her attention was saved for her daughter.

Although they communicated regularly through mail over the years, there was no substituting a face-to-face chat. Robin recounted all our adventures together, starting from the time they quarreled seven years ago and ending at this very moment. Morgan tried to murder me with her glare when she heard how Robin and I snuck into Plegia to try and assassinate Validar, and I knew I was going to have to sleep with one eye open tonight.

But more than anything, Morgan saw how happy Robin was, and that brought an earnest smile to her face.

Then, out of nowhere, she asked, "So how long have you two been sleeping together?"

Robin froze like a rabbit being stared down by a curt dragon, while I wondered if I should start running for the hills to escape a certain den mother's wrath. Robin made no mention of our relationship status, so how'd Morgan know? Was this the power of a mother's intuition?

My girlfriend needed a few minutes to muster up the courage to squeak, "O-Only a few weeks."

"So I don't have any grandchildren you've yet to introduce me to?"

"Mother!" Robin wailed, her cheeks aflame.

Morgan hummed thoughtfully, then cast a spell on her mortally embarrassed daughter. It wasn't malicious, merely conjuring an eldritch glyph atop of Robin's stomach that fed Morgan information.

"You're not pregnant either," Morgan noted, and I swear Robin's flushing face was one good push away from exploding.

"MOTHER!"

"You're 23 years old, Robin. If you wait any longer your womb will shrivel up and fall out."

I was impressed; I'd never seen Robin's face turn such a deep shade of crimson before. Heck, if I didn't know any better I might've sworn she was on the verge of dying (just in case, I checked with [Structural Analysis]; she wasn't).

Despite her mother's teasing (delivered with a deadpanned tone that made her sound extra serious), Robin and I had already discussed the idea of kids already. It was an inevitable topic, especially with how often we slept together. If there's one good thing I had to say about her infatuation with smut, it was that Robin was exceptionally eager to experiment.

I definitely had no complaints.

But with war on the horizon, Robin absolutely refused to entertain the idea of pregnancy, especially when she planned on fighting on the front lines. Any potential kids between us would have to wait until after the war. We were lucky our amorous romp together in the Bathrealm hadn't led anywhere, and every day since we restricted ourselves to cuddling on the dangerous days.

After wrangling her rampant mortification into something more manageable, Robin cleared her throat and said, "I've no plans on bearing any ch-children, mother; not yet. War is approaching the halidom's doorsteps, and I've no intention of shying away from it."

I noticed Morgan's subtle shift in demeanor. While her expression barely changed, I saw the way her hands clenched into nervous fists.

"War?" Morgan quietly repeated.

Robin nodded. "With Plegia. The Mad King will soon make his move, as will the Grimleal. Conflict is inevitable."

Trepidation shook the sorcerer's lithe frame.

"Must you fight?" Morgan asked with all the apprehension a mother could wrought.

"I won't run, mother. Not anymore," Robin asserted, facing her parent without fear or hesitation. "Validar knows about me. He knows I'm alive. His Grimleal spies have made several attempts to abduct me over the years, though none ever came close to succeeding. But with Ylisse embroiled in a war with Plegia, the ensuing chaos will allow his cultist to move much more freely. Even if we hid away in the farthest corners of the continent, they would hunt us down like rabid dogs. So if we have to fight, I'll do so on my terms. I'll face him, and whatever 'destiny' he has in store for me … and emerge victorious."

Morgan was astounded by her daughter's unfaltering declaration, but then smiled wistfully. "When did my little girl become such a brave young woman?"

"I had help," Robin said, giving me a grateful look.

Her mother didn't miss it, and beamed at me with heartfelt gratitude.

I replied with an understanding nod.

Morgan then stood up and walked into her cabin. Robin and I heard her rummaging through her belongings before returning with an apparel I immediately recognized: a black coat with a hem long enough to reach one's ankles; its trimmings were made of a gilded material, while the inner lining was a rich velvet.

It was Robin's tactician's coat from the game.

"Here," Morgan said, passing the outfit to her daughter.

"What is this?" Robin asked curiously.

"One of the few pieces of history I squirreled away from Plegia. It's a garment signifying one's status as an exemplary tactician. Very few were ever commissioned, and even less found their way into worthy hands, but those who bore this regalia were renowned and feared by enemies and allies alike, for their fearsome tactics were said to bring victory even upon the most hopeless of battles. When your adversaries see this coat on the battlefield, they'll know to rue the day they foolishly chose to oppose you."

Robin admired the black coat before donning it.

Somehow, it fit her perfectly.

Morgan then surprised me by walking up and wrapping her arms around me in an honest embrace.

"Thank you, for keeping your promise," she said.

"Of course," I replied after getting over my shock. I hadn't expected a gesture of appreciation from Morgan of all people. "And I'll make you another one: when this war is over, I'll bring Robin back to you hale and hearty."

"I'll hold you to that … Guardian of the Halidom."

We spent the night at Morgan's cabin, with Robin staying up late to catch up with her mother. A few tears were spilt the following morning as farewells were exchanged and more promises made, but we left with Robin's head held higher than before.

All that was left was to see my friend, one I should've visited 10 years ago.

I drove the Master Cycle Zero to a certain village, one that'd been rebuilt over the years thanks to the generous donations from an anonymous donor. Now it was a small but bustling city, mainly due to the rumors of it being the hometown of a certain wandering Guardian.

It wasn't, but I saw no reason to correct the people's gossip.

Instead of driving into the city, I steered the Master Cycle Zero to the knoll that oversaw the lively town of Suncrest, where a single nameless grave was dug. I parked the Divine Beast a respectful distance away from the grave, allowing us to walk the rest of the way.

As I stood before the plain rock serving as the headstone with Robin by my side, I whispered, "Hey Chelsea, long time no see."

I half expected Chelsea's phantom to manifest at her resting site, but her ghost never showed. To this day, I still didn't know whether Chelsea's spirit was an actual remnant of her soul or a manifestation of my battered psyche.

I suppose it didn't matter in the end.

"Your first friend," Robin said softly, giving the grave a polite bow. "You said you knew her for 12 days?"

"What can I say? I cherish my friends," I chuckled lightly.

I knelt down to lay a hand on the plain rock, then activated [Alteration]. The simple stone transformed beneath my fingers, becoming a proper headstone.

Engraved across its front were the words "Chelsea, Daughter of Johan. Friend of Lloyd Jackson."

"I remember you said you wanted to explore this world, to see everything it had to offer," I whispered to Chelsea's departed soul. I didn't know if she could hear me or not, nor did I care. "Don't worry, I'll protect this world, so that if you're ever reborn again, it'll still be here for you to experience."

With one last prayer of respect, I left a bottle of Regna Ferox's finest mead (the Breath of Dragons) by Chelsea's grave before departing with Robin. We hopped onto my Master Cycle Zero, and I steered us towards the city of Southtown.

It was time to reunite with Nowi and Laurent.

As I drove, the vast fields of Ylisse's grassy plains zipping by us, I felt Robin's arms squeeze a bit tighter around my waist.

I slowed down enough so I could hear her over the rushing wind.

"It's almost time, isn't it?" Robin murmured, her face pressed against my back.

"It is," I agreed.

"Do you think …?"

"It'll work," I swore, refusing to entertain the alternative. I didn't care how many contingency plans she'd already prepared. That damn lizard wasn't laying a single filthy claw on my Robin. "I won't let anything happen to you."

Robin giggled as she held me for comfort. "Well, even if something goes wrong—"

"Which it won't."

"—losing my memories won't be the worst thing in the world. I'd have a chance to fall in love with you all over again."

There was another possibility we were avoiding, because it represented the absolute worst case scenario. In the original storyline, Robin wound up with amnesia because she wasn't strong enough to house future Grima's consciousness.

But what about my Robin?

NAME: Robin, the Heart of Grima

AGE: 23

CLASS: Tactician

LEVEL: 16

EXP: 69 / 100

HIT POINTS: 40 / 40

STRENGTH: 12

MAGIC: 27

SKILL: 23

SPEED: 17

LUCK: 30

DEFENSE: 13

RESISTANCE: 22

STATUS: Nervous, Hopeful, Determined

She was much stronger than her cannon counterpart, and in this scenario that was worrying.

"Guess I'll have to try my hardest to make sure you don't fall for anyone else," I said, then winced at how much the mere idea hurt. I did my best to hide it with humor. "You know, in the story there was a possibility of you falling for Chrom after he saw you naked and vice-versa."

Robin nearly choked. "How in Naga's name did that come about?"

"He walked in on you bathing, and then you walked in on him bathing. Then you tied the knot and became Queen of Ylisse. Or was it princess? Because Chrom refused the title of Exalt even after Emmeryn passed, out of respect for his older sister."

"Hmm. Does that make the Prince of Ylisse your rival for my love?" Robin teased.

"Him and every other eligible male in the Shepards," I snorted, recalling how both male and female Robin could be paired with a variety of different partners. "Sheesh, I might need a Megaton Hammer to beat away all your suitors."

I felt Robin's blush warm my back. "Am I really such a loose woman in the story you read?"

"Not at all. Once you found a partner, you stuck with them. I think you had a bunch of options because you always found a way to see the good in others, and thus their attraction."

Robin hummed in contemplation.

I almost laughed aloud when a certain memory crossed my mind. "You know, there's even a story out there where you married Gangrel."

"W-W-WHAT?!"

"Yup, got hitched with the Mad King and became the Queen of Plegia."

"How in Naga holy name did—?!"

But Robin's adorable flustering was cut off when Fi abruptly shot forth from my Master Sword, hovering directly above us.

"Fi? What's—?"

"Hostile malevolence detected," Fi suddenly warned. "Brace for incursion."

Then we felt it; it was impossible not to.

Unadulterated malice, potent enough to blacken the sky.

It could only belong to one being: the Fell Dragon, Grima.

I immediately threw the Master Cycle Zero into the Inventory. Running was pointless, especially if the Wings of Despair could somehow track us down again. We'd no choice but to face them head on, here and now.

Both Robin and I landed on our feet, remaining upright as we skid to a stop. With a brisk mental command, I equipped both my Hero's Armor and my Hylian Shield from the Inventory while drawing the Master Sword with my left hand. Robin, meanwhile, snapped open her tome of Mjölnir and prepared for the fight of her life.

Then the raw malevolence erupted, surging forth from an unknown source somewhere ahead of us. It manifested as physical waves of hatred, a writhing tide of darkness that loathed all of creation.

Robin, Fi, and I all stood side by side, bracing for the worst.

The thrashing mass of evil branched into hundreds of gargantuan arms, stretching forth and encircling us from all sides. The unholy tide walls us in, cutting off any hope of escape, before spiraling above us to blot out the sky.

In an instant, we were trapped inside a sphere of malicious energy, and it was shrinking. Wriggling tendrils slithered forth from the compacting dome, clawing for us; for Robin.

For the briefest instant, I detected the Fell Dragon's feelings of triumph as its foul presence was a moment away from subsuming Robin …

… until my Master Sword, and Robin's pendant, erupted into twin beacons of radiant light, piercing through the entrapment and banishing Grima's disgusting presence; its massive tendrils of evil recoiled as if they'd tried to grab the sun.

No matter how much the Fell Dragon purported itself to be a God of Annihilation, its malice was nothing before the Sword that Seals the Darkness.

On top of that, the Master Sword's true power was stirring in the face of evil.

[Master Sword, Rank: S]

[Might: 30 (+15)]

"Fi!" I roared, "Find me the source!"

"312 yards directly ahead of you, Master Link!" Fi reported.

That's all I needed to hear.

Full [Reinforcement]!

The magic circuits spanning my whole body lit up with a golden intensity they'd never endured before, causing thunderous amounts of concentrated energy to arch from me. I was the living heart of a raging storm, and held the power of one as well.

HIT POINTS: 73 / 73

STRENGTH:71 (+33)

MAGIC: 0 (-33)

SKILL: 66 (+33)

SPEED: 69 (+33)

LUCK: 0

DEFENSE: 73 (+40)

RESISTANCE: 75 (+40)

I rocket towards the source of the malevolent typhoon, with Fi flying close by my side. The hate-filled blizzard buffet feebly against me, unable to draw near the Master Sword's pure brilliance.

Which only grew stronger the closer I got.

"301 yards!"

[Might: 50 (+35)]

The darkness tried to force me away, manifesting as a tsunami of violent cruelty seeking to wash me away, to suffocate me, to drown me. It amounted to nothing, as a single slash of my Master Sword was all I needed to part the black sea and continue onward.

"219 yards!"

[Might: 68 (+53)]

Every booming step I took spanned swaths of land as I pierced towards the heart of the storm like an arrow of light.

"125 yards!"

[Might: 82 (+67)]

The Fell Dragon's wrath lashed out, thrashed, struggled, flailed. It attempted anything and everything in its power to stall my candescent advance, but the Sword of Damocles neared its filthy neck with all the certainty of Fate.

"30 yards!"

[Might: 96 (+81)]

My every swing of the Master Sword tore apart its malevolence, purifying its evil with all the certainty of the sun banishing the dark.

"The heart of malice is directly ahead of you, master!"

[Might: 100 (+85)]

I reached the epicenter of evil, and stood before a convulsing cocoon of darkness. The Master Sword was a goddamn giant lightsaber of anti-evil energy, its sheer intensity making it look like I wielded a star forged in the shape of a sword.

With an unyielding howl, I slashed downward, tearing open the shell—its final layer of defense—to expose the entity inside.

And my determination nearly crumbled then and there.

Because standing barely a few feet in front of me was Robin. She appeared a few years older, her white hair several inches longer, but was doubtlessly the same woman I loved.

Then I fell into Bullet Time, extending this singular second so I could truly take in the person before me.

Her formerly grey eyes were a vicious magenta, and her face screwed into a rictus of raw hate. No, this wasn't Robin. It was the shitty six-eyed lizard possessing her body and perverting everything she ever stood for. Despite the impressive display of dark magic I fought through, its visage of abhorrence was sickly pale, and no matter how hard it tried it couldn't conceal the tremor of fatigue plaguing its stolen body.

The debilitation caused by hijacking Naga's time portal.

I already knew there was only one way to save this version of Robin.

So with my resolve refortified, I took one last step forward and thrust the lustrous Master Sword directly at the Fell Dragon's heart with everything I had.

CLANG!!!

My eyebrows damn near shot off my head. There was something underneath the Fell Dragon's coat, a durable object stashed away in its inner pocket! I didn't know what the hell it was, but it was hard enough to deflect the tip of my Master Sword by the barest margin. Instead, the Blade of Evil's Bane impaled the center of Grima's chest and burst out their back.

The Fell Dragon shrieked with all its unholy rage, its hatred distorted by an even greater agony. The Master Sword's light was infecting the self-proclaimed god, spreading through and lighting up its veins as its very essence was cleansed. Its tortured screech was worse than a thousand fingernails scraping against a million blackboards.

And then it was gone, transforming into a tight beam of light that shot off into the sky.

Warp magic!

Outraged by its abrupt escape, I almost didn't notice the lingering scraps of its foul energy suddenly converging towards me like a rain of barbed arrows; the Fell Dragon's parting gift.

I roared, lashing out with my Master Sword to intercept the numerous attacks. Light met darkness, with each point of contact producing an explosion that rivaled a bomb's. The cacophony of detonations that followed were deafening, yet far from fatal. As a matter of fact, none of the resulting shockwaves could penetrate my Reinforced defense, rendering the Fell Dragon's last ditch assault null.

As the dust and debris settled, I lowered my sword and shield while releasing my [Reinforcement]. The Sacred Sword reverted to its previous level of Might in Grima's absence, and no longer shone with the intensity of a white star.

A part of me was disappointed. The six-eyed lizard still managed to slither away, thanks to its obscenely convenient Warp magic. Even so, the self-proclaimed god was critically wounded, and I highly doubted it'd try to make another possession attempt against Robin anytime soon.

All my lingering frustrations were dust on the wind as I saw my Robin hurriedly sprinting towards me.

In the end, I successfully protected her.

I'd happily call that a win.

"Link!" Robin tackled me with the Nirvid Family's signature flying hug, one I accepted readily.

"Please tell me you remember everything," I murmured into her hair as I held her close.

"Of course I do, silly," Robin laughed weakly.

We stayed this way for a few minutes, savoring one another's embrace.

Finally, Robin spoke. "That was … I could've never imagined Grima was that powerful. It felt like … like I was drowning in the deepest, darkest ocean, with no way of knowing which way was up or down. I thought … I truly believed it held our lives in the palm of its hands."

"Not anymore, Robin. Not anymore."

"Master," Fi spoke up. "I do not wish to interrupt your prolonged display of affection, but I have detected three life signs near our vicinity."

Robin and I separated.

"There's someone nearby?" I was startled by this info.

"Were they hurt?" Robin asked quickly.

"Unknown, though the likelihood of fatal injuries is low. The three were caught in the edge of the tail end of the malevolent entity's parting attack."

"We'd best check on them, just in case," I decided.

Fi led us to our injured bystanders, who were quite a distance away. Those explosions Grima tried to finish me off with had been more powerful than I initially thought.

When we found our three patients, I damn near laughed, because I recognized all of them.

The blue-haired Prince of Ylisse, Chrom.

His younger sister, Lissa.

And their armored knight/steward, Frederick.

Really, what were the chances we'd run into these three immediately after Grima's failed possession attempt? They were all strewn across the grassy field, likely tossed into the air by the Fell Dragon's dark magic.

[Structural Analysis] showed me none of them were seriously injured, though that didn't stop me from Tracing a Heal Stave and patching up their scraps and bruises.

When I was done, Chrom immediately began to stir.

I fought to keep the shit-eating grin off my face as I leaned over the disoriented prince and said, "You know, there are better places to take a nap than on the ground."

~Current Stats~

NAME: Link

AGE: 26

CLASS: Hero of the Emblem

LEVEL: 1

EXP: 55 / 100

HIT POINTS: 73 / 73 (+5)

STRENGTH: 38 (+2)

MAGIC: 33 (+2)

SKILL: 33

SPEED: 36 (+2)

LUCK: 0

DEFENSE: 33

RESISTANCE: 35 (+4)

~Current Skills~

PERSONAL SKILL 1: Projection, Trace Version

PERSONAL SKILL 2: Inventory of the Wild Hero

PERSONAL SKILL 3: Triforce of Courage

SKILL 1: Too Angry To Die!

SKILL 2: Reinforcement

SKILL 3: Poison Immunity

SKILL 4: Spin Attack

SKILL 5: N/A

~Fire Emblem~

LOCKED

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