She was a queen who could only be described by a single color, purple.
Her long, dark violet hair, tinged with crimson, cascaded down like silken threads, smooth and lustrous. Her striking crimson eyes carried a self-assured pride, yet beneath that lofty arrogance lay a depth as tranquil as ripples on still water. They were subtle, mesmerizing, and profound.
Those eyes alone were enough to steal one's breath away.
Yet as Roy's gaze traveled downward, a sense of regret stirred within him, for this enchantingly captivating woman wore a half-veil, concealing the lower half of her face. The very visage that might have brought life even to the stagnant, deathly air around her remained tantalizingly obscured from view.
She possessed a tall, well-proportioned figure, full yet refined, her curves exuding an almost divine perfection. She was clad in a skintight bodysuit of deep violet, an attire that could only be described as provocative. The core sections of the suit were made of leather, modestly covering key areas, while the rest consisted of semi-transparent silk, delicate yet suggestive.
Even through the ethereal fabric, subtle curves hinted at the breathtaking fullness beneath them, enough to leave Roy momentarily awed. (T/N: Haah, finally I am happily translating a woman's description for once 😭)
The outfit was bold, yet concealed. It was revealing, yet reserved. Roy found himself uncertain whether to describe it as daringly uninhibited or meticulously restrained.
But without a doubt, she was a woman of natural nobility and hence was aloof, commanding, yet with an underlying gentleness that was strangely comforting.
Yes.
Although the woman before him radiated cold arrogance, Roy could still sense within her an unmistakable warmth. The kind of warmth one might find in an elder sister from the house next door.
"The Land of Shadows?"
Though Roy was momentarily captivated by the half-veiled beauty, he remained on guard.
The spear strike from earlier had carried genuine killing intent.
Had he not possessed the reflexes and strength to evade it, his skull would have been pierced in an instant.
"Scáthach, Queen of the Land of Shadows?"
Roy had spent ample time in the Campione world studying mythology and history. The moment he saw the crimson spear and realized he was in the Land of Shadows, he immediately identified the woman before him.
Of course, his certainty did not merely stem from knowledge acquired as a Campione, he remembered her from his previous life.
Thus, even though his words were framed as a question, his tone and expression carried absolute confidence.
'During my battle with Athena, I realized my martial skills were lacking. I had the thought of finding a teacher, someone capable of honing my combat prowess. If I recall correctly, in Celtic mythology, Scáthach was the legendary warrior-queen who trained many of Ireland's greatest heroes.
'She was not just a warrior, but a renowned teacher.
'But for that simple thought to be realized so quickly… isn't my luck a little too ridiculous!?'
His gaze shifted slightly to his right hand, and at that moment, Roy had a realization and he understood the cause and effect of his arrival here.
Everything must have been connected to that mysterious thing within his right hand, the strange "ship" that had carried him across worlds.
Roy clearly recalled that both of his dimensional shifts had been preceded by making a wish.
His first wish—made in a dream—was somewhat vague in memory, but it had undoubtedly been related to traveling between worlds.
His second wish, however, had been made consciously—within the enigmatic realm he had named the Stairway to Heaven.
Back then, he had clearly wished to be sent to a world where he could become stronger quickly. And thus, he was transported to the Campione world, where he had indeed grown immensely powerful in a short time.
'I don't fully understand the mechanism of that mysterious thing, but now it's clear, it must be connected to wishes in some way. Somehow, the wish I made during my battle with Athena must have activated the thing again…'
Thinking back, Roy realized he had wrongfully blamed Madame Aisha for his sudden dimensional shift.
In truth, it was not Madame Aisha's Authority that had malfunctioned, but rather, the mysterious thing in his right hand. It had likely used Madame Aisha's Authority as a medium, harnessing it to fulfill his unspoken desire.
But there was one crucial problem. Yes, he had indeed been brought to the perfect teacher to hone his martial prowess.
However, finding a teacher did not mean that teacher would agree to train him.
It was exactly the same situation as when he had been transported to the Campione world. The world itself had provided the ideal conditions for him to become stronger. But, if he had failed to slay a god and obtain the divine powers of a Campione, then nothing would have changed.
Likewise, this mysterious thing did not grant his wishes directly. Instead, it merely placed all the necessary conditions before him, leaving it entirely up to him to seize the opportunity.
'That means… if I want Scáthach to train me, I'll have to earn it myself.'
A new wave of curiosity surged within Roy.
Just what exactly was this mysterious thing in his right hand? What was its true function? Who had created it?
A dozen questions raced through his mind.
But he quickly dismissed them for now, for a far greater crisis still loomed before him.
The proud queen in deep violet did not immediately respond to his words. Instead, she arched a finely shaped brow, her piercing gaze settling upon Roy.
Then, in a voice that carried both ancient weight and crystalline clarity, like a chime of jade in a silent abyss—yet tinged with solitude and ice—she spoke:
"…To recognize an obscure existence like myself at the mere mention of the Land of Shadows, it seems you are quite the scholar."
A subtle note of approval flickered beneath the lifeless chill in her melodic yet deathly voice.
Celtic mythology was a subject studied by only a select few, and it was never as widely spread as other myths. The most famous figure to emerge from Celtic legend was undoubtedly King Arthur, a name that had transcended time and culture.
By contrast, figures like Scáthach, a warrior-queen whose tales were sparsely recorded even in the original myths, remained relatively obscure.
To know her name meant to have undertaken serious, in-depth research into the mythologies of the world.
At that moment, the Queen of the Land of Shadows narrowed her gaze, her expression darkening slightly. Within her voice lay an unusual mixture of uncertainty and certainty, as though speaking aloud a theory she had already confirmed in her mind:
"…Foreigner. Since you know of me—Scáthach, the Queen of the Land of Shadows—then it means that even in your foreign realm, there exists a legend bearing my name.It would seem that even if your world is distant and separate, it still shares threads of history and mythology with this one."
From just a single sentence, Scáthach had deduced far more than Roy expected. Even without tangible proof, she was already forming conclusions about a world she had never seen nor perceived.
Roy furrowed his brows. At that moment, his biggest question wasn't about Scáthach herself.
It was—
"How did you know I was from another world?"
After arriving in the Land of Shadows, he had gone nowhere, done nothing, and spoken not a single word.
Yet, from the very first moment she laid eyes on him, Scáthach had somehow known he was an outsider. No, a Foreigner.
This… was unfair. How could she know?
Scáthach, however, answered him with calm certainty:
"This is wisdom born from standing beyond humanity, from slaying gods, from stepping outside the world itself, this is the Wisdom of the Abyss."
Her voice remained as still as a frozen lake, yet there was something absolute about her words, an inescapable truth.
"I told you, this is the Land of Shadows, realm where no one of this world may enter or leave without my consent. And yet, here you stand. You, who shattered that rule and appeared before me. Thus, there can be only one conclusion: you are not of this world. If parallel worlds exist, if distant stars hold life, then so too must other realms beyond this one. It is only natural. And as I expected… I merely asked the question and yet you admitted it yourself."
Scáthach's crimson eyes gleamed as she narrowed them slightly. A subtle smile danced within their depths.
In that moment, Roy was struck by an unexpected realization. The expression on her face...
It was as if she were toying with him. As if she had baited him into confirming it himself.
Even her normally deathly voice now carried the faintest trace of amusement, a note of life in an otherwise lifeless realm.
Roy's face twitched. Did I just get tricked that easily!?
"Do not trouble yourself with regret," Scáthach said lightly. "Even had you denied it, even had you remained silent, Wisdom of the Abyss had already revealed the truth to me. Your very existence is bound by a fate that intertwines with this world." (T/N: I wonder which fate that is, surely its not a certain guy who likes cake 😏)
Her words were not spoken to mock him. Rather, in them was an unmistakable note of gentle reassurance, a kindness hidden beneath her regal pride. A touch of warmth beneath the eternal solitude of the Land of Shadows.
At that moment, Roy felt a realization dawn upon him. Throughout his journey, he had encountered many concepts, many forces that defined the worlds he walked.
And yet, one thing had remained constant. The force he resonated with the most, the one thing that had constantly drawn him in, time and time again was Wisdom.
Solomon's Wisdom.
Athena's Wisdom.
And now, Wisdom of the Abyss.
"So that's it…" Roy murmured to himself. "I am drawn to wisdom itself."
Scáthach, however, was not done speaking. Her gaze turned sharp once more. Her voice, calm yet resounding, cut through the silence of the Land of Shadows like a spear piercing the void:
"No matter your reason for coming to this world, Foreigner. There is only one way to determine your purpose. And its through my spear."
She raised her hand.
The crimson light of her weapon flared into existence. Within her gloved hands, twin blood-red spears materialized, radiating an overwhelming aura of battlelust and divine slaughter.
"Your aura… It carries the same scent as mine. Though the gods you have slain were but false deities, I cannot be deceived. You are a God Slayer."
Her grip tightened around the spears. Her stance shifted into one of readiness. Her eyes, once merely assessing, now gleamed with a battle-hardened intensity.
For the Celts, there was only one way to understand a man. It was neither words nor philosophy.
It was battle. It was blood. And finally, it was the clash of steel upon steel.
***
(T/N: Scáthach has bold dialogues because I wanted to give her aura like I did in earlier fights with Heretic Gods and Voban where they were actually a threat to MC. And here's today's chapter as promised. There might be another one tomorrow as well.)