Roy orchestrated his mana deftly to clean his body, the cardinal robe he used to wear had long since put out the white flag, so he was going with a Celtic-styled bodysuit.

For an obscure period of time from when he has been here, he has been going with this body-tight combat suit that Scathach had knitted together with her runes. 

He sided downwards and took his seat beside Scathach. 

The berry-sweet fragrance surrounded him, in this desolate and forsaken land of death, only this lively smell could make him feel that he was still alive and had not become an andead—unconscious with the life's vividity. 

“Master…"

Roy looked sideways—towards Scathach whose glaze loomed over the unforeseen distance. 

Hearing Roy’s call, Scathach also turned her head to look into his eyes.

The burgundy eyes were unabating with temptation and provocative, and also had a strong teasing tenderness. 

"Haash..."

This was the incogurality he often felt—to which Scathach was real, the cruel and ruthless laughing barbarous woman on the battlefield; or the tender and sweet, sister-like woman with a pure healing smile. 

...maybe she was a complicated combination like him. 

“Your eyes are much clearer than from when you first came here.”

Scathach remarked softly.

“Well, when a person gets the chance to get skewered every single day, changes are meant to happen.”

Roy laughed, but the sarcasm he deliberately showed wasn't bottled down. 

"Puff~! Haha~"

But that only make Scathach laugh briskly till the ickle of a tear cornered the ends of her eyes. 

With a big smile plastered on her face, she tucked his forehead with a light flick of her finger with mock indignation in her eyes.

The Queen of Shadows brought her arms together and chuckled. 

“The clarity I’m talking about is not about your battle sense and techniques. What I want to say is that your manly desires are no longer concealed."

"When you first came to this Land of Shadows, your eyes were sneaky and dodging when looking at this lady's beautiful figure, but now, your gazes are direct and openly appreciative."

”This is not contemptible, on the contrary, frank person are more appreciated, instead of dirty sneaky gazes, a direct expression will make a girl shy instead of being disgusted by the dodging peeks.”

"Wait——what?"

Roy stiffly turned his head with speechless written on every inch of his face and kecked:

“...Master, why do I feel your words seem to be addressing me as a sneaky pervert that has evolved to become an upright and open pervert?”

“If that is the way you take it, Roy, then so be it.”

“...I couldn't seem to find myself being able to digest your 'praises'. And, that screwed up law you made just now only works with a handsome face, ugly and standard men will only get slapped or beaten black and blue with harassment charges.”

“It’s hard for people to notice their own changes. I have seen beautiful girls clinging to bushy and boorish men—with my own two eyes. Just build up some muscles and my Roy would become a ladykiller too.”

Scathach closed her eyes and leaned back, to muse on something 'important' for a while—

“From my point of view, you are a little like Fergus and Maeve.”

“T...master, don’t think I haven’t read Irish mythology, okay? I know what type of hungry ghosts these Maeve and Fergus guys are.”

Roy’s mouth twitched, Maeve and Fergus, the beauty whose libidinous desire outmatched a mythical horse loaded with freaking steroids and the hero who had such a huge genitalia that it required seven women working together to satisfy him.

Maeve, a Celtic heroic leader who r*ped men left and right as an act of vengeance on them and then there is the Celtic warrior named Fergus—a self-powered self-propelled rapid seed planter, these words are enough to describe him.

“They just like intercourse, everyone has their own areas of interest. Although facing this kind of person makes me distressed, I don’t hate that frankness."

"What I hate are those nauseating person who hide their dark evil vileness behind a 'I am a goody two shoes' mask. The hidden knife behind the back is odious, unlike a war hammer that comes from front.”

“It’s like you who just came to my Kingdom of Shadows. You didn’t had the fighting spirit of a warrior and the glory of the strong."

"When facing a desperate situation, the first thought you had was actually to shrink back and think of a back pullover instead of plucking up courage and going in from front."

"To put in plain words—although your have ambition, drive and the guts, but what's the damn use of all that? When you even dare not show it?"

"This is the type I hate the most, when you are so gifted and competent with certained goals, why not use it to the fullest? Gosh, I still cannot understand this.”

Scathach completely ignored Roy’s face and scolded him violently, fervently thrashing his old actions on the ground and above. 

“Hoho. Then why did you still came to me with—'oh, I want to teach you, Roy', if I am someone who makes you feel so disgusted, huh?” 

Roy shared back a 'smile'.

“I am a person who can fully understand myself and know my talents. Therefore, I also have the eyesight to see through the qualities and temperaments of others."

"At the first sight, I knew that you were just a pearl dusted under miserable roughness. Under the rough rotten wood was a glowing gem, as long as it is carefully carved, a diamond will come out, my heart just couldn't settle with the fact to let such a tragedy happen in front of myself.”

Although Scathach seemed to be praising him, Roy felt like this smug smiling witch and teacher of his was boasting more of herself—this vainglory side of Scathach, he was seeing it for the first time. 

“Master, you are just boasting of your vision and ability, that you were able to train a 'rotten wood' like me into a 'diamond'.”

The Witch of Shadows smirked more widely and shook her legs to and fro with a carefree expression on her face. 

“That’s right, now I have carved you with all my abilities. You are the most beautiful diamond I have ever seen."

In front of this woman, Roy felt as if he was being molested in real time! 

'Tch. It's not easy to gain upper hand in front of this old women."

“But…”

Scathach suddenly stretched out her hand to hold the wide-eyed Roy by the back of his head, the unhurried force came from the front—and she hugged him tightly! 

She closed her eyes and hugged Roy’s head. Her hands stroked his death white-silver hair and whispered: 

“Now my disciple had grown into a man that his craftsmen couldn't help but admire and adore.”

That’s how it is, to train a young and talented young seedling with potential and talent, and to shape him into a capable warrior with her own two hands. 

The actualized conception make Scathach feel excited, happy, and feel the deepest rise from this decadent body of her's—that made her face changed slightly as her breathing became hushed.

But—it’s not enough, it’s not enough, it's still not enough. He is still a little bit lacking. He can't kill her now. 

However, hope had finally bloomed in this desolate spring, and the desperate and withered desires had rose like sprouts once again. 

The mulling meaningless placidity of life had unexpectedly vanished.

'....this had to come one day anyways.'

Roy closed his eyes and pressed his face, leaving himself to Scathach's softness. Scathach's strength almost suffocated him, but for Roy now, it was not a big deal for not being able to breathe for a long time. 

The roundness of her bosom held him by both sides, but he felt more of a relaxation and homely warmth incandescing from within him—it was difficult to describe that complicated feeling. 

Neither was he in the mood to do so. 

Scathach just caressed softly Roy's head without reprimand him for being naughty. The two of them kept each other like this. 

Slowly, there was no ambiguity left in the air—only virtue of the human relationships and the emotions that binded them. 

It was like the tears of a soldier parting from his dear comrade, like the parting of two best friends, like the sadness and nostalgia of a teacher and a student, the lingering ache of parting with the place that schooled one's skills. 

It was just being a human—a social animal of emotions.