In the world of Type-Moon, it all begins with becoming Morgan's husband!

“Yes.” Ian stared directly at the purple-haired girl in front of him.

"Don't you know that once you have a certain purpose in mind, your actions become very deliberate?"

"If you deliberately reach out your hand... then it means you're trying to provoke someone, right? And the only one I can provoke is my sister."

"..."

Plerati's smile froze for a moment, replaced by deep self-doubt.

Is it really that obvious?

“Yes,” Ian affirmed again. “Has no one mentioned this to you before?”

"No!"

"..."

"..."

"What's with that expression?!" Plerati exclaimed impatiently. "Is it funny?"

"Hmm...it's not funny at all."

千:,寻",免,"费:.小.说;;裙.2'5!,5."5.9.5,,3??0.0:, ':千?!寻?小!;说"中!;转:;裙?5?5";4,7.!0.:7""5''5";5伊恩收敛起自己脸上的那份笑意。

"So--"

"Let's get back to business."

“Plerati, you should still remember the promise you made, right? You... would tell me more about that English magician along the way.”

"Yes, of course I remember."

The purple-haired girl picked up the wine glass in front of her and took a small sip.

What do you want to ask this time?

“Weaknesses,” Ian answered without hesitation.

"I want to know what this English magician has that would be enough to defeat her weakness."

"..."

Your request seems to have struck a chord with Plerati.

The smile on her face was slowly fading.

You realize that this question seems to have a completely different meaning for her.

You sense that something is wrong.

"Is there no way to answer this question?" Ian broke the silence. "Or do you not know the answer either?"

"If you put it that way—"

Plerati met Ian's gaze directly.

"It's more accurate to say that there were too many answers, to the point that I simply didn't know how to respond."

Too many answers?

This was an answer Ian had never expected.

"What does it mean?"

“It means exactly what it says.” Plerati gulped down a large glass of wine, then let out a long sigh of relief.

"Because she fears so many things that it's unreasonable to single one out as a representative."

"Perhaps it should be said that... anything that can kill a mortal can also be used to kill her, and that's roughly how it manifests."

This explanation inevitably left Ian somewhat puzzled.

"So if you put it that way—"

"Isn't this the weakest magician imaginable? How could the English believe that such a magician could bring them victory?"

“Heh.” Plerati sneered.

"That's why I said you've been dragged down too much by your sister... even your understanding of magicians has become quite dull."

"The strength of a magician cannot be judged by trivial matters such as whether he or she will be killed."

"not to mention--"

The purple-haired girl licked her lips.

"Being killed doesn't necessarily mean death."

"What does this mean?" Ian felt as if he had come into contact with something extraordinary.

"It's a simple truth."

Plerati downed the wine in his glass in one gulp, then pointed to its empty surface and continued.

"Just like this wine glass—"

As the girl spoke, she conjured flames that burned off a part of it.

"What you perceive as death is actually just the destruction of a 'part' of her like this."

"But the original shape of the wine glass still exists."

"If you grasp this point—"

With a little effort, the girl restored the burned wine glass to its original state, bit by bit.

"Death, regardless of its degree, is simply a reversible process."

"..."

You understand what Plerati means.

[While the magician could indeed be killed in various ways—"death" did not signify her end.]

This is an immortal body that allows death to exist.

Suddenly, in an instant, you understood what the concept of strength that English soldiers spoke of truly meant.

But at the same time, you inevitably have a question.

"How did you know about this?" Ian looked at Prierati in front of him. "This is something extremely secret, isn't it?"

"secret?"

Upon hearing this, Plerati burst into laughter.

"It's no secret—because she had no intention of hiding it at all."

"After all, if everyone knows that magic can achieve this level, it would be like leaving my own mark on the history of magic, right?"

"Of course... in that case, there might be quite a few people who would want to try and see if they could kill her, right?"

"But that doesn't matter, she won't care about that kind of thing."

"..."

Ian remained silent for a while before speaking again.

"Are all magicians this crazy?"

"How can this be called madness?"

Plerati stared directly at Ian in front of her.

"As a magician, one should have the awareness that matches this identity."

"You should understand what I mean by saying this, right?"

"..."

[Of course you know the other layer of meaning behind Plerati's words—that magicians should be as dedicated as she was to leaving their own mark.]

But you completely disagree with this idea.

This goes against your usual way of thinking.

“Plerati,” Ian said, looking at the purple-haired girl before him, “Don’t you have anyone you care about?”

"Yes, it is."

Plerati met Ian's gaze, a hint of madness flickering in her eyes.

"Aren't you someone I care about?"

"Such outstanding magical talent...you can't find anyone like you in all of England and France."

"Ha, just thinking about someone like that right in front of me makes me incredibly excited."

“That’s not caring,” Ian said. “You just think I haven’t done what a magician should do.”

"So you understood this too?"

Plerati glanced at Joan of Arc in the distance—she was still observing from the shadows.

"Then why don't you do it... You clearly have the ability, you're just being held back by your sister."

“Plerati, I think I’ve already said it once.” Ian gripped the wine glass in front of him.

“Jeanne is very important to me... she is not the kind of person you are saying who is holding me back.”

"..."

Plerati turned his head away and muttered to himself.

"It doesn't matter anymore, she shouldn't have been by your side in the first place."

"What did you say?"

“It’s nothing.” Plerati raised his glass. “Have a few more drinks with me, and I’ll tell you more.”

You and Plerati drank a lot of alcohol.

But she didn't give you any more useful information.

You have concluded this meeting.

You pretended to know nothing and returned to Joan of Arc's side, telling her most of the things that had happened.