Multiverse's Holy Right

"Merely physical injury, mere so-called pain—what is there to fear? Do not sever your pain receptors! That will only make you weaker. The human body has evolved over countless generations—pain receptors serve a vital purpose. They allow you to better understand the damage your body has sustained!"

"...Only by growing accustomed to pain, enduring it, until you can revel in it—only by transforming pain into a driving force to grow stronger can you truly become powerful! Even if your displayed strength is immense, without willpower and endurance to match, if your enemies prevent you from blocking the pain, you will still be defeated no matter how strong you are!"

Scáthach barked sharply, her demonic spear tracing an arcane trajectory before piercing Roy's already battered body from an impossible angle once more. The spear's demonic nature and the Primordial Runes engraved upon it took effect, violently stimulating Roy's pain receptors until he groaned in agony. The torment then spread from his nerves to his brain, finally surging into his very soul, forcing Roy to scream uncontrollably.

"AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH—!"

The excruciating pain—as if his heart were being torn apart, as though millions of ants were gnawing at him, like his soul was being shredded—made Roy wish for death. Yet his brain's functions couldn't influence his soul, and even the mechanism of unconsciousness failed to activate. All it did was tear at his human will.

Driven mad by the suffering, Roy began swinging his fists wildly. Terrifying curses surged recklessly from the depths of his body, and a dreadful storm of magical energy whirled violently across the sky and earth of the Land of Shadows, splitting the ground and filling the heavens with mana.

Only by doing so could Roy vent even a fraction of his unbearable agony.

The sheer force of this outburst forced even Scáthach to take two steps back. But the Celtic warrior-woman planted her long, powerful legs firmly into the ground like twin anchors, standing unshaken against the tempest.

"Even in unbearable pain, do not relinquish control of your body! Do not surrender entirely to bestial instinct! The Celts fight fiercely, but they do not become beasts. The romance of the Celts lies in poetry and wine, in glory and bloodshed! Mindless beasts who devour flesh and blood know no glory! Do not mistake the Celtic way of battle—they fight by their own will, not as mindless beasts!"

"…Ancient humans drove many species that threatened their survival to extinction. They possessed a powerful instinct for slaughter, but that was merely something discarded by evolution. The true advancement of human civilization relied on wisdom, not bestial instincts. Roy, my disciple, remember—your greatest strength in battle is not transforming into a beast. No matter how agonizing, no matter how unbearable, you must cling to a shred of reason. Otherwise, you will fall into the abyss of Asura. And if that truly happens, I will end your life with this spear in my hand!"

"Don't disappoint me, Roy!"

Amidst the unbearable torment, Roy faintly heard Scáthach's words. Struggling to maintain a sliver of clarity, he forged an island of reason within the ocean of despair.

Noticing Roy's fists gradually adopting a semblance of technique, Scáthach effortlessly dodged while offering praise: "…Well done. Though your punches remain weak and lack true intent, you're slowly learning to harness reason amidst pain. Combat techniques are a lesson for another time. What I teach you now is the discipline of a warrior, the will of a hero. You possess the potential to become a conqueror—never underestimate yourself, Roy!"

In battle and in teaching, Scáthach never revealed her gentle side. She was like a drill sergeant training raw recruits, using harsh, merciless words to provoke Roy.

Scáthach was a qualified teacher—otherwise, she wouldn't have trained multiple great Celtic heroes. She understood the principle of teaching students according to their aptitude. Knowing Roy wasn't one to rely on bestial instincts, she guided him toward the path of 'wisdom.'

A beast's combat instincts were formidable, and so was strategic wisdom—theoretically, neither was superior, only suited or unsuited to the individual. Thus, Scáthach disparaged instinctual combat to steer Roy toward the path that fit him best.

As the pain gradually faded, Roy's rationality grew stronger. His trembling body barely remained upright, drenched in sweat, as he weakly gasped, "…S-Shishou! I can't… I almost lost consciousness back there."

Had he lost his sense of self, Roy would have become a vegetable—no different from death.

"I was watching you the entire time. Even soul-rending pain only pushes you to your limits, forcing you to break through them. It would never kill you… A teacher who lets their disciple die is the worst kind. If I ever met such a person, I'd be tempted to run them through. That would be an insult to the title of 'teacher.'"

Scáthach spoke calmly, her words essentially meaning, 'You thought you were dying? That was just your imagination. I'd never let you die.'

"A man must never say he can't! Especially in front of a woman. Come, keep throwing punches at me. You must believe this isn't your limit!"

"Who says I can't…? When it comes to men and women, I'm quite confident."

In absolute agony, one rarely bothers to filter their words. Roy growled through clenched teeth.

"Heh…"

Scáthach let out a mocking laugh, casting a disdainful glance at Roy's body as she spat, "...With that completely untrained physique of yours, you're only fit to be conquered by a truly powerful woman!"

She knew exactly where to hit a man's pride. Moreover, in Celtic culture, desires between men and women weren't bound by as many modern taboos.

As expected, Scáthach's contempt ignited Roy's fury. Even though he knew that against her battle-hardened body, he'd be utterly defeated even in bed, a man could deny anything except his masculine capability.

"Then come try me, Shishou!"

Roy angrily threw a punch at Scáthach's ethereally beautiful face.

"Sorry, Roy! I've no interest in men who are too weak and small!"

With a sidestep, Scáthach effortlessly dodged before executing a flawless shoulder throw that slammed Roy onto the ground.

The impact of his back hitting the ground paled in comparison to the soul-rending agony he'd endured earlier, leaving Roy completely unfazed.

"The Wisdom of Dún Scáith tells me you still have untapped potential. Show it to me!"

Under Scáthach's command, Roy didn't hesitate—he immediately activated Isaac's Redemption!

This was a divine authority meant for desperate, last-ditch resurgence.

In that moment, Roy once again felt power flooding his veins. Kipping up from the ground like a carp leaping from water, he launched himself back into combat with Scáthach.

The whistle of fists and crimson flashes of magical spears reappeared in the Land of Shadows—but this time, Roy lasted even shorter. When the authority's effect faded, his body finally gave out, collapsing completely.

This was the side effect of Isaac's Redemption—absolute exhaustion once its power waned.

"I know this is your limit. You can't fight anymore... but stand up, Roy!! I believe you still have the strength to rise!"

Scáthach flung her magical spear, embedding it beside Roy's hand.

Gritting his teeth, blood foaming at his lips, Roy tremblingly grasped the spear shaft. Inch by inch, he dragged his body upright.

It felt like being back in the gym—every time he hit his limit, the trainer would demand "one more rep" to temper his strength and willpower.

But Scáthach's training was infinitely more brutal than any gym coach's. She pushed him to his absolute limits—physically and spiritually.

When Roy finally stood, his body froze mid-motion. He'd completely lost consciousness, now only held upright by the spear propping him up.

"Well done, Roy..."

Though she knew he couldn't hear, Scáthach praised him anyway. Her stern expression melted into tender affection as she approached, using her delicate, porcelain hand to wipe blood and dirt from his face.

"Won't this training method break him?"

Aiwass materialized behind Roy, directing the question at Scáthach.

"You are not human, so you do not know the limits of humanity... You do not wield weapons, so you do not understand the extent to which a weapon should be wielded."

Scáthach's words left Aiwass speechless.

"He is my disciple, my final disciple, and the only one who can fulfill my wish. I will teach him everything I know, I will satisfy all his desires and longings—as long as he can fulfill my small wish in return."

Scáthach gently cradled Roy's head, pressing it against the soft peaks of her chest as she tenderly stroked the back of his head. "...He is my finest disciple. Whether in the past, present, or future, there will never be one greater than him."

Thus declared the Queen of the Land of Shadows.

This man was the sole treasure she had found in her lonely, despairing life. She believed—no, she knew—he would be the one to save her.

***

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