Type-Moon: Does even a sneak peek make it official?

"Come play again next time! Honestly, it hasn't been that long—why not stay a few more days? I haven't even had the chance to properly host you yet. We could go see the peak of the iceberg—now that's a view worth remembering."

In the southern port of the Scandinavian Isles, the sea breeze seemed eternal.

When gentle, it whispered like a lover in one's ear, brushing the cheek with the refreshing scent of the ocean; when fierce, it was like a raging beast, churning up layer upon layer of towering waves that crashed against the rocky shore with deafening thunder.

And in the midst of that wind, Beowulf—still bare-chested—threw his arms around Avia and Siegfried, one on each side, laughing heartily.

"King Beowulf, there's no need for this… It's not quite appropriate."

Augustine, standing to the side, spoke with his usual calm.

"You church missionaries are such trouble. What's so inappropriate about it? Neither Avia nor Siegfried is complaining, so why are you fussing?" Beowulf kept his arms hooked around the two men, smiling broadly. "And you—after that snowy day, you were supposed to head back to your preaching, yet here you are, lingering all this time! Because of that, I never got the chance to drink with Avia, and had to make do with Siegfried instead. How are you going to make that up to me?"

"No, King Beowulf, what you're saying makes no logical sense. Besides, the Church forbids drinking—"

"Avia isn't a member of your Church, so why can't he drink?"

"That's…"

Even the quick-witted Augustine suddenly found himself without an answer, his face caught in an awkward expression.

No matter how clever one is, when the brain stalls, the tongue trips as well.

The black-haired man didn't know how to describe Avia. Is he that one? Or is he really not?

He truly didn't know. Perhaps this was something to settle later, once he returned to the Eastern Roman Empire. He could have Archbishop Jerome of Constantinople contact Lord Kaubauk—still hidden deep within the Great Labyrinth—and then all would be clear.

But no matter what, Augustine still felt deep gratitude for the task Avia had left him.

"All right, it's about time. We really should get going now. Farewell, Beowulf."

At Avia's words, the golden-haired giant gave a solemn nod.

"Then you must come back sometime! You're our great hero here in the Scandinavian Isles, after all. How about I introduce you to some of our finest women, eh?"

"I'll pass on that," Avia said with a smile. "And not just me—Beowulf, Siegfried—we all took part in slaying the monster. We're all heroes here… Well, time to go."

With that, Avia and Siegfried stepped aboard a small boat.

The moment they boarded, the sea breeze—heavy with the salt and damp of the water, tinged with a faint trace of fish—washed over them. It was the unmistakable scent of the ocean, vast and profound. Sometimes it merely ruffled their hair; other times it roared past, carrying away the burdens of the heart and stirring endless daydreams.

"Hey!" Beowulf waved from the dock. "Siegfried! Don't come back next time unless you've learned to drink! Either outdrink me, or be ready to fight me bare-chested in the snow again!"

"…"

Clearly, Siegfried had no idea how to respond to Beowulf's exuberance.

Still, over these past days, he had been dragged into more than a few drinking bouts—and it was true he couldn't hold his own against him.

"That's Beowulf's wish for you, you know," Avia said, elbowing the bewildered silver-haired man.

Siegfried blinked, then called out loudly to the receding harbor, "I accept your challenge, Beowulf! I'll do as you wish!"

But this time, Beowulf didn't wave back as before. From Siegfried's vantage, the bare-chested golden-haired man seemed to simply nod, then turn away… In the end, who knew if they'd ever have the chance to return here?

The dragon-slaying hero wasn't sure—but having given his word, he supposed he'd have to find the time to come back one day.

Back at the port, Augustine sighed as he watched them leave. He'd be staying here for another three years or so—after all, he was here to preach, and as the Eastern Roman Church's pillar in this region, he couldn't just leave immediately.

"…What's that?"

As he made his way toward the town, he noticed the nearby forest trembling. Birds erupted into the sky—countless small ones, eagles, hawks, even owls that ought to have been sleeping by day.

Then, a massive werewolf came bounding toward the port at breakneck speed.

"A Phantasmal Beast…"

Before Augustine could say more, Beowulf beside him cracked his fists into his palms and grinned in delight, watching the charging creature without the slightest concern.

"Now that's a fine speed! That's the spirit a true warrior of the North should have!"

The werewolf's charge was so swift it seemed to whip the sea breeze into a frenzy. It howled through the narrow streets of the port, kicking up clouds of dust and leaves, forcing bystanders to shield their faces lest they be blinded.

"Hey! Do me a favor! I'm in a hurry to catch the humans who just set sail!"

"Oh? As you wish!"

Beowulf didn't seem to doubt the request for a moment—perhaps the warrior's aura radiating from the werewolf was enough to convince him.

His hands shot out, muscles swelling across both arms. The two-meter-tall werewolf sprang onto the bulging veins like stepping stones—and Beowulf hurled him in the direction of the boat that had already sailed some distance.

The werewolf soared through the sky like a shooting star, then—using his own strength—landed squarely and steadily on the deck where Avia and Siegfried stood.

"Whew, just made it! Took a bit too long to grab this thing—almost missed you. Good thing for that golden-haired human…"

Clutching something in his arms, the werewolf shook out his fur. His gaze lingered on Siegfried for a long time before he finally asked, utterly baffled:

"Wait… You're Sigurd!? What are you doing here?"

"Do we… know each other? And you are?"

Siegfried stared in confusion at the werewolf he'd never met.

At the oars, Avia's expression curved into a faint, knowing smile.

"That," he said, "would be your brother."