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An isolated island, ravaged by a tempest of magical energy. Before them loomed a massive concentration of mana—a "Wandering Magical Fortress" in the shape of a kraken, harder than steel. It advanced with a deafening roar, threatening to swallow the Singularity itself.
In the shadow of a sea wall, Mandricardo adjusted his grip on his wooden sword. He took a step forward, shielding Ritsuka Fujimaru.
"…Damn, this is bad. If I take that thing head-on, my wooden sword won't hold."
"Mandricardo, don't overdo it! Da Vinci-chan, isn't there another way—"
As Ritsuka reached for her comms, a cool, composed voice drifted from behind them.
"My, you two. Please, don't look so grim."
Bartholomew Roberts appeared, his stride steady despite the raging gale. He adjusted the collar of his overcoat, seemingly indifferent to the sea spray as he wore a fearless smile.
"Bartholomew…! But how are we supposed to stop a mountain like that by ourselves? All the heavy hitters have already been desummoned."
At Mandricardo’s question, Bartholomew answered without a moment's hesitation.
"It’s quite simple. I’ve been conserving my magical energy for this very moment. I shall strike it with my Noble Phantasm!"
"Hey, are you kidding?! Charging that mass head-on would be—"
"Now, now, don't worry. I have no intention of doing anything as crude as a kamikaze attack."
Bartholomew tossed a bright, reassuring wink toward the stunned Mandricardo and Ritsuka.
"I lived a life that was grand, brief, and magnificent. Because of that, I have no desire to throw my life away pointlessly in a petty Singularity like this. At peak condition, looking my absolute best, I shall simply 'plunder' our victory!"
"Bartholomew!"
Ritsuka shouted and raised both hands. He nodded.
"As expected of my Master—ever the quick study. My natural strength might not reach it alone. May I count on a boost from your Command Spells?"
"Of course!"
"Mandricardo, I leave Master’s safety to you."
"R-Right… Got it!"
Bartholomew stepped forward, the gold chains on his attire clinking as he looked up at the sky. Behind him, emerging from the empty void, the phantom of a galleon equipped with heavy cannons rose, bleeding into reality.
"All hands, prepare for battle!"
His sharp command echoed as the space around them transformed into surges of mana. Simultaneously, the Command Spell on the back of Ritsuka’s hand glowed, channeling energy into the Servant standing before her.
"—It seems you haven't realized yet, have you? You are already surrounded!"
An afterimage of countless flashes of gunfire deployed around the enemy. Bartholomew curled his lip into a daring smirk and brought his right hand down with the calm finality of a checkmate on a chessboard.
"All batteries, open fire! —Black Dirty Barty Howling!!"
A thunderous roar. Streaks of light pierced the giant kraken from every direction. It wasn't mere destruction; it was the command of a 'Captain' hitting the fortress's vital points with meticulously calculated timing, driving the massive body back into the sea.
Mandricardo watched the scene in a daze.
A man who claimed he would never fall in love, whose heart could never be stolen—yet whose back radiated an unmistakable heat.
The kraken was blown off course and disintegrated, vanishing into the rough waves. The Singularity began to settle, the storm subsiding as the world repaired itself. With the fading light at his back, Bartholomew wiped a trickle of blood from his cheek with the back of his hand—likely a graze from a fragment of the fortress or rock—and let out a long, theatrical sigh.
"Phew. Well, I talked a big game so you wouldn't worry, but in truth, the chances of pulling that off without damaging my Saint Graph were fifty-fifty. You saved me, Master."
"That’s my line…! Don't scare us like that!"
***
In the brief moment before withdrawal, with the storm gone and the gentle sound of waves returning to the shore, the three stood side-by-side.
"…Um, Bartholomew. Thanks for earlier. Honestly… I was overwhelmed."
Mandricardo muttered, kicking at the sand.
"Oh, it’s nothing worth thanking me for. I simply followed my own way of doing things. You, too, protected Master from that storm while she was vulnerable from using the Command Spell."
"No, but still…"
Mandricardo glanced at Ritsuka before continuing.
"I heard you weren't interested in romance and stuff. So, no offense, but I thought you were more the type to be indifferent to others. But that Noble Phantasm… seeing you give orders to those 'boys' of yours… it looked like you trusted your comrades more than anyone."
Ritsuka nodded, peering into Bartholomew’s face.
"I thought so too. Just like how Mandricardo treasures his solo adventures, for you, Bartholomew, everyone on that ship is a treasure."
"Heh, I see. So that is how it appeared to you both."
Bartholomew smoothed his sea-tossed coat with his fingertips, his eyes drifting toward the horizon.
"Mandricardo, you know the aesthetic of fighting alone. You even know the intensity of a stolen love with a foreign princess."
"No, well, that was, uh…"
"That is precious in its own right. But for me, that ship, my crew, and even these clothes I wear—they are all essential elements that compose my history. I will never surrender myself to love for another, but in the moment I lead the finest things I have recognized as my own, I am at my most 'me'."
"Never surrendering yourself… yet, you aren't cold."
Mandricardo tilted his head curiously.
"That's right, Mandricardo. Bartholomew is actually quite a passionate Heroic Spirit, despite how he looks."
At Ritsuka’s words, Bartholomew’s eyes crinkled.
"Precisely. I love myself. Therefore, the bonds with the comrades I have deemed worthy of my trust are also something I prize as a point of pride. If I have time to suffer from the fever of love, I would rather spend it thinking of how to beautifully deploy this fleet, or how to smartly escort a Master such as yourself. There are plenty of things to pour my passion into. Obsessing over the angle of this hat, or the safety of you both, is far more stimulating to me."
Bartholomew stood up and offered a hand to each of them.
"Now then, you two. Once we return to Chaldea, to celebrate today's victory… oh, perhaps we should skip the tea for once. For a change of pace, let us go plunder the finest juice from the cafeteria. Ah, Mandricardo. Your wooden sword is a bit damaged from the sea breeze. Let’s maintain it later along with my coat. Since we shared this Rayshift together, let me tinker with it until it meets my aesthetic standards."
"Ah, no… that’s a bit of a high bar for a loner like me… But, well… I’ll count on you. Thanks."
Mandricardo looked down, embarrassed, as Ritsuka watched over them.
Respecting himself, and deeply respecting the companions who walked beside Bartholomew. The Voyager of the Storm pressed forward on his own course today, as proud as ever.