Not only that, Morgan recognized the spear's True Name.
The second seat of the Knights of the Round Table, Percival's other Holy Lance, Longinus.
The instant Morgan realized the Noble Phantasm's True Name, the silver Holy Lance in Aesc's hand split her magecraft barrier cleanly in two.
Morgan barely caught the blow with her staff. She let out a muffled grunt as the impact sent her flying toward the broad open waters. Only by forcibly constricting space with mana did she manage to steady herself and regain her stance.
"You even have that spear? Just what are you...?" Morgan's expression darkened as she sensed another gap in her intelligence.
It was not that the Crypter assigned to the South American Lostbelt, or that priest with the fixed, fake smile, had deliberately withheld information.
Rather, they themselves had never been able to grasp the full picture of Aesc.
In Chaldea's battles, it had always been that man, the one whose authority had been stolen, charging at the very front.
Naturally, he was the one whose information leaked the most.
And in turn, that became cover for everyone else.
"Don't misunderstand," Aesc said, lifting the spear and settling into a practiced stance. "This isn't the Holy Lance held by the Knights of the Round Table."
"This is a ritual implement that drifted with me from the Inner Sea of the Planet to Britannia. It is the [Chosen Spear]."
"I see." Morgan rose and wiped the water from her face.
The environment of Tlatlauqui shifted again with her will, trying to hinder Aesc's movements.
Aesc held the [Chosen Spear] across her body, watched the moment the undercurrent surged, then stepped across the treacherous waters of the Netherworld and launched a high-speed assault straight at Morgan.
They were both top-tier Magus. If either tried to close in using Mirror Magecraft, the other would sense it first.
The moment Morgan felt a water-colored mirror surface forming behind her, she read its nature from the direction of the mana flow.
She spun around and shattered it before the spell could complete, refusing to let the Mirror Fusion take shape.
Just as expected.
Aesc saw the outcome as she sprinted forward and made her judgment without a word.
So then...
Mirrors appeared one after another, forcing Morgan to dismantle each one in rapid succession.
Real or fake, she could not allow a single mirror to finish forming.
That was the nastiest part of this magecraft. Within the range of one's vision, it could create an exit first, and only afterward set the entrance.
A truly troublesome tactic.
Morgan wanted to return the favor and use it for a counterattack, but Aesc's mobility was absurd. Morgan's eyes could barely keep up with her footwork.
"Quit admiring your reflection!"
At last, as Morgan dispelled the Mirror Fusion on her left, a silver spear blade stabbed out from behind it.
Aesc had not passed through the mirror. She had simply closed the distance at that exact moment.
Even the chaotic environment failed to slow her down.
With no time to deal with the remaining mirrors, Morgan tapped the water with her toes and retreated at full speed.
But Aesc stayed on her like a shadow, preventing Morgan from bringing her counters to full power.
"A Magus who prefers close combat," Morgan snapped as Aesc caught up again. She shaped a weapon from mana and blocked the Holy Lance's downward cut. "Just as nasty as that certain Incubus."
"Come on. This spear technique was personally taught to me by my husband," Aesc said, unbothered. "And you? With the First Netherworld's terrain and stolen authority to lean on, is an ambush the only way you can gain an advantage?"
Sustaining her defense with the staff in her right hand, Morgan freed her left and swiftly wove another spell to strike Aesc from behind.
"The one who ambushed with the Holy Sword really has the nerve to say that."
Aesc flashed a smug smile.
"This is payback for your ambush last night!"
"Heh..." Morgan scoffed.
The pincer attack was already in place. Now all she had to do was reverse the flow and turn it into a killing blow.
She raised her hand, about to clench her fist and redirect the mana into an attack.
Two sharp crimson flashes cut past her, grazing her body and opening wounds along her arm and waist.
Fresh blood welled up and spilled down.
Morgan jerked her head around in shock and saw two crimson spears spinning to a stop before turning their tips back toward her, locking onto her position again.
Only then did Morgan remember.
That man whose authority had been taken by three different sides was skilled with crimson spears, a disciple of Scáthach, Queen of the Land of Shadows.
Those two crimson spears were the mark of Scáthach's discipleship.
Noble Phantasms that carried curses.
Even without releasing their True Names, the moment they left a wound, the curse would spread from the injury and prevent it from healing.
Breaking the curse was not difficult.
"You... haven't been using your own fighting style this whole time, have you?" Morgan asked.
"No. This is my fighting style as well," Aesc replied. "The spear belongs to my husband, and as his wife, it also belongs to me. As they say, marital property."
As she spoke, Aesc pressed forward again, refusing to give Morgan the time to prepare large-scale magecraft. Morgan could only respond with short, quick spells to fend her off.
"You stole my husband's authority and occupied the Netherworld of this Lostbelt. What exactly are you trying to accomplish?" Aesc finally asked.
"You know perfectly well!" Morgan raised her hand and struck, forcing Aesc back for a moment. Panting heavily, she shouted, "I will create my own Britannia on this bleached planet!"
"I will turn this planet into a fairy land overflowing with Mystery!"
"A fairy land? How shallow."
Aesc frowned deeply, her voice sharp with reproach.
"Do you really believe that simply replacing humans with fairies as your subjects will let you rest easy?"
She raised her hand.
The crimson spears aimed toward Morgan suddenly split apart. Hundreds, then thousands of crimson spears shimmered overhead with ominous red light, like a sky filled with stars of death.
"Whether in Proper Human History or in a Lostbelt, fairies can never serve as subjects. Even if you refuse to govern them, they will happily drag your ideal kingdom toward meaningless destruction."
Her words cut like a blade.
At the same time, the cursed crimson spears rained down like a storm.
Morgan raised a barrier to withstand the assault, but the dense barrage of impacts could not be fully dispersed.
Already outside the range of the attack, Aesc watched with a frown as the falling crimson spears saturated the area before erupting into a new chain of explosions.
It was an attack pattern approaching that of [Barbed Spear That Pierces with Death and Soars] without even needing to release its True Name.
"Sounds like you speak from experience," Morgan said, leaning on her staff. Her body was drenched in blood.
She bared her teeth in a grin, her eyes filled with obsessive madness.
"But that has nothing to do with me."
"Once I decide something, it cannot be changed."
"You still don't understand? You have no chance of winning."
Even after witnessing it firsthand, Aesc was still surprised by the depth of obsession within the Morgan of Proper Human History.
If it hadn't been for him, she might have walked the same path.
"No chance of winning?" Morgan laughed coldly.
"You gain a slight advantage and already call it victory?"
Kneeling on the surface of the lake, Morgan extended both hands.
The [Authority of Severity] temporarily manifested in a state between substance and illusion, appearing within her arms.
Aesc immediately sensed something was wrong. She reached out, trying to resonate with that fragment of authority and pull it back.
"Authority Fusion!"
With a frenzied roar, Morgan swallowed the authority she had not yet fully mastered and forcibly fused it with her own body.