I stared stoically ahead, my gaze, like many of my Servants fixated on Hector's vessel. Just as I had both feared and suspected, Hector's enhanced crew had managed to not only build, but also maintain one hell of a lead. Even with the Golden Hind going as fast as she possibly could, there was still at least a good mile or two distance between the two vessels.

The air was tense aboard the Golden Hind, with some of the Servants of Ritsuka or I meandering around. Some were readying their weapons, while others were working out any of their nerves in their typical methods. There was a certain Caster who wasn't exactly hiding how they were feeling, however.

Nearby, Medea continued to exude such a murderous aura that not even Sasaki dared to approach her, let alone attempt to talk to the Caster. The few times that she had passed by my location, I thought I could hear her muttering angrily in her native tongue. She knew the person that used the symbol on the sails of Hector's ship, that's for damn sure.

Sadly, I valued my life and my body a tad bit too much to try and push my luck, with Ritsuka having the same case. Still, considering her legend, there was only a few possible options.

None of which looked good.

"Damn it," Drake cursed, having made her way over to us. "That vessel is faster than it looks. If the Spanish had more of those kind of galleys amongst the Armada, we would have really been in trouble," the pirate said with a scowl. "With that head-start of theirs, unless they stop, we might not be able to catch up."

"Uh huh…" Asterios groaned with a shake of his head, only partially re-healed. Mash turned towards the enraged-looking Berserker, trying to adopt a reassuring manner.

"Don't worry, she won't die," Mash said/ I softly clicked my tongue against the back of my teeth. We didn't exactly have any proof to support that conclusion. Furthermore, there are worse things than death. Far worse.

Asterios apparently had a similar train of thought, for he shook his shaggy head frantically. "Eu….rayle…I…will…save you."

"I understand how you feel, but for now, please try to concentrate on finishing up healing your wounds."

"No!" Asterios roared angrily, stomping his right foot down on the deck hard enough that it was an absolute miracle that the wooden planks didn't splinter.

"We'll help her," I said, deciding to step in, my arms folded against my breastplate. Ritsuka nodded.

"Yeah," my fellow Master chimed in. "Don't count us out, either." Asterios's rage abated. At least for the moment, as he focused his gaze on us.

"Do…You…Promise?" The Berserker inquired in a low, rumbling tone of voice.

"Of course," Mash said, speaking for all of us with those words. "Drake and her crew are sailing the ship at top speed with that very same thought as well."

"Crush…Hector."

"Only if you somehow get to him first, tough guy," Mordred suddenly said cockily, flashing us one of her trademark smirks as her own arms were crossed in front of her. "You're not the only one who's dying to take down that asshole. He tried to kill my Master, and so is now one of my mortal enemies." I was touched by her roundabout way of expressing her care and affection to me. While in private it wasn't as much an issue, Mordred couldn't be described as the most openly affectionate of people in public. At least, not in the normal sense of the word.

Mash, meanwhile, frowned at the mention of the enemy Lancer's True Name. "Master, Jacob Senpai, if that Servant really is the Hector from the Iliad, then that spear of his will be very problematic. The spear is the sword Durandal, a powerful sword that was later inherited by Roland, who was one of the Twelve Paladins of Charlemagne. Or rather, his spear becomes the base of Durandal. It's a miracle Asterios didn't die from that blow. That's how powerful that spear was," Mash explained in a lecturing tone. I swear, after this whole mess is over, and humanity has been restored, I'm going to put forth the suggestion that Mash should consider a future career in the field of education. In the meantime, however, I grunted.

"Well, that's fantastic. Still, it's not exactly like we haven't encountered other Noble Phantasms that were extremely powerful and/or dangerous. It'll be tricky, but I'm sure we can find a way or two to overcome him," I said firmly, with Mordred humming in agreement next to me.

"Well I am happy to hear that you're not letting this latest development bother you, Jacob, there is something else that we need to keep in mind," Doctor Roman chimed in.

"Euryale?" Ritsuka asked, and the doc made a sound of agreement.

"Correct. Or rather, why Hector kidnapped her, to be precise." I could imagine the ginger-haired man scowling as he rubbed his chin. "I wonder what his plans for her are?"

"Human trafficking? Drake said, and I almost audibly gagged in revulsion at that suggestion. Besides, for what purpose would that serve a Servant?

"No, I don't think it's that," Orion said, sitting on Artemis's shoulder. "But he sounded like he had a clear goal in his mind from the beginning."

"Yes. From the sound of it, it seems that Hector had an eye on Mistah Blackbeard's Holy Grail," Mash added, nodding in agreement. I looked at Ritsuka with a horrified expression that was reflected on the face of my fellow Master.

"Mash," Ritsuka groaned softly, pinching the bridge of his noise wearily. "Why did you have to say 'Mistah'?"

"Oh, um…" Mash stammered, blushing as she tried to form a coherent sentence, before Orion coughed rather loudly. I turned to look back at the womanizing plushie as Mash and Ritsuka continued talking to one another softly.

"I can understand the thing about Blackbeard's Grail, but still, why also take Euryale?"

"It can't possibly be with the idea of bolstering his strength or something. His act of betrayal is proof enough if you ask me," Mordred said with a derisive scoff, not even bothering to moderate her display of disgust at her current nemesis.

"Not to mention that, by her own admission, Euryale isn't exactly all that strong a Servant," I added with a slight frown. Doctor Roman was quick with counter to my response. However.

"While that is true, you're all overlooking one potential answer. I believe that the thing that makes her special is the fact that she is a Servant."

"What?" Drake said, cocking an eyebrow as she tilted her head. I shared her confusion. "What do you mean?"

"We've met one of her sisters…I think it was her older? Bah, it doesn't quite matter right now. What does matter, however, is that we had met a girl who was summoned as a Servant, despite being a goddess. Like Stheno, Euryale is not a hero, nor is she someone whose name was engraved into history. She was treated at most as a goddess in Greek Mythology. 'The one who flies far'—that is Euryale's name. But she was also considered a monster. Middle sister of the Three Gorgons of Ancient Greece."

"Wouldn't the youngest be a viable candidate to be summoned as a Servant, though?" Ritsuka asked.

"Yes. However, from what I heard of her myth, Medusa was something of an oddity of the trio. She was the youngest one, and she was also the only one who could be killed. Was killed, in fact, by the Greek hero Perseus. However, her two older sisters are rarely mentioned in the whole of Greek mythology, if ever," I said.

"Exactly! Euryale is just a goddess, an idol of ideas, and as Jeanne mentioned shortly after we first met her, extremely weak. Thus, her summoning as a Servant is an utterly baffling phenomenon," Doctor Roman mused aloud, and I could hear him humming under his breath. He sounded far more composed than he tended to be, and I was extremely grateful for that at this very moment. "Though, I can't deny that we've met some other Servants who are just as peculiar as Euryale. Usually, it's hard for Divine Spirits to become Servants, unless there is a special case. In addition, a pure god becoming a Servant is something that just isn't supposed to happen in the world of Magecraft."

"Really?" Artemis suddenly asked, sounding rather oblivious, even as her companion (and questionable lover) did his best attempt to facepalm as he sat on her right shoulder. "Who else is like that?"

"Us," Orion snarled, standing up and raising his miniature club up over his head. Jumping up into the air to gain a few more inches, he slammed the weapon harmlessly against the side of the goddess's head. "Take a hint!" He spat as Artemis cried out in a hurt tone. I merely rolled my eyes, dismissing their antics instead of wasting brain cells trying to piece together that fine act of insanity.

"So, let me get this straight," Drake said, also ignoring the bickering Servant and familiar. "What you're saying is that Euryale isn't good enough to be kidnapped for her fighting prowess?"

"That's an accurate summarization," Doctor Roman responded. I chewed on my lower lip softly, scowling in the direction of Hector's ship.

"I also doubt she was just kidnapped for her singing talents. Otherwise, I'm sure that Hector would have tried to wait a little bit longer, until Blackbeard had gotten her, to betray the pirate," I added. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Asterios looking to the side, in what appeared to be a mixture of dejection and hesitancy.

"Well, it doesn't really matter now, does it?" Drake said rather loudly. "We've already promised Asterios we'd save his friend, after all. Plus, as you said, Jacob, she's a pretty damn great singer. I like great singers. I believe that they play a rather important role for sailors. What say you, men?" She asked, the last part being addressed to her followers.

"Aye! It heals out rotten hearts!" One pirate said, pausing in his work just long enough to promptly (and rather conveniently, truth be told) answer his superior's question. Drake chuckled, a toothy grin on display as she lightly swatted Asterios's right arm.

"See? There ya go, big guy. There's no need to look so downcast like that. Nobody on this ship wants to abandon that girl." Asterios looked down at the scarred, pink-haired pirate for a long minute. Then, I watched as the corners of the Berserker's mouth began to twitch slightly, before he finally broke out into a big toothy grin of his own.

With that matter resolved, I started to look back ahead when I paused, noticing a rather conflicted-looking Mash eyeing a now-distracted Drake. I opened my mouth to inquire what was wrong when my fellow Master beat me to it.

"What's wrong, Mash?" Ritsuka asked softly, looking at her with clear concern in his blue eyes. I nodded supportively, crossing my arms and leaning back against a barrel. While I didn't mind being present for moral support for any of my friends and teammates, this was something I'd rather let Ritsuka deal with for the most part. After all, he was as close to Mash as I was with Mordred.

Or at least, was getting there, seeing as how the endearing lugnut was still so oblivious to Mash's infatuation with him.

"Oh, Senpai, nothing's really wrong. It's just that I'm finding Captain Drake's personality to be rather complicated, quite frankly," the pink-haired Demi-Servant admitted, looking at us now.

"Oh?" Ritsuka asked. His partner took a second before answering, clearly trying to choose the words she felt would be most accurate before responding.

"It's hard to explain fully, but she kind of reminds me a bit of you. Jacob Senpai as well. Facing difficulties. Helping those around her. Always trying to move forward. It is an advantage, a merit, that humans possess. But why does she have them?" Mash frowned slightly, and I cocked an eyebrow, silently asking her to elaborate on her own question. "Is Francis Drake a villain? As she is now, and back in history. Drake is such a good person, but her actions are that of an outlaw. I can't understand this contra—"

Before Mash could finish her explanation, and before either Ritsuka or I could try to alleviate her sense of befuddlement, the wind suddenly picked up.

"Ah, damnit! It had to happen at a time like this," Drake cursed, her hands curled into tight fists. "Everybody, tie down the cannons, secure the rigging, and hold tight! There's a storm coming!"

"Are we going to try to skirt past it?" Ritsuka asked, shuffling his feet around nervously. Drake flashed us a grim-looking smile, however, as I glanced over my shoulder. Sure enough, there was an ominous bank of black clouds up ahead, in the direction that both Hector's ship and ours was heading. While I couldn't yet hear the thunder, I could see bolts of lightning dancing in the depths of the storm.

"And let Hector gain even more of a lead? No, we're going to go straight through it!"

"Are you mad?!" I felt my expression turn flat, and I hurriedly held up a hand. "No, wait, forget I asked that. I already know the answer. Instead, I'll say this: If you cause us to drown, I'm going to haunt your ass for all eternity," I said, fighting down the growing feeling of unease as we drew closer and closer to the raging tempest. One hand pressed down on the top of my hat, not wanting to risk for even a single moment the chance for a strong gust of wind to blow it away.

"Hah! Just stand fast, landlubber! It's time for you to see why Francis Drake is our Boss!" Bombe retorted, even as I noticed the slight look of unease in his one good eye.

Drake had decided to take a risk of hers. Now it was my turn. I looked up towards the sky, where Astolfo could still be seen trailing the enemy ship.

'Astolfo! We're about to brave that storm! Please return to the Golden Hind. Heroic Spirit you may be, but I haven't risked a single one of my Servants to nature, and I'll be damned if I start doing that today!' I instructed Astolfo, who replied without hesitation.

'While I appreciate the sentiment, Master, are you sure? This isn't the worse breeze I've ever dealt with?'

'Truth be told, I don't know if this is the correct move. What I do know, though, is that this is the move that I know I can live with. Come back.'

'Understood, Master! Thanks, by the way. My mount hates getting wet, to be honest with you,' Astolfo said with his usual display of light-heartedness. I couldn't help but chuckle, closing the link as I saw Astolfo wheeling about up ahead, before heading towards Drake's galleon.

I then turned to Mordred, noticing how tightly her gauntlet-covered hands were gripping the wooden railing. In all of the…excitement…that had been going on, I had forgotten about the fact that my brave partner didn't exactly know how to swim, regardless of if she was being weighted down by her suit of armor or not. The Knight of Rebellion had only just gotten use to being on a ship cruising in deep waters.

Now she was about to deal with what was quickly shaping up to be one hell of a storm. I moved a bit closer towards the Saber, nudging her gently once I was by her side, and she looked up at me.

"Do you think you'll be okay, dealing with sailing through that storm?" I asked in a whisper, knowing that if I asked my question any louder the proud blonde would have just instantly dismissed the question, viewing it as a challenge towards her character, or something else that I viewed as being just a bit childish.

Mordred hesitated for a moment, her beautiful eyes darting back and forth between the ever-darkening storm clouds we were approaching and my own eyes. Finally, the English knight shot me a lopsided smile.

"Don't worry, Master! It's just a petty storm. I'm sure that it's going to be nowhere near as bad as everyone else is bitching and moaning about."

"You sure?" I asked, noticing but not calling out her bluff.

"Absolutely."

Regret wasn't something Mordred allowed to bother her, at least not for long. Life was more of the now and moving forward, a lesson she had come to learn in her two summonings as a Servant. She might feel experience the emotion for a moment or two, but neither for long nor strongly.

Usually being the key word in that thought of hers.

Mordred was really regretting making that boast to Jacob right about now. Mordred was also feeling just a tinge of regret on coming to this Singularity, too. She'd never dealt with being on the open ocean, or indeed, any truly deep body of water growing up.

After all, for what reason would Mother want for her child to know how to swim, and possibly escape from that hell of a home?

She had imagined that the waves would become more violent, yes, but more in the way of a stubborn and hot-tempered stallion. Something that Mordred in life had some experience with, which contributed to her Rank B Riding stat.

This, though? This felt like she was trying to ride a fucking dragon!

Rain pellets (not drops, mind you!) clattered rather loudly off her metal armor, while much of the exposed cloth in between the massive iron plates had been thoroughly soak after the first five minutes of this ghastly experience. At the same time, wind buffeted her faced fiercely, at times to the point that she had to close her eyes to prevent bubbly seafoam or irritating salt from getting into them as her ponytail danced in the wind. Almost so much to the point that for a brief moment she felt an irrational fear of the headband holding in place flying off.

Mordred was far from being in the mood to try and run after something so trivial yet important to her on the waterlogged deck of the Golden Hind. And honestly, it was the ship that Mordred felt was giving her the worse experience of all right now, as well as being the biggest single source behind her feeling of regret, too.

The ship swayed more than a drunkard staggering home after drinking for twelve hours straight The terror of being thrown overboard and into the water had become so constant that it had become a numb fear, as Mordred kept her mouth shut as she felt rather nauseous in her stomach while also dealing with rather annoying moments of vertigo from the ship's violent, bucking shudders.

Oh, hell, was this some sort of stupid karma over that time back in the Greater Holy Grail War where she drove that flimsy car her last Master had acquired to pieces? Ugh, no fair! They were late for a battle, so of course she would push that cheap metal contraption to the limit to make up for that disgrace.

Still, Mordred thought as her cheeks puffed out ever so slightly as she looked around, if there was any silver lining to her current predicament, it was that she wasn't the only Servant having a rough time of it. With a quick glance, it seemed that about half of the other Servants from Chaldea were also suffering from the choppy seas, though to various degrees. For example, the last she'd seen of Amadeus, the Caster had been clutching the railing at the rear of the ship, looking quite green. On the other hand, while Jeanne looked rather skittery, she managed to maintain her calm composure.

Of course, there were some Servants who were having an absolute blast somehow! Namely Nero and both Riders, though Marie was more moderate in displaying her excitement. Still, she no longer had any doubts that the three Servants in question had quite a few screws loose, damn it!

The contents of her stomach continued to swish and swirl inside, and to her dismay, Mordred started taste more than a fair bit of bile congregating at the back of her throat. No. No, no, no, no, no! Like hell she would…she would…

"Damn it!" Mordred said in a voice that totally wasn't a wail, forcing her mouth open as she leaned over and began emptying her stomach in shame, her ears burning fiercely.

She'd seen pictures or sights of boyfriends or girlfriends comforting their partner when the latter felt sick, but thankfully Jacob seemed to recognize that the gesture would have made it only worse. Once the vile and foul-smelling stream had ended, staining both the sea and part of the Golden Hind's dragon-scaled hull, she started to push herself off the railing when she spied a large, shadowy object. She couldn't make out what it was just yet, but whatever it was, it seemed to be drifting rather quickly towards them.

Then it was close enough that the blonde knight could see the large object in more detail, now revealed to have been a rather dilapidated galleon with tattered and thoroughly shredded sails, and at least several large leaks if the degree to which the battered hull was leaning to the side was any indication.

"Dang, Mordred! What did you eat this morning?" Astolfo asked with a wide-ass smirk. Mordred's right eyebrow began a manic jig as she gritted her teeth so tightly, her jaw began to ache. The former Rider of Black was an ally. She wasn't supposed to murder allies.

But damn, if it wasn't tempting as all hell right now.

"Astolfo! Knock it off. Mordred's having a rough time, and from the looks of it, it's about to get worse," her Master came to her side, and at that moment, she wanted to kiss him for shifting attention away from her.

Of course, it was both too public, and also, you know, the whole half-rotten hull of a ship that was floating dangerously close to the ship that she was on. She didn't know why exactly, but there was just something so sinister about it that she felt the hair on the back of her neck standing up simply by looking at it.

"The hell is that?" Mordred asked, her eyes narrowed. Her instincts were screaming danger now. Beside her, Mordred's lover narrowed his brown eyes, trying to make out any finer details through the heavy rainfall.

"Aside from a ship that looks like it's been through hell, I can't make out anything else through this blasted rain," Jacob growled. Her hat soaked in rain, Drake made her way over to the other side of Mordred, not so gently pushing Astolfo to the side while doing so. An act that Mordred was really pleased with, if anyone had asked her, too. The pirate was holding a long metal tube of some kind. Telescope, that's what it's called.

"Looks like a ghost ship?"

"A what?" Mash asked politely, though Mordred could tell that Shieldy was feeling even more uneasy now. Even over the whipping, snarling wind that was tossing her ponytail violently, Mordred could hear the tell-tale chime coming from Mash's wrist that Jacob's boss had something to say. Shieldy activated the device.

"Wow, it's even more like an ocean adventure novel now! So much excitement, I want to turn this into a book!"

"Like hell you are without Ritsuka and I getting royalties!" Jacob snarled, his lips curled, clearly unamused with Roman's latest set of antics.

"Besides, ghosts ships are usually just vessels that were abandoned by their crews for any number of reasons, like mutiny or starvation. There's no actual…ghosts…involved," Drake said, before to Mordred's confusion the pink-haired pirate began trailing off. She tore her eyes away to fix them on the busty woman next to her.

"Losing your nerve?" Mordred taunted, albeit rather weakly. Drake lowered the telescope, rubbing at her right eye stubbornly, before raising the brass instrument back up to it.

"No. Just, I could swear that there's some light that's…headed…this way?!" A moment later, Mordred's ears were ringing as she felt a splitting headache. The hell was that? Some secret form of attack Drake knew using her voice?!

"Master?!" Shieldy groaned, rubbing one ear with her free hand.

"Huh?" Ritsuka called out.

"I was just making sure you were okay, Senpai. Drake's scream scared me."

"Captain, are you telling me that you're actually afraid of—" Before Mordred's lover could finish asking his question with an incredulous yet amused glint in his eyes, Drake coughed awkwardly.

"F-Forget about my scream, look at that ship's main deck!" Drake said. Huh. Well, looks like they've encountered a ghost ship in both the literal and metaphorical sense of the term. Dozens upon dozens of ethereal shapes glowing green or purple began to appear all over the main deck, looking much like the ones Mordred and the others had encountered back in the forest of the last singularity. Only this time there was a hell lot more of them. "Enemy ghosts are getting ready to attack us! Prepare to repel them!"

Mordred gave off a brief, dry chuckle as Secret of Pedigree re-formed itself around her head. Well, at least she no longer had to worry about vomiting. If she had thrown up with the helmet in place…no, she wasn't going to think about that any further. Hopefully a good brawl will shake off the last of the nausea still running around inside her.

Not everyone was as thrilled about the imminent fight, however.

"Blast, we don't have time for this!" Her Master seethed angrily, slamming a fist into the railing next to her. "Mordred, do you think you can—" Before Jacob could finish speaking, both her and Mordred felt an overwhelming magical signature from behind.

Then, there was a loud, angry shout from behind and just above Mordred. The Knight of Rebellion whirled around in time to see Medea starting to levitate a few yards above the wooden deck. Her cloak danced and roiled in the wind, soaked in stormwater. That weird staff of hers was clutched tightly in glove-covered hands, and the Caster's cowl was thrown back by the sheer force of the wind to reveal a delicate face twisted with pure rage.

Shouting something out in a language Mordred didn't recognize, a familiar array of magical circles appeared in the air around the furious-looking caster. Another loud chant, and the circles all fired off at once. Halfway between the two ships, the half-dozen or so violet beams merged into one giant column of raw magical energy.

Underneath her helmet, the Knight of Rebellion felt her jaw drop open, awestruck by the intensity of the attack from the usually quiet and composed Medea, as she watched the blast hit the rotten hull of the ghost ship dead-center of the waterline. While Mordred didn't know just what kind of spell Ritsuka's Caster had casted was, its purpose was made pretty damn clear as a moment later the derelict hull didn't so much explode as it disintegrated, ship and every last ghost.

It took a few seconds for Mordred to finally recover enough of her wits to look away, and when she turned back around, it was just in time to see the Greek Caster drawing up her cowl, before turning her back to the others.

"Someone's in a mood today," Mordred muttered. Jacob snorted, though there was no humor in the gesture this time.

"Bit of an understatement, really," her Master quipped. "Still, at least that's one obstacle firmly dealt with." Mordred grunted softly in agreement, shrugging as she relaxed her posture.

"Ugh," Drake groaned as Mordred dismissed her helmet. The boisterous pirate captain looked rather queasy, and when she noticed that Drake seemed to be shaking ever so slightly, the knight arched an eyebrow. "Thank goodness that's dealt with..."

"Drake, are you afraid of ghosts?" Mash asked gently. Drake huffed irritably, crossing her arms across her chest and scowling. "Can't a pirate be superstitious?" Drake demanded rather defensively, and Mordred didn't even bother to muffle the snigger of amusement that made its way past her lips. Mash, on the other hand, looked completely taken aback by the snappish response the Demi-Servant had received.

"S-Sure. There's no problem. Sorry," Mash said submissively, backing off a foot or two for added precaution. At that moment, the Knight of Rebellion could have sworn that it seemed like the wind and rain was starting to die down now.

"All right, the storm's winding down now, it seems. Just hang on a little longer!" Drake called out, having apparently recovered her swagger. More than a few pirates and Servants released shouts of relief and joy at those words, and though Mordred kept silent, she felt much the same.

Sure enough, a few minutes later, Mordred watched as the Golden Hind punched through the last of the massive waves that had been slowing the galleon down, to be rewarded by sunshine and clear blue skies.

It also showed that Hector's ship had stopped, and that the Mordred would soon have her chance at finishing off that bastard once and for all. At least, unless Asterios somehow managed to beat her to it first, of course.

…Which he better not…

"We made it through! Better yet, it looks like now's our chance to board that bastard and rescue Euryale!" Drake said with a loud whoop of excitement. Needing no further encouragement, Mordred readied Clarent, while next to her, Jacob readied his own sword as the Golden Hind bore down on the enemy ship at full speed.

Time to finish this once and for all.

Original Endnotes: And done! What did you guys think? I for one, have this immediate thought: poor Mordred! Also, Astolfo, do you have a death wish or something? Still, Hector's better be looking out! He's on a smaller ship, and no longer moving. Totally not suspicious or anything, right?...Right? ;) Sorry if the ghost ship scene felt brief, but I wanted to include it both for Drake's scream and also as a way to demonstrate just how angry Medea is being written in this final arc of Okeanus.

Now, for the chapter question(s)! First up: What's your top three favorite scenes in The Will to Fight up to the present point? Second question: Which of the Pseudo-Singularities and post-Solomon FGO events are you especially eager to see written in this series?

As always, thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it! Always worried that I'm going to fuck up the story and somehow make it shit, so the fact that I've continued to get all this wonderful and smile-bringing feedback and love helps! Cannot wait to read y'alls thoughts, questions, and question answers, and I hope you have a wonderful day! See y'all in Chapter 72!

Updated Endnotes 12/22/21: As always, the more up-to-date version can be found on AO3, and I hope you enjoyed today's update. Hae a great day, and see you all next time.