Beneath the curtain of rain, candles had been lit throughout the corridor rooms of the ancient estate. Under the glow of candlelight reflecting off gold and silver tableware, the residence of the rising British alchemist noble house—the Musik family—appeared exceptionally opulent and grand.
Along the internal passageways of the courtyard, countless homunculus servants with unnaturally exquisite features hurried past, clad in uniforms and carrying standardized long-handled battle axes.
A tense atmosphere permeated every corner of the estate. At this moment, even the air seemed filled with an indescribable suffocating pressure.
Outside the Gothic structure standing at the courtyard's center, rows of candles flickered, dimly illuminating the servants' faces.
In the corridors, dozens of homunculi specifically tasked with guarding the Musik family's storage vault had been horrifically torn to pieces upon the ground.
The heavy stench of blood flooded the nostrils of every visitor. At the entrance to the vault, heaps of indescribable chunks of flesh were piled high—so mangled that it was impossible to recognize them as having once been human.
An ordinary person witnessing such a scene would likely be unable to stop themselves from vomiting.
Bones, organs, shredded flesh, and foul-smelling mixtures of stomach acid residue had all been splattered across the floor. Aside from scattered scraps of torn fabric, no one could have confirmed that the minced remains had once belonged to human beings.
Yet these handsome homunculus servants appeared unaffected. They were meticulously organizing, extracting, separating, and wiping away the blood and remains covering the ground.
Thud, thud, thud—!
At that moment, accompanied by a series of hurried footsteps—
"What happened? What happened?! What happened?!!"
"A bunch of useless trash!"
"I leave for one moment and the next thing I hear is that our family estate has been attacked?!"
Surrounded by family servants, the newcomer rushed over in a furious trot.
He was still fairly young and not particularly tall. From his somewhat plump, sturdy build and his expression alone, one could instantly tell he was an arrogant man.
His identity was self-evident—the second-generation head of the Musik family after its departure from the Yggdmillennia clan and relocation to Britain—Goredolf Musik.
Aside from being younger, not yet having grown a beard, sporting a different hairstyle, and possessing a smaller belly, he looked as though he had been carved from the exact same mold as his father, Gordes Musik Yggdmillennia.
On a certain worldline, the future Goredolf would even purchase Chaldea with his own funds, become the new Director of the Human Order Security Organization, and accomplish "great achievements" beyond his father's imagination.
He imprisoned all Chaldea personnel. During that time, he organized interrogations, questioning every member one by one. Under his measures, the Heroic Spirits summoned by Ritsuka Fujimaru were returned to the Throne.
Surely his father's spirit in heaven would feel "gratified."
After all, his old man had suffered humiliation throughout the Romanian Holy Grail War—being bullied by Heroic Spirits was one thing, but even the homunculi had eventually climbed over his head. He had practically reduced himself to a walking mascot.
"My lord, the family vault has been robbed!"
"What? Damn it!"
Dressed in refined noble attire, Goredolf covered his mouth and nose with a handkerchief. Disregarding the bloodstained ground, he strode urgently through the damaged Mystic Code gate.
His face was extremely grim, as though frozen solid by ice.
The gloom between his brows could not be concealed.
The surrounding homunculus servants did not even dare breathe loudly. No one wished to provoke him at a time like this.
"Inventory the losses!" he snarled darkly.
He entered a vault chamber layered with complex magical barriers.
Inside, several servants were crouched beside the corpses of homunculus guards. Smearing a bit of blood with their fingers, they brought it to their noses and sniffed.
"Time of death earlier than the guards outside the vault."
"No signs of resistance. Instant kill. Likely an ambush."
"The intruder's barrier magecraft is extremely advanced. Our defensive barriers, counterattack barriers, and alarm barriers were all dismantled silently."
An elite homunculus who had followed Goredolf inside also crouched by the bodies. He measured the holes in the chests of two corpses with his fingers, then compared them to another whose chest had been blasted open.
After a long moment, he stood with a grave expression.
"It's strange. There are no signs of a breakthrough from the outside inward..."
"The intruder fought their way out from inside the vault? How was that achieved... Conventional magecraft could not have bypassed the barrier detection so silently."
Judging from the traces at the scene, the intruder had used extraordinarily sophisticated magecraft to directly pinpoint the vault's location and enter it. At first, they had been extremely cautious, creating no disturbance whatsoever. The guards had not noticed anything.
But from the sequence of events, it seemed that after achieving their objective or obtaining what they wanted, the intruder had suddenly changed entirely—discarding their earlier caution and ceasing to conceal their movements...
Though they did not wish to admit it, the truth was plain. If the intruder had not deliberately exposed themselves, even if they had escaped with the stolen goods, the Musik family's homunculus guards might never have discovered it.
But why expose themselves? Logically, it made no sense.
Was it merely to provoke the Musik family? Or perhaps, after acquiring the item, they had grown emotionally agitated and slipped up—then, deciding there was no point in pretending further, simply slaughtered their way out.
To achieve such a feat with such mastery of magecraft—
"Could the culprit be a Lord above the 'Color' rank?"
"Impossible! Our family maintains stable interests with the Twelve Lords. Moreover, we are affiliated with the Department of Law under the Barthomeloi family. Anyone with a brain would know—"
As he hurried deeper inside, Goredolf spoke with mounting fury. But as he continued, his voice gradually lowered.
Passing through display racks covered in magical barriers, Goredolf trembled as he pushed open the innermost door.
In an instant, he felt the world spin around him.
By the light of the magic stone lamps, he saw clearly that the neatly arranged storage cabinets were entirely intact. Not a single Mystic Code had been stolen.
But Goredolf would rather have seen those Mystic Codes destroyed or taken than witness them untouched.
Their intact condition meant only one thing—the thief had disdained these "low-grade creations." They had set their sights on something far more valuable.
Goredolf knew all too well. Within the Musik family, the only item more precious than an entire vault of Mystic Codes was the greatest inheritance left by his father Gordes—the gift from a divine being.
His vision went black. His body swayed. Clutching his chest, Goredolf gasped heavily and roared hoarsely.
"What did the thief take?!"
"The relic left by the former family head..."
It was over...
This was the worst possible outcome.
That was the only thought in Goredolf's mind.
According to what his father Gordes had told him, the divine being who descended during the Romanian Holy Grail War had placed restrictions upon that "Holy Relic" which contained alchemical knowledge. It could only be read by a single individual and could not be transferred.
"Ruf, at the end of the Romanian Holy Grail War, Her Majesty dissolved herself and withdrew from the stage. With the strongest competitor gone and no common enemy remaining, the Yggdmillennia clan descended into civil war over the sole wish slot of the Greater Grail..."
"Darnic, that bastard, never had good intentions! From the very beginning, every Master who fought under the Yggdmillennia banner—including your father—had been tampered with!"
"However, hmph! That fellow Darnic had no sense of honor whatsoever. He even ordered Lancer, Vlad III, to use that hated and slandered power of his."
"Taking advantage of the infighting, I seized the chance to escape. As for Saber Siegfried, I used all my remaining Command Spells to let him pursue his own ideals."
"You want to know who ultimately won? Hahaha... I don't know either. I only remember the towering flames that consumed everything at the end."
"The Greater Grail, the Root—let them fight over it. I had already obtained what I desired."
...
"Ruf, my abilities are limited. My lack of magical aptitude only allowed me to read some of the more superficial alchemical knowledge bestowed by the divine."
"Ruf, you are my son. Your magical aptitude surpasses mine. I believe your achievements will exceed my own."
"You seem to think you're extraordinary, but in truth you're simply my replica. If I must be blunt—you're still lacking. Ruf, always remain humble and reverent."
"The student surpasses the master. I believe that one day, our Musik family will fully master the knowledge granted by the divine. When that time comes, even the Twelve Lord lineages—and even the Three Great Families—will not surpass the Musik house."
...
His father's teachings, admonitions, and expectations surfaced vividly before his eyes.
But now, cut short midway—the vessel of that knowledge was gone. What the hell was this supposed to be? All subsequent plans were impossible to even discuss.
It had been stored within the heavily guarded family estate precisely to prevent assassination or theft.
And yet, it had still been targeted.
I should have carried it with me.
"Quick! Prepare the car..." Goredolf turned, striding swiftly as he ordered, "Contact Lord Barthomeloi. The Musik family is facing an emergency situation."
Goredolf was not particularly worried about being abandoned by the Barthomeloi family. After all, what had been stolen was merely the vessel of divine knowledge—it did not mean the Musik family had lost their ability to practice alchemy.
Even without the vessel, the Mystic Codes currently producible were based on knowledge he had already mastered. They could still be manufactured in the future.
What had been lost was the systematic, ready-made higher-tier alchemical knowledge that could be rapidly grasped so long as one's magical aptitude met the threshold.
Without it, the Musik family's future progress in alchemy would never again achieve the rapid advancement it once enjoyed.
Therefore, Goredolf intended to escalate the matter. If I can't have it, neither can you! Even if it must be destroyed, so be it!
He was not without self-awareness. The intruder's overall magecraft ability clearly surpassed his own by several tiers. Thus, he resolved to borrow the might of the Barthomeloi family.
"Yes, sir..."
...
"Such meager talent, yet favored by a god. How irritating..."
More than ten kilometers away from the Musik estate, atop a skyscraper along the River Thames, space twisted. High above, wind and rain crackled with a sharp whoosh—whoosh.
As the view drew closer, it was as though a raised metal lotus had blossomed, piercing through the gray haze. Under faint reddish-golden radiance, the curtain of rain appeared even more distinct.
Clack, clack, clack!
With a series of transformations from the metallic lotus-shaped storage Mystic Code, a solitary speck of golden light rose upward. The small double-headed eagle emblem radiating brilliant light shot forth at high speed.
It seemed to attempt escape—but was swiftly seized within five tightening fingers.
Standing atop the building, clad in a green overcoat and wearing a tall green top hat, black boots planted firmly upon the ground, his slightly disheveled hair fluttering in the storm—
The man was clearly not in good condition. Several fingers on his right hand were missing. A hole gaped through his abdomen.
Yet he appeared utterly unaffected.
His exposed flesh writhed as though alive. Under the illumination of that radiance, muscle and bone regrew at a visible rate. Blood vessels formed, followed by skin...
Even his clothing restored itself.
"Hmph! A counterattack ritual? The Musik family... such primitive application." The man opened eyes so cold they seemed inhuman.
A manic smile spread across his face as he gazed toward the direction of the Musik estate. Crimson-black magical energy erupted from his palm. Crack. Inch by inch, he crushed the lotus-shaped protective Mystic Code.
Afterward, he admired the golden double-headed eagle emblem glowing with a beautiful violet sheen.
"Ah... divinity. Yes, this sculpture is indeed a creation of a god."
"A mere hyena war, yet it compelled a true deity to descend in person and even leave behind a blessing."
"To think that casual observation would yield such an unexpected harvest. Hahaha—!"
Beneath the exaggerated green hat, his expression was as feral as a rabid beast. Even the dullest observer would understand—this man was not normal.
"A Lostbelt belonging to an alien dominator, an alien god! Chaldea, come and try to stop it!"
"Chaldea, you cannot prevent the King's return!"
"The Age of Gods shall return! It shall return—hahahahaha—!"
...
Elsewhere, Selene tore open the veil of reality. Through the webway stabilized using Mine as an anchor, she effortlessly captured the "factory recruitment notice" drifting from the Type-Moon world.
"Tch, they've gotten quite proficient at this, haven't they?"
It was probably because of Mine, Selene, and later Selene's deliberate periodic transmission of numerous Imperial war hero epics to lower their guard. The Type-Moon side was likely making a fortune from it.
They were being unusually attentive.
Well then, what was there to hesitate about?
With practiced ease, Selene began naturally feeding over another freshly compiled "stack" of heroic epics.
To put it simply in one sentence:
Hey, you there? Got some new, handy heroes—tools—to add to your collection. Want them?