The past:-
"Teacher! Are you hurt?!"
Takson practically threw himself to the ground in front of me, his massive hands hovering anxiously over my shoulders. He was scanning me up and down, checking for scratches, burns, or missing limbs. His concern was entirely genuine; his voice was shaking.
I stared blankly at my towering apprentice.
"Rebuttal: Takson. According to my internal logs, I have explicitly informed you of my physical durability exactly one thousand, three hundred, and fifty-seven times."
"I know, I know!" he fretted, still looking for any injuries. "I know nothing in this world can hurt you, but I can't help it! I was worried sick!"
Incomprehensible, my logic circuits concluded. If he knew I couldn't be hurt, the worry was a waste of processing power.
"I'm not worried at all," a cheerful voice chimed in.
Flamme strolled up, her hands clasped neatly behind her back, a relaxed smile on her face. "I knew Stell-neechan would be perfectly fine. Trust is important, Takson-niichan."
Takson looked at her as if she had just committed high treason. You traitor! his expression screamed. He was the senior apprentice; he was supposed to be the devoted one.
Whether Flamme was actually worried or just putting on a brave face to tease him was irrelevant. I simply nodded.
"Notice: The operation is complete. We are returning."
…
A Few Days Later: The Magic City:-
"So, you wiped out the Demon King's Castle. How thorough."
Serie sat cross-legged on her massive throne, resting her chin in her hand as she watched the holographic projection playing from my terminal.
I had promised to share the data of my journey with her, and I always honored my contracts. She watched the footage of the Metatron wings raining divine judgment upon the demon army.
Her golden eyes narrowed slightly. She recognized the wings from our brief skirmish. While she could likely invent a spell that mimicked the look of those glowing feathers, the actual concept behind them, the pure, destructive spirit energy, remained firmly outside her grasp. It was a frustrating, yet thrilling, realization for the Prime Mage.
But that wasn't what held her attention the longest.
"This magic circle," Serie said, pointing at the projection of Schlacht's final trap. "The one the seer used. Time displacement."
She leaned forward, her eyes gleaming with the pure hunger of a scholar.
"Does it truly send a person into the future?"
"Affirmative," I replied. "I have verified its function firsthand."
Serie smirked, a challenging glint in her eye. "Oh? And how do you intend to prove that to me?"
…
The Future: The Magic City:-
One thousand years later.
The sanctum of the Prime Mage was largely unchanged. The same towering bookshelves, the same smell of old parchment, the same heavy, oppressive mana in the air.
But Serie was not alone.
Several high-ranking mages, First-Class examiners and trusted disciples, stood guard around the room.
Suddenly, the air in the center of the chamber distorted.
Voom.
A brilliant, golden portal tore open space itself.
Instantly, every mage in the room drew their staves. Defensive wards snapped into place, and offensive spells hummed with lethal intent.
"Stand down."
Serie's voice cut through the tension like a blade.
She sat up straight in her throne, her bored expression vanishing, replaced by a wide, predatory grin. She waved her hand, and her confused disciples reluctantly lowered their weapons.
From the golden light of the portal, a small figure stepped out.
Violet-blue hair. A flawless, doll-like face. Cold, inorganic golden eyes.
"..."
"..."
The room was silent. The mages stared in shock at the intruder who had bypassed their impenetrable city wards without breaking a sweat.
Serie let out a short, sharp laugh.
"I see. So this is how you prove it to me," she said, her eyes locked onto the clone. It had been a thousand years for her, but for the creature stepping out of the portal, it was merely the continuation of a conversation from a millennium ago.
But Serie's sharp eyes caught the subtle difference in the mana flow. Her smile faded slightly into a look of mild disappointment.
"Hoh. But you're just a copy. Why didn't the real one come to greet me?"
Stell tilted her head in a gesture of genuine confusion.
"…"
"Ah, I forgot. Hahaha. My apologies."
As Serie and Stell conversed, the apprentices gathered around the throne exchanged bewildered glances. They hadn't seen Serie this excited in a very, very long time.
"Lady Serie," an elderly man, one of her most senior First-Class Mages, stepped forward, his voice cautious. "Who is this?"
Who in the world could warrant such a familiar, almost friendly tone from the Prime Mage? If they had drawn their weapons on an esteemed guest, they had committed a grave breach of etiquette.
But the old mage was also analyzing the situation. The intruder had suppressed their mana to absolute zero.
Not a single trace could be felt. To achieve such perfect concealment, they had to be a mage of unimaginable power.
And that golden portal... he didn't believe for a second that it wasn't magic.
Furthermore, from their conversation, it sounded like this wasn't even the intruder's true body, but merely a clone.
The other mages in the room were coming to similar, terrifying conclusions.
Serie glanced around at her disciples, taking in their tension and confusion.
"That's enough," she said, waving a hand. "All of you, leave us. I wish to speak with her alone."
"But, Lady Serie, this…"
"Hm? Do you have an objection?"
Serie's gaze shifted to the old mage. The sheer weight of her golden eyes forced him to look down, swallowing the rest of his sentence.
"You will understand in due time," she said simply.
"Then I shall take my leave," the old mage said, bowing deeply. He was the first to exit, and the rest of the disciples quickly followed suit, filing out of the grand chamber.
As they left, Stell systematically scanned each of them, recording their biometric and magical data.
"There," Serie said once the heavy doors clicked shut. "The irrelevant personnel are gone. Let us talk."
"Query: The removal of irrelevant personnel was unnecessary for this transaction."
"Of course," Serie chuckled. "Aside from fulfilling our contract, did she give you any other instructions?"
"Affirmative. Regarding the acquisition of 'Magic'."
"Oh, for goodness sake," Serie sighed, rubbing her temples in mock exasperation as she recalled the events of a millennium ago. "To think she's been coveting my current collection since back then."
Then, a sly grin spread across her face.
"Naturally, you may record anything you wish from the Archives."
"Acknowledged. Authorization obtained."
"Wait. There is a condition."
Stell stopped, turning back to Serie and repeating the head-tilt gesture.
"Query: The original contract did not stipulate additional conditions."
"Don't worry," Serie waved a hand. "It's nothing troublesome. For you, it will be child's play."
Stell analyzed Serie's smile. According to her database, whenever the elf smiled like that, it meant she had just thought of something she found highly entertaining.
"..."
"Query: Specify the task."
"I want you to be the examiner for the final round."
"...?"
….
(Well next world is none other than Fate series. I wont disclose which one specifically though haha :)
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