3
The smell of Fuyuki was the worst part. It wasn't just wood and insulation burning; it was the scent of a history being forcibly deleted, a metallic, sour tang that clung to the back of Ritsuka's throat.
As they moved through the Miyama District, dodging the skeletal remains of buses and the literal skeletons of warriors, Ritsuka felt a profound sense of dissociation. His sneakers crunched on glass. To his left, Mash moved with the mechanical grace of a soldier, her eyes scanning for threats. To his right, the Christ-Servant walked with a stride so peaceful it felt like an insult to the chaos around them.
This has to be a dream, Ritsuka thought, his mind retreating to a defense mechanism his classmates in Japan would have recognized. I'm still on the plane. I ate some of that weird airline curry, fell asleep over my Bible study notes, and now my subconscious is mash-uping 'Left Behind' with an action flick. Yeah. That's it. In ten minutes, the pilot's going to announce our descent into Antarctica, and I'll wake up with a stiff neck and a very embarrassing story to tell Mama.
He looked at the Man beside him. The Lord was currently pausing to look at a scorched playground set. He touched a melted swing, and for a second, the blackened metal seemed to shimmer with a faint, ghostly memory of a child's laughter.
Man... what did I eat and where can I get it again? Ritsuka mused, his inner snark acting as a life jacket. Either I'm the protagonist of the weirdest light novel ever, or I'm finally going 'coockoo' like the guys in the back of the class said I would. 'Too much rosary rots the brain, Fujimaru,' they said. Well, joke's on them. My brain isn't rotten; it's just currently hosting the King of Kings in a disaster zone. Totally normal Tuesday.
"Ritsuka," the Lord said, not looking back. "The mind is a fortress. Do not let the enemy convince you that the reality of suffering is an illusion. This pain is real. These souls are real. And your presence here is no accident of 'curry'."
Ritsuka winced. Great. He does the mind-reading thing too. Note to self: Keep the internal monologue PG.
The Director in Distress
"HELP! GET AWAY! STO—GET AWAY FROM ME!"
The scream was high-pitched, aristocratic, and vibrating with a level of pure, unadulterated panic that only Olga Marie Animusphere could produce.
They rounded a corner into a park that had become a graveyard of blackened trees. There, backed against a stone monument, was the Director. Her pristine uniform was torn, her silver hair was a mess of soot, and her face was pale with the realization that all her "Lord" status and magical theory couldn't save her from the three skeletal soldiers advancing on her.
"Director!" Mash yelled, bracing her shield to dash forward.
But Ritsuka was faster—not because he was athletic, but because his "pick up the stray" instinct had reached its boiling point. "Ate Mash, flanking left! Lord, do... whatever the cool thing you just did was!"
Olga Marie tripped, falling onto her backside as a skeleton raised a rusted scimitar. She closed her eyes, bracing for the end.
CLANG.
She didn't feel steel. She felt a gust of wind. She opened one eye to see a massive, cross-shaped shield embedded in the dirt inches from her face, blocking the blade. And behind it, the "useless" 48th Master was standing there, looking down at her.
"Director, you're late for the briefing," Ritsuka said, his English crisp and annoying. "And you're blocking the path. It's very rude."
"Fujimaru?!" she shrieked, scrambling to her feet. "How—where—who—"
She stopped. Her jaw dropped. Her magical circuits, sensitive and refined, began to scream. It wasn't the "threat" alarm she'd felt from the skeletons. It was something else. A high-frequency hum that felt like being standing next to a sun that didn't burn.
She looked past Ritsuka at the Man in the simple robe.
"That..." Olga Marie stammered, pointing a shaking finger. "What is that? That's not a Servant! I can't read his Saint Graph! There's no magical energy, but the atmospheric pressure around him is... it's 10.0! That's impossible! Is that a Caster? Did you summon a Caster without a circle?!"
The Lord stepped forward, offering a hand to the trembling Director. His expression was one of immense, patient kindness—the kind one offers a very loud, very confused kitten.
"Peace, daughter of Animusphere," the Man said. "You have spent your life looking at the stars to find the truth. Perhaps it is time to look at the ground and see the neighbors you have ignored."
Olga Marie didn't take His hand. She backed away, her eyes wide. "He's... he's talking like a lunatic. Fujimaru, explain this! Who is this 'Caster'?"
Ritsuka caught the Lord's eye and saw a subtle, playful wink.
"Like I told the Doctor, Director," Ritsuka said, helping Olga Marie up himself since she wouldn't touch the 'Anomaly.' "He's a specialist. Expert in... uh... high-level negotiations and restructuring. He's the Counselor. And right now, we need to move, because I think those skeletons have friends."
As if on cue, a flurry of blue sparks ignited in the trees. A spear, glowing with a fierce, runic red light, whistled through the air, shattering the remaining skeletons into splinters.
"Well, well," a rugged, baritone voice echoed through the park. "A shield-girl, a brat, a screaming noble, and... whatever the hell You are."
Walking out of the shadows was a man with blue hair tied in a ponytail, wearing light leather armor and carrying a staff that looked suspiciously like it was meant for hitting things rather than casting spells. Caster Cu Chulainn tilted his head, his eyes locking onto the Christ-Servant.
The Irishman's smirk vanished. His grip on his staff tightened, and for the first time in his legendary life, the Hound of Chulainn felt the urge to kneel.
"Oi," Cu muttered, his voice dropping an octave. "I've seen gods. I've fought 'em. I've even bedded a few. But you... you're the one the stories don't like to name, aren't you?"
The Christ-Servant smiled. "I have many names, son of Lugh. But today, I am just a traveler. And I believe you are looking for a way to put this city out of its misery?"
Cu Chulainn laughed, a sharp, nervous sound. "Traveler, huh? Right. And I'm a celibate monk. Fine. If the 'Master' here is crazy enough to walk with you, I'm crazy enough to lead the way."
Ritsuka sighed, patting Fou's head. "See? I told you it was the curry."
The Dynamic of the Party
Olga Marie: Utterly terrified and trying to use science to debunk the "God" standing next to her.
Mash: Confused but finds that her shield feels lighter when the "Counselor" is near.
Cu Chulainn: Extremely wary, treating the Christ-Servant like a live grenade made of pure holiness.
Ritsuka: Trying to remember if he has any more dried mango for Fou while praying he doesn't get a 'tsinelas' from heaven for his sass.
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