It had been exactly two days since the news broke that Novia had manifested in the current Holy Grail War.
His mere existence was enough to shake everyone in the Holy Church.
His mere appearance was enough for all who understood magecraft to feel that overwhelming majesty.
A man who, after the Age of Gods had ended, achieved an unparalleled greatness in the world of men.
Now, outside Snowfield City, the place was swarming with personnel dispatched from the Holy Church.
And under the Church's uncompromising stance, neither the Clock Tower nor the American side could interfere—at best, they could only send spies.
Yet, just as the Americans who had originally planned the Snowfield Holy Grail War had detected, the city before the visitors' eyes was utterly devoid of people.
Inside a temporary chamber the Church had set up, the murmuring voice of a blond youth echoed.
"...Truly a terrifying power. But I suppose it's only natural—it is Lord Novia, after all."
This was Mario Gallo Bestino, a substitute executor of the Holy Church, officially the adopted son and grandson of Cardinal Laurentius.
As he read through the reports his subordinates delivered—"though no one can be seen, magical energy is leaking, and ordinary technological communications function normally"—he frowned and muttered to himself.
He himself had observed Snowfield City the previous night, using both magecraft and telephones. Empty as it seemed, the reports were accurate.
Over the past two days, he had also felt the vast malice-tinged magical energy—second only to that of the First Pope. Yet in a fleeting instant, like the wind, that frenzy and brutality softened into gentleness and warmth, further confirming the reports.
The First Pope, appearing in this Holy Grail War, had acted to prevent the recklessness of multiple Servants from endangering lives. To protect those caught up in the Grail War, he had enveloped the entire city in something akin to a reversed Reality Marble.
A Reality Marble is one of the greatest mysteries of magecraft, spoken of as something close to True Magic itself: a phenomenon capable of distorting even the laws of physics, of replacing reality with an inner world.
But a Reversed Reality Marble does the opposite—not replacing reality with one's inner world, but sealing reality itself inside that world.
Mario muttered again, "But according to Ciel, that woman also went into Snowfield... what is she planning? If she intends something dangerous, it would have been better to kill her beforehand. Still, that brat once asked me to get rid of those old fools plotting against Be'ze, and it took me no small effort to clean them up...
Those decrepit geezers had really grown reckless with age, daring to set their sights on Be'ze for the sake of immortality, even to the point of collaborating with Dead Apostles. I suppose it's thanks to her that they're gone..."
Though only fourteen, the boy's expression was nothing like that of a normal youth. He looked more like an old man wearing the skin of a child.
"Speaking of which, Ciel once told that fellow Sufang Nao—picked up by Narbareck—to go watch over two waitresses in some odd café in Japan... Never mind, I won't pry into it. That will square the debt from when she saved me once."
Mario's public identity was that of Cardinal Laurentius' grandson and adopted son. But in truth, he was Laurentius himself, who had used the abilities left behind by a certain defector from the Church to reverse his own age and assume this form.
Cardinal Laurentius was considered one of the strongest candidates to become the next Pope. He had taken in over twenty adopted sons.
A Cardinal cannot marry, so in principle all their heirs must be adopted. Yet every one of Laurentius' adopted sons bore an uncanny resemblance to him. And many among the faithful thought of him as "a vulgar man, greedy for women and power."
Mario, however, claimed to be the Cardinal's illegitimate child, born a hundred years after the old man's birth through a mistress.
In the Fate world, Cardinal Laurentius would later become the Pope of the Holy Church in the 2030s.
Laurentius knew better than anyone what kind of man he was. By now, he was like a ghoul, slowly forgetting even his own appearance, his dignity already eroding. Before he sank completely into corruption, he swore he would dispose of himself.
And yet—for all his sins, his greatest desire had been nothing more than to become Pope. Still, when it came to the most basic duties of the Church, he met them faithfully: he never embezzled funds meant to aid the poor or those stricken by disaster.
After all, every initiate swore that "all men are one body, and we must help one another." To Laurentius, it might have been only a slogan, but he had recited it countless times. Even if he did not believe it in his heart, he tried to live up to it as much as he could...
You could scheme and struggle within the Church, but not to the point of bringing shame upon its name. That unspoken rule had existed since the fifth century—ever since the Church feared another "Great Destruction" like the one that had nearly obliterated it back then.
When it came to Avia, the King of the Huns, who once led Dead Apostles, phantasmal species, and countless beasts to annihilate both the Western Roman Empire and the Church's headquarters, the Church possessed more intelligence than any other power.
Augustine, after the fall of the Western Empire, wrote The City of God. In its earliest manuscripts still preserved within the Church, one passage read:
"O most glorious City of God, which journeys through time amidst the impious, living by faith; or leaves behind the Holy Word to mend all things. My deepest faith rests in You, for it is You who set me upon this work and gave Your promise: even if no man understands, the world shall surely see with perfect clarity."
After Avia destroyed Rome and the Church's seat, Augustine—who had been nurtured as Jerome's successor in the East—was elevated as the new Pope of the rebuilt Church, honored as "Doctor" and "Saint."
As for the "You" he addressed in his writings, most assumed it was the One God of the Church. But over time, people began to wonder what he meant by "even if no one understands, the world shall see with clarity."
Through deeper study, the Church gradually came to understand Augustine's intent:
That all things were created by the Triune God: the Father creating from nothingness, the Son granting form, and the Holy Spirit ensuring all things were good.
That those who possessed the virtues granted by the Spirit would be so just as to love their enemies, and love them so much as to wish to correct their hatred and slander, making them companions instead.
That in speaking of God, we must not claim two or three beginnings, nor two or three gods. There is only one God: Father, Son, and Spirit. Each is God, but not to be confused as Sabellius did, conflating them into one.
That the Father is Father of the Son, the Son the Son of the Father, and the Spirit is the Spirit of both—neither the Father, nor the Son.
That when God breathed, He made man a living soul, and when the Lord breathed, He said: "Receive the Holy Spirit."
From this, the Church could no longer deny it: the First Pope, Novia, was the very Holy Spirit of the Trinity. And the Hun King Avia was the form He took in response to a corrupted Church.
With such an understanding, the Church dared not vilify Avia or his companion Attila too heavily.
Thus Avia was always remembered simply as "the King of the Huns," without ornament or exalted titles.
Perhaps to elevate Avia's stature, Attila, his lieutenant, was instead called "the Scourge of God."
Think of it: if even the deputy was "God's Scourge," what then was Avia himself, the sovereign of the Huns?
"...The old man truly wishes to meet Lord Novia face to face..."
Though Laurentius had always resented the Pope who clung to the throne without abdicating, he could not deny the man's charisma. To become Pope was never simple, yet the dignity of those who reached that height naturally inspired reverence.
"But of course... who in the Church would not wish for it? After all, He is the Holy Spirit who built the Church that endures to this day. I wish it too—that is why I will do whatever it takes to become Pope."
Life is short. The world is vast, vast enough to terrify.
From the moment Laurentius realized he was aging, he had suffered. In every nightmare, he struggled desperately; upon waking, he could not hold back his tears.
Then came anger, greed, regret—regret that he had not yet ascended to the Papacy.
For most people, countless material and spiritual treasures gave meaning to life. For Laurentius, it was different. He had spent his every effort, his every sleepless night, climbing with hope and ambition—yet death loomed close.
Thus—
He did not want to die. He must not die. He could not die.
Not that he sought immortality. Only that he had to struggle with all his strength, pouring out all he had.
To serve the Church that strove to convey good. To draw closer to that man. To become, if he could, a man like him.
Since childhood, he had wished it.
Though in truth, only those who furthered humanity's progress were worthy of true respect. Yet heroes who held back the darkness, warriors who stood firm before evil, men who faced suffering without flinching—they too deserved praise.
But as Laurentius grew, he realized the age he lived in was not the one he had dreamed. To rise, mere virtue was no longer enough.
When he first compromised, when he first accepted their invitations, what had he been thinking? He could not recall anymore.
All that remained, after all these years, was his earliest vow:
He wished to be Novia's successor.
Mario left the chamber and went to the camp, where many believers gazed upon the silent Snowfield City.
There he turned his eyes to the aged Pope, standing not far away.
"Death really is frightening when you think about it," he said. "Old man... tell me, will I claim that seat before I die?"
"Who can say? Perhaps if you work harder, if everyone recognizes you, it will come to pass naturally."
"You're stringing me along again, aren't you, old man? My life has been long and bitter, and there's no need to prolong it further. Still—I'll certainly outlive you. When you die, I'll recommend a simple burial, just a bundle of grass to cover you."
The old Pope chuckled. "That suits me fine. Once dead, one is dead. Better to spend our energy on the living."
So spoke the aged Pope, who had come to Snowfield with the sole wish of seeing Novia.
"You really believe that yourself?"
The Cardinal sneered at himself, then slipped a hand into his pocket. Spreading his fingers, he sighed with contentment.
"But come to think of it... haven't I always held what I desired most right here in my pocket?"
In his hand gleamed a rusted, time-worn cross, catching the faint glow of the sunset.
He lifted it as though it were a relic, the twilight's rays illuminating the corrosion upon it.
One glance was enough to know: this was the symbol of an old man's youthful striving, when he had pursued his ideals without compromise.
And in that instant, Laurentius murmured softly:
"All along, we had already received the 'key' from Lord Novia Himself. Why then should I have ever sought it outside?"
The old Pope nodded, thoughtful, and suddenly asked:
"Tell me—do you think it's possible..."
"Oh? Out with it, old man, don't beat around the bush."
Though Laurentius outwardly laughed off his failure to reach the Papacy, surely in the dead of night he still shed tears at the thought.
"Goethe once said: 'Error stands to truth as sleep stands to waking. I have seen men wake from error, and after waking, once more strive toward truth.'"
The old Pope smiled and said:
"Cardinal Laurentius—just now, the wills of the Popes that manifested in the Holy Grail War told me this: you are already, without doubt, the true successor."