Snowfield City, Central Park.
The dazzling brilliance of the blazing sun poured down over the grounds.
At this moment, having returned to the surface, Novia gazed with faint curiosity at the silver artifact in his hand, its surface engraved with curling arabesque patterns.
Earlier, after he had crushed Beelzebub with a single strike of the Holy Sword, the egg that had been incubating the Fly King had also shattered.
Yet, in that instant, the green liquid that spilled from the enormous egg quickly shifted into a deep violet. For one brief moment, it seemed to take on tangible form, trembling violently as though swept into a storm tide, writhing and surging… until finally, it condensed into this object, now resting in his palm.
In a sense, this silver-engraved relic resembled one-third of a greater whole, as though broken off from something larger.
Still, Novia felt a subtle familiarity in its design—it faintly resembled the cross he wore upon his chest, the very one that had inexplicably appeared upon his return from Rome.
But just as he was preparing to retreat and ponder its meaning, a bright and cheerful voice rang into his ears—
"Brother-in-law!"
Novia lifted his head, looking toward the sudden arrival—Charlemagne.
He blinked, slightly startled by being addressed as "brother-in-law."
Unexpected, yet… not entirely outside expectation.
After all, Charlemagne bore the destiny to unify Western Europe. Naturally, he would eventually discover the giant god's ruins beneath the Alps, come into contact with the Alien Key, and thereby acknowledge Attila as his elder sister. If so, calling Novia "brother-in-law" was hardly unreasonable.
In truth, Novia had long since considered how to reasonably bring Attila—still dwelling upon the moon to this very day—back into the world. Yet those thoughts had been shelved, delayed by his greater concern: how to treat Alcides within the Holy Grail War.
For strictly speaking, if he followed the demands of Human Order, resolving the matter of Alcides would have been effortless for someone of Novia's strength. But he had never wished to merely erase. Though twisted beyond recognition, the Avenger's desire for vengeance remained entirely justified...
In that man's wrath, Novia had seen the same fury once carried by Typhon.
Thus, he had supplied ample mana, crafting a world where Olympus and the gods could descend, allowing both sides to converse. He had even given some measure of support to the Avenger.
Yet after defeating Beelzebub, Novia sensed the Avenger's Saint Graph—and those akin to it—vanish altogether.
Perhaps, for a man who would sacrifice everything for vengeance, that was the most fitting conclusion.
At the same time, he sensed faint traces of "Mystic Code" interference emanating beyond Snowfield City itself. He knew it must be from those who came after him—successive Popes. Yet, none dared approach him nor even attempt telepathic communion. Likely… out of sheer embarrassment.
"So it's you, Charlemagne."
"Haha, truthfully, the moment I heard you appeared, brother-in-law, I wanted to come find you!" Charlemagne's gaze fell on the silver-haired youth before him, emotions surging in his chest. "But all sorts of circumstances delayed me for two whole days. Still—being able to see you with my own eyes now fills me with nothing but joy!"
"…Though I never expected you to join the Holy Grail War."
That much was true. In Novia's memory, the Saber of the Snowfield Grail War should have been none other than Richard the Lionheart.
"Well, at first, I hadn't planned on it either. It was mainly because of El-Melloi—or rather, because of you, brother-in-law. Since you once ruled over El-Melloi, when that man released such a desperate will to live, I couldn't help but run out ahead of Richard in response."
Charlemagne tilted his head back, gazing at the blazing sun above.
"And besides… being able to meet you like this, brother-in-law—it's truly wonderful."
Novia looked at him. The man before him—Karl the Great, manifest in the form of fantasy—wore an expression of deep nostalgia.
"The prime of your life… by rights, it wasn't now. Your true zenith was when you united Germania, faith, and Rome into one—when you forged the very concept of a united Western Europe."
"Even so… even if only once, I wanted to meet you—and sister—as the younger me."
Karl the Great narrowed his eyes, as though recalling his youth.
It was long ago, within the Alpine ruins of the giant gods.
The instant he touched the Alien Key, the young man fell into darkness.
It was a descent—his soul being branded, reshaped.
A raging wind tore at him, the weight on his limbs crushed down, tempering the spirit of a young prince.
In mere seconds, countless possibilities and endless motes of light streamed into him.
One after another—too many for him to comprehend.
Yet the torrent of futures surged, overwhelming him.
That Alien Key—bearing the name "alien" though no wandering star—bestowed upon this youth the guiding force that should have gone to Attila in a world where Avia never stood at her side.
It offered him his future, his fate—
The destined Holy King.
The unifier of Western Europe.
The one to open the Middle Ages.
This was to be Charlemagne's inevitable destiny.
But the young prince felt no excitement. Only confusion.
So my future was decided the moment I was born? Damn it… I'll resist it.
He thought so then.
He had yet to accept it—
The founding of an empire,
The immortalizing of his name.
For the truth was simple: to achieve such greatness required ruthlessness. That path would strip him of every ideal of knight, adventurer, king, or hero—leaving him something uncool, something unworthy.
And in that moment, he heard it—
A voice, as though from some distant past, entrusted to him. As if it already knew his coming doubt.
"You will succeed—I've no doubt. But not because of so-called fate. It will be because you work tirelessly for peace, alongside your friends. Mm, yes… I, too, think those who strive earnestly are the coolest of all."
Perhaps it was that brief blessing which allowed the prince to grow into the father of Western Europe—Karl the Great, who never lost his clarity, never lost his resolve, who pressed forward whether in victory or defeat.
And the part of him that became dream was Charlemagne—for kings save nations, but knights save those left behind.
"So that's how it is. Well, I suppose if you took on the appearance of an old man it would still work, but if you called me brother-in-law like that, Karl, it'd feel awfully strange."
Novia chuckled pleasantly.
"As expected, nothing gets past you, brother-in-law."
The black-haired young man sighed with admiration. Though it wasn't the first time someone had called him by that name, this was the very first time it came from his brother-in-law's lips.
"No, it's not as if you ever really tried to hide it. For most people, telling the difference between you and Charlemagne would be nearly impossible."
"But you saw through me at a glance. That's just too cool—it makes my blood boil like it hasn't in ages. You really are incredible, brother-in-law."
The more Charlemagne spoke, the more puffed-up he became, as if Novia's ability to see through him was a point of personal pride. Then, as though remembering something, he produced the Tri-core Magic Furnace from his body and handed it to Novia.
"Oh, right—this here, brother-in-law, is El-Melloi's secret treasure—my current Master's relic. For various complicated reasons, it's been fused with a certain person for decades now. What can I say… it was my Master's wish, but even so, I can't help thinking it's cruel. Do you think you could separate that person out of it?"
The Triple Base Magical Reactor had become Ayaka Sajou, blonde-haired and standing before them. The circumstances that led to it were the result of Ayaka Sajou's well-intentioned but disastrous attempt to resolve the Fuyuki Grail, which inadvertently trapped an innocent, reclusive college student. While Novia certainly had the power to separate them, the problem was that, for that student, losing ten whole years of his life out of nowhere would be unbearably cruel.
It was like a certain "uncle" who got stuck in another world for seventeen years before being hurled back again.
If nothing else, perhaps the Church could take care of him?
After all, Mabel Kiara seemed to have been looked after just fine. Come to think of it, she should have already arrived at the address I gave her by now. Typhon and Altrouge should be with her as well…
And speaking of which, Caubac Alcatraz and Kischur Zelretch Schweinorg—their lot had been observing the developments of the Snowfield Grail War, hadn't they? They'd no doubt already noticed my appearance. A single word should be enough to bring them out.
Yes, that would be best. I'll have Caubac deliver the message for me.
Novia had no intention of appearing openly before the Church's people. After all, living quietly was still preferable.
"This isn't a difficult matter. But Karl, you didn't come all this way only for that, did you?"
"…I was so excited to see you in person, brother-in-law, that I nearly forgot to mention it."
Charlemagne smacked his forehead and laughed.
"Truth is, I'm here to declare war. Right now, aside from those two Assassins and the Rider who refuse to cooperate, and the Berserker who's already fallen, the ones willing to join me are Enkidu, Dumas, Sigma, and Jack. We're all participants in the Grail War anyway. Even if we can't beat you, we have to at least give it a try."
"Mm. As I expected. I had planned to wait a few more days, but if this is how it is, then so be it."
Novia stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Tell me, Karl—if you were to obtain the Grail, what wish would you make?"
The Snowfield Grail had no "Third Magic" in its essence, had already been tainted, and had effectively been destroyed when Alcides fused with it and his Saint Graph was subsequently annihilated. The fact that the remaining Servants still persisted in this world was, in truth, thanks entirely to Novia.
"…My life has always revolved around one wish. Even now, that has never changed."
Like bubbles rising from the deep blue sea of memory, the black-haired youth spoke softly:
"My sister has been waiting for you a long time, brother-in-law."
"I've thought the same, Karl."
What Novia had in mind was to have Attila reincarnated in her youthful form—the larval state of the Cipherlur—upon the earth.
The greatest obstacle, of course, was the Mooncell Automaton. Once Attila left her stone chamber, the Voyager star would once again detect this not-yet-destroyed star system. From the standpoint of MC's cold logic, it would likely refuse… though perhaps, remembering that he once held the title of Moon King, it might permit it.
And since he had aided in preserving Proper Human History, it was only fair he ask for the chance for Attila to dwell normally on the earth.
"In that case, I can fight without regrets."
"Then let us waste no more time. If your resolve is set, let us begin now."
At Novia's words, four figures materialized around the park.
"For your kindness, I will repay you with battle."
The green-haired beauty, Enkidu, spread his arms wide. With a gentle, resonant voice, he sang. His song shook the earth itself, transforming it into a chorus of nature's resonance, echoing once more across the world.
"My apologies—my Master has no combat power to speak of, so you'll have to settle for me wielding his Noble Phantasm."
It was Orlando, the police chief raised as a "hero" by Dumas' pen, who had rushed here after barely managing to defeat the Italian mafioso Bazdilot. His Eastern katana was a potent Noble Phantasm—but only that.
"This is of my own will alone; my Master knows nothing of it. Please don't hold him accountable."
From the shrouded mists nearby, the street trees warped into unknown blue-black flora, man-faced bats wheeled through the air, goblin-shaped flames danced around traffic lights, and even visions of soot-blackened buildings appeared—an illusion conjuring London's shadowy backstreets.
But there were no people there—only a demon.
It was the Berserker known as "Jack the Ripper." Even she herself didn't know her true name. Her Noble Phantasm, Mist of London: Together with Dawn, Erased and Gone, manifested the rumor that Jack's true identity was a demon from Hell.
"…I never imagined the Novia I knew would possess such an identity. If you told me you were merely possessed, I might still believe it."
From above the mercenary Sigma, a massive white whale surfaced, bearing an enormous weight. It was neither god, nor demon, nor hero.
Its true name was Moby Dick. Within the Nasuverse, Moby Dick was a divine beast on the same level as Typhon—a living super-weapon.
Under the sun's light, the world fell into abrupt silence.
"Come, then, all of you."
Novia's voice rang out from amidst the thunderclouds gathering once more overhead, carried on a storm that spread across the city.
Lightning and thunder, endless and unbound, came surging forth.