And so, with the Golden King slowly sinking into the dense darkness on the other side of the underworld—
The underworld itself, too, would now come to a complete close along with the end of the Holy Grail War.
Naturally, this meant that Novia, who had drawn his power from the system of the Holy Grail War, would also lose a portion of that strength. After all, such was the law of the planet: in this age that belonged solely to mankind, before facing any overwhelming crisis, there was no real need for powers that exceeded the natural order.
Novia understood this perfectly well and accepted it without complaint. Even so, before the Holy Grail War concluded, there were still some matters he needed to take care of.
"After watching for so long, aren't you going to say hello? Kischur. And Caubac."
With the silver-haired youth's words, the pitch-black underworld suddenly lit up with streaks of fanged light, surging violently toward the far-off heavens.
The arrows of light gleamed with a blinding silver-blue brilliance. They shot upward at astonishing speed, becoming no more than points of starlight, like meteors.
Above, the sky of the underworld had, at some point, lowered a vast veil of shimmering colors. Red, green, and violet shifted and spilled over one another—it was the aurora.
Within that nameless night sky, awash in infinite hues, the aurora shone brilliantly, only to vanish in its rolling, undulating waves.
Before long, the opposite side of the heavens began to lighten—from ink-black to deep blue, until the colors of a warm dawn spread across the sky.
"Hahaha, it really has been a long time. My apologies—I see you noticed us after all. I must say, your way of pushing the planet forward is still as unchanging as ever."
The Magus Marshal spoke as he arrived with the aurora, shrugging while casting a glance at the blue 'telephone' by his side—the form Caubac had taken for now.
At the same time, he couldn't help but grumble inwardly: Wasn't it you who said there was no need to meet him right away? Now look at this—couldn't be further from what you said! Honestly, little brother, are you reliable or not?
Whether Caubac sensed his senior's silent complaints or not, the 'telephone's' speaker crackled with a youthful voice, directed at Novia:
"My lord, please forgive my late arrival."
"It's fine. You both had your own duties to see to."
Novia turned his gaze to Kischur and asked,
"Kischur, have you finally mastered the Second Magic in its entirety?"
"Yes. Thanks to everything you did back then, it's no problem at all now."
Kischur replied with a cheerful laugh. The deep wrinkles etched on his face spoke of the years, but his eyes still burned with youthful vigor, making him look nearly a decade younger.
He was not exaggerating. Ever since the defeat of Mabel Kiara four centuries ago and the return of the Scripture of Trimegistus to Caubac's hands, the grievous wounds he had once suffered from that Scripture—and the necessity of hiding his power—had all healed. He had regained the very same peak condition he'd been in when they defeated the Crimson Moon.
Perhaps for the sake of rebuilding the Church and preventing its influence from being crushed entirely by the Mage's Association, Caubac and figures like Augustine had worked together to develop a new version of the Scriptures—high-grade weapons that Executors could wield in place of the originals.
Thus came the standard Scriptures. Normally, a Scripture would take the form of a book inscribed with the teachings of the Church—the words of God.
But the book was only a vessel. What mattered were the conceptual words engraved upon it, dividing them into Scriptures and Apocrypha. The difference between the two was not great; they could be treated as one and the same.
For example, the Seventh Scripture of the Apocrypha—before Ciel modified it into that pile-driver-like weapon—had originally been the horn of a unicorn, a vessel bearing the doctrine condemning reincarnation. Upon the horn's surface were inscribed countless words: "All rebirths are sin." Those inscriptions became the conceptual weapon that struck powerfully at the likes of Dead Apostles, phantoms, and other undying beings.
That said, they still could not compare to the original Scripture of Trimegistus. For it was a weapon born from the very concept of "the Lord's Love." No Scripture carved with words alone could ever match that.
"Yes, yes—and he even used the Second Magic to mess around with parallel worlds, making red and blue jewel mystic codes, and then got hooked on magical girls."
Perhaps annoyed by Kischur's smugness, Caubac didn't hesitate to reveal the Magus Marshal's embarrassing secrets.
"Oh, is that so? I'm obsessed with magical girls, am I? And what about you, little Caubac? That café of yours seems to be doing quite well—and yet, there you are in the middle of the night, secretly reading questionable material and watching late-night anime..."
Unruffled at being exposed, Kischur immediately recalled what Caubac had told him earlier. He let out a dramatic sigh, twisting his lips into a sly grin.
"You're quite the grandfather figure, aren't you? I wonder what the child's parents would think of that? Heh. The more I think about it, the funnier it gets. Don't you agree, my dear little brother?"
The Magus Marshal then stared with great amusement at the rotary dial of the telephone as it spun round and round, returning to its place again and again, as if enjoying the sight of his junior trying to protest but unable to.
"All right, all right. If you two want to bicker, do it after I'm done. There's no rush to settle your quarrel now."
From the way they carried on, anyone could see the two shared a close relationship. This was nothing more than friends trading jabs. Were it not for the fact that Novia had something important to discuss, he might well have enjoyed watching their banter longer.
Besides, he understood all too well what they were talking about. The red and blue mystic codes from the Second Magic, the magical girl obsession—that was clearly Fate/kaleid liner Prisma☆Illya. As for the café and the "grandfather" bit, that was obviously The Atlas Academy's Box.
Not that any of it concerned him.
"Then, what is it you've called us here for?"
"That's right—I'd like to ask the two of you for a favor."
"Hmm... is it something important?"
At those words, Kischur paused to think. In his eyes, if Novia truly intended to do something terrible, there would be no way to stop him. By the same logic, if there was something Novia himself could not accomplish, then it was even less likely that he or anyone else could.
"It's nothing major. You've both seen what's happening outside Snowfield City." Novia nodded calmly, making no attempt to hide it. "I can't meet them directly. Once the Holy Grail War ends, when the Church arrives, I'll be counting on you two. Tell them there's no need for Mabel Kiara to remain with the Church anymore—she already has a place to go."
"Hahaha, so it's only that?" The Magus Marshal thumped his chest confidently. "Leave it to us. If little Caubac and I show up together, neither the Church nor the Association will dare cause trouble."
"Yes, Kischur is right."
"Oh, and one more thing." Novia withdrew the El-Melloi family's Mystic Code, the Trinis Magicka Furnace, and released the unlucky university student who had been fused with it for several years. "This is the El-Melloi family's Mystic Code. Whether or not to return it is up to you, Kischur."
"Is that so... though truth be told, there's no need. This was yours to begin with."
The Trinis Magicka Furnace had originally been the El-Melloi family's greatest Mystic Code before the advent of the Mooncell's Philosopher's Stone. It was crafted from the highest-grade phantasmal relics unearthed in the Spiritual Tomb of Albion. The finished product was a perfected magical furnace, inexhaustible in the supply of mana it could provide.
However, since Albion's corpse had long been sent to the Reverse Side of the World, the Clock Tower's current leyline sites were filled instead with the flesh and blood of the Apocalyptic Beasts that once roamed the underworld. In truth, what now remained was no longer the Spiritual Tomb: Albion, but rather Spiritual Tomb: Leviathan, Spiritual Tomb: Peridexion, and Spiritual Tomb: Behemoth.
Thus, Kischur's words were not wrong: in essence, the Furnace belonged to Novia.
"There's no need. I don't require it."
Infinite mana might be priceless to ordinary magi, but to the three standing here, it was hardly worth mentioning.
"Then... my lord, who is this person?"
Caubac glanced at the young man Novia had just released from the Trinis Furnace, looking puzzled.
Novia explained the unfortunate student's history in detail.
"And that's how it is... So, Caubac, think your café can take on one more hand?"
Originally, Novia had thought of sending the student to the Church. But upon learning Caubac now ran a café, he decided it would be better to entrust the youth there.
"Not a problem at all!"
Faced with such a simple request, Caubac naturally agreed without hesitation.
"Then I'll leave him in your care. You two go on ahead—I'll follow shortly. There's still one last thing I must do."
"Hahahaha, very well. Novia, if you're ever interested, I'll take you on a trip through the parallel worlds someday."
Unlike Kischur, who left smiling, Caubac lingered a moment, glanced toward his senior's retreating figure, then seemed to make up his mind.
"My lord Novia... would you be willing to come to the Far East?"
"Oh? Did something happen?"
"Well... how should I put it..." Caubac hesitated, but finally spoke firmly. "It's just—Hibino Hibiki said she wants to meet her parents. I wouldn't presume to force you, of course. But perhaps because you manifested during the Holy Grail War, her emotions have been unusually stirred these past few days... Ah, Hibino Hibiki is the human form taken by the Scripture of Trimegistus."
To be honest, Novia had never once considered such a thing. He knew the Scripture of Trimegistus had incarnated as a girl named Hibino Hibiki. He knew she had been born through Caubac's hands. But that she would regard him as a father figure? That he had never imagined.
Still, though surprised, Novia did not refuse. He simply nodded: since she wished it, he would indeed make a trip to the Far East.
With the silver-haired youth's promise secured, Caubac departed swiftly.
Something about this doesn't add up, Novia thought. The Scripture was Caubac's creation. Logically...
Then it struck him. Ah—that's right. He's already a "grandfather." Which makes me the father. So then...
His eyes narrowed strangely as he watched the "blue telephone" fade into the distance.
"I forgot to ask Caubac... If I'm Hibiki's father, then who's her mother?"
Since Hibiki was born from the Scripture, in his mind there were only two possibilities: Nero, or Mabel Kiara.
As his second pope after Nero, she had surely influenced Caubac's construction of the Scripture, offering countless suggestions. She might well have touched it.
As for Mabel Kiara—no need to explain. Recognized by the Scripture as a Savior, she had wielded it to defeat the Crimson Moon and even Jewel Warden, living for centuries thereafter, and in the end, used it to kill him once. The possibility was strong.
But if that were the case... from Hibiki's perspective, wouldn't it mean her mother had used her to kill her father?
"Forget it. That's for later. The Holy Grail ritual is nearly complete—I can't afford to delay."
Shaking his head, Novia set aside the thought. He turned to the one final task he had already resolved to complete—
To summon Attila from the Moon, to let her be reborn in her maiden form, as the larval state of Sefar, upon the earth.
Clutching the radiant holy sword, he pressed its edge to the underworld's blackened surface, drawing lines upon the void—lines that gave shape to nothingness. Then, with a cry that rang through the emptiness, he spoke:
"Carry my voice... to Attila!"
A simple phrase, yet it echoed endlessly through the black underworld.
Light erupted. Eternal darkness was extinguished. A pillar of radiance speared toward the heavens. And with it—an aurora of dazzling colors.
That shimmering atmospheric light, normally seen only near the poles, had appeared here, though its true mechanism remained unknown. Some said it came from solar winds colliding with the atmosphere and the planet's magnetic field. Whatever the case, such a phenomenon had never been recorded in the tropics.
Perhaps it was because this was the last day of the Holy Grail War. Perhaps because, within the underworld, one man had called forth this vision.
It seemed like a fragile gift of reconciliation from the "night" itself. Or perhaps it was the manifestation of a vast will, far beyond the reach of mortals. After all, Novia had resolved the vengeance of the Avenger; this aurora was its return.
When her eyes opened to this aurora, the silver-haired maiden felt as though she had been reborn.
Whether it was for good or ill, she could not tell.
It was a change sudden and irreversible, releasing her from endless waiting, arriving like a storm.
For Attila, today was such a day.
From within the stone chamber where she had always remained, the world she saw outside the window now seemed wholly different.
Through the window's light, she could faintly glimpse the form of the Mooncell's crystalline core.
The shelves rising from the dimness, the weapons stacked in the corners, the notebook lying idle on the desk, the dust gathering along the windowsill—everything was exactly as it had been yesterday.
And yet, to her eyes, everything was different.
Though the change was subtle, all was brighter, newer, wrapped in a gentle haze of light.
Perhaps that was what a call truly was. Like a star shining in the sky, radiating without end.
"Ah..."
It was overwhelming—almost unbearable.
Trapped within the Mooncell Crystal, Attila raised her head. For the first time, she was moved to tears by what she saw. The long, long wait only made it all the more powerful.
"You... are the one letting me out? But... but..."
She realized the Mooncell Crystal had agreed to let her go free. And yet she did not immediately leave. She knew that once she stepped out, the Wanderer Stars would learn this planet was not destroyed—and would send their star-soldiers once more.
To her hesitation, the Mooncell outside glimmered with a blue light, as if to say:
"Go on. It's fine now."
"Thank you..."
And so, guided by that light, the white-haired maiden's form regressed into the larval state. When she opened her eyes again, she saw the one she had always longed for.
Instinctively, she stretched out her hand toward the silver-haired youth—as though to seize him and never let go.
Though her face was streaked with tears, her smile was radiant with joy, as if she had gained the happiness of the entire world.
"You've returned, Avia."
"Welcome home, Attila."
The majestic aurora surged beyond the underworld, draping itself across the endless world. The planet itself seemed to don a resplendent gown, as though declaring that this was the final scene of the Holy Grail War.