9
The transition from the white void of the Rayshift to the cold, sterile light of Chaldea's summoning chamber was like being plunged into ice water. The air was thick with the smell of ozone and the frantic, rhythmic chirping of failing computer terminals.
Ritsuka stumbled out of the Coffin, his knees hitting the metal floor. Beside him, Mash leaned heavily on her shield, her breath coming in ragged gasps as the "Lord Chaldeas" light receded back into her soul. But the Christ-Servant stepped out as if He were merely finishing a stroll through a garden, His simple tunic unstained by the soot and blood of Fuyuki.
"Sensors are going haywire!" a technician screamed from the balcony. "Bio-readings for Candidate 48 are... wait, how is he more healthy than when he left? And who is the third signature?!"
The Headless Chicken Protocol
The command room was a scene of absolute chaos. Romani Archaman was running between three different monitors, his lab coat stained with coffee and cold sweat. Leonardo da Vinci was calmly—perhaps too calmly—trying to stabilize the power grid, her mechanical gauntlet sparking as she rerouted mana.
"Ritsuka! Mash! Director!" Roman nearly fell over a swivel chair as he rushed to the railing. "You're back! Praise the... well, praise whatever kept you alive!"
"Don't praise the air, Roman," Ritsuka muttered, his English sharp despite his exhaustion. "Praise the Man standing right there. And for heaven's sake, someone get the Director a chair before she vibrates into another dimension."
Olga Marie was staring at the command deck, her eyes wide and bloodshot. The realization of the "Grand Order" had shattered her aristocratic shell. She looked at the staff—the few survivors left—scurrying about like ants in a flooded nest.
"Doctor," she whispered, her voice cracking. "Report. Status of the other 47 Masters. Status of the A-Team. And... where is Professor Lev Lainur?"
The Silent Coffins
The silence that followed was heavier than the Antarctic ice outside. Roman's face went pale. He gestured toward the Coffin bay—a row of high-tech sarcophagi that should have been humming with the life signs of the world's most elite magi.
"The sabotage was... it was near-total, Director," Roman said, his voice dropping to a funereal low. "The explosions in the command center triggered a feedback loop in the Rayshift synchronization. The other 47 Masters... they're in cryo-stasis. It's the only thing keeping them from brain-death. But they aren't 'here.' They're trapped in the 'gap' between coordinates."
"And Lev?" Ritsuka asked, his hand tightening on his Rosary. He remembered the Professor's smile—a smile that now felt like the edge of a blade.
"Missing," Da Vinci added, her eyes narrowing. "The logs show he was in the command center when the bombs went off, but there is no biological remains. He didn't die, Ritsuka. He departed."
The Miracle in the Infirmary
The weight of the tragedy hit the room like a physical blow. Forty-seven lives on the brink, a traitor in their midst, and a world bleached white outside. The staff looked defeated. The "Grand Order" felt like a suicide mission.
The Christ-Servant walked toward the Coffin bay. He didn't look at the monitors or the data. He looked at the frost-covered glass of the pods, where the "A-Team" lay like statues.
"They are not gone," the Lord said. His voice wasn't loud, but it silenced the frantic clicking of the keyboards. "They are merely sleeping in a storm they did not ask for."
"They're more than sleeping, 'Counselor'!" Olga Marie snapped, her grief turning into anger. "Their soul-data is fragmented! Even with the best medical magecraft, we can't bring them back without a Master-level anchor! We don't have the staff! We don't have the—"
The Lord ignored her. He placed a hand on the glass of the lead Coffin—the one belonging to Kirschtaria Wodime.
A soft, golden warmth began to radiate from His palm. The frost on the glass melted instantly. The erratic, flatlining heart monitors on the main screen suddenly surged into a steady, rhythmic beat.
"W-what are you doing?!" Roman shouted, scrambling to his monitors. "The mana levels... they're off the charts! You're bypassing the cryo-stasis protocols! You'll kill him!"
"I am the Resurrection and the Life," the Man said simply. He didn't use a spell. He didn't chant. He simply spoke to the fragmented souls trapped in the void. "Peace. Be still. Return to the fold."
One by one, the lights on the 47 pods turned from a warning red to a stable, glowing green. The "A-Team" wasn't fully awake—their bodies still needed to heal from the trauma—but the "fragmentation" was gone. They were stable. They were saved.
The New Reality
The staff stood paralyzed. They had spent their lives studying the "Mystery" of magecraft, but they had just witnessed a Miracle—something that superseded the laws of the world they knew.
Da Vinci stepped forward, her golden eyes reflecting the Counselor's light. "Well... that certainly solves the staffing issue in the long term. And it seems we have a 'Medic' who doesn't believe in the word 'impossible'."
Ritsuka sat down on the steps, letting out a long, shaky breath. "He does that. He also eats ramen and reads minds, so watch what you're thinking, Doc."
Roman looked from the stable pods to the mysterious Servant, and then to Ritsuka. The fear in his eyes was still there, but beneath it, a tiny, flickering spark of hope had been ignited.
"Ritsuka," Roman said seriously. "If what Artoria said is true... if this is a Grand Order... then the seven Singularities are the seven wounds of humanity. Fuyuki was just the beginning. We need to prepare for the first proper era. AD 1431. The Hundred Years' War. France."
"Orleans," the Lord added, looking at Ritsuka. "Where a girl who heard My voice is being accused of a crime she didn't commit... by a version of herself that has forgotten what it means to forgive."
Ritsuka stood up, adjusting his Rosary. "France, huh? I hope they have good bread. And Mash-malow? Get your shield. We have a Saint to rescue."
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