The Scandinavian Lostbelt is the end.
Resources are scarce, the cold is relentless, and people struggle to survive in these extreme conditions. If this isn't the end, then what is?
This is the world Ophelia Phamrsolone sees before her.
As a mage, she lives apart from ordinary people—but that doesn't mean she is completely isolated from them. Aspects of human culture still reach the world of mages, including the fear of nuclear weapons from the previous era.
If nuclear war were to break out, the world would fall into ruin. Radiation would spare no one. Yet, the end is not limited to a post-nuclear wasteland.
Just like now. Just like this Scandinavian Lostbelt.
The people here live like lab rats, carefully protected—until they reach a certain age, at which point they are discarded.
The Lostbelt King, the Mother of Scandinavia, has given humanity the best she can offer. Yet even so, reality remains cruel.
An ordinary person might speak out, condemning such actions as contrary to their values, yet still acknowledge them as reality. A fanatic, however… would likely become an enemy of Skadi.
But to a mage, such behavior is nothing.
Humanity is something mages rarely possess. True mages do not see it as a virtue—they consider it useless, an obstacle.
Ophelia is no exception. She watches everything with cold indifference.
"Saber, you should leave now," Ophelia said to the empty room.
The room was carved from ice, its walls a chilling blue. Merely looking at it made one shiver—it was utterly unfit for human habitation.
Yet Ophelia showed no discomfort. The temperature was still within her tolerance.
A second figure appeared in the room—a warrior clad in armor. A Servant, summoned under the Saber class. His true name was Sigurd, the great hero of Norse mythology.
"I am protecting you."
"I am safe within the queen's palace."
"Understood."
The swordsman said no more, obediently following Ophelia's command.
Once she confirmed her Servant had left, Ophelia activated the communication device.
A holographic screen materialized before her. A spell powered by magical energy transcended the limits of space, connecting her to a figure between two Lostbelts. Kirschtaria Wodime's image appeared on the screen.
"Ophelia, how have things been?"
"Everything is proceeding well. The queen is benevolent—she holds love for all things within this Lostbelt. I have successfully established a cooperative relationship with her."
After forming an alliance with Scáthach-Skadi, Ophelia's movements within the Scandinavian Lostbelt became much easier. Though she stood by the queen's side as a subordinate, Skadi had acknowledged the existence of the Fantasy Tree. That meant they shared the same goal—placing the "Crypter" and the Lostbelt on the same side.
Kirschtaria listened silently before speaking. "Of the seven of us, you and Kadoc have made the most progress."
"What about the others? We still have no word from Yu Mei-ren. That emperor has his own ideas…"
Kirschtaria, stationed in the Atlantic Lostbelt, was the core of the Crypters. The others followed his lead.
Ophelia relayed the situation in Scandinavia while Kirschtaria updated her on the others. In terms of progress, only the Scandinavian and Russian Lostbelts were advancing smoothly.
After hearing everything, Ophelia asked the crucial question: "Captain, is it time to act?"
"You mean against Chaldea? Not yet. The timing depends on Koyanskaya's movements. Besides, I intend to leave that matter to Kadoc. Ophelia, focus on managing the Lostbelt."
Ophelia nodded in understanding. Then, the transmission ended, leaving her alone once more.
After a moment of thought, she left the room.
She needed to speak with the queen again—to push for the Fantasy Tree's sprouting.
The tree had already been planted, but it had yet to sprout. The queen seemed hesitant to allow it.
"Going to see the queen?"
"If you already know, then come with me, Saber."
The swordsman's expression remained cold, but Ophelia was used to it. His combat ability was all that mattered—his attitude was irrelevant.
As she walked down the icy corridor, Ophelia gazed at the frozen world outside. The sight reminded her of her time in Chaldea.
Once, she had been a member of Chaldea. Now, she stood against it. As a mage, she had no trouble accepting this shift in allegiance—except for one thing.
One person.
That girl named Mash.
Now, she would have to face her as an enemy.
The thought weighed heavily on Ophelia's mind. But there was still time. The Lostbelt had not yet fully manifested on Earth. The Crypters had not yet taken the stage.
She still had room to prepare.
Lost in thought, Ophelia arrived before the Lostbelt's queen—the goddess who existed in the present era, Scáthach-Skadi.
But the first words out of the queen's mouth left her puzzled.
"Ophelia, it seems a Servant from Proper Human History has appeared in this land."
"Your Majesty, the Lostbelt has not yet fully descended upon the Earth. How could it provoke a reaction from Proper Human History?"
"Through my perception, I have sensed a peculiar individual. Over the past few days, he has helped many people leave their villages and establish their own settlement. Who else but a Servant from Proper Human History could achieve such a thing?"
The queen's awareness extended across the entire world. The ice and snow of the Lostbelt were her eyes.
Ophelia did not doubt her words—only the phenomenon itself. A new village in this frozen wasteland? To accomplish such a feat, one would need to set up a bounded field to regulate the temperature, not to mention securing food, clothing, and shelter.
"Your Majesty, do you require our assistance?"
Whoever could achieve this was likely a Caster-class Servant. Against the might of Saber, even a Caster with prepared territory would stand no chance.
Scáthach-Skadi shook her head. "No. Whether he is a Servant from Proper Human History is irrelevant. As long as he stands upon my land, I will treat him equally. If he is not my enemy, then I will love him as I do all my children."
"What interests me is his goal. His bounded field blocks my sight. I have already sent envoys to observe the village. I wish to continue monitoring his actions. Ophelia, will you join me as an audience to this spectacle?"
"It would be my honor."
Ophelia responded with reverence.