This could hardly be called a battle. It was nothing more than a one-sided crushing—brutal suppression.
As the head of the Tōsaka family and an old ally of the Matōs, Tōsaka Tokiomi naturally knew of the Matō family's "insect magecraft." He was also deeply aware of its true horror—the swarms of "Winged-Blade Insects" capable of devouring magical energy and consuming mystery itself.
Individually, they were formidable; it was said a single swarm could strip the flesh from an ox in seconds. When they moved together in great numbers, no matter how strong the mystery or magecraft, it would inevitably be devoured.
And yet, now—those very swarms were being suppressed and slaughtered without resistance.
It was as though the natural predator of the insects had appeared before them.
What could Tōsaka Tokiomi even say?
Such a degree of magecraft nearly exceeded his comprehension.
In his memory, even the grand rituals—those great spells said to reach the very essence of phenomena—rarely accomplished such feats so effortlessly.
"Even so, I still don't understand."Tokiomi drew a deep breath and turned toward the man at his side. "Why, Lord Lucan, do you suddenly strike at the Matō family?"
He could not understand.
No warning.No reason.
Neither Louvisto, Misenthval, nor Sugawara Uashō bore any connection to the Matōs.
And Lucan, an outsider who came from across the seas, least of all!
But before Tokiomi could receive an answer, the clash below shifted.
The giant's hundred-meter fist came crashing down with a thunderous roar. For the briefest instant, Matō Zōken—the shriveled, skull-faced abomination—showed only cold amusement.
He neither dodged nor resisted.
As the blow fell, his frail body abruptly disintegrated into fragments—
And from within, a single insect, insignificant to the untrained eye but impossible to conceal from those attuned to mystery, shot downward into the earth.
Boom!
The massive fist crushed the ground, leaving nothing but rubble—yet the true target had escaped.
Noticing the insect, Tokiomi's face grew ashen. He had realized something terrible.
"That is… the true body of this generation's Matō head—Matō Zōken?"
Tokiomi had known of the Matō insect magecraft and had dismissed it as unpleasant but manageable. But this—this was beyond what he could accept.
He had once been willing to entrust his daughter to a family of insect manipulators. But for her to become an insect herself—that was unthinkable.
"Strictly speaking," Lucan said quietly, "that is not this generation's head of the Matō family, but the original. Once known as Makiri Zolgen—one of the three magi who created the Greater Grail. A man who has lived for over five centuries."
Lucan's voice was cold."Even now, he survives. His method? Transforming himself into a 'Crest Worm.'"
A form of existence less than lingering—no, a grotesque mockery of survival.
Tokiomi's eyes widened. "That… but according to my family's records, each Matō head has always been a different man…"
His words faltered. Following his own reasoning, he arrived at an even more dreadful truth.
"You've realized it." Lucan's gaze cut into him. "They are indeed different men—and the same man."
"Zōken's true nature is the 'Crest Worm,' engraved with mystery. A lowly monitoring familiar, once. But modified to drain magical energy from humans. By turning himself into such a worm, he can implant himself in other bodies, devour them from within, and replace them. Every generation's head of the Matō clan was no true heir—merely a body controlled by the worm."
A body, without a mind.
Every so-called "head" of the Matō family had been nothing more than a husk, piloted by the same loathsome parasite.
And if that was true—then his daughter, set to inherit the Matō crest…
"Damn it!"
Rage surged through Tokiomi, so deep it could no longer be called cold.
He turned toward the Matō estate below, no longer concealing his murderous intent.
Were it not for the raging battle beneath, Lucan knew that Tokiomi would have already leapt down to personally kill Zōken.
But he also knew—Tokiomi never had such a chance.
For against Kuonji Alice, unleashing her full firepower, Matō Zōken could not hope to survive.
Not even with five centuries of parasitic cunning.
Alice's "fairy-tale" magecraft had seemed modest before—only because of the absurd foes she had faced. Lucan, with his countless generations of accumulated strength. Sesshōin Kiara, the "Heavenly Demon." Aozaki Tōko, whose City of Puppets rivaled the divine. Against them, even fragments of the First Magic might pale.
But against a mortal magus—Alice's power was overwhelming.
Even Tōko herself admitted that in a direct confrontation, she would stand no chance.
The proof unfolded before them.
The ground beneath the ruined Matō estate split apart, revealing a cavern crawling with countless larvae. Zōken's Crest Worm merged with the swarm, forming a grotesque new body some distance away—then turned to flee.
Without flesh, his true body had no attack power.Without his familiars, he was weak, feeble.He required the masses of worms to act at all.
But Alice had already raised her hand. The third of her mystic armaments awoke upon her pale wrist.
"Feast of Night… Target locked."
Darkness swallowed all light.
Phantoms of fairy-tale beings surged forth: Puss in Boots tore away his optic nerve, a regiment of tin soldiers impaled his reborn knees, and hovering before him was the most dreadful weapon of all—
A glass dagger.A cursed blade of legend, said to sever immortality itself.
It pierced straight toward the core of his soul.
"This is impossible…! A domain shift of this scale?!"
Zōken's insectile body convulsed.
Only then did he realize. He was not facing a modern magus—he was facing "fantasy" itself, given violent form.
Five centuries of insect sorcery meant nothing against this. His vaunted immortality was but a child's scribble before the witch's fairy-tale apocalypse.
And then—only the chirping of birds.
A blue robin descended from the sky, grasped the Crest Worm at its core—
And swallowed it whole.
Alice's Mystic Eyes flared, her breathing calm, her hand steady.
The bridge-giant still loomed, casting its immense shadow across the ruins.
The battle was finished.
But then—Alice extended her hand once more.
She seized the robin by its legs and began swinging it violently, her expression flat, her eyes full of disgust.
"Spit it out."
The bird flailed as she whipped it about.
At last, it coughed up the worm's mutilated fragments, which Alice burned to ash without hesitation—before casually tossing the poor robin far away.
"…." Lucan was silent.
So the Witch of Fairy Tales… was direct in her emotions, in every possible sense.
Tōsaka Tokiomi snapped back to himself, and without hesitation, leapt into the ruined grounds below.
"Sakura!"
He called out for his daughter amidst the shattered remains of the Matō estate.