Tōsaka Tokiomi's figure leapt down from the rooftop dome, the folds of his crimson formal robes billowing in the evening breeze. Whatever else could be said, as head of the Tōsaka family and as a magus entrusted with the mysteries of the world, he was also—however poorly he fulfilled the role—a father. At least in his own eyes, everything he did was for the sake of his daughter.
With that conviction, his current worry outweighed any notion of noble composure or magus dignity.
But after landing and taking only a few steps forward, he froze.
The sound of rustling leaves swelled all around him.
Looking closer, he realized—surrounding the Matō estate on all sides stood shadowy figures.
They were people.
Magicians… no, perhaps more accurately, jujutsu-shi—sorcerers rooted in the native traditions of Yamato, not in the Western world.
"'Night Raid'…"
Though there were only a dozen or so, scattered sparsely, it was enough to completely encircle the estate.
And the pressure radiating from them—an ancient mystery drawn from fragments of the divine—made the back of Tokiomi's neck prickle, cold sweat running down his spine.
So it was clear: whether the battle ended in overwhelming victory or not, Matō Zōken was never going to escape.
"Not going to continue searching for your daughter, Head of the Tōsaka family?"
The voice of Lucan reached him.
Tokiomi blinked back to awareness, turning to see the foreign youth who had silently stepped before him. He drew in a deep breath and nodded solemnly.
Thank goodness.
He was relieved he had never stood against this one.
If 'Night Raid' could deploy so many elite sorcerers, then the title of "Overlord" was no mere boast.
And what's more…
Before anyone could approach, the towering "Giant of the Bridge" dissolved into a clatter of falling rock and splintered wood. Kuonji Alice calmly gathered up the scattered paints, then, with a face full of distaste, slipped a thumb-sized blue robin doll into her coat pocket. She tucked away a figure of a graceful lady as well.
The fairy-tale monsters of the witch were all borne by such light, portable trinkets she could carry on her person.
Meanwhile, within the quiet estate, faint footsteps stirred from the only building left untouched by the giant's destruction. The steps were small, quick, almost cautious—until at last, a frail little silhouette timidly crept into view.
A face full of fear.
"So this is the Tōsaka family's second daughter—Matō Sakura?"
Aozaki Aoko, who had been watching all along, strolled over.
Her carefree demeanor made the little girl shrink back toward the shadows.
"That's 'Tōsaka Rin,'"
Alice corrected sternly.
The fairy-tale witch harbored a visceral disgust for dirty, repulsive insects—so strong that she could not even stomach letting Sakura bear the Matō surname.
Aoko gave a nervous chuckle. "Then… Tōsaka Sakura, huh?"
"Who… who are you?"
The little girl's trembling voice wavered out of the darkness. "What did you do to Grandpa?"
"That's not your grandpa," Alice corrected again. "That's a monster."
"Monster… Grandpa?"
"…"
Alice fell silent, exasperated. Aoko, however, burst into laughter, watching Alice stubbornly try to "fix" the girl's words. Her gaze toward the child softened with relief.
Lucan had told them much beforehand—about the past, and about one possible future for "Matō Sakura." He had said it was only one potential outcome among infinite worldlines, not an absolute. But seeing the little girl before them, Aoko felt grateful they had arrived in time.
This child had not yet endured the inhuman torment of worm magecraft. She had not been twisted into something broken and grotesque.
Matō Sakura—Tōsaka Sakura.
The girl who, in Lucan's recollections of the "original," had suffered day and night under the gnawing of swarms, here still carried her purity intact.
That was enough.
"Don't worry about your monster grandpa." Aoko smiled, raising her hand. "Tōsaka Sakura… Sakura-chan, right? Come on, we'll take you home!"
The future had already changed.
There was no need to dwell on what might have been.
"...Home?" The little girl's eyes lit up at the word, glimmering in the shadows. She stepped hesitantly into the open at last, and the two young women finally saw her clearly.
A small girl with short, silky violet hair tied with a red ribbon bow. A purple dress fell neatly at her waist, accentuating her delicate, doll-like frame. Her pale face, finely sculpted features, and soft complexion gave her the fragile beauty of a porcelain doll.
Looking up at the two kind young women—so much gentler than her "grandfather"—she whispered timidly:
"Can I really… go home?"
"Of course you can." Aoko grinned. "And if that bastard father of yours dares to abandon you again—I'll punch him so hard he'll fly!"
As she spoke, the girl actually threw a mock punch, the air cracking with a sonic boom.
Tokiomi, who had crept closer, froze in place, drenched in sweat.
"Yes."
Watching the child step from the shadows, Alice bent down slightly, her expression calm and steady. "From today, you are my student. Your problems are my problems."
"And mine too!" Aoko chimed in.
This really was… something extraordinary.
Tokiomi hesitated, but ultimately chose not to step forward. Lucan, behind him, only chuckled at the scene, finding it amusing.
Just as he had told Alice from the beginning:
The girl called Tōsaka Sakura was gifted. Her magical attribute was so rare that Tokiomi himself had thought it wasteful to neglect her—an element outside the normal affinities: "Imaginary Numbers."
What were Imaginary Numbers?
Things that both exist and do not exist, both real and unreal.
The unseen "reverse side" of all phenomena.
A magus with this affinity could thrust their hand into the gaps between dimensions—gaps that did not truly exist, yet could be forced open.
Though different in essence from Alice's own magic of fairy-tales, rooted in the First Magic, it was nonetheless a kind of kindred path.
If developed fully, perhaps this attribute could allow Sakura to inherit Alice's art to some extent—even if only superficially.
That had been the plan all along.
To make Matō Sakura Alice's student.
In doing so, they would change not only her present… but also her future.
"In the end, when faced with choosing between the unconventional and the cliché… I suppose I chose the cliché."
And of course, it was a cliché.
Anyone with the chance to reach the world of the Moon would wish to extend a hand to save her.
But that was fine.
For Lucan was, after all, just an ordinary man.