London, England — The Clock Tower.
Inside the library.
A young man with long blond hair stood leaning against a bookshelf in a quiet corner, his left hand holding a book while his right flipped through its pages.
"Holy Grail…"
"Two thousand years ago, the families known to have discovered it—the Einzbern, Makiri, and Tohsaka—worked together to summon the Holy Grail, said to be capable of granting any wish."
"But the Holy Grail could only grant one wish. So the three families decided to determine who was worthy of owning it through a competition among magi. Thus, the bloody ritual known as the Holy Grail War was born."
The blond young man closed the book with a soft thud and returned it to the shelf.
"Holy Grail War, huh…"
Instead of leaving the library, he remained where he was, seemingly lost in thought.
Before he could dwell on it further, a familiar voice called out his name.
In the distance, he saw a young woman—about seventeen years old—walking toward his table.
"Charl-sama, I'm sorry to interrupt your studies, but Lord Animusphere is calling for you," the young woman said nervously.
Charl's expression hardened for a moment upon hearing that. Even so, he offered her a warm smile.
"No, Trisha. You didn't interrupt me at all. In fact, I was just about to leave the library anyway. Let's go."
Trisha nodded and turned around, walking ahead of him. Soon, the blond young man—Charl—followed behind her.
The walk was quiet, filled only with the sound of their footsteps. Before long, they reached the library exit.
As they entered the corridor, they were greeted by a bustling crowd of students passing through.
The atmosphere was lively—too lively for a place like this.
Charl observed them, noticing the movement of their lips. He could tell they were gossiping about something.
However, he had no interest in rumors, so instead of listening, he walked beside Trisha in silence. Minutes passed without either of them speaking.
Trisha seemed uncomfortable with the silence and glanced at Charl. Noticing her gaze, Charl smiled gently, giving her silent permission to speak.
Trisha cleared her throat, a little nervously.
"Ahem… Charl-sama, have you heard the recent news at the Clock Tower?"
"Which one?" Charl asked, holding his chin as he tried to recall the rumors circulating recently.
"It's about the Holy Grail War," Trisha said, crossing her arms as she walked.
"I heard that Manaka Sajyou is participating… Oh, and Lord Kayneth El-Melloi as well. There's also a rumor that the Heirs of barthomeloi is involved."
"I see…"
Charl let out a faint smile at her words. Trisha noticed and uncrossed her arms.
"Charl-sama, are you interested in participating? Um… I heard that the Lord mentioned it some time ago as well… Ah, we've arrived at the office."
"Mmm."
Trisha opened the door and stepped aside, gesturing for him to enter. Charl nodded and walked inside.
Got it. I'll fix the grammar, improve clarity and flow, and keep the storyline exactly the same.
---
The door closed behind Charl as he entered the lord's office. Inside, he saw Lord Animusphere—Marrisbury Animusphere—standing behind his desk, facing the window. He seemed to be gazing outside.
"My son… can you sense the storm that is approaching?" Marrisbury said as he turned to face his child, a faint and gentle smile gracing his face.
"W–what? Pfft—"
Charl couldn't hold it in and let out a chuckle, quickly covering his mouth as he tried to suppress his laughter.
Marrisbury's smile froze when he saw his son chuckled. Even so, the faint, gentle smile soon returned as he spoke.
"Why are you laughing? What is funny?"
"Ahem… nothing, Father. It's just the way you phrased it—it reminded me of something amusing."
Charl smiled warmly, as if he hadn't been laughing at his face. Marrisbury remained silent for a moment. Without questioning further, he continued.
"What I mean is Manaka Sajyou. By now, I assume you've heard of her?"
…
Charl stayed silent. He walked over and sat down on one of the couches. As he settled in, he finally spoke. Marrisbury watched him without saying anything, then returned to his desk and sat down as well.
"Yes. So what about her?" Charl said, leaning back against the couch.
"What about her?" Marrisbury replied.
"Well, let's see… a direct disciple of the Second Magician, a once-in-a-generation talent, a woman capable of recreating Lord El-Melloi's signature Mystic Code, the number one genius of the Clock Tower, rumored to be developing the Sixth True Magic. There's even talk that she's connected to the Swirl of the Root itself."
"With all that, you still ask 'what about her'? I don't know whether you're ignorant or simply dense."
Marrisbury stopped speaking as he observed his son's expression. Charl remained silent for about a minute. Then he smiled gently—the same smile his father often wore.
"Father… did you call me here just to say all of that?"
"Well… if the rumors are true, then I am indeed far behind her. So what are you trying to achieve by stating something so obvious?"
The room filled with pressure as Charl spoke, a subtle hint of annoyance in his voice.
Marrisbury, however, seemed completely unbothered. He sat calmly, as if nothing had changed, and continued speaking in the same composed tone.
"Charl, the reason I'm saying this is so you understand the gap between geniuses. Although you are a genius as well, there is a limit to how far a magus can go without a Magic Crest."
"That's why I want you to inherit the—"
"Father."
Charl cut him off, his expression firm and determined.
"Didn't I already say that I don't want to inherit the family Magic Crest? Do you understand that? Or do I need to explain it again?"
"..."
The room fell silent for the first time. Neither of them spoke. The silence stretched on—until it was broken by a sudden voice.
But it wasn't Charl's or Marrisbury's.
It was a woman's voice—Trisha's.
"Excuse me, Charl-sama. Someone is looking for you."
"I'll be there in a moment, Father. Excuse me."
Without another word, Charl stood up and walked toward the door. Slowly, he opened it.
There, standing outside, was—
Sixteen years ago, an unfortunate man died in an alley under mysterious circumstances—and was reborn into the prestigious magus family, the Animuspheres.
Named Charl Animusphere by his father, Marrisbury Animusphere, he was born with fragmented memories of his past life. As the first child of the family head, everyone assumed he would one day inherit the Animusphere legacy.
A few years later, his sister Marie Olga Animusphere was born.
At the age of ten, Charl's memories fully returned. Realizing he was living in the dangerous Type-Moon world, and understanding what kind of family he belonged to, he began distancing himself from his parents.
Despite this, Charl was undeniably talented. He possessed an unusually large number of Magic Circuits and showed exceptional compatibility with Animusphere magecraft, earning praise from his father and being labeled a genius by the Clock Tower—though Charl himself felt no joy in it.
At fifteen, Marrisbury announced his intention to pass the family Magic Crest to Charl. To everyone's shock, Charl coldly refused.
The reason was simple.
Charl had awakened the First Magic "Denial of Nothingness." He had become a Magician, achieving what countless magi could only dream of.
With no need for the Magic Crest—and growing increasingly uncomfortable with his father—Charl chose to sever ties with his family. Five months earlier, he had even dyed his hair gold, symbolically rejecting the Animusphere identity.
Though many mocked him as ungrateful, they didn't know the truth.
Marrisbury, instead of being angered, merely smiled—his interest in his son only deepening. Charl, however, ignored him completely, meeting his father only when called.
Life after that decision became quiet—too quiet.
Charl left the Animusphere estate soon after, settling into a modest residence near the Clock Tower. To the outside world, he was a prodigy who had thrown away his future. To Charl himself, it was simply survival.
Becoming a Magician didn't make life easier. If anything, it made things worse.
The First Magic was absolute, but it was also extremely dangerous. Using it recklessly would invite sealing designations, assassins, or worse—attention. And attention was the last thing Charl wanted.
So he hid it, only using it when absolutely necessary.
Time passed as Charl quietly studied at the Clock Tower. His classmates often stole glances at him, while his teachers placed unspoken pressure on his shoulders. Even so, Charl ignored it all and remained deliberately unremarkable.
A year went by, and the rumors surrounding him gradually faded. The attention once fixed on Charl drifted elsewhere, drawn to a newly emerged prodigy—one who swiftly captivated the interest of the Twelve Lords.
That genius was now standing before him.
Charl stood in front of his father's office, facing the girl whose name had shaken the Clock Tower.
"Manaka Sajyou," he said calmly.
"I wonder what kind of business we have here?"