In this corner of the Ahnenerbe Café, a deathlike silence reigned for a long while.
Zelretch, the Second Magician, who had witnessed the birth and death of countless worlds and even faced the Crimson Moon head-on, was now as if petrified—like he had been fixated by Medusa's mystic eyes.
The quiet smile on his face gradually faded, his expression morphing by degrees into vacant confusion. The teacup in his hand hung motionless in the air, as if even the steam of the tea had frozen solid.
Steve's absurd theory about maternal had, like a conceptual Noble Phantasm, pierced straight through the logical defenses Zelretch had painstakingly built from his endless observations of parallel worlds—toppling his psyche headlong into a logical black hole bigger than any before.
Steve, meanwhile, was fascinated by witnessing a shutdown in Zelretch—a rare sight in even a thousand years. He even had the leisure to take a slow sip of his coffee.
Four or five minutes passed; when his opponent began to look truly unhinged, Steve decided it was finally time to stop playing around.
"So then—" He set down his cup, and in an oddly solemn voice—as if praying to a god—he formally requested the still-stonefaced Magus: "Zelretch, I have a very serious request for you."
"Among the infinite parallel worlds your Second Magic can observe, is there a world, or perhaps several, that contains a perfect woman—or women?"
"Of course, with the condition that the world cannot be as peaceful as ours. Some grand incident must be unfolding."
"After all, heroes need a stage where their talents can shine, don't they?"
His words worked like a system reboot, jumpstarting Zelretch's paralyzed thoughts.
He sucked in a deep breath, as if to exhale all the chaotic, conceptual air he had just inhaled. With a blank face, he reached for his teacup, withdrew the spoon, and—with a flick—washed and dried it by magic.
After finishing these little actions, he turned back to observe Steve with a complicated, entirely new gaze—a strange blend of surprise, admiration, and a hint of fear, as though studying some unknown alien creature.
He fell silent for a while, then finally closed his eyes.
The enormous ruby at the tip of his jeweled staff began to shine a deep crimson, illuminating the old man's face in red glow.
Steve could feel the space subtly twisting about them. Within Zelretch's kaleidoscope, images from countless parallel worlds flashed by like broken glass—steampunk London, modern metropolises filled with magical girls soaring overhead, burnt-out landscapes overrun with giant robots, eras when gods and humans still coexisted…
Finally, all images converged on the frozen white expanse of Antarctica—and, standing tall at its center, a huge white circular structure: the Chaldea Security Organization, humanity's last hope.
Zelretch opened his eyes. The impish smile returned to his lips—but with a touch of unexplained, almost playful delight.
"Hmph… I found one."
He chuckled cheerfully. "Your luck—or better, your destiny—is preposterously good."
"Such a world does exist, and only one. No more, no less."
He paused, sorting his thoughts, but then stressed with a voice almost overflowing with goodwill: "But the big task of that world is nothing so simple as defeating a few Demon Pillars or mediating a family feud."
"The enemy there is the world itself."
"Most interestingly, from my observation, every struggle in that timeline seems like a drawing in the sand, left to be washed away by the tide called the restoration of humanity—making all effort likely futile, ending with nothing happened as the result."
"So—are you still interested?"
"No problem at all!"
Steve's attitude was as relaxed as if heading to a weekend party. "The thrill of the journey is more important than the end result."
"As long as there's a motherly girl, I'm in!"
"Haha, I thought you'd say that." Zelretch laughed. "Then listen well. That world's timeline—by the Gregorian calendar—is late 2017."
"And as fate would have it, the setting is the very city you're standing in now: Fuyuki City."
"One more thing," his grin turned even more mysterious. "When you get there, head to Chaldea in Antarctica as soon as you can. Otherwise… you might run into some very, very unfortunate events."
Unfortunate events at Chaldea in 2017…
Upon hearing this, Steve instantly understood.
Isn't this the prologue to FGO 2.0—the Lost Belt incident? Chaldea assaulted by NFF's special forces and Tsar mercenaries, with all staff (except a handful) slaughtered. The world is destroyed; the single darkest curtain-raiser in all of FGO history.
"…Are you messing with me?"
Steve's face darkened in a flash. He slumped helplessly in his chair. "Save humanity again? I just did something similar a month ago! Now you want me to play babysitter in a collapsing alternate world?"
"Couldn't I just get a simpler scenario—one where I talk about love and save the world as a side gig?"
"Simple?" Zelretch looked as if he'd heard the world's greatest joke. "Hey, let's be clear—"
"For a Servant candidate who fits both the mutually exclusive ideals of mature and young at once, and who shows up in the same world's summoning list by the same Master—I've observed countless world-lines, and that's a miracle!"
"What more could you want? Isn't it only fair this miraculous windfall from above comes with a little world-destroying challenge attached?"
"..."
Steve was left speechless.
He folded his arms, leaned back, and closed his eyes in thought.
In his mind, the image of the motherly young waifu clashed violently with the unspeakably grim plot of Fate/Grand Order Part 2—the betrayals, sacrifices, unending agonies.
After a long struggle between desire and reason, desire ultimately won.
The little head triumphed over the big one.
"…Alright."
He opened his eyes, motivation to raise some hell burning anew.
"I'm going!"
"I knew it." Zelretch smiled like a child caught stealing candy.
He put away his jeweled staff, stood up, and indicated the café door with a silent gesture.
"Well then—bon voyage."
"No need to see me off. Just grab the handle and open the door. The stage you've so eagerly awaited lies just beyond."
Steve nodded, stood, fished some coins from his pocket and left them gently on the table.
"Thank you, old man," he said, turning and walking unhesitatingly toward what looked like a perfectly ordinary wooden door.
The cold brass doorknob felt charged with a surge of magical force centered on the hinges.
He gave it a firm push—and the door swung open.
Outside was no longer the familiar cityscape of Fuyuki's Shinto, but a dazzling white corridor woven of data streams and infinite possibility.
Steve glanced back to find Zelretch watching with a teacup, mouthing "Good luck."
He smiled, then strode into the white light without looking back.
Behind him, the wooden door of Ahnenerbe Café closed quietly.
When Steve emerged from the other end of the corridor, he squinted against brilliant sunlight.
He saw familiar streets and buildings—yet everything resonated with festive bustle and wintry chill that hadn't been there before. Store windows were already decked with Christmas decorations.
He realized: the date is now late December 2017. Less than a day remains until the global Lost Belt calamity.
A new stage had been set.
…