Steve released Sion's hand and took a half-step back. His black supreme commander's uniform began to ripple with bizarre data waves, like a disrupted CRT television image—yet more refined, more futuristic, almost sci-fi in nature. But this was no magical radiance; rather, it was an orderly reconfiguring of matter by a flow of higher-dimensional information.
"The Rider Class was designed to command vast armies and control fortresses."
"That's optimal for handling rebellious Lostbelt kings and towering extraterrestrial monstrosities, but using that kind of brute force to solve your delicate causal deadlock is overkill—like using a battleship's main gun for a mosquito's minor surgery. It's just too much."
As he finished speaking, a distinct click echoed from the surrounding space—a sign that he was adjusting his Saint Graph and changing Class once again. The aura of majesty and authority that shrouded him vanished in an instant. What remained was a mysterious, radiant intelligence, as if containing infinite untapped possibilities.
As the light faded, Steve's outfit subtly shifted. The base color remained black, but the previously heavy military uniform became lighter, better tailored, and reimagined with streamlined futurism. But most striking of all was the thing that suddenly appeared at his waist—a glaringly out-of-place white, semicircular pocket.
"This... this is—"
Sion's eyes widened. Her rationality as an Atlas alchemist was being tested more than ever before. With trembling fingers, she pointed at the pocket.
"Judging by its magical response, that's a conceptual weapon connected to higher dimensions... but why does its shape look so... so familiar?"
"Is it... like that cat-shaped baby-care robot Pocket that was popular in the late 20th century?"
Steve raised an eyebrow, flashing a casual smile.
"Ahh, don't worry about the details."
"This is my core Noble Phantasm when I manifest as an Archer—Interstellar Gate."
He tapped the pocket lightly, like a child showing off a new toy.
"To put it simply, this is a four-dimensional treasure bag packed with humanity's wisdom for the next billion years."
"Given that successive generations have gradually evolved their technology tree to near-miraculous levels, isn't it only right for their ancestor—me—to borrow their inventions when needed?"
"The future... a billion years ahead?"
Sion gasped. As an alchemist with foresight, no one better understood the unimaginable length implied. This was no longer a mere 'technological advancement,' but true progress in the very essence of life and the universe itself.
"Anyway, let's not dawdle."
"The children of the future have long since created a perfect solution to your foolish logic of selling yourself to help the Lostbelts."
Bending down abruptly, Steve brought his face close to the dazed Sion, his grin broadening into a mischievous, almost comical expression. He fished around inside the white pocket, producing a classic, familiar sound effect perfectly.
"Ta-da! There's nothing can't be solve anymore!"
To the tune of non-existent cheerful BGM, he drew out a coin-sized, faintly shimmering silver badge and held it before her.
"The Dimensional Badge—!"
"H-huh?"
Sion gave a faint, confused sound. For a moment, she felt as if she weren't discussing a dire crisis of human survival, but had instead been transported into a children's comic strip.
"As long as you wear this badge, the built-in Causal Phase Shift Field will activate," Steve explained, the clownishness vanishing from his face. Though in his hand, the gadget still looked like a toy, his tone turned earnest.
"In conceptual terms, it blurs your existential coordinates."
"Put simply, in the eyes of observers from Proper Human History such as those alien gods, you'll still register as part of Proper Human History. But under Lostbelt rules, you'll be seen as a harmless local inhabitant, or a wandering observer."
He gently fastened the badge onto Sion's collar. The badge glowed briefly at the touch, then faded away, leaving behind only a faint silver pattern.
"With this, you don't need to bind yourself to the Lostbelt's causality and be severed along with it at the end of each event anymore."
"Now, you can freely intervene in the Lostbelt, assist Chaldea, even open a café if you want."
"And once everything ends and the Lostbelt is pruned, you can return unscathed to Human History—just take off the badge conceptually."
Steve stepped back, admiring his handiwork with satisfaction.
"Well? This is basically a cheat code from the future. Might be a little unfair to those still struggling to master magecraft, but to save the world, extreme means are sometimes justified."
Sion bowed her head, reaching toward the now-invisible badge at her collar. It didn't feel cold or heavy like profound magecraft; it still held some warmth. More than anything, it felt like the comfort of receiving a protective charm from her family.
"Is this... future technology?"
She muttered, "No sacrifice, no price—after all those endless calculations, all those sleepless nights, a simple gadget untied the knot..."
It was truly a dimensional reduction attack. While the alchemists at Atlas agonized over how to avert destruction, the civilization this man represented had already reached the point of manipulating causality and dimensions as easily as air. The disparity was simultaneously despair-inducing and incredibly fortunate.
It was lucky for her that he was on her side.
"What... is this?"
Sion suddenly started laughing, the tears unshed in her eyes finally softening into a true smile.
"It's almost like cheating! If my father found out, he'd be furious and tear the whole script up!"
"Well, let him get mad."
Steve shrugged. "In any case, he's a nightmare in my world, and in this one... well, he'd probably be shocked too."
"Thank you, Doraemon—no, I mean, Rider—no, Archer?"
Sion hesitated, staring at the man whose titles seemed to switch at random. But in the end, she gave up on speaking further, and ran over to throw her arms around him.
"Thank you, Steve. Thank you—truly."
Feeling the real warmth and trembling of the girl in his arms, Steve gently patted her back. Maybe solving things in cosplay did spoil the atmosphere, but seeing her finally free from the heavy burden of self-sacrifice, able to laugh, cry, and act cute like a normal girl—he wouldn't trade it for anything.
"You're welcome, Sion-chan."
He whispered gently by her ear, "After all, protecting Nobita, ahem... and protecting my Master's smile... that's the duty of an all-purpose robot."
"Ugh... you're still acting!"
Sion laughed, wiping away tears, snuggling into him like a kitten finally finding a place of rest.
"But now that I have this four-dimensional pocket, can't I hope for a little more? Like... say, an instant device to analyze the Fantasy Trees? Or something even better than our current spaceship?"
"Oi, don't push your luck."
Steve looked serious for a moment, "Sure, there's lots of good stuff in there, but to preserve the fun of your growth—and to avoid collapsing the timeline—item usage needs restrictions."
"However—"
He winked mischievously.
"We might still be able to talk about better vehicles. After all, saving the world in a tin can submarine hardly befits the dignity of the Supreme Commander of the Human Federation, don't you think?"
…