Magician in Type-Moon

Page 580

This is not just simple noise, but a shock wave with real force!

The gray fog was violently stirred and torn, forming a visible vortex.

Caught off guard, Yvette and Fru were struck by the sudden sound wave, their blood surging, their eardrums throbbing, and they almost lost their balance.

They instantly covered their ears, their faces flashing with horror.

Cerberus! The guardian of the gates of the underworld!

This triple roar from the depths of hell, with its terrifying pressure and divine qualities, is an unmistakable sign for anyone with even a basic understanding of mysticism!

Yvette and Furu exchanged a glance, both understanding each other's thoughts.

In the brief intervals between the violent roars, their eyes met briefly in the air.

Without a word, all the scheming, probing, and hidden motives were temporarily suppressed by this earth-shattering roar.

In the instant their eyes met, only one crystal-clear and irrefutable consensus remained:

This means someone has gone out.

There is only one reason why the gatekeeper of the underworld could roar so furiously and wildly—something living has broken through the gates of the underworld it guards and left this kingdom of the dead!

The only living people who have fallen into this place, besides the two of them, are that man! Besides the unfathomable and resourceful Matou Ike, who else could not only find a way out of this desperate situation, but also forcefully break through by provoking the guardians in this way?!

The next moment, the entire underworld seemed to be shrouded in mist.

It was as if in response to Cerberus's rage, or as if the underworld itself was enraged by the "intruder's escape."

The already ubiquitous gray fog suddenly became a hundred times, a thousand times thicker!

They are no longer drifting smoke and dust, but rather like a living, viscous gray tide, surging, churning, and converging wildly from all directions and from every inch of space!

Their line of sight was confined to within three meters of themselves.

The thick, impenetrable gray fog instantly engulfed everything. The distant scenery, the "path" beneath our feet, and even the figures of our companions right in front of us were all completely erased in an instant!

Visibility plummeted at a desperate rate, and the field of vision was forcibly compressed into a small cage—barely able to see an area of ​​less than three meters around oneself.

The thick fog, cold and damp, pressed heavily on the skin, blocking out the light and swallowing the sound. The whole world seemed to consist only of one's own suppressed heartbeat and this boundless, suffocating grayness.

Yvette and Fru were instantly and completely swallowed up in the sudden, pitch-black surge of gray fog.

The brief eye contact and unspoken understanding that had just been exchanged were severed by this absolute isolation.

Unknown dangers are brewing silently in the depths of the thick fog.

.........

Is that a suitable place to end this farce?

The thought flashed through Matou Ike's mind. He looked around, and the strangeness and grandeur of this space did indeed carry an almost fateful sense of ritual.

At least, Matouchichi looked up at the canopy.

He raised his head, his gaze piercing through this man-made "sky".

Several swirling beams of light were connected, reminiscent of the World Tree from mythology.

Countless veins of light, some thick and some thin, flowing with pure energy, intertwine, spiral, branch, and connect on the enormous dome overhead, forming an incomparably complex and magnificent scene.

They are not static, but pulsate slowly like the blood vessels of a living body, radiating a gentle yet infinitely powerful glow.

Its form is an abstract representation of Yggdrasil, the legendary World Tree that supports the nine realms.

Judging from the coordinates alone, this place is clearly deep underground, reaching the mantle, yet the light adorning the dome is as magnificent as a starry sky, making it feel like being in the universe [sky].

This is the most intense sensory paradox.

Reason clearly tells us that this is deep within the mantle beneath the Earth's flesh and blood, an absolute dark realm that even sunlight cannot reach.

However, as far as the eye can see, the dome "adorned" by countless branches of light is so dazzling, so profound, and so vast that it is no different from looking up at the boundless starry sky.

The sense of space is completely overturned at this moment, making one feel as if they are in the embrace of the universe, and the solid ground under their feet becomes an illusion.

At the center of this "underground universe," a huge and complex magic circle radiates a ghostly blue light, its lines precise and mysterious, like the solidified trajectory of stars.

Scattered around it are several Stat gold coins shimmering with an ominous dark gold, the hands of an antique-style pocket watch seemingly frozen at a specific moment, and a silver briefcase, its body tightly closed, standing silently like a guardian of secrets.

"........."

silence.

Only the faint hum of the light veins flowing from the "World Tree" could be heard.

The red-haired magician stood before the magic circle.

Hartres's figure was frozen at the heart of this grand set.

He remained motionless, like a statue with his back to the entrance, his long red hair appearing like flowing flames under the "starlight".

He had his back to Matou Pond and didn't turn around for a long time.

This posture was not arrogant, but rather one of complete absorption. His entire mind seemed to be focused on the magic circle before him, or some profound meaning contained within the light-veined dome.

Matou Pond had no idea what was within the light.

Was Hartres gazing at the core of that magical circle? A node where light veins converged? Or some kind of "future" existing deep within the light, visible only to him?

However, the magician realized that Matou Ike had invaded the space, but did not turn around immediately, which made him feel that there was something important inside the light.

This focus on ignoring the intruder is itself a declaration.

It silently tells Matouike: at this moment, what is happening or being connected in that light is far more important than any threat posed by any intruder.

"What's the status of the Grand Order decision?"

The magician still had his back to Matou Ike when he spoke.

Hartres's voice broke the silence, calm and undisturbed, as if he were merely asking about the weather.

He remained with his back turned, his gaze never leaving the light.

Matou Ike was not surprised at all.

The moment he stepped into this space, he had rehearsed countless ways the conversation would begin. Now, his response was fluent and precise, like a script that had already been written.

"Ms. Enola seems to have requested that the meeting be temporarily adjourned. There's probably about an hour left. It seems they'll decide whether to pretend the meeting never happened based on whether I can stop her."

The message was concise and clear: the meeting was suspended for fifteen minutes, and his actions were key to the decision.

"...Oh dear, this change startled me."

Hartres finally let out a soft sigh, his tone carrying just the right amount of surprise, as if he was truly moved by this "unexpected" event.

But that was all the surprise I had.

Nevertheless, several mysteries remain.

He then shifted his tone, acknowledging the variables but also implying that everything was still under control and the core mystery remained unsolved.

"In that case, a lot of things will be decided in this hour or so... Lord Matou."

This was the first time he used the slightly formal title "Lord Matou".

Hartres took a step toward Matou Pond and asked:

He finally moved. His body slowly turned around, and with that one step, it was as if he had returned from an immersive world to the stage of reality.

Beneath her red hair, her eyes, filled with inquiry and a complex emotion that was hard to describe, fell upon Matou Ike.

"What is your purpose in coming here? To stop me?"

The most crucial question was directly raised.

"Of course, that's exactly right."

Matouchi's answer was without the slightest hesitation and was resolute.

This is not a blind slogan, but an inevitable choice based on a profound understanding.

Hartres tilted his head in disbelief.

This gesture, imbued with childlike innocence and confusion, subtly contrasts with his identity as a magician and the atmosphere of the place.

The red hair swayed gently.

"Why? If it were you, you should have already figured out my motives. I intend to create a god of magic. You should have no reason to stop me."

His confusion is genuine.

In his constructed logic, the pursuit of the ultimate form of magic—creating a god belonging to magicians—should have been a shared goal rather than an enemy for Matou Ike, who also sought the roots and explored the ultimate mystery.

He was certain that Matouike had grasped the core of his plan.

"I must have come here to confirm this."

Obstruction is the outward appearance of the action; confirmation is the essence of this journey.

He did not come to deny Hartres's "motives," but to witness firsthand, touch with his own hands, and ultimately confirm whether the "results" led by these motives were as he intended, and whether... they were worth stopping.

His words flowed so smoothly, as if he had rehearsed this conversation a thousand times during his long journey.

"……I see."

Hartres nodded.

After a brief silence, Hartres nodded slowly. This simple gesture contained understanding, comprehension, and perhaps even a hint of something subtle...relief or appreciation?

He seemed to finally understand the real reason why Matouike was standing there—not for blind confrontation, but for an ultimate "verification".

"Ten years ago, you were eaten by that monster, weren't you?" Matou Ike suddenly asked.

silence.

The expression that had been carrying a hint of inquiry and complex emotions froze in an instant.

The red-haired magician's body seemed to be nailed to the spot by an invisible force. He did not deny it, nor was he angry, nor even showed the slightest hint of surprise.

There was only pure, unfathomable silence. This silence itself was like a heavy gate falling, cutting off all possible emotions, yet it was more powerful than any argument.

It acknowledges the existence of the event but refuses to reveal details.

"Or would it be more appropriate to say that you were swallowed up thirty years ago?"

Matou Ike's voice rang out again, still calm, but with a deeper penetrating power.

Instead of dwelling on Hartres's unanswered question about "ten years ago," he abruptly pushed the timeline forward twenty years—"thirty years ago."