Young Fujimaru Ritsuka tilted his head back, his clear blue eyes reflecting the figure of Steve. He blinked, as if trying to rember who this big brother was. After a mont, sothing seed to click. He managed a polite, slightly embarrassed smile and replied softly,
"Good evening… Nii-chan."
"I had duty at school today, so I'm ho a bit late."
Though Ritsuka's voice was childlike, his deanor was perfectly poised—a model of courtesy. Yet, as Steve looked at him, a complicated sympathy rose in his heart.
This ordinary child would one day, in a predetermined future, shoulder the fate of Earth and all humanity. He would be repeatedly bound by the heavy chain of Human Order, crossing seven eras and sundering seven worlds—perhaps, in the end, unable to keep even a single mory of his journey.
How cruel, Steve thought…
But there was no room for sympathy—the drama must go on. Steve crouched down to et the boy at eye level, the smile on his face gentle and warm.
"Really? I bet you're tired from your duties."
His voice carried a magical undertone, and the boy unconsciously shifted attention to him.
"Ritsuka… I have a request."
"Eh…? You want my help?"
The boy paused for a mont.
"Um, well…"
Steve nodded, then added, "Of course, it's fine for you to say no. Even without you, I could handle this myself. The only reason I'm asking here, face to face… is because I want to give you a gift."
"A gift?"
"Yes. A very unique one."
Steve's voice dropped lower, suffused with an air of mystery.
"A grand adventure—a journey you'll never forget, overflowing with color and backlight."
Color and backlight. These two words landed gently yet deeply in the boy's heart, with a weight that surpassed language. Fujimaru Ritsuka couldn't fully grasp their aning, but his keen ordinary intuition sounded desperate warnings.
This kind big brother before him—he sensed—was guiding him toward an extraordinary path.
He didn't know what the end of that path looked like, nor what unimaginable price he might pay, but he hesitated.
A deep crease ford in his small brow, and his blue eyes flickered with uncertainty and struggle. He glanced toward his ho, then looked back at Steve, trying for a brave smile.
As Steve expected, the boy's intuition was frighteningly sharp—just like the young Caren.
If he nodded here, his life would never be ordinary again.
And yet… Sowhere in the depths of his heart, a yearning for the unknown and adventure—one he himself wasn't aware of—surged up to overco his clinging to normalcy.
He drew a deep breath and nodded.
"...Alright. I'll help you."
Upon hearing this, Steve exhaled a long sigh of relief. A smile blossod across his face, earnest and true.
"Thank you, Ritsuka. You've made a very brave decision."
He stood up, reaching out a hand to the boy. "As a token of our contract, let's shake hands."
"Ah!"
Without a hint of suspicion, the boy extended his small hand and placed it in Steve's large palm.
In that mont, Steve activated the cosmic magecraft he'd prepared: the Weaver of mories.
It wasn't simple mory transference—it forcibly copied a full set of information, bound intimately to Steve's own soul and belonging to another future tiline, straight into the boy's soul through a compulsory experience.
Buzzz—!
Fujimaru Ritsuka's body went rigid. His eyes flew wide, blue pupils constricting sharply.
A torrent of information, too vast for words, rushed into the mind of six-year-old Ritsuka like a flood breaching a dam.
He saw Chaldea burning, a pink-haired girl and her shield, the soot of the hundred-year war against the evil dragon, arenas beneath the eternal madness of an empire, and storm after unending storm sealing the four seas at the end of the world——
"Ah… Ugh...!"
A muffled cry broke from his lips, his body trembling violently, face drained of all color.
It was not watching a video—he was there, present in those monts!
Every battle at the seven Singularities, every encounter, every sorrowful parting. Despair, standing against a Demon King; heartbreak, bidding farewell to King Solomon. The resolve to cut through eternal permafrost; the exhaustion of shattering endless ice and fla. He bore the sin of destroying a true, united kingdom of humanity, then gazed at gods atop mountains in the Interstellar City...
The joys and pains of 'Fujimaru Ritsuka'—all of it forcibly seared onto the boy's soul in that instant!
His weight sagged, knees nearly buckling, but Steve's grip was unyielding as iron—there was no escape.
This process, lasting a full minute, felt to the child like an eternity.
When the torrent finally ceased, he was left gasping, hair and clothes soaked in sweat, as if waking from a nightmare.
Steve at last released him, quietly observing.
The boy before him was no longer the innocent child from monts ago. Fujimaru Ritsuka bowed his small, shaking fra.
The fragile aura of childhood had vanished, replaced with the silent weight and exhaustion of soone who'd endured endless suffering.
"...I see. I understand now."
When he managed to speak, it was a ragged voice utterly unfitting for his age.
"That's right," said Steve calmly. "The true mastermind of all this, the Lord of the Clock Tower, ruler of celestial magecraft—Marisbury Animusphere—is, right now, in Fuyuki City."
"Tonight, he'll complete the summoning of Caster Solomon.
If no one stops him, everything you've just rembered will beco undeniable truth—and you'll have to correct it, eleven years from now, in your own life.
He paused, then continued gently, "And this body—myself—am here to stop him.
That's why I need a Master.
After thinking carefully, I decided that, in this world, it has to be you—not a noble or a genius magus, but you, the Last Master of Humanity: Fujimaru Ritsuka."
Steve knelt again, eting the boy's gaze for a final invitation.
"I've already given you a partial reward in advance.
The mories and personal growth that would've been rcilessly stripped at the end of your journey—all that is now yours.
If we defeat him here, preventing his plan to incinerate humanity at its source, then the one person you most wished to save—yet never could—Romani Archaman the doctor, may get to live again in this world.
So… are you willing?
Will you beco my Master, take to Fuyuki City, and—no matter what it costs—allow to face, in full and fair Master-Servant combat, the director you never confronted before?"
This ti, Fujimaru Ritsuka remained silent for a long while.
He bowed his head, the setting sun casting a long shadow at his feet.
Steve saw his small shoulders shake—not out of fear, but under the weight of overwhelming, bottled-up emotion.
How could a six-year-old body bear the soul of a hero? It was a kind of torture in itself.
At last, Ritsuka slowly straightened his neck.
The confusion of childhood was gone from those blue eyes, replaced with iron resolve—the indomitable will Steve rembered so well from countless battles: the will of humanity's final champion.
He said nothing more. He only nodded, once, powerfully.
In that instant, as if resonating with enlightennt transcending ti and space, a trendous surge of magical energy gathered at his right hand.
Three vivid red lines—emblems of the Command Seals, reminiscent of the blood of Christ dripping into the Holy Grail—appeared, burning, on the back of his soft hand—a Master's proof!
At last, a true smile of relief blossod on Steve's face.
He gently clasped the boy's right hand, now marked with the Seals.
This was no indoctrination—this was a true, equal contract.
"The contract is sealed," he said calmly, as magical threads bound their fates together.
"Let introduce myself, once more, Master.
Servant: Caster. True na: Steve Weis.
From this mont until the war ends, I shall be your sword and your shield."
…
Bonus chapter at 300 PS
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