Ritsuka's stupor didn't last long. His soul, tempered by countless desperate crises, overca the emotional shock and forced him to calmly accept the surreal scene before him.
He inhaled the morning air deeply; the scent of earth and plants stood in vivid contrast to the cold tallic tang of the giant steel beast.
He nodded, speaking in an unusually composed tone for a child. "Alright, Caster. Let's go."
Steve smiled, acknowledging his quick adaptation. He raised his hand and gently pressed the vehicle's side; almost imperceptible magical ripples stirred the chassis, and Shadow Border's heavy side door rose open with a low hum, revealing a ramp into the interior.
From within flowed soft white light and the distinctive odor of tal, engine oil, and ozone—the unique Chaldea scent.
The sll made Ritsuka unconsciously tense. Yet, he climbed the ramp step by steady step, fingers brushing the cold tal wall, each familiar texture erasing the last confusion from his mind—or perhaps, aligning him with the reality that he was returning to the battlefield.
Inside, his pupils shrank at the familiar scene.
It was exactly as he rembered. The narrow central corridor lined with hatches leading to various functional areas. Skidproof tal flooring. Ergency lights along the walls. He recalled precisely where enemy fire had dented which wall, and which hatch's warning light flashed brightest during ergency dives.
Of course, the present Shadow Border was spotless and unused—a new ship free from scars of battle. But this perfection only made him feel more disoriented, like ti and space had misaligned. It felt as if he'd stepped back to when he first boarded the Border, before the journey began.
"This is… just…" He finally couldn't suppress his trembling and muttered to himself, turning to Steve in disbelief. "Caster, how did you—this vessel, this equipnt… isn't it supposed to be from the future?"
Steve didn't answer directly. Instead, in a deliberately human manner, he scratched his head sheepishly—like a boy unsure if he should show off a new toy. "Ah, this… That's one of the benefits of the Caster class. I pulled a lot of all-nighters using Item Creation but even then, most of this is almost hand-made."
"After all, a Caster who can't even create his own thod of travel… that's a bit silly, right?"
The explanation barely convinced Ritsuka. He frowned slightly. "But… it's too accurate. Not just the exterior, but the internal structure, energy circulation—everything matches my mory. This can't just be item creation."
"Sharp as always, Master." Steve nodded, then offered a half-true, half-false clarification he'd prepared. "The reason it matches so well is simple: I know its technical designer. In my world, I had quite a... special relationship with Sion of Atlas Academy in my previous life. I learned all this from her. This is my first ti really manufacturing it, and thankfully, my skills are as sharp as ever."
"Sion…?" Ritsuka's eyes briefly shone. The na was all too familiar to one who had journeyed to revive humanity—chattering, genius alchemist, technical advisor in the wandering sea.
He pressed further, "What kind of special relationship did you have with her?"
"Cough!" Steve deftly cut off the question with a tily, light cough—he had no intention of revealing that in a past life, Sion had been his comrade-in-arms and wife.
So, he changed the subject, pointing to the cockpit. "Personal matters can wait, Master. Right now, let's start our journey with the Shadow Border to London. No need to worry about ti; by using virtual space as a shortcut, we can get there in four or five minutes."
The astonishing estimate grabbed Ritsuka's complete attention. Four to five minutes to cross half the planet?! It surpassed even the original technology—after all, that technology only existed because the world had co to a halt.
But before he could ponder the deeper principles, Steve continued. "You can use the ti to change. Your magic uniforms from Chaldea are all in the wardrobe in your room. I'm sure you rember where it is?"
It was true—eting the director and Mash in a six-year-old's uniform would be mortifying.
The statent struck Ritsuka like a bolt from the blue. He unconsciously gazed down at his blue uniform shorts and tiny leather shoes. What would Olga Marie or Mash think, seeing him like this?
...But no. He must et them as the Master of Chaldea. Realizing this, Ritsuka's resolve solidified. He nodded. "…Caster, you're right. I'll change now."
Without further hesitation, he strode toward the familiar hatch at the corridor's end. Each tallic footstep brought him closer to the battlefield—his true daily life.
He stopped before the hatch labeled with his na and put his small hand on the ID panel.
"Verification approved," ca the cold, electronic voice. The hatch silently slid open.
Inside was a simple, spartan room—exactly as he rembered. Ritsuka walked to the wardrobe and opened the door.
He froze again—inside hung a perfectly organized array of familiar clothes: the white Mystic Code: Chaldea of beginnings, the academic Mage's Association Uniform, the futuristic Atlas Academy Uniform, the heavy Arctic Region Chaldea Uniform for frigid lands.
They hung there like a row of ceremonial mantles, quietly echoing tales of battles and adventures past.
He traced the standard blue-white Chaldea uniform with his fingers. This had accompanied him through the repair of seven Singularities and the defeat of the King of Magecraft. Here, his journey as a Master began.
Without hesitation, he began changing into it—sowhat clumsily, but swiftly.
…
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