Ritsuka sat beside Da Vinci, eyes fixed on the monitoring screen as shifting data and rotating sigils passed by.
He adjusted slightly in his chair.
On his lap sat a girl.
Mid-back length pink hair, tied with purple ribbons. Light blue eyes that could turn ice-cold when she got serious. Large red-pink dragon horns curved from her head, a long draconic tail lazily swaying behind her. Pink scales traced parts of her skin, claws replacing fingernails. A cyber-goth-lolita dress wrapped around her frame—circular skirt, belts, detached white sleeves, knee-high shoes lined with sharp spikes.
Elizabeth Bathory.
She hummed quietly, tail flicking as she leaned against him, perfectly comfortable.
Ritsuka didn't comment on it. No one in Chaldea ever did anymore.
He looked back at Da Vinci.
"Gems of the Angelic."
Da Vinci tapped the screen, nodding. "Yup. Seven artifacts. Old. Dangerous. Powerful."
The display shifted, seven crystalline shapes rotating in place.
"Fire. Water. Earth. Air," she continued, counting them off. "Lightning. Light. And Dark."
Ritsuka frowned. "We could really use them."
Da Vinci sighed, resting her chin in her palm. "We could. They'd tilt the war in our favor instantly."
There was a pause.
"Problem is," she added calmly, "they belong to Proper Human History. Activating even one would destabilize it. Worst case?"
She glanced at him.
"Total collapse."
Elizabeth blinked, looking up at Ritsuka. "So… shiny rocks that end the world?"
"That's one way to put it," Da Vinci replied.
Ritsuka leaned back slightly, eyes still on the screen.
'Power that fixes everything… by breaking everything else.'
He exhaled slowly.
"Then they're off the table."
Da Vinci smiled faintly. "See? This is why I trust you with decisions like this."
Elizabeth yawned and curled her tail around his waist. "Boring."
Ritsuka gave a small, tired smile.
'Some things never change.'
Da Vinci rolled her chair slightly, screen light reflecting in her eyes. "Exactly. Those gems aren't lost relics sitting in a ruin somewhere. They're anchored. Fixed points. Touch them now and"—she made a small explosion gesture—"boom. Timeline throws a tantrum."
Mash frowned. "So even if we can reach them… we shouldn't."
"Bingo." Da Vinci snapped her fingers. "They exist because Proper Human History exists. Remove the foundation, and the whole structure collapses. Or worse—mutates."
Elizabeth shifted on Ritsuka's lap, tail flicking lazily. "So shiny gems that go boom if you poke them too early. Lame."
Ritsuka smiled faintly, absently patting her head. "They're not meant for us. Not yet."
Elizabeth looked up at him. "You sound like you already know how this ends."
He froze for half a second.
Then relaxed.
"…Maybe," he said quietly.
Mash noticed. She always did. "Senpai?"
Ritsuka shook his head. "Nothing. Just… a feeling."
Da Vinci watched him over steepled fingers, expression unreadable. "You've been doing that a lot lately. Remembering things you shouldn't."
Ritsuka leaned back, eyes on the monitoring screen as Chaldea's systems hummed softly. 'Or things I already lived through.'
"Even if we had the Gems of the Angelic," he continued, voice steady, "they wouldn't save us right now. Tools only matter if the world they belong to still exists."
Mash nodded slowly. "So our priority doesn't change."
"Right," Da Vinci said. "Restore Proper Human History first. Then—maybe—we can talk about divine-grade toys."
Elizabeth grinned. "Ooo, future shiny things! I'm in."
Ritsuka chuckled, then his gaze drifted.
For just a moment, the screen blurred—not with static, but with memory.
Light refracted through crystal. Seven colors. Seven weights pressing against his soul.
His fingers twitched.
'Yeah… I remember now.'
The Gems of the Angelic weren't just artifacts.
They were promises.
And he had broken one—long before this loop ever began.
The memory tightened around his chest.
Then—
The scene dissolved.
Snow.
Silence.
And the past pulled him under once more.
Then the world turned glass, as it broke into pieces, as it did.
Ritsuka woke back in his bed, he looked around, seeing he was still in his room.
The glass kept falling even after he woke.
Ritsuka sat up slowly, breath steady, eyes scanning the room. Wooden walls. Familiar ceiling. The faint smell of morning air drifting in through the window.
Home.
He glanced at the mirror across the room.
A child stared back at him. Shorter frame. Softer face. No scars. No weight in his eyes—at least, none that showed.
He exhaled through his nose.
'That was an odd memory to surface.'
Not painful.
Not comforting.
Just… inconvenient.
Gems of the Angelic.
Seven artifacts. Untouchable. Locked to Proper Human History.
'Figures,' he thought dryly. 'Even my memories pick the worst timing.'
From outside, he heard Gudako's voice—loud, energetic, already arguing with someone about breakfast. The sound grounded him more than anything else could.
Ritsuka stood, stretching his arms.
'I don't need those gems,' he reminded himself. 'Not yet.'
Back then, in Chaldea, they were a tempting shortcut.
Here?
Shortcuts were dangerous.
He looked at his hands, flexing his fingers as faint warmth gathered beneath his skin—Sun Magecraft responding instinctively, obedient, controlled.
Different world. Different rules.
But the same principle still applied.
Power that didn't belong to its time always came with a price.
Ritsuka turned away from the mirror.
'If those gems exist here too…'
His expression hardened, just a little.
'Then I'll deal with them when the time is right.'
For now, he had training to finish.
And a future that wasn't supposed to remember him yet.
Meanwhile, back in the Void.
The Elder Gods and Shiki watched in silence as the memory faded from Ritsuka's mind.
Fragments of Chaldea dissolved like frost in sunlight.
Void Shiki exhaled slowly, then turned her head.
"Yang. No."
Yang Guifei blinked, startled. "What did I do?"
Void Shiki's eyes narrowed—calm, but dangerous. "You are not going to the Temple of the Fire Gem, grabbing it, and dropping it into Ritsuka's lap."
Yang opened her mouth. Closed it. Then pouted. "I was just thinking—"
"Thinking causes timelines to collapse," Shiki replied flatly.
Oei crossed her arms. "She's not wrong. That memory resurfaced too cleanly. Something tugged on it."
Abigail floated closer, gaze distant. "The Gems of the Angelic resonate with belief. Even remembering them creates… pressure."
Void Shiki nodded once. "And pressure invites intervention."
She looked back at Ritsuka's sleeping form, curled safely in the present—small, unaware, human.
"He is not ready," she said. "Not yet."
Yang sighed dramatically. "So no Christmas miracle?"
"No miracles," Shiki replied. "Only patience."
The Void settled again.
But far away—
In places where fire slept beneath stone,
and light waited to be claimed—
Something stirred.
Yang Guifie looked at Void Shiki. "Can, I gave him something, he's our adorable husband".
She then gave Puppy dog eyes. "It will, also be a good new years gift".
Void Shiki sighed. "Fine".
"Yeah". Yang raised her hand as enemy riffled across space and time. "Done".
Oei looked at her as she spoke. "What, did you give him?".
She looked at her as she spoke. "Not him directly, but the world, have you heard of demon slayers".
The Void stayed silent.
Even Abigail stopped drifting.
Void Shiki slowly opened her eyes. "…You never do things halfway."
Yang giggled, hands behind her back. "Where's the fun in that?"
Oei stared at her. "You gave that world Breathing Styles?"
Yang nodded. "It was either that or Blood Demon Arts. And let's be honest—mages don't need that kind of bonus."
Void Shiki pinched the bridge of her nose. "You didn't give them demons, did you?"
Yang paused.
"…Define give."
The glare that followed could have erased Lesser Gods.
Yang raised her hands quickly. "Relax, relax. No Muzan-tier nonsense. Just… concepts. A framework. The idea that the body can remember how to breathe power."
Abigail floated closer. "So it will overlap."
Yang smiled. "Exactly. Sun Magecraft, Reinforcement, and breathing that aligns body and soul."
She tilted her head. "It'll resonate nicely with him."
Void Shiki sighed. "Ritsuka is trying to live quietly."
Yang leaned forward, eyes soft. "He never does."
---
Back in the Fujimaru house—
Ritsuka lay awake, staring at the ceiling.
The dream had already faded, details slipping like snow through fingers. But something stayed.
A warmth in his chest.
Not mana.
Not memory.
Breath.
He inhaled slowly.
Then exhaled.
His body reacted before his mind did—muscles tightening, posture correcting, heartbeat syncing in a way that felt… practiced.
Ritsuka frowned.
'That's new.'
He sat up, placing a hand over his chest, breathing again.
In.
Out.
The warmth spread, faint but clear, like sunlight through closed eyes.
'This feels… familiar.'
Not Chaldea-familiar.
Older.
Ritsuka glanced at her, then back to his hands.
They weren't glowing.
No mana flare.
No spell.
Just breath.
He lay back down, closing his eyes.
'…I'll ask Touko later.'
Far beyond time, Yang Guifei smiled.
"Happy New Year, Husband."
Ritsuka padded downstairs, still half-asleep.
The smell of food hit him first.
Tomiko was already at the stove, humming softly as she cooked. Morning light spilled through the windows, warm and ordinary.
He sat down and started eating without thinking much about it.
Normal morning.
Normal food.
Normal house.
Then—
He blinked.
For half a second—just half—
He saw through his father.
Skeleton.
Muscle fibers.
Organs.
Blood flow.
The faint heat moving through veins like glowing threads.
Gone.
Ritsuka froze, chopsticks mid-air.
'…What?'
He blinked again.
Masaru was just Masaru. Flesh. Clothes. Annoyingly calm expression.
Ritsuka slowly exhaled.
'Okay. That didn't happen.'
He took another bite.
Nothing strange.
No vision.
No sensation.
'Yeah. I really need to sleep earlier.'
Up in the Void—
Void Shiki pinched the bridge of her nose.
"…You saw that too, didn't you?"
Oei nodded slowly. "Yep."
Abigail hugged her knees tighter. "That wasn't Magecraft."
Yang Guifei smiled, proud and completely unapologetic.
"Breathing styles tend to wake the body before the mind," she said cheerfully.
"Eyes are usually first."
Void Shiki sighed.
"…We are never letting you touch causality again."
Yang giggled.
Back with Ritsuka, he noticed something was off.
Not wrong.
Just… different.
He and Gudako were faster than yesterday. Not by much—but enough that he noticed it without trying. Footwork felt lighter. Movements cleaner. When he stopped, his breathing slowed almost instantly.
Too fast.
Gudako noticed it too, judging by the grin on her face as she shadowboxed the air.
"Did you get faster?" she asked.
Ritsuka blinked. "I was about to ask you that."
They chalked it up to progress. Sun Mage Craft efficiency, muscle memory, better control—normal reasons. Reasonable reasons.
So Ritsuka didn't question why his body felt aligned in a way it hadn't before.
His weapon creation improved as well.
The blade he formed from Sun Mage Craft came out cleaner. Less waste. Less flicker. The edge held longer before dispersing. Gudako's constructs were sharper too—still aggressive, still force-heavy, but no longer sloppy.
They were improving.
Just… not at their father's level.
Not even close.
Masaru could still form weapons in seconds, launch them at absurd speed, alter them mid-flight like it was instinct. Watching him was watching mastery. Watching them was watching potential.
Touko noticed.
She always did.
She stood off to the side, notebook half-raised, eyes narrowed—not in suspicion, but curiosity. The way a researcher looks at a result that shouldn't exist yet.
"…Interesting," she muttered.
Tomiko glanced at her. "What is?"
Touko didn't answer right away.
She watched Ritsuka step forward, exhale, and strike.
No wasted motion.
No excess force.
Breath steady. Controlled.
Too controlled.
'That rhythm…' Touko thought. 'That's not Sun Mage Craft.'
She closed her notebook.
"Alright," Touko said casually. "Training's done for today."
Gudako groaned. Ritsuka relaxed, wiping sweat from his brow.
As they walked off, Touko stared at their backs.
'Breathing,' she realized.
'Not magecraft. Not reinforcement.'
Something older.
Something that had no right to be there.
And far beyond time, in the Void—
Yang Guifei smiled, completely unapologetic.
Later that day.
Masaru was going through old Papers and notes.
The door crept open, as Tomiko walked in.
Tomiko sat next to him. "What are you looking for dear?".
Masaru flipped through the notes. "No, I was wondering, where can I take Ritsuka and Gudako next".
Tomiko narrows hee eyes at him. "Right now? After the kids started to craft Sun Mage Craft weapons".
Masaru felt his wife's anger as he sweated bullets. "Now honey, that sounds bad, but I can explain".
Tomiko fixed her glove as she looked at him. "Oh, Please do".
Masaru cleared his throat. "I wasn't planning on throwing them into danger."
Tomiko's smile sharpened. "You never plan to. It just happens."
He winced. 'She's not wrong.'
"I was thinking," Masaru said carefully, "a controlled environment. Somewhere old. Stable. A place with records. Ruins, maybe. Observation only."
Tomiko leaned back in her chair. "You mean a mage site."
"Yes," he admitted. "A safe one."
"Those words do not belong in the same sentence," she replied flatly.
Masaru raised his hands. "No combat. No activation. Just exposure. They've started weapon creation far earlier than expected. Especially Ritsuka. He doesn't waste mana. At all. That kind of control—"
"—gets children killed when adults start projecting expectations on them," Tomiko cut in.
Silence fell.
Masaru lowered his hands. "I know."
She studied his face, searching for the line between ambition and concern. Finally, her tone softened—just a little.
"You're excited," she said. "That's fine. Just don't forget they're still kids."
Masaru nodded. "That's why I want you there."
That made her pause.
"…Me?"
"You keep me honest," he said. "And they listen to you."
Tomiko sighed, rubbing her temple. "I swear, one day you're going to give me grey hair."
"You already married a mage," he said gently. "That was inevitable."
A beat.
"…Where?" she asked.
Masaru hesitated, then slid one paper forward.
Tomiko read the title.
Her eyes narrowed. "Absolutely not."
He slumped back. 'So much for easing into it.'
Upstairs, Ritsuka paused mid-step, a strange pressure settling in his chest.
'…Why do I feel like something just went very wrong?'
Beside him, Gudako sneezed.
"Bless you," he said automatically.
She grinned. "Heh. Must be destiny."
To be continued
Hope people like this Ch and give me Power stones and enjoy