Wearing the traditional white Chaldea uniform—a symbol of all beginnings—Fujimaru Ritsuka felt an indescribable surge of emotion flood his body. The uniform, though new, hugged his six-year-old frame as if tailored for it.
Amazingly, when he focused, three familiar commands arose in his mind: Emergency Evasion, Momentary Reinforcement, First Aid—the three Master Skills equipped with this early Mystic Code. Calling upon the meager magical energy in his body, he was astonished to sense the faint activation of magical circuits.
"It really works…" He opened his small palm, feeling the barely-there flow of mana, heart brimming with disbelief. Steve had not only remade the attire but even replicated its functions.
Driven by curiosity with Steve's permission, he explored the new-yet-familiar vessel by himself. He passed through the hatch to the infirmary, half-expecting to see the chubby director sipping coffee as usual; he passed the cafeteria, almost catching the smell of a Servant's weird cooking. At the hallway's end was Mash's ever-spotless room.
Everything was so real he couldn't tell if it was past or future. The tangible environment soothed the adult hero's soul as nothing before, deepening his awe for Steve's abilities.
After inspecting the Shadow Border, he returned to the central operations room. Steve was already there, reclining lazily in the driver's seat, as if waiting.
The vehicle's faint vibrations ceased as he entered and, in the blink of an eye, the strange, flowing light outside the windows vanished—replaced by wide green plains under dark clouds.
"Welcome back, Master," Steve said, glancing over at the pristine white uniform. For a second, he saw something like surprise, quickly replaced by a gentle smile.
"You chose the original set. It suits you, and carries deep meaning." Rising, he naturally offered his hand. Ritsuka placed his small hand into Steve's without hesitation.
Steve led him down the ramp, out into a foreign land. The damp wind bore the scent of grass, so different from the dry morning air of Japan.
They stood atop a lonely hill. Not far away, an old, grand Western mansion loomed beneath sullen clouds, radiating an air of inviolable dignity. The Shadow Border behind them activated its optical camouflage once more, fading from sight.
"We're here. This is the outskirts of London," whispered Steve, pointing to the mansion. "That's our destination. Right now, there's a young Director about eleven years old living there. Based on my intel, she ran into trouble recently—so expect her to be in a foul mood."
"The Director…" Ritsuka's expression grew complicated as he gazed at the mansion. In this age, Olga Marie was still a fragile girl bearing her family's burdens—a girl who had yet to experience the Chaldea tragedy, who had not become his comrade-director, nor meet her tragic fate.
"So… do we just go up and knock on the door?" Ritsuka looked nervously at Steve.
Steve looked at him, then at the Western mansion cloaked in barriers, a mischievous smile on his lips. Theoretically, with his level of cosmic magecraft, he could have ghosted through the barrier and given the young director a surprise.
But that would be boring.
He preferred something dramatically in line with his own wicked sense of humor. So, he solemnly shook his head. "Unfortunately, that's impossible, Master. The Animusphere estate is surrounded by the highest-level barrier—any intruder will be repelled. To enter, we must break the outer shell first."
"Break it?" Before Ritsuka could process that, Steve had let go of his hand and walked a few steps forward.
Standing upon the desolate land, with the impregnable magical fortress before him, Steve slowly raised his right hand.
Instead of brute-forcing through with cosmic magecraft, he precisely delved through vast magecraft, then deliberately manipulated a completely different magical system—the starry, astrological Animusphere magecraft.
He drew in a deep breath and began to chant, his voice solemn and resonant as if reciting an ancient epic—the proud spell inherited through the generations of the Animusphere family:
"—Stars!"
"—Cosmos!"
"—Gods!"
"—Animus—Antrum!"
As Steve chanted, magical energy amassed and the clouds above swirled into a gigantic vortex. The pressure was suffocating. Ritsuka stared, entranced, at Steve's back—reminded of a certain blonde captain looming between heaven and earth.
"—Unbirth!"
"—Anima!"
"—Animusphere!"
As the last spell finished, Steve opened his eyes. Visions of stars rising and falling flickered across the horizon. Like a conductor, he brought his right hand down.
Boom—!
Dozens of dazzling lights materialized at the center of the whirling magical storm overhead, then shot down as brilliant rays—impaling the invisible barrier around the mansion!
This was a simplified version of the Animusphere grand magecraft—Anima Animusphere!
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Explosions echoed one after another. The barrier fragmented, then shattered and finally dissipated with a piercing shriek.
The magical shockwave became a hurricane, whipping at their clothes. Simultaneously, Steve shut down all causal and informational flow in the area—no alert would reach distant Marisbury Animusphere in Fuyuki, who could detect only a faint signal fluctuation from his daughter's side.
Less than three minutes later, enraged shrieks rang out. The heavy oak doors swung open and out stormed a girl of eleven or twelve, with long silver hair cascading to her waist and dressed in a luxurious Gothic gown.
Fury and humiliation were etched across her doll-like face, her eyes burning as they swept over the devastated yard, finally locking on Steve and Ritsuka atop the hill.
"Who are you… How dare you! How dare you behave so rudely on Animusphere territory!"
Her voice was sharp and noble, but just faintly trembling—betraying her shock and a nearly hidden fear.
Olga Marie Animusphere.
The future Director of Chaldea, now meeting Steve and the Master for the first time—under the worst circumstances.