The cafeteria of New Chaldea was filled with mouthwatering aromas: the scent of Japanese miso soup, French stew, and even the mysterious, monster roast meats all mixing together. Despite having less than twenty-four hours until departure for the Russian Lostbelt, there was none of the tension one might expect before a decisive battle. If anything, the atmosphere resembled a long-awaited class reunion.
Steve leaned against a pillar in the corner of the cafeteria, a vending machine coffee in hand. He appeared to be lazily watching the different Heroic Spirits interact, but in truth, his mind was engaged in rather boring speculation about the nature of the World.
To be frank, if he truly intended, this so-called Human Order Annihilation Incident could be resolved entirely—before he even finished this cup of coffee.
Even Maris Chaldea—the supposed Final Boss of Part 2, camouflaged as Earth's core concept—isn't that hard to deal with, not when compared to the broken alarm clock in Steve's own pocket, brimming with advanced black technology.
If he wished, he could duck into any vacant restroom, pull out the pink Anywhere Door from his pocket, turn the Time Wheel he carried back just slightly, set it to any date before December 31st, 2017, step through, and arrive straight at the control core of Chaldea in Antarctica.
Next, he'd simply place a Penetration Ring on the surface of the indestructible pseudo-celestial sphere like a sticker. Instantly, he could bore a hole through the heavily-protected internal space.
Finally, from his pocket, he would pull the Universe Destructor Bomb—a regulated item in the world of the future, where all technological advancement has been twisted towards the stars. But for one who'd mastered all its black tech secrets as a Servant, it was no more than a glorified firecracker.
Set the timer, flip the switch, use the Penetration Ring, and he'd instantly return to today's wandering sea.
And then, with a resounding boom—
Before it could activate, the Chaldean sphere ready to overwrite the surface of the Earth and freeze human rationality would be physically formated, erasing its internal false universe.
Without using Chaldea as a core terminal, the so-called Alien God would instantly crash, like an AI disconnected from the internet.
Koyanskaya, Kirei Kotomine, and even the Fantasy Tree would lose their foundational roots of causality, and collapse in an instant—turning back into spiritual particles that would simply dissipate into the atmosphere.
In that scenario, Fujimaru Ritsuka and Mash wouldn't even need to leave the wandering sea: after a nap, they'd wake to find the world outside peaceful, mundane, and unsettlingly—but also hopefully—restored to human history.
But… how boring that would be.
Steve sipped his coffee, an impish glint in his eyes behind his sunglasses.
If he did that, it wouldn't be Fate/Grand Order any longer, but instead Doraemon: Gudako and the Bleached World.
The growth of Ritsuka Fujimaru, Mash's enlightenment, the tragic wishes of the hidden, the struggles of the Lostbelt inhabitants… all those brilliant moments that comprised the glory of Human History would be wiped out, wholly erased by this machine-god descending from the heavens.
He had not come to this world to rush through it, but to experience it. Like a max-level player returning to the starting village: what kind of game experience would it be if you could one-shot every monster you met?
Thus…
Steve's role was utterly clear to him.
He gave himself an ironclad command: I am merely support—a safety net when something goes wrong. When the protagonists reach a desperate crisis or are mentally crushed, I'm there with a handkerchief and a bit of technical assistance—a gentle passerby.
Unless Ritsuka Fujimaru faces true death or her spirit shatters, Steve would never step in to alter the core Lostbelt strategies.
Commanding the battlefield? Absurd— that is the privilege of Chaldea's Master. He seeks none of that spotlight.
"So, I've decided to be lazy…"
His gaze sharpened again, sweeping the crowd for candidates in his previously interrupted Mother-Loli Search Project. Five targets found, yet he still needed a concrete plan of action.
Just then, faint footsteps interrupted his thoughts.
The footsteps were light, natural in their rhythm, accompanied by the faint, long- simmered scent of something delicate and smoky, touched with almost imperceptible metallic undertones.
Steve turned his head. Nearby stood a tall figure: short white hair, dark skin, and unmistakably male.
He wore his signature saffron-red coat and, around his waist, a pink apron—emblazoned with the Chaldea logo?
Emiya.
This was one possible future of Shirou Emiya, as a guardian archer.
Now, the Chaldea Granny, who usually hid his concern beneath barbed words, regarded Steve with furrowed brow and a complex silence. There was no hostility in his eyes—rather, confusion, surprise, and finally, gradually, relief.
It was obvious he recognized Steve: or more precisely, that the new Chaldea summoning system had passed down records from parallel worlds.
"…Your hair and attitude have changed a bit, but that endlessly irritating calm—as if you see the whole world as a chessboard—hasn't changed at all."
Emiya sighed, unwinding the tension in his face, stepping right before Steve. He had a soup spoon in one hand, and that homey touch stood in odd contrast to his grave tone.
"It's been a while… though, technically, this should be our first meeting' in this world.
1994, Fuyuki City, the Caster who turned the Holy Grail War into a farce…"
Steve raised an eyebrow, took off his sunglasses, and smiled with velvet mischief, eyes deep and dark.
"Oh? Seems Chaldea's summoning system is superior to what I imagined. It can even read records from distant worldlines?"
"Or is your range as a Guardian so wide that you've even visited worlds too peaceful to need your intervention?"
"Hmph. There's no such thing as peace in a Guardian's work."
Emiya snorted, not with his usual edge. "After all…I did not live that world myself—but I saw it, as a record among the Heroic Spirits."
His gaze went distant—as if he was peering straight through Steve, seeing the Fuyuki City of 1994 that wasn't present here.
"In that world… Kiritsugu, the stubborn old man, survived and lived on like a fool. Irisviel never became a Grail vessel and kept living as an ordinary mother. Illya… Illya wasn't turned into a short-lived doll, but grew up spoiled by her parents—just a regular elementary school girl."
He paused, looked Steve in the eyes, gratitude shining in his grey eyes.
"Even that fool Shirou—always talking about justice, making a mess of everything—was no more than an unlucky but ordinary high schooler. Not me at all…"
He cut himself off, shaking his head. A rare, honest smile touched his lips.
"But that world isn't my past or future."
"Yet, to someone like me, who lost everything in a fire, even knowing that the Emiya family could reach a happy, ordinary ending in a parallel world—is a kind of salvation."
Having said this, the awkward archer swapped his soup spoon to his left hand and held his right hand out to Steve.
"I know it's a bit late and my position is a little strange…but let me say it anyway."
"To the savior of that world: thank you."
Staring at the hand calloused from countless firings of the bow—the hands of a killer for justice—Steve found emotion rising in his chest. In his original fate, this man sold his soul for justice, exhausting himself through endless killing. And now, just for a single intervention in one timeline, he could show such relief.
That was the joy of changing fate.
"The title of savior is too heavy," Steve replied, taking Emiya's hand. Their handshake crossed the boundaries of time and worlds.
"I'm just a passing traveler, who can't stand tragic scripts."
"…Also…" Steve's smile turned sly. "Your counterpart in that world—Shirou, whom you possessed using the pseudo-servant system—was a huge help to me."
"If it hadn't been for his projection magecraft and Tokiomi Tohsaka's concept for the Jewel Sword, my Infinite Mana Jewel Sword Project would never have succeeded so easily."
"…Huh?" Emiya was briefly at a loss for words, his face then morphing as though recalling an embarrassing memory.
"Wait, there are records about that… so…?"
"It was a necessary ritualistic measure," Steve intoned, completely serious and completely cryptic.
"That's your twisted sense of humor!" Emiya retorted, then burst into laughter—a genuine, unforced laugh.
"Well, considering you managed the miracle of all survive except for the Mapo Tofu guy, I'll let it slide."
He withdrew his hand, pointing towards the kitchen.
"As a token of gratitude, I'll save the best part of tonight's special dish just for you."
"It may not match the tablecloth tool you have that literally creates any food, but I have faith in my own sincerity and taste."
"Oh? I'm looking forward to it," Steve accepted with delight. "I've always respected the culinary skill of Chef Red A."
"But…," he leaned in and spoke in a voice only Emiya could hear, "if you get a chance, could you introduce me to Chaldea's Illya?"
Emiya's expression froze instantly.
"…Hey, you," Emiya narrowed his eyes, scanning Steve up and down warily.
"I'm grateful for what you did for Illya in that world, but if you try anything with her here… Savior or not, my Unlimited Blade Works won't go easy."
"Could that ever happen?" Steve spread his hands, smiling innocently. "It's just… admiration."
"I merely yearn for magical girls radiant with maternal glow…"
"…You're only making yourself more suspicious," Emiya sighed and turned back to the kitchen. There was an air of Chaldea's doomed defeat about him, but his steps were lighter than when he came.
"Don't let it worry you. Just be here for dinner."
"And—welcome, old friend, to this damned end-of-the-world."
…