The morning at New Chaldea begins in a flood of lively electronic announcements. Although Wandering Sea itself exists between time and space—meaning sunrise or sunset don't really occur—daily life at the base is strictly ruled by Sion's obsessive internal clock management.
After enjoying the final breakfast that EMIYA had prepared with great care (as the new director of the Goredolf Laboratory called it—later corrected to a farewell party by Mash), Chaldea's elite team was reorganized.
There was no tragic grandeur, like the line, "The wind howls, and the river is cold."
After all, there's a base with 198 heroic souls at their backs, and the vehicle is a giant red warship, hundreds of meters long, powered by Minovsky particle engines. With all that, the lonely sense peculiar to exiles had long since disappeared.
"All aboard, please."
Steve stood by the airlock that connected the warship to the base, dressed in his trademark red military overcoat. Behind his sunglasses, his eyes were gentle and profound. He didn't say anything unnecessary, only gave out instructions.
When the airlock closed and the anti-gravity engines roared, the red giant ship, Rewloola, slowly pulled away from the harbor of the Wandering Sea, floating into the vast, white void.
…
On the Bridge
"I've seen it once before, but... Is this really usable?"
Director Goredolf still looked entirely out of place in this world, gripping the armrest tightly next to the captain's chair. His rounded face quivered with tension as he stared at the blinding data flickering across the holographic screens.
"This isn't some magical relic, right? This is clearly alien technology! If those old fossils at the Mage's Association saw this, they'd immediately order a sealing!"
"Director, please calm down."
"Regardless of whether the Mage's Association could build something like this... This is Mr. Steve's precious ship, so your safety is guaranteed."
Mash was visibly nervous too, but her trust in her sepai was absolute. She stood behind Ritsuka Fujimaru, still holding Fou in her arms.
Ritsuka stood before the huge main screen, gazing at the white wall of storm that blanketed sky and earth, as if trying to close off the entire world.
That was the Storm Wall of the Russian Lostbelt.
Initially, as planned by Leonardo da Vinci and Sherlock Holmes, they would have piloted the small Shadow Border, carefully threading the wall of storm like a mouse through a hole, using conceptual submersion to slip through gaps...
But...
"Um, Steve?"
Ritsuka suddenly turned around, a mischievous glint in her orange eyes. She pointed to the breakwater on the screen, then at the enormous ship beneath their feet.
"Now that we have such a powerful warship, is there any reason to sneak in like thieves anymore?"
Steve raised an eyebrow, gazing with interest at the seemingly harmless girl.
"Oh? And your plan is?"
"Let's charge straight in!"
Ritsuka clenched her fist, wearing less the face of a Master and more that of a shounen manga hero, though she was a girl.
"With this ship, a storm that big is nothing, right?"
"Besides—skulking around in such a bright red warship is a waste of good paint!"
"S-senpai?!" Mash stared in shock.
"Hold it! Fujimaru Ritsuka! What nonsense are you spouting!"
Goredolf nearly jumped up in terror.
"Defense is the most basic priority! What if the King of the Lostbelt finds us inside? We'll be blown to pieces!"
"Hahaha!"
Laughter suddenly rang out, interrupting the director's shouting. Steve stood from the captain's chair, took off his sunglasses, his dark eyes brimming with a faint joy and admiration as if meeting a soulmate.
"Well said, Ritsuka... It's no wonder you were chosen as Master!"
He walked over and patted Fujimaru on the shoulder, like a true elder.
"Young people need this kind of spirit. Over-caution may save your life, but it can dull the sweetness of victory."
"Since we have power, we should show it at the right time. Dignity should be maintained, of course."
Steve returned to the captain's seat and, with a graceful sweep of his red cape, quickly worked over the control panel.
"No worries, Director. The word detected isn't in my vocabulary."
"Optical camouflage system—deploy at full power."
"Seal heat signatures and set Minovsky particle dispersal to combat concentration."
"We do need to break through up front, but that doesn't mean we should go in unprotected!"
As he worked, the entire red hull quickly faded from view, vanishing into the sky, leaving only the faintest distortion in the air.
"This is the Red Comet strategy."
Steve smiled confidently, then slammed the lever forward.
"Let's save some time and go full speed ahead!"
"Target—the heart of the Russian Lostbelt—break through the wall of storm!"
Boom—!!!
There was no sound in space, though inside the atmosphere, the ship's thrusters roared like a dragon's cry. This was not some magical explosion—but a physical, industrial force, symbolizing the pinnacle of civilization.
The gigantic, stealth warship, like a red arrow now invisible, crashed headlong—and rather rudely—into the blizzard wall that claimed to negate all human history.
The airflow, which would easily shred a Shadow Border, struck the now vast energy shield. Like waves breaking on dark reefs, the storm scattered in all directions, unable to touch them.
Inside, the bridge shook—but thanks to the inertia dampeners, not a drop spilled from the teacup in Goredolf's hands.
"A breakthrough...?!"
Goredolf stared at the swiftly receding white storm on the screen, disbelief on his face.
"Is this... a battleship from the Age of Gods?!"
"No, this is the power of science," Sion gently corrected, then added,
"Now then, everyone—welcome... to the Empire of Eternal Permafrost."
As the warship pierced the final cloud, the view suddenly opened up—or rather, descended into another kind of despair.
There was no blue sky, no sunlight. As far as the eye could see, only pure white stretched on. Howling winds whipped up snowstorms, turning the land into a wasteland where the temperature plummeted to minus 100 degrees Celsius. Former cities, forests, and rivers were all buried, turned into lifeless ice sculptures.
This was Lostbelt No.1.
A world where cold had stripped away all life—yet, even amid the despair, something endured.
"What a... cruel sight."
Steve's eyes dulled a bit as he reviewed the data on the screen. Even though he already knew the lore of this cut-off world, to witness it with his own eyes sent shivers up from the bottom of civilization itself.
"Is this the enemy we're up against...?"
Ritsuka leaned against the window, gazing down at the white hell below. The excitement that once shone in her eyes slowly faded; in its place, a profound sense of realization grew.
"That's right."
Steve's voice, low and commanding, seemed to deliver a pre-battle speech.
"This is a world that abandoned humanity for the sake of survival."
"Our task isn't to save it—but to deny it."
"Are you ready, Master?"
"From this moment on, we become the evil in this world."
The warship glided in silence towards the endless snowy plains, drawing an invisible trajectory. Though they'd broken through with overwhelming force, Steve knew the true battle—one of faith and survival—was only beginning.
Beneath that thick layer of ice, something seemed to sense their almost-unnoticeable disruption in the sky.
…