In the Mountain-City Olympus, located in the Atlantic Lostbelt.
This was the apex of the Age of Gods, a flourishing land that far surpassed the entirety of human history.
Deep within a colossal temple, several holographic projections appeared beside a round table.
They were the chosen seven, the Crypters.
However, the seat that should have been occupied by Kadoc Zemlupus was currently vacant.
A faint silence filled the air.
That silence was broken by the sound of footsteps—steady in rhythm, carrying a hint of mockery.
A priest in a black robe quietly entered the hall.
The same enigmatic smile floated upon his face as always, as if all he had just experienced had not been a defeat but merely a pleasant outing.
"My, my. It seems I'm the last one to arrive."
Kirei Kotomine—or to be precise, the Alter Ego acting entirely on his own will—slightly bowed his head toward the blond young man seated at the head of the round table, Kirschtaria, and said:
"Everyone, my apologies for keeping you waiting."
"I believe a detailed explanation is in order concerning the final report on the Russian Lostbelt."
"Father, thank you for your hard work."
Kirschtaria Wodime, the leader of Group A, simply nodded quietly.
Kadoc's absence did not shake his gaze in the slightest, yet deep within his eyes there was, uncharacteristically, a serious expression.
"Kadoc was taken away by Chaldea, then?"
"Exactly."
Kirei Kotomine spread both hands in a helpless gesture.
"As supervisor, I am naturally most eager to fulfill my duty and guide that lost lamb back onto the proper path."
"Unfortunately, the mobility Chaldea displayed this time has far exceeded the bounds of common sense."
"They were not riding that shabby little tank of theirs, but instead piloting a crimson battleship capable of sailing among the stars."
"After that battleship used a marvelous means to retrieve Kadoc, it remained anchored in the stratosphere, that is, outside the planet's atmosphere."
"It is not entirely impossible for me to access that region physically, but the risks of a reckless intrusion would in no way be justified by the potential gains."
A mocking snort sounded from beside the round table.
"Tch. That's downright pathetic."
Beryl Gut, with hair like a wolf's tail and sharp, predatory eyes, toyed with the dagger in his hand, his expression full of smug amusement.
"So that gloomy bastard ended up a loser after all? Getting snatched up by Chaldea like a chicken in a coop… I'd love to see his miserable face right about now."
"Beryl, be quiet."
Sitting opposite him, Ophelia Phamrsolone frowned, narrowing one eye at Kirei Kotomine.
"Father, Kadoc's defeat is regrettable. But what's more important is… that Lostbelt."
"According to our observations, the reaction from the Russian Lostbelt has neither vanished nor continued expanding."
"It's as if it… disappeared without a trace."
"That is precisely what I wished to address, Miss Ophelia."
Kirei's smile deepened.
His expression was a mixture of surprise, bewilderment, and… pure delight.
"Generally speaking, when a Fantasy Tree is felled, the Lostbelt is cut off as its magical energy supply ceases, and it eventually disappears."
"That is the rule of this world, and the truth we have always believed in."
"However… this time was different."
He extended a finger and tapped lightly at the empty air.
"That Lostbelt was not destroyed. It was stolen."
"...Huh?"
Even Pepe, who had maintained a graceful composure couldn't help but furrow his brows.
"Stolen? Father, you must be joking. We're talking about a world that covered the entire Russian continent! Not even a god would just… bag that up like a takeout order."
"It may sound absurd, but it is the truth."
Kirei Kotomine took a small notepad from his pocket and projected its contents over the center of the round table.
[Observation Report: Abnormality in the Russian Sector]
[Observer: Alter Ego Rasputin (Kirei Kotomine)]
[Date & Time: January 1, 2018, 6:00 PM]
[Description of Phenomenon:]
[At the very moment the Fantasy Tree Orochi was severed, the Chaldean Servant known as Archer Steve activated an unknown large-scale magecraft.]
[Effect of the Spell:
Instead of destroying the physical structure, ecosystem, and all inhabitants of the Russian Lostbelt, the spell replaced them.]
[The Lostbelt was forcibly torn away from the surface of the Earth in an instant. The magical reaction did not vanish; instead, along an unresolved imaginary trajectory, the inhabitants were transferred to unknown coordinates.]
[Conclusion:]
[The Russian Lostbelt No. 1 has physically disappeared from the surface of the Earth. However, its concept and existence have not been extinguished, and it continues to persist in some form.]
[Postscript (remnant consciousness of Rasputin):]
["The princess… is still alive. That world… continues on. My wish… has been granted."]
…
The moment the report was displayed, the conference room fell into a deathly silence.
"How could something like this be possible…"
Ophelia's face had gone a little pale.
"Something like that… not even Lord Kirschtaria could…"
"Not even I could do it."
Kirschtaria admitted it frankly.
He stared fixedly at the name written in red in the report—Archer Steve—and his eyes grew astonishingly sharp.
"To forcibly wrench away and preserve an already-established fixed phenomenon from the surface of a planet… This is no longer a matter of mere magecraft or magical energy."
"This is a direct confrontation with severance itself, one of the laws of the universe."
"And more importantly…"
He looked up at Kirei Kotomine.
"Father, you said the Lostbelt was teleported to unknown coordinates, correct?"
"Yet, based on my understanding of the bleaching of the planetary surface, there should be no excess space on this planet capable of housing a Lostbelt."
"Unless…"
From his seat in the corner, the silent Daybit Sem Void finally spoke.
"Unless those coordinates are not located on the surface at all."
His voice was calm and steady, yet in the ears of the others it rang like thunder.
"If the truth behind the cover-up is different from what we see with our eyes… then it may be that the relocated Lostbelt has simply returned to the place where it was always meant to be."
Kirschtaria's pupils contracted slightly.
"In other words… Chaldea?"
The very moment that word left his lips, the atmosphere in the room grew even heavier.
"Heh heh heh… As expected of Daybit."
Kirei Kotomine let out a low chuckle.
"I cannot confirm the exact coordinates, but the nature of that spatial fluctuation bears a subtle resemblance to the disturbance that occurred when the Alien God descended."
He swept his gaze around the room, finally settling his eyes on Kirschtaria.
"It would appear that our enemy, Chaldea, is no longer the feeble organization that fights with nothing but luck and grit. They possess a trump card."
"That Servant named Steve… He holds technology far beyond its time, and in addition, he grasps some truth about the nature of this world that we have yet to understand."
"And furthermore…"
The priest placed his hand over his chest, where Rasputin's obsession had once dwelled.
"Precisely because that Lostbelt was not destroyed, and the princess did not die, the patriot within me was satisfied and ascended to heaven."
"What remains now is the pure Kirei Kotomine."
"I am both an apostle of the Alien God and your appointed supervisor."
"Speaking for myself, I find this outcome rather delightful."
"Ahh, this is seriously pissing me off."
Beryl spat on the floor.
"So that piece of trash Kadoc not only survived, but might be living some shameless little life with the princess in that preserved world? What kind of happy ending is that supposed to be? In this apocalypse?"
"…"
She said nothing, yet Hinako Akuta—who had been quietly observing the room from behind her copy of Dog Language Reference Guide Book—showed a faint, yearning look as she heard those words.
"Which is precisely why they feel all the more threatening."
Pepe twirled a lock of hair around a finger, speaking with an unusually serious expression.
"An enemy who can bring salvation to others… is the most troublesome one of all."
"Because it means they can not only defeat you, but also shake your very beliefs."
Kirschtaria closed his eyes.
After a moment, he opened them again, his usual composure and dignified air restored.
"I see now that our situation has fundamentally changed."
"Chaldea is no longer just a cleaner—they've become a rival capable of rewriting the rules."
"That Steve… must be treated as our top-priority elimination target."
He turned his gaze toward Ophelia.
"Ophelia, the next battlefield is your Northern Europe region."
"Now that they possess a battleship of that scale, conventional defenses will no longer suffice."
"Yes."
Ophelia rose to her feet, her expression solemn.
"I'll reinforce Ragnarok's defensive magecraft, and… request that Queen Scathach-Skadi partially lift Surtr's seal. This time, I will not allow Chaldea an easy victory."
"Very good."
Kirschtaria nodded. Fixing his eyes on a point in empty space, as though meeting the gaze of that unknown figure, he spoke softly:
"Steve… It seems a worthy opponent has finally appeared on the board, for this chess game over the future of this planet."
"Everyone, return to your respective Lostbelts and make ready for the coming shock."
"This is no longer a simple struggle for survival."
"This is a war to decide… which view of humanity is right."
…
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