Chapter 154: Behind the Scenes

Chapter 154: Behind the Scenes

First Arc done

...

This space is a complete world.

Pitch-black and specks of light.

In the wide spherical room, where the night sky is stained black, a wooden chair floats in the center.

Although its shape alone would be enough to call it luxurious, the faded appearance of the wood gives it a charming appeal, an aged elegance that doesn't evoke a sense of distaste. Instead, its mere presence transforms the surrounding atmosphere into one of solemnity.

At first glance, it looks like the seat reserved for some noble or aristocrat. However, if that were the case, this chair shouldn't exude such a powerful presence. It's so strong that even if a head of state were to sit on this chair, they would be considered an accessory to the chair, not its owner. If an ordinary person were to sit on this chair, they would likely be instantly swallowed up by the overwhelming presence emanating from it.

This is a chair that makes people think this way.

This space was prepared to exalt this chair.

The current scene forces one to accept such an evaluation even when they hear it, but—

The man enveloped in an atmosphere that surpasses the solemnity of the chair is causing the backrest of the chair to emit a loud creaking sound.

"Ugh..."

If this room were a scaled-down universe, then the man sitting on the chair in the center of the room would be wrapped in an aura befitting that of a master.

This is an elderly man, appearing to be around 50 to 60 years old. Despite his white hair, his posture remains upright, and his robust physique exudes a sense of strength that surpasses that of a middle-aged person in their prime. The wrinkles on his forehead, eyebrows, and the corners of his eyes add a touch of the accumulated weight of time, the mark of experience, but without the signs of frailty that typically come with old age.

The most striking feature of the old man is his eyes. It has nothing to do with the color of his irises or any particular distinguishing characteristic but rather their depth, their profoundness. They are like the starry sky surrounding the old man, extending endlessly as if these eyes hold countless mysteries within them.

The old man's name is Kischur Zelretch Schweinorg.

In the mundane world, his fame is not prominent, but in the mystical realm, he is known by everyone.

His name itself represents a legend, and people admire, fear, or have various motives for him, bestowing upon him various titles: the Second Magician, the Grand Magus, the Marshal of the Mage's Association, the Old Man of the Jewels, the Fourth Seat of the Twenty-Seven Dead Apostle Ancestors. He is a man who truly stands at the pinnacle of the mysterious side.

"This axis seems off..."

The old man glides his finger through the air, causing the celestial bodies projected on the surrounding walls to rotate.

"And is this polarized light completely extinguished?"

"Oh, this incision is quite good..."

"So you should already know the purpose of my contact."

"Regarding the creation of the Third Magic, the 'Heaven's Cup'? Or is it about one of the disciples I recently acquired?"

"Both. The Third Magic and that child are both experiments."

An indescribable resonance and melancholy can be heard in the old man's voice. Only Scáthach, who has grasped the causality of the world and has lived through countless ages, can understand that emotion. She refrains from saying more and gets straight to the point.

"The 'Heaven's Cup' is indeed a power that can influence the world, much like your Second Magic. However, the 'Heaven's Cup' alone is not enough. It is just power, and without a magus like you to wield it, it will inevitably be tainted with other colors. If things continue to develop in this way, the power of miracles will eventually disappear."

"You're right, that's why purification is necessary."

Upon hearing the old man's response, Scáthach softly murmurs, "Ah, I see."

"It seems you have grasped some kind of key," she continues.

"Yes," the old man calmly nods. "But I cannot directly intervene in this matter. If I interfere too much, the world is likely to become completely fixed. Therefore, I need to choose a suitable executor."

"No need to choose. He is more than capable."

The old man is well aware that the person referred to is the character spread open on the pages before them.

"Are you sure he can handle it? It's not an easy task."

"That's precisely why it should be him. He said he would fulfill my wish. If he cannot overcome even this obstacle, how can he bring an end to my eternity?"

Scáthach's attitude provides the old man with the answer to another question.

"It seems I no longer need to inquire about his evaluation."

"Let me make this clear. You can have him do the work, but you are not allowed to take him as your disciple. Becoming your disciple is no different from becoming a wrecked person. I've finally seen a glimmer of hope, and if it shatters because of you, be prepared for my 'Thorn of Annihilation.'"

"Understood, Your Majesty Scáthach."

The old man maintains a composed demeanor. With a wave of his right hand, the red annotation on the pages changes accordingly—

"Executor of Project H, Subject of Project I—Shinji Matou!"

PS: Its HIM Again Guys! It's his fault why we have this fanfic. XD

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