The glow in the room gradually began to fade. Those crimson magical orbs that, moments ago, threatened to turn the place into a blazing inferno now began to dissolve, as if submitting to some higher, invisible will. The air became breathable again, and the moonlight slipped through the window, reflecting the sudden, temporary calm that had descended upon the room.
Asagi stepped slowly toward the edge of her bed. She could still feel the lingering effects of the energy in her bones, but her mind was running at full speed, trying to comprehend what had just happened. She glanced at Akira, then at Saber—or rather, Mordred now. The armored knight was no longer just a magical manifestation, but a being carrying a past as complex as her present.
In that moment, silence blanketed the room… but it wasn't the silence of confusion—it was a silence of transition, like winter melting away its icy grip to reveal new soil, soil in which decisions that could alter fate itself would soon take root.
Asagi wore a long-sleeved black dress—plain, with no embellishments. It looked like mourning attire… or perhaps preparation for a new birth. She sat quietly on the edge of the bed, the dim light of the computer screens behind her still flickering, as if waiting for a command from their mistress.
"You know, Akira?" she said suddenly, her voice quiet.
He looked at her without speaking.
"When you first entered my life, you were just... a glitch. A flickering line of code in a stable equation. Something that shouldn't have existed—yet there you were... like a virus."
She slowly raised her eyes to him and continued:
"But now... I think I've gotten used to your madness."
Akira let out a soft laugh, one without mockery—just a quiet acknowledgment. Then he raised his hand, revealing a thin thread of light, coiling and writhing like a snake of stars, pulsing with a power unlike any known form of magic.
"What I'm about to do…" he said, his tone calmer than usual, "isn't magic."
Asagi stared at the light, then whispered, her voice barely audible:
"It's… a break in the laws of existence itself."
Akira gave a faint smile and stepped toward the center of the room. He drew a circle in the air with his hand. The space in front of him cracked open suddenly, like a mirror shattering without shattering at all. And from that rift, a scene from another world began to emerge. The sky there was dark, cold—like a place trapped in a moment outside of time.
With each passing second, the image became clearer.
There, amidst the strange void, lay a woman. Her features were calm despite the silence, her deep violet hair cascading over her shoulders like a curtain of night, unmoving even in the wind. She lay on a stone bed, eyes closed—but breathing.
"Mother…" Asagi whispered, her hands trembling.
"Her real name is Ayame Kiryuuin," Akira said, standing beside the rift. "She was one of the strongest spiritual mediums of the last century. Fought in wars no one ever spoke of. They tried to silence her. And they did... temporarily."
Akira reached into the portal—but there was no flash, no explosion. Only… absolute stillness. Then, a faint tremor passed through the walls, as if time itself hesitated.
And then—like a droplet falling into a still well—the gate vanished. And in the center of the room… stood Ayame.
She stood just as she had appeared in the vision. Her hair flowed softly, eyes still closed, but breathing. Her skin was smooth, untouched by age, as if she'd been brought back to life the exact moment she had left it.
Asagi, who was not one to cry easily, dropped to her knees. She couldn't speak. Tears streamed silently down her cheeks. Every moment of loss, every unheard scream, every dream butchered within her heart… melted before that scene.
Then, slowly, as if time was playing itself in reverse, Ayame opened her eyes.
She looked around for a few moments, breathing slowly, then murmured in a raspy but living voice:
"...Asagi?"
Asagi ran toward her. It wasn't the movement of a girl, but that of a child who had found her mother after a lifetime. She hugged her tightly, as if afraid she might vanish again.
"Mom… Mom… Mom…" she repeated, as though trying to make up for years of silence.
Akira stood there, watching them, silent. There was no smile on his face… only a deep, contemplative gaze, as if witnessing life beginning to sing again after a long silence.
"What you did…" Ayame murmured, having realized what had happened, "You… tore through the barrier. You didn't use it."
Akira nodded quietly.
"Because you weren't dead—only… frozen outside of time."
She turned to him, her eyes still glowing with the mystique of the spiritual.
"But how did you find me?"
"I don't search, Ayame," Akira said, turning his gaze to Mordred. "I hear the things that are not said… and follow the silence that hides secrets."
In the other corner of the room, Mordred watched everything in silence.
Her expression didn't show surprise—but a strange curiosity. This kind of miracle wasn't something even her time had grown used to.
...
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