Britain, London, Westminster School.
Morpheus Fraga McRemitz, with his light golden short hair, was gently leafing through the book before him, allowing the sunlight from the window to spill across the pages as if the glare didn't bother him at all.
A girl around the same age as the boy approached his side, her expression cool and detached. She was Morpheus's personal maid.
"Young lord, the master said that if you don't attend classes at the Clock Tower, you won't receive another penny from home." The maid's name was Lizzy McLennan. After saying this, she continued, "Given your status, you really shouldn't be studying in a place like this."
Westminster School, one of Britain's most prestigious high schools... yet this maid clearly held it in some disdain.
"I know what my father wants. He hopes I'll go to the Clock Tower to study and then pursue research in magecraft, but I have no interest in that sort of thing."
Morpheus smiled faintly. "The folks at the Clock Tower are rigid and haughty, their words reeking like forgotten socks in an attic. Those fools even look down on folk incantations, claiming they're not true magecraft. It's fair to say they're narrow-minded."
As he spoke, his slender, delicate fingers turned the pages with ease, the conversation seemingly having no impact on his reading.
"Besides, I'm merely an adopted son, without the McRemitz bloodline. The Magic Crest has been inherited by my sister Bazett. All I want is to live quietly as an ordinary person."
Live quietly as an ordinary person? Lizzy offered no further comment. Though she found it regrettable, it was the young lord's choice, and she had no right to meddle excessively. As for the threat of cutting off his allowance, that wasn't her concern.
After all, this was a battle between father and son.
A father with high expectations for his son's success, and a son who preferred to take it easy and live ordinarily... their ongoing clash was something Lizzy always viewed as entertaining family drama.
While observing this spectacle, she felt she could even enjoy a few extra bites of her meal.
"By the way, what's the situation with Chaldea now?" Morpheus asked suddenly.
"Numerous families have sent their children there to participate in the tests. From what I've heard, the recent rounds have proceeded without issues." Lizzy answered her young lord's question, then inquired, "Are you interested in Chaldea, young lord? Should I ask the master to register you?"
"As if. I have absolutely no interest in that place." Morpheus chuckled, closing the book in his hands and stowing it away.
Lizzy's keen eyes caught the title on the cover: The History of Christianity: The First Three Thousand Years.
The young lord still enjoys books like that, she thought silently. The Clock Tower surely has far more resources on such topics, yet he stubbornly refuses to go... Watching Morpheus rise and head out of the classroom.
Stepping out of the century-old building, Morpheus let the wind tousle his hair as he walked, sinking into contemplation.
He wasn't native to this world... he was a transmigrator. When his current adoptive father had found him as an infant and raised him as a son, he hadn't sensed anything amiss about this world. It wasn't until later, when he realized his sister looked familiar and learned her name was Bazett, that it dawned on him.
He had been transported to the Nasuverse. Given the circumstances, had several Holy Grail Wars already taken place?
Oddly, there was no mention of any Holy Grail Wars until 2004, when he overheard his adoptive father discussing one with someone. His sister Bazett, already a prominent figure at the Clock Tower, hadn't gone to Fuyuki City. That's when Morpheus realized once more.
This didn't seem to be the Nasuverse where Shirou was the protagonist.
After all, in the original storyline, his sister had participated in the Fifth Holy Grail War in Fuyuki, only to be ambushed without honor by the pleasure-seeking priest, resulting in her disappearance.
But now, Bazett was unharmed; she hadn't even set foot in Fuyuki, which indicated the plot had diverged.
The so-called Holy Grail War was a brutal free-for-all where Magus summoned Heroic Spirits as their Servants to battle for the ultimate prize: the Holy Grail, said to grant any wish.
Several more years passed before word spread of the Animusphere family suddenly striking it rich, amassing vast fortunes, and swiftly founding a new organization known as the Security Organization for the Preservation of Humanity, Finis Chaldea. It was then that Morpheus truly grasped which world he inhabited.
Not that the Animusphere family lacked heritage... they were, after all, one of the Clock Tower's lords. It was simply that they had abruptly acquired enormous wealth, far exceeding their prior assets by hundreds or even thousands of times.
Especially upon seeing Lev in the news, masquerading as a regular corporate executive, Morpheus felt an urge to strike him... to teach him the meaning of "cordial and amicable" interaction, the essence of human "kindness."
The Animusphere family had emerged as the true victors of the 2004 Holy Grail War in this world. Through their wish upon the Grail, they obtained ancient, long-buried gold, using it as the cornerstone for establishing Chaldea.
On that note, Morpheus's Magic Circuits were respectable... not excessive, not deficient. Should he pursue the path of a magus, his potential would be solid. In the Nasuverse, Magic Circuits function like bodily organs that produce magical energy; their quantity determines one's efficiency in generating it.
Naturally, greater magical energy production allows for more potent displays of power.
A Magic Crest, meanwhile, is a means by which Magus refine and pass down their personalized magecraft across generations, enhancing it over time. It can be bequeathed to kin or even outsiders, signifying the inheritance of the family's arcane legacy.
In Morpheus's view, it boiled down to dissecting a mystery, converting it into an engraving implanted in the body, enabling direct activation of magecraft via the crest. Hardly sophisticated or efficient, and quite cumbersome.
Morpheus's adoptive father, McRemitz, had assured him the family was prosperous enough to spare a crest for him, provided he studied diligently at the Clock Tower and aimed to be an exemplary student. In time, he could become a distinguished magus.
Yet, upon arriving in London, Morpheus promptly enrolled at Westminster School, casting the Clock Tower from his mind.
Even knowing this was the Fate/Grand Order, aware of the impending crises that could shatter the entire world, he chose not to study magecraft.
It wasn't that Morpheus shunned power; rather, he craved his own space, his own time, preferring to seek what he desired within the ordinary world.
He was no run-of-the-mill transmigrator... the secret he concealed might cause even this world's Root to quiver!
"Does that sound a bit delusional?" he muttered to himself. Morpheus reached his modest lodging, a small room that, once his allowance was severed, could only be sustained until next month.
But it no longer mattered. His preparations were complete; all that remained was to wait patiently for events to unfold.
"Whew. In the Toaruverse, I failed to uncover the truth of magic. At the very least, in this world, I must pursue its ultimate truth and paint the world in hues of gold!"
The boy's hidden secret was that this wasn't his first transmigration, but his second. His initial destination had been the Toaruverse. In that extraordinary realm, he joined a magic cabal known as Dawn-Colored Sunlight, becoming a magician.
Then, during an investigation into a cabal plotting the descent of "Yog-Sothoth," an mishap occurred amid his solo annihilation of their group... their prearranged ritual activated.
Though Morpheus resolved the crisis successfully, he was ensnared in spatiotemporal turbulence, ultimately arriving in this world as an infant.
Armed with powers and memories from another world, this seasoned transmigrator now opened his wardrobe.
Inside lay his long-prepared items: an authentic old English trench coat in a crisp gray tone that exuded sharpness.
The lining featured a grid pattern in red, blue, green, and yellow, arranged in a specific sequence... simple and unassuming, without excess flair.
He retrieved a top hat, a gray one that paired perfectly with the coat. Donning the ensemble, he scrutinized his reflection in the full-length mirror and smiled.
"I look exactly like a renowned detective strolling London's streets in the Victorian age!"
Next, he withdrew a blue cup, a yellow dagger, a green plate, and finally, a red cane.
The first three vanished magically as he tucked them into his coat. The cane he gripped in hand... for a gentleman always requires one.
With that settled, he produced a necklace, peculiar in design, resembling an eye. Its style evoked the carvings in ancient Egyptian pyramid statues.
He fastened it around his neck, concealing it beneath his lining out of sight, and drew a deep breath.
"Very well. Though I'd rather avoid the fray, to advance my studies on the path of magic and quest for its pinnacle, I'll head to Chaldea after all."
When the crisis erupts, the world will fracture. For the sake of humanity's future... and, more crucially, his own grand magical ambitions... he must avert the catastrophe looming at Chaldea!
***
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