Yay! Here's the bonus chapter guys!
...
Fuyuki Police Headquarters was brightly lit, thick with an atmosphere both somber and serious. The air smelled of paper, coffee, and disinfectant.
Ken was brought to the Special Information Room, seated across from a kind policewoman and a recorder. While Steve, still incarnated as a spirit, hung quietly in the room's corner, observing it all.
Ken's body was still trembling slightly, his stare blank. His answers to questions were brief, instinctive, and he repeated Steve's script again and again.
"…I don't know, uncle… he beat up the bad guys… called the police… And then… then he was gone…"
His voice was hoarse and faint, as if each word drained all his remaining strength. Next to him, Steve could feel the magical contract between them was dangerously thin, ready to snap at any time. It wasn't the instability of their bond, but a rapid loss of vitality from his master.
Eventually, the experienced policewoman realized the boy was at his breaking point. No amount of questioning could go on. She sighed, reported to her superior, and ended the interrogation that was far too cruel for a victim.
Ken was led to a temporary lounge—a small room with only a folding bed and a little table. The door closed, cutting off the external hustle and the sense of alarm, enclosing Ken in a world all his own.
At this moment, Steve let go of his spiritual vigilance and quietly appeared at Ken's bedside.
"…Is it you?" The child's voice was barely a whisper.
"It's me," Steve replied, pulling over the only chair and sitting beside the bed. "I've been watching over you this whole time."
He decided his little master needed to understand the current situation.
"Ken, do you like fairy tales?"
His voice was gentle, like the rain that had just stopped outside the window.
Ken looked confused, not answering at first. Steve continued in his mind:
"Let's treat everything happening now as a special fairy tale.
"In this city, there are seven adults with powerful desires. Each one has summoned a hero from ancient legend—just like the knights, mages, and kings in stories.
"These seven heroes team up with their summoners and fight until only one group remains, and that victor will earn a legendary treasure—the "Holy Grail," a machine that can grant any wish."
"Any wish at all?"
Ken's lips quivered—it was the first time he asked a question of his own.
"Yes, anything," Steve confirmed.
The boy's breathing suddenly grew ragged. He stared earnestly at Steve and, with all his remaining strength, asked:
"Then… can it bring my father, mother, and little sister back to life? Would that work?"
This was like a knife, piercing straight through the fairy tale's comforting surface to expose the cruel nucleus of reality.
Steve met the boy's gaze, heavy with expectation and dread, and answered softly after a pause:
"Yes."
Few words—but as heavy as a mountain.
At that affirmation, Ken began to tremble, tears welling up in those hollow eyes and streaming silently down his face. But it wasn't despair—these were the tears of someone drowning, grabbing at the last straw of hope. The crumbling child's spirit finally found a foothold.
"I… I want to do it," Ken choked out, his words faltering, "I want… to win! Win the Holy Grail!"
And thus, in this moment, a new master was born.
"Very good," Steve said, satisfied. "From now on, we are companions. You are my only master in this Holy Grail War, and I am your strongest servant."
Seeing his master's fighting spirit reignite, Steve knew the time was right.
"So Ken, I need your help too. My strength depends on my environment—this city has a place where I am at my strongest. After dawn tomorrow, you must find a way to leave here and meet me there."
"Where should I go?"
"'Ryuudou.' It's a temple on the mountain top," Steve explained, laying out their plan. "Tomorrow, when the police question you again, simply tell them you want to relax at a classmate's house after everything. They should agree, since they sympathize with your ordeal. Then, go to Ryuudou as I described—I'll be waiting."
(He kept explanations about "leylines" or "workshops" simple—those were too complicated for children or non-magi masters. "Where to become stronger" was the clearest, most effective answer.)
"Okay!" Ken nodded firmly, repeating the name "Ryuudou" to himself as a sacred mantra. He wiped his tears, feeling strength return to his small body.
Steve watched, satisfied—the night's most important move was complete. He faded again into spiritual form, leaving only his promise echoing in the child's heart.
"Rest well, my master…"
…
Ken couldn't sleep the whole night. The pale light of dawn shone through the high windows of the police lounge, illuminating the mote-filled air as Ken's small body stirred.
At 9 a.m., further questioning resumed. This time, Ken's performance had changed completely. No longer the traumatized boy who could barely answer with a word, he was now "the little witness," diligently recollecting and offering leads to the police.
Sitting up straight, Ken began his statement in the clear but slightly confused tone Steve had taught him—perfectly suited to a boy of his age.
"The bad man… he came in quietly—I don't know how… My sister wanted to run outside and scream, but he caught her… Then he led all of us to the living room and drew lines on the ground with blood… horrible lines… Then… my mouth was gagged by cloth… but it wasn't tied tightly, so… later, it loosened…"
Ken took a deep breath, as if exhausted, then almost shouted:
"After that, I yelled for help—really hard! Then the uncle showed up—a really tall man rushed in!
"What did he look like?" the investigator asked quickly.
"He wore a deep blue suit… very tall… He defeated the bad man in a single blow."
Ken tried to recall Steve's appearance, managing a vague yet vivid description.
"Then he told me to take a shower and change, went downstairs and called the police… By the time I came out, the uncle was gone…"
It was a seamless story, perfectly covering the scene. A serial killer with professional skill, a sudden accident (the loosened cloth gag), and an anonymous justiciar who refused recognition—every detail matched the evidence. Forensic tests confirmed fingerprints found on the murder weapon belonged to Ryuunosuke Uryuu, and the case was quickly solved as an ordinary homicide.
After giving his statement, Ken was no longer doubted by the police. Seeing this boy who'd lost his entire family in a single night moved every officer present. The policewoman who'd taken care of him the previous night, with red eyes, offered temporary housing and counseling.
This was their chance.
Ken looked up, his red, swollen eyes blinking at the policewoman as he timidly spoke.
"Auntie… can I… go to my friend's house?"
"His name is Issei Ryuudou, and he lives at Ryuudou Temple. He's my classmate."
The request was entirely reasonable—a child who's experienced tragedy would easily be allowed to seek familiar companionship, rather than being sent to an unfamiliar shelter. The policewoman swiftly consulted her superiors and gained approval, deciding to personally drive him herself.
Steve, still unseen, followed them as they left the oppressive police precinct. The patrol car glided through the city, the sunlight piercing last night's haze.
They wound up the hillside road, finally stopping before the grand, venerable gates of Ryuudou Temple. The stone steps led deep into dense forest, the air heavy with the scent of grass and trees and the tranquil aura of a proper Buddhist monastery.
The policewoman took Ken's hand and led him up the stairs. In the temple courtyard stood a boy in monk's robes, his face as solemn as any adult—Issei Ryuudou. When Issei saw Ken, a flicker of surprise appeared even on his serious face.
After explanations, a middle-aged monk—wearing austere robes but with deep kindness in his gaze—arrived. He was the host of Ryuudou Temple, and Issei Ryuudou's father. After a brief summary from the policewoman, his eyes lingered on Ken's thin, lonely frame, and he folded his hands in prayer.
"Great Amitabha, what a calamity to befall a benefactor like this—a true tragedy in our world."
"Since he has a friendship with my son, there is fate binding him to this temple. If the police agree, this old monk will look after him for the next few days. The clean air of the temple may help him find some peace."
This was exactly what Ken's heart needed most. The policewoman found it agreeable, gladly left her contact details after more words of care, and finally departed, reassured.
Now the courtyard was empty, save for Mr. Ryuudou, his son, Steve, and Ken. Issei, though serious, did his best to comfort his friend and help him get used to the temple. Soon after, Ken was led to a secluded room—Mr. Ryuudou offered his sympathies, wishing him a restful, unburdened stay.
When the door finally closed, shutting out the world's clamor, only Ken and Steve remained. Steve materialized quietly.
Ken rose instantly from the tatami, eyes filled with expectation and trust.
"It went well." Ken whispered.
"Yes, my master. We succeeded." Steve smiled. "This will become our first 'home' in this war.
"Now, I'll show you my true power."
With those words, he raised his right hand and held it to his chest. The depths of his eyes shone like the true night sky.
A torrent of dazzling magical energy swept through—enough to make every mage in Fuyuki shudder and flee in terror.
"—I declare now."
Though not loud, his voice rang with unquestionable command.
"This is sacred ground. This is a temple. This is an altar built to observe the stars."
From within him, countless silver-blue magical rays surged—living threads of law, transcending mere energy and forming the intricate techniques of a true magus. These rays pierced through the walls and floors, digging into the mountain beneath, rooting all the way to Ryuudou's deep spiritual leyline.
"—In the name of my Master, I reconstruct these loci, restoring this space to its primeval principle!"
[Territory Creation (A++)] — Activated!
Ken stared, dumbfounded, at the miracle before him. The room's walls became as transparent as the night sky. Circuitry of magic wove itself with astonishing speed, stacking layer after layer to form unbreakable barriers.
The very tatami at his feet was like an altar, directly connected to the earth, extracting, transforming, and storing the majesty of the leyline's power.
This was no longer merely a "workshop."
What Steve was constructing was a mystical fortress—a domain elevating Ryuudou Temple from mere physical ground to a corner of the world entirely its own, both offensive and defensive—a [Temple] distinct from reality itself.
...
PS: Bonus chapter at 300 PS