London Heathrow Airport, VIP Lounge.
Marisbury Animusphere elegantly closed a book on ancient Sumerian literature,
while beside him rested a suitcase—alchemized, engraved with the Animusphere family crest.
Inside were not only clothes, but vessels of high-purity magic crystals, rare catalyst samples, and enough top-tier artifacts for arming a small team of magi.
His private jet was ready, preparing to fly to that far eastern island nation.
His mind slowly unfurled its grand plan: first, to enter Fuyuki as an observer, thoroughly studying this "Holy Grail War, then, when all were exhausted at war's end, to personally intervene with the full might of his family's resources.
He meant to force a small, isolated Singularity in Fuyuki, summon "Grand Caster" Solomon, crush all with overwhelming power, and seize the Grail.
Not merely to win the war, but to forcibly overwrite Pan-Human history by replacing the Singularity's with his own supreme proof for Chaldea's founding.
...
While this heavenly Lord meticulously prepared his future blueprint for humanity,
Steve Weis—the mastermind behind this grand spectacle—was wandering leisurely through Fuyuki's new downtown arcade, humming off-key pop tunes.
The afternoon sun was warm and pleasant.
Hands in the pockets of casual slacks, he strolled into "Sega World," a massive game center, like a college student skipping class.
The jangle of joysticks, the smashing of buttons, high-pitched yells of youth, and the blast of electronic music instantly enveloped him.
The air was tinted by the faintly burnt scent of circuit boards and sweet popcorn.
Countless blinking screens fused into a dazzling matrix, casting a rainbow of colors on everyone's faces.
Steve, familiar with the layout, navigated through the dance machine section, past the crane games, and headed straight for the back: the fighting game area.
There, lined up were King of Fighters 2002 cabinets, and on a high stool sat a slight, blond-haired figure, deeply immersed in the screen.
This boy—less than ten years old, with dazzling short blond hair and gem-like red eyes—
wore a simple white linen shirt and black short trousers. Seemingly ordinary, but the fabric and cut exuded an elegant, timeless grace.
He was none other than the oldest Hero King, Gilgamesh,
who, on a whim a few days prior, had drunk a Potion of Youth from his treasury,
temporarily returning to this innocent child form.
Steve approached, fished a coin from his pocket, and deftly inserted it into the machine.
With a clack, "PLAYER 2 HAS JOINED" appeared on the screen.
"Hey, Gil-chan, how's your luck today?"
Steve slid a chair closer and sat as if a random bystander, playfully challenging the child to a match. "Still using the same three-favorite setup?"
The youthful Gil glanced over, recognizing Steve. Instead of irritation at being interrupted, he only smiled brightly.
"Hmph. Even a single lineup is enough to conquer this game."
"And you? What kind of strange lineup are you using to challenge me today?"
Even as he spoke, his hands never stopped.
On the screen, his characters—Kula—weaved spectacular combos, easily crushing the CPU.
Unlike his arrogant, prideful adult self, Young Gil in Sage-King mode was extremely mild-mannered, enjoyed all modern amusements, and even considered "surveying his territory" part of a King's duty.
"Today I'm feeling good, so I'll play the main Character Team."
Steve picked the classic trio: Kyo Kusanagi, Iori Yagami, Chizuru Kagura.
The match began, pixellated figures clashing frantically on screen.
Yet, behind this seemingly normal game, there was a subtle, unspoken message.
After Round 1, Gil nonchalantly said—while picking his lineup order:
"…You know, your story—maybe the setup is a bit too drawn out?"
"That Animusphere family head—once he completes his future plan and disappears from the public eye, he's already figured out how to commit suicide, yet here you are, loitering with me. Taking your time, aren't you?"
His tone was relaxed and cheerful, as if talking about a slow-paced TV drama.
But Steve knew this was no idle guess.
Unlike his adult self who kept his omni-potent "Sha Naqba Imuru" tightly sealed,
as a child, Young Gil's thousand-mile sight was passively active almost all the time.
From Marisbury's schemes, the catalysts in his suitcase, his grand Chaldea plan… all was laid bare before this wise king. No secrets.
Steve, controlling Iori, unleashed a swift "127 Shiki: Hyakkyō" combo, nearly KO'ing Kula'.
Simultaneously, he smiled:
"In drama, ritual feeling is the most important thing."
"No matter how great the script, playing it out at the wrong moment dulls its luster."
"This is 2004—the 10th anniversary of the last war, and in another parallel world, it's also the year some guy starts making Earthlings infamous as the universe's worst. Isn't it more dazzling to mark this milestone by starting and finishing everything now?"
"I see—chasing 'performance effect,' in other words?"
Young Gil nodded at sudden insight, controlling Kula to freeze Iori's charge.
"Understood. Just as festivals are always held on specific auspicious days, so you pick a lucky time for your 'festival' too."
"Heh… I agree. The attention to such details is impressive!"
They exchanged smiles; with no need for further words, understanding was mutual.
Dropping the topic, they focused fully on their match.
The click-clack of commands and buttons echoed, the screen flooded with light and shadow.
Finally, with a brilliant "Ura Hyaku-Hachi Shiki: Orochi Nagi" super move, the announcer declared "PLAYER 2 WINS!"
Steve was the victor.
Young Gil watched the losing scene, showing childish regret but neither tantrum nor grudge.
He simply shrugged, let go of the joystick, grabbed his coin box, and hopped off the stool.
"What a pity—too brief this time," he said, straightening his collar, regaining the composure of a little adult.
He took two steps before pausing, turned, and aimed a meaningful smile at Steve:
"Well then, playwright, when your grand show officially starts, don't forget to reserve a VIP seat for me. If the performance falls short, I'll leave you a bad review."
"Don't worry," Steve answered, leaning back in his chair with a grin. "Not just a VIP seat—in a crucial moment when the story needs a 'special guest' to shatter the stalemate, you might have to intervene as the 'strongest Spirit Origin' in your true form and turn serious—so the fun can really begin."
Young Gil's eyes sparkled at this.
His joy was pure and unhidden—
nothing makes him happier than starring in a grand, boisterous entertainment event.
"Haha! Then I'll be waiting!"
He laughed loudly, waved back at Steve, and disappeared toward the music games area.
Only Steve remained, gazing at the scrolling victory screen, his eyes quietly deep.
…