There once lived a man who was called the King of Magic.
A born monarch, endowed with the talent to rule from the moment he appeared in the world. He was so great that even those who considered magic a mere ridiculous fabrication had heard legends of his deeds.
"The Sorcerer King of Angmar?" they clarified into the void.
No.
"The Lich King of the Frost Throne?"
No, not at all!
While Holmes, Ritsuka, and the others stood frozen, Pika-pool was calmly staring into space and cracking jokes with an invisible interlocutor.
"Hmm? Strange. My magic didn't affect this familiar."
"Oops!"
Only then did Pika-pool snap out of it and try to "pretend" to be frozen like everyone else, hoping to avoid disaster, but the moment was lost. The golden-eyed mage slowly approached him.
"Familiar aura. But the appearance... is somewhat different. Hmm... Ah, I see.
It seemed he understood something: propping his chin with his hand, the mage beamed with a smile of realization.
"Yamete! You're not going to use me for firewood, are you? Like in those erotic doujinshi?!"
Pika-pool instinctively covered himself with his tiny paws. However, the mage, intrigued by his behavior, merely gestured with his hand, making the rodent soar into the air.
"Wade!"
"Mr. Pool!"
Ritsuka and Mash desperately tried to break the bonds that held them, but it was all in vain.
"We've met before, haven't we?"
Ignoring their cries, the mage carefully examined Pika-pool.
"Uh... I don't know. Before I came here, I visited a gay bar, and there was this sexy Latino guy covered in tattoos, all hip-hop. Wasn't that you? Because he was really hot..."
While Pika-pool was fooling around, the mage, clearly amused, pulled him closer.
"Your current form is new to me, but the essence inside seems familiar. I feel a kindred spirit in you..."
"Listen, because of my mutant gene, my whole skin is like a Shar-Pei, you can't see any tattoos! And I'm not Latino, I'm Canadian! Idiot!"
Pika-pool continued to spew insults, feeling the disgusting pressure emanating from the opponent's golden eyes. But the mage merely smiled meekly, enveloped in an aura of crimson-black energy. He resembled a child who had caught a helpless mouse and put it in a cage to play with.
"I must admit, you coped well with the difficulties. Lev Lainur is good at everything, but I was always annoyed by his habit of always leaving some loophole in his plans. However, I am grateful to him for sharing my desire and following me."
As soon as the mage uttered Professor Lev's name, Ritsuka's, Mash's, and Pika-pool's doubts turned into a guess, and then into firm certainty. The very man David had spoken of – his son, nicknamed the King of Magic. His name was Solomon.
"So, you're that guy who suggested cutting a child in half?"
"A bit exaggerated, but generally correct," Solomon replied. "Only now I'm not dealing with infants. I am the one who can cut the entire history of humanity in half."
He confidently snapped his fingers. Of course, it was just a gesture, devoid of spells or magical energy, so nothing happened.
"I see that after the 'Avengers,' clicks are all the rage these days. And all that talk about 'half' too. Hey, Cable! You hear that? Your cue, don't blow it!"
Solomon merely glanced at the emptiness in response to Pikapool's next dose of nonsense.
"There's no one around, but you're conversing as if someone's watching us. You're aware of the Fourth Law's domain, surpassing the Third... right?"
"Uh... sorry. I always got F's in science."
Pikapool clearly didn't understand what Solomon was talking about.
"Your... your damn mother! You think I'll just surrender to some lousy mage?!"
Meanwhile, Mordred came into Solomon's field of vision, struggling with all her might to break free. Seeing her thrash in her bonds even in a hopeless situation, the mage, out of curiosity, slightly loosened his grip.
"Don't think this crap will hold me!"
Mordred roared as if she had shattered the chains herself and valiantly raised her sword. Solomon, with a smirk, prepared for the fight.
"Hey, hey, take it easy! That guy is really dangerous! Do you want to turn into a pile of ash after his click?!"
"Shut up! I don't trust this magical breed! And that bastard makes me sick, just like that damn witch!"
Veins bulged on Mordred's temples from rage. She raised her silver sword high above her head, concentrating bolts of crimson lightning within it. She was about to use her Noble Phantasm.
"Mo-chan! Don't! Stop! You can't handle it!"
"Shut up, Master! His very existence makes me want to vomit! Besides... because of him, I remembered something I'd rather forget forever!"
Soon, Mordred's silver blade was engulfed in a storm of crimson lightning, making the air around tremble. As she prepared a blow of monstrous power, Solomon just watched her impassively with a frozen smile. This serenity infuriated Mordred completely. With eyes clouded by anger, she unleashed her power.
"Betrayal towards my beautiful father..."
"CLARENT BLOOD ARTHUR!"
A colossal stream of crimson lightning engulfed Solomon. He didn't move until the very last moment. He merely raised his hand slightly.
"Got it!"
The triumphant smile had ba""I see that after 'Avengers,' finger snaps are all the rage these days. And all this talk about 'half' too. Hey, Cable! You hear that? Your cue, don't miss it!"
Solomon merely cast a glance into the void in response to another dose of nonsense from Pikapool.
"There's no one around, yet you're conversing as if someone is watching us. You are aware of the domain of the Fourth Law, which surpasses the Third... correct?"
"Uh... sorry. I always got D's in science."
Pikapool clearly didn't understand what Solomon was talking about.
"Your... your mother! You think I'll just surrender to some stinking mage?!"
Meanwhile, Mordred came into Solomon's field of view, struggling with her last strength to break free. Seeing her thrashing against her bonds even in a hopeless situation, the mage loosened his grip slightly out of curiosity.
"Don't think this junk can hold me!"
Mordred roared as if she had shattered the shackles herself and valiantly raised her sword. Solomon smirked, preparing for a fight.
"Hey, hey, take it easy! This guy is seriously dangerous! You want to turn into a pile of ash after his snap?!"
"Shut up! I don't trust this magical breed! And this bastard makes me sick just like that damned witch!"
The veins on Mordred's temples bulged with rage. She raised her silver sword high above her head, concentrating crimson lightning discharges within it. She was preparing to use a Noble Phantasm.
"Mo-chan! Don't! Stop! You can't handle him!"
"Shut up, Master! His very existence makes me want to vomit! Besides... because of him, I remembered something I'd rather forget forever!"
Soon, Mordred's silver blade was engulfed in a storm of crimson lightning, causing the air around to tremble. As she prepared a strike of monstrous power, Solomon merely watched her impassively with a frozen smile. This serenity finally drove Mordred over the edge. With eyes clouded by anger, she unleashed her power.
"Betrayal towards my beautiful father"...
"CLARENT BLOOD ARTHUR!"
A colossal torrent of crimson lightning engulfed Solomon. Until the very last moment, he didn't move. He merely raised his hand slightly.
"Got it!"
A triumphant smile had barely touched Mordred's lips when it was immediately replaced by an expression of complete stupefaction.
"Useless," the mage stated flatly.
Solomon remained unharmed. Moreover, he caught the Phantasm's energy in his open palm, compressed it into a tiny sphere, and with a careless flick sent it back at Mordred. There was no explosion. None was needed – the outcome was predetermined.
"Ha... ha-ha. So, this is how it ends..."
With a devastated face, Mordred watched as her legs slowly disintegrated into sparks of light.
"Mordred!"
Holmes, still bound by magic, watched her disappearance with a heavy heart.
Mordred threw her Master a guilty but bright smile – an apology for disobeying orders and acting alone.
"My time is up. Well... take care..."
She didn't get to finish and completely dissolved into radiance.
"A homunculus cannot escape its fate. Especially one born solely to bring down the King of Knights – there's no escaping that rut. Just as there's no escaping the fate of humanity itself."
Solomon gestured with his finger, loosening the bonds. Holmes and Ritsuka's group, having barely regained control of their bodies, abandoned thoughts of resistance from the very moment Mordred vanished from a single blow.
"Do you truly intend to burn the foundations of humanity simply because you've become disillusioned with people?" Mash asked.
"It's amusing to hear discussions about humanity and its history from one who lived in a cage," Solomon replied without a hint of doubt. "Of course."
At these meaningful words, Mash darkened and involuntarily touched her forearm. Meanwhile, Solomon's gaze shifted to Ritsuka.
"You're lucky, Master of Chaldea. So, this is already the fourth pillar of humanity you've restored?"
On one hand, restoring four Singularities was a great achievement. However, for Solomon, the true culprit of the disaster, it was a boring and insignificant matter – nothing more than the annoying buzz of a fly.
"Why have you appeared now?" Ritsuka asked.
"A stroll," Solomon tossed out briefly.
Just a stroll. The one who erased Saber, the strongest of Servants, with a snap of his fingers, and whose presence suppressed the very will, had come here merely for a leisurely promenade.
"Perhaps it's more accurate to say this: I've been sitting too long in the library with books, my bones have gone stiff, and I decided to go out and stretch."
He was openly mocking them. Up to this point, four Singularities had been corrected, with three remaining. And his appearance at such a moment led to only one thought: he had come to eliminate those who hindered his plans.
"What makes you think I would trouble myself with such a thing?"
"Huh? Wait. Did he just answer my thoughts?"
"No, no," Pikapool muttered, "he's just talking to himself."
Looking at the chattering creature again, Solomon approached once more.
"You are mistaken if you think only you are capable of ignoring laws and interfering in alien structures."
"Oh, really? So, you know your own future just as 'accurately' as the road to nowhere?"
Pikapool didn't retreat a step, snapping back. Solomon seemed amused by this: he laughed and began scratching the creature's fluffy belly.
"You think I'll just surrender before this... oh... o-o-oh...! O-o-oh! Father Arceus, my god! Keep going! A-ah! That feels so good!"
It only took scratching under his chin for Pikapool, like a puppy, to wag his tail happily and wave his paw. Ritsuka looked at him with unconcealed contempt.
"Well then, the stroll is over. Perhaps it's time to return."
Solomon stretched widely. As he turned to leave for his domain, Mash shouted at his back:
"You're just leaving like that?! You don't consider us an obstacle that needs to be removed?!"
She couldn't understand his logic. The actions of the Grand Caster, the greatest of mages, were neither an act of mercy nor even mockery – he simply attached no significance to their existence.
"Do you truly crave death so much?"
Space suddenly distorted. Mash's throat was seized as if by an invisible boa constrictor, yanking her sharply upward.
"Kkh... kha-a!"
"Mash!"
Golden eyes bored into her, but as soon as Solomon relaxed, the pressure on her neck vanished.
Ritsuka ran to her as she gasped from coughing. Fortunately, she was a Servant, and the injury wasn't serious.
"Besides, the seeds have already been sown. All that remains for me is to wait for them to sprout and entangle you hand and foot."
He tossed out another cryptic phrase.
"Fujimaru Ritsuka. Let's see how you struggle. If you are, of course, human..."
With these words, Solomon vanished.
The fog over London finally cleared. The silence of the night streets was broken by the chime of Big Ben, announcing the arrival of midnight.
The next morning, the city came alive. People, locked in their homes, poured out onto the streets in delight, and London regained its former energy. In Holmes's room on the second floor of 221B Baker Street, preparations for the return to Chaldea were in full swing.
"I'm glad everything was resolved, Mr. Holmes," said Mash, looking at the detective. He, having finished all his business and seeing the end of the London anomalies, was beginning to succumb to boredom again.
"And yet, this was the noisiest case in my practice. I doubt I'll forget it soon."
"Yes, me too. For the road, would you like a chimichanga?"
Holmes accepted the strange dish from Pikapool. Tasting the spicy, spice-filled food, he surrendered to the new sensation with such relish that, without even glancing at the drug clutched in his hand, he threw it on the floor.
"It's time for us to go. Farewell."
"Goodbye," Holmes replied.
Ritsuka, Mash, and Pikapool vanished in the glow of the leyline shift.
For a while, Holmes, smoking his pipe, looked at the now-empty spot, then shifted his gaze to the bustling London street. Sensing someone's presence behind him, he, as if nothing had happened, clicked his suspenders and took a deep drag.
"You're leaving too, Sherlock Holmes?"
Holmes addressed the reflection in the mirror. There stood a man, taller than him and noticeably leaner in build, with neatly combed-back black hair and a pipe in his teeth. The second "Sherlock Holmes" nodded.
"Babbage's assignment turned out to be much more complicated than I thought. It seems I'll have to check out a couple of places. Ideally – where they understand magic."
"I didn't see you while I was having a hard time."
"Hey, I was the one who put Babbage's blueprints in order! If not for my efforts, you could forget about the 'London-something' protocol. Sher. Lock. Holmes."
"Those are my words, doppelganger from another world. Sher. Lock. Holmes."
The two Holmes exchanged remarks, enveloped in tobacco smoke, until footsteps sounded from the stairs. The dark-haired detective nodded in farewell and dissolved into space.
"Holmes, are you high again and talking nonsense to yourself?"
"...Not at all. What makes you think that?"
"Then why is my dog lying unconscious? Did you pump my dog full of junk again?!"
"It's 'our' dog."
Amid the grumbling of the doctor who had burst in, Holmes merely took a serene drag from his pipe and smiled faintly.