In the Nasuverse (TYPE-MOON), I Created a Magical Family Lineage

If the man Lucan had previously defeated—Edmond Trambellio, a Clock Tower-certified Grand Magus and established "Lord"—was among the undisputed peaks of the mystic world in this era…

Then the figure now standing on the streets of Paris before him was the peak of the other side: the realm of "miracles."

Perhaps even the peak, with no equal.

Lucan's extensive preparations and cautious separation from Jeanne made sense only in light of an enemy of this magnitude.

When Roa referred to him as a "transmigrant," Lucan understood it meant Roa had sensed the aura of a different era from him—believed them to be the same kind.

But Lucan neither confirmed nor denied it.

Maintaining one's mystery before a powerful foe is a rational strategy.

And so, Roa's curiosity only deepened.

He asked again, intrigued: "It seems you knew I would arrive, even knew of my existence?"

Lucan did not hide his knowledge.

"Michael Roa Valdamjong—rising two centuries ago, a Church genius who mastered both magecraft and miracle. You led the Executors against the Dead Apostles and the True Ancestors in their fortress, Millennium Castle. Of course I know of you."

This wasn't information Lucan had uncovered through modern investigations like he had with Edmond.

No, this knowledge came from outside the world—from his previous life, from beyond the screen.

An omniscient perspective.

Still, such history, while obscure, could be uncovered with effort.

But Lucan wasn't done.

He continued:

"But to meet you here, in this time… that did surprise me. The ritual of 'infinite soul reincarnation'—even with the power of the newly born True Ancestor king and her executioner, the Moon Princess—the success rate is less than one in a thousand."

Roa's smile didn't change.

But Lucan saw it—the subtle tightening of those serpent-like pupils.

That alone proved Lucan's words had struck deep.

Even if some Church elders had passed fragments of the truth down, no one alive should have known how Roa accomplished his reincarnation ritual.

Only Roa himself—and the Moon Princess—had that knowledge.

Yes, this man named Roa wasn't just a priest-magus hybrid from two centuries ago.

He had used the power of the True Ancestors' king—the monstrous executioner, the Princess of the Moon—to create a ritual enabling endless soul reincarnation.

Not a True Ancestor, not a born Dead Apostle.

But something else.

The ancestor of a different kind.

Even though Lucan knew the world he now lived in—of Holy Grail Wars and Heroic Spirits—had no large-scale concept of such creatures, he knew Roa was real. And deadly.

Lucan even knew that Roa would persist for six centuries more, reborn and reborn, emerging again in the Far East during a weakened state.

But now… this version had only undergone a few reincarnations.

His power was nearly whole.

From Lucan's mystic senses, the swirling blackness ten meters ahead radiated dread, no less potent than what he had faced in the Tsarist era against the Human Evil counterpart—Kishinami Kiara.

Perhaps even stronger.

Kishinami had not been the true Human Evil.

But Roa was the real Serpent of Akasha.

And yes, stronger than Lucan.

But knowledge alone did not determine outcomes.

Mystic combat often defied power gaps.

"Fascinating. Absolutely fascinating," Roa said, his voice echoing eerily in the street, like a serpent hissing.

"I don't know how you reincarnated, but I can tell you lack any ancient mystic lineage. Whether your memories remain sealed or not, your presence proves that. And yet… you know secrets known to only two in this world."

"Truly unexpected."

"Unexpected enough... that I must kill you, Victoire."

"Wasn't that your intent all along?" Lucan raised his hands, ready to fight.

Roa waved it off.

"No, no. You misunderstand. The Church did task me with killing you and Jeanne d'Arc—but whether I follow through… that's still my choice."

He smiled again.

"And now, I've chosen: I will kill you."

Lucan didn't need to reply.

He acted.

In an instant, the mystic circuits within his body activated. Heart-sourced magecraft and his pseudo-Origin Core surged together. His Divine-like Hand clashed with Roa's serpent eyes—

—and the world shattered.

Reality crumbled, then snapped back together.

Roa had vanished.

He was behind Lucan!

BOOM!

A sonic boom split the air. Roa's attack met Lucan's fist mid-spin. Two strikes—one divine, one monstrous—collided.

Roa wasn't just a magus. As a Church Executor, his combat leaned more toward a future "Magic User" than a typical ritualist. For him, miracles were weapons—fists and blades.

But in raw physical power, Roa couldn't match Lucan's pseudo-god body.

Lucan stood firm.

Roa was blown away.

Lucan chased.

He pressed the advantage, leveraging physical dominance to keep Roa from unleashing his deeper mystery.

The streets of Paris trembled.

Walls crumbled. Explosions lit the air.

They looked less like magi and more like mythic knights locked in mortal battle.

Lucan's final blow sent Roa flying.

His body shattered the southern wall of Paris and landed across the Seine.

Lucan followed.

His hands glowed.

He exhaled and moved in for the kill.

But then—

Roa's body twisted.

His wounds vanished.

His robes mended.

He stood.

And Lucan halted.

A second rebirth?

"Soul reincarnation?" Lucan narrowed his eyes.

No.

"Not reincarnation. Not soul-based."

"This is... physical immortality."

Roa grinned.

"Impressive, Victoire. To defeat Trambellio, known for his solid fundamentals, shows the strength of your double-Grand-tier mystery."

"You nearly had me."

But nearly wasn't enough.

Lucan's eyes sharpened.

This Roa—he was different from the ones he remembered.

This was the first reincarnation.

The complete version.

The perfect Serpent of Akasha.

Lucan realized the truth:

Roa had not yet died. Had not yet been cast out from the Church.

Because he had not yet fully transformed.

He still existed within the framework of the Church.

But that wasn't the key insight.

The most important realization was—

The murderous intent Roa showed earlier wasn't just aggression.

It was fear.

Roa feared something.

Lucan saw it.

His name.

Just one name had shaken Roa's composure.

That name was—

"The King of the True Ancestors, the Executioner, the Princess of the Moon—Arcueid Brunestud."

"You're afraid... of her."