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

"Mr. Lucan, would you care to explain—exactly what it is you've done?"

A short while later.

Inside the drawing room of the El-Melloi estate.

Kayneth sat upright on a single-seat sofa with crimson velvet cushions. The coffee at his elbow had long since cooled, no longer releasing steam, and his lemon-colored hair framed a face darkened with pain—a look that practically screamed my soul is bleeding.

Though the full extent of the damage had yet to be assessed...

Just the thought of it made Kayneth's scalp tingle. Engraving the complex mystic formations across every inch of the estate—covering this entire compound in intricate, overlapping layers that turned it into a veritable fortress of magical defense—had consumed an enormous amount of time and energy.

He had once taken great pride in that achievement, confident it was the most impenetrable magical workshop in modern times. A perfect, airtight defense system that even extended to the gas lines and sewer systems.

And now?

All of it was ruined in a single moment.

And that wasn't even counting the raw materials used to carve those formations…

Nor the most crucial element: the tri-core magical furnace in the basement. A massive mana engine forged from the highest-grade phantasm obtained by the El-Melloi family from the Tomb of Albion centuries ago—an artifact that had sustained the immense magical power needed to run the estate's countless systems, and one that cemented Kayneth's position as a Lord of the El-Melloi line.

Even as a Color-ranked Magus, the Director of the Mineralogy Department and a First-Class Lecturer in the Department of Spiritual Evocation, Kayneth felt a cold sweat form at the sheer cost.

But what truly made his scalp crawl—

Was the overwhelming potential surging within the boy seated across from him.

Just how had he done it?

How could someone achieve a third bloodline awakening—and produce such an immense, terrifying surge of magical energy that the mere overflow rivaled high thaumaturgical-class rituals!?

And yet...

Seated opposite him on the couch, Lucan merely blinked with a face of pure innocence.

"I'unno~"

(Not in those exact words, but that was the gist.)

Lounging lazily against the cushions, he exuded total relaxation—like the one who had just obliterated half the estate wasn't him, but someone else entirely. If anything, he looked like the victim here.

Kayneth inhaled slowly through his nose.

Suppressing the rising irritation and indignation.

When it didn't concern personal emotions, he prided himself on being rational.

Regardless of how much damage Lucan had caused—he was bound by the El-Melloi Pact. The El-Melloi family owed the Luviceste line a debt that far outweighed this.

No matter what...

A third awakening. A simple surge that matched high-level mystery on its own...

The potential Lucan had just demonstrated was worthy of serious investment.

Of course, had Kayneth known that the surge hadn't come from Lucan's magic circuits, but rather the raw life-force of a Lesser Origin housed within a divine body, he would've been more than impressed—he'd be alarmed. Horrified, even.

But since he hadn't sensed it…

Lucan saw no need to explain.

The more he gained from these simulations, the more powerful the enemies he provoked became. He still didn't fully understand what had become of Victoire's followers after his death. He only knew that the Mystery Cult, under special orders, had eventually returned to the Roman Church. Whether canonization had occurred remained uncertain.

So, for now—

The fewer people who knew, the better.

The remnants of the most feared figure of the 20th century, Luviceste, were still more than enough for him to digest.

One dish at a time. Worry about the stew pot later.

He had no intention of weaseling out of responsibility either.

Having lived through two entire simulations, totaling more than two centuries of experience, Lucan was no longer some impulsive rookie.

He'd overcome countless enemies, twice surpassed Grand Order-level figures.

He wasn't going to pretend he owed nothing.

Though he had nothing to offer right now, once he retrieved his stockpile back in the Far East academy city, this bit of magical damage would seem trivial.

He opened his mouth, just about to present a compensation plan—probably something of a vague "promissory note," but with his demonstrated potential, such a promise had real weight.

Kayneth beat him to it.

Taking a deep breath, Kayneth spoke again before Lucan could get a word in.

"I must say—I never knew the Luviceste bloodline was known for its raw magical power."

"Maybe not the Luviceste line," Lucan replied calmly, "Could be from the Romanovs."

That... actually wasn't a lie.

In this world, ancient noble houses were often intertwined with mystic bloodlines.

Sure, Anna hadn't shown any such traits.

But who could say what lay buried ten or even twenty generations back?

"Hmm. That's plausible."

Kayneth now seemed genuinely composed, those long, narrow eyes still sharp, but less furious. Gazing at the boy across from him—so calm and casual—he gave a faint, mocking smirk.

"Looking at you now, someone might think this was your house… and I'm the guest."

"If you really feel that way, Kayneth-sensei, I wouldn't mind."

"…"

Give you an inch, and you take the entire damn couch, huh...?

"Then from today onward—this estate is yours."

Lucan blinked.

Staring at the lemon-haired man in genuine surprise.

Had this guy suddenly turned generous?

No, Kayneth hadn't gone soft.

"Innate potential is far more valuable than reliance on external tools. A competent ally brings more security than any artifact. Even the lowest-tier back-alley magus should understand that much—surely you do too, Mr. Lucan. Even with the Luviceste legacy, your line has only managed a shallow three to five generations of inheritance."

Kayneth's voice, tinged with that signature aristocratic sneer, carried on:

"In short—from this day forward, the El-Melloi estate is yours."

"And this—"

He pulled out a scroll or document from who-knows-where.

"—is the itemized bill for the damages you've caused."

Lucan fell silent, staring at the list of densely written numbers.

He finally understood what Kayneth was up to.

Step one: make a big show of generosity.

Step two: drop the bill right after.

This bastard...

Had he learned, after being repeatedly baited by Lucan's tactics, to preemptively compensate himself against the compliments and flattery Lucan was bound to throw next?

Debt was debt. Favor was favor. Protection was protection.

But damage?

That was damage.

And while Kayneth might not demand repayment—

He never said he wouldn't take it.

"Given your current financial state," Kayneth said with calm finality, "it seems the only option left is for you to repay me with your body."

"By marrying the distant niece I once mentioned—Reines El-Melloi Archisorte—and becoming a son-in-law of House El-Melloi."

The cards were on the table.

Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald's eyes gleamed with conviction as he laid out the trap.

Lucan looked back at him—

As if staring at a pimp hawking girls on the side of the road.