Type-Moon: Does even a sneak peek make it official?

Domitius hadn't even heard Novia's next words when she caught the faint, low chuckle of the so-called "lock"-shaped Ancestor named Koback. Though it was called laughter, to her ears, it sounded more like air leaking from brittle lungs, like wind whistling through a desolate cave — that was the impression it left on the girl.

"Brother Novia, I heard you were invited to the headquarters of the Atlas Institute not long ago, wasn't that so?"

Koback showed no hint of surprise or displeasure at Novia bluntly exposing his background. He simply shifted the topic with practiced ease.

"That's correct."

Novia, of course, understood why Koback remained so calm. The Ancestor probably assumed Novia only knew this thanks to some divine favor or the borrowed authority of the Three-Pronged Hermes, and thought he was merely posturing.

After all, centuries ago, Koback had stood alongside Jewel Warden and the Director of the Clock Tower as one of King Solomon's disciples. And King Solomon — the real, God-favored King — had exercised the one and only miracle granted to him by Heaven, establishing magecraft, or more precisely, thaumaturgy — the manipulation of phenomena itself. Before that, magecraft had been the domain of gods, utterly beyond mortal reach.

His death had only hastened the decay of Mystery and the end of the Age of Gods.

Frankly, when Novia forged those "miracles" back in Britain, he had been half-expecting one of Solomon's disciples, like the Jewel Warden, to expose him. They had all witnessed the genuine miracles of Solomon firsthand. There was always a risk they'd see through him.

But three years had passed, and not a single shadow of them had appeared. Either they didn't care, or they hadn't seen through it.

Still, with Koback, Novia had his own approach, much like when he'd persuaded Lucius—

"Koback Alcatraz," the silver-haired youth's voice turned cold, "You, once a disciple of King Solomon, yet now, just a Dead Apostle skulking in isolation for centuries… You still have the face to show yourself before me? You… dare call me 'Brother'?"

"Brother Novia, as those who share faith in the Lord, surely there's no need for—"

Before Koback could finish his mild reply, Novia wordlessly drew an object from his back and flung it directly at the lock-shaped Ancestor.

Ordinarily, with Koback's abilities, evading a mere physical attack would've been effortless. But the moment he sensed the aura radiating from that 'cross,' his mind froze—

The faint screech of metal echoed.

"This… this aura… it's identical to Teacher's ring… This is… a gift directly from God… Impossible… The Age of Gods is over… How could God possibly—"

In that instant, a terrifying thought surged through Koback's mind. Seventeen years ago, the one who was executed in Jerusalem… Could that truly have been… the genuine Son of God?

If so, then the Old Church entrenched in Jerusalem… had it already utterly fallen, reduced to little more than heresy no better than the magi?

But… if He was truly the Son of God, how could He have died so easily?!

"Koback, your actions long ago disgraced King Solomon, blessed by the Lord." Novia retrieved the cross-shaped staff Martha had given him from Koback's rigid form and drove it into the ground. "Do you see this? It's the staff once wielded by the Son Himself, now reshaped as His crucifix of suffering. Do you know why?"

"Forgive my ignorance… I beg your enlightenment…"

Though his body was that of a lock, Domitius could clearly sense the overwhelming tension radiating from the Dead Apostle Ancestor.

"Don't delude yourself, Koback Alcatraz. With what you've become… you aren't worthy of calling yourself a follower of the Lord."

Not a flicker of emotion crossed Novia's brows. His blue eyes were as unfathomable as the deep sea.

"I confess my sins… Even if I have my reasons… I beg your forgiveness."

"Koback, the world is the product of the Lord's will. The composition of humanity — soul, flesh, and spirit — likewise so. Our very existence is the embodiment of God's love. No matter the suffering that fills the world, it too is a form of His love."

Novia's tone was sharp and unwavering. Though to Domitius, it sounded like little more than cryptic nonsense.

Yet, Koback understood the implications all too well. 'Demons' and 'God' were two sides of the same coin. To hunt heresy that supposedly didn't exist in the original doctrine… was, in itself, an acknowledgment of heresy's presence. But even so, to fall into heresy was merely another form of suffering — and therefore, another form of divine love.

All this time, he'd wallowed in self-loathing, exiling himself over mere pride, convinced his failure had led to the Son's suffering.

But if this world was crafted by the Lord, if all upon it was cloaked in divine love, then mortals could never fully comprehend the shape that love took.

"Jesus Christ, the Son… naturally, He saw the evil of the Old Church. But for the sake of those still living, He chose to shoulder humanity's sins and ascend to Heaven."

"I see… The Lord's love cannot be measured by mortals. The world, the soul, the flesh, the spirit… all shaped by His will… I understand… I see clearly now…"

Koback muttered Novia's words repeatedly, as though engraving them into his very being. Over ten seconds passed before his expression shifted to one of genuine enlightenment.

"Thank you for your guidance. I understand now… You were saving me just now… Fear not. Those heretics defiling my teacher's Jerusalem… they no longer deserve to remain. I shall—"

"No need, Koback. Purging the heretics entrenched in Jerusalem is a mission entrusted to me by God. If I require assistance, I'll contact you."

In truth, Novia had manipulated Koback with practiced ease — not merely with the Son's staff or the vague, divine-sounding rhetoric — but by cleverly exploiting what he knew of Koback's nature.

From Novia's memories, Koback wouldn't complete the Grimoire Tractate — Sacred Text of Treiten — until around 1000 AD.

'The world is shaped by the will of the Lord. If one earnestly records all, explores the composition of soul, flesh, and spirit, would that not reveal the tangible form of divine love?'

Koback's eventual creation of that cosmic template — the Grimoire Tractate — stemmed entirely from such contemplations.

Thus, Novia's so-called "revelations" would only accelerate Koback's work by a few centuries, but posed no real risk. Koback, ever the paranoid scholar, would simply hide himself away to protect his work, not out of fear of misuse — but fear of theft.

In short, there was zero chance the tale of the Mage's Box would unfold ahead of schedule.

That was why Novia had acted with such confidence.

"Yes… I shall obey the Lord's will."

Koback responded with utmost reverence before disappearing into the shadows.

In Domitius' eyes, the whole bizarre debate ended in an overwhelming victory for her teacher, Novia. Though her heart brimmed with questions, she knew well what could — and could not — be asked.

Soon after, the two returned safely to Rome. For Novia, all the pieces were in place. He merely had to bide his time until the weapon forged from the head of Albion's Dragon was completed months later.

And just as Novia had predicted — four months after their return to Rome, Agrippina persuaded the aging Emperor Claudius to name her Empress.

At the same time, Domitius was formally adopted by Claudius, and from that day forward, bore a new name—

Nero.

***************************

Read advanced chapters ahead of everyone else on my P@treon.

P@treon/GodDragcell