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

The scorching sun blazed over the bare, yellow earth of Alexandria.

On this vast, seemingly all-consuming land, even within the city of Alexandria, rocks tumbled in the wind, and sparse patches of green peeked out stubbornly, though the fierce gales howled incessantly.

At the very heart of Alexandria, amidst tens of thousands of gathered residents, stood a solitary figure.

"People of the world, hear my words."

"All who dwell in this realm, high or low, rich or poor—listen."

With just those few simple sentences, it felt as though all trivial worries, mental burdens, and other concerns of daily life were washed away by the silver-haired youth's voice, cast to the back of the mind as if they never existed.

For the magi living in Alexandria, these words were nothing new—they had heard such rhetoric countless times from other faiths. Yet from this youth's lips, they carried an inexplicable, undeniable power.

"Indeed, mankind is powerless to redeem itself. The price of life—utterly beyond what we can repay."

His voice echoed in the ears of all present, like the casting of a grand spell. This was the embryonic form of an endless power, the continuation of the world's mystery. Over time, it would swell into an unstoppable tide, insulating no land from its reach.

In later eras, the Clock Tower would call it—the greatest thaumaturgical foundation of mankind.

"So, how long will you wait? Why not now—end the stains of your past? Act! Rise up! I have not come to call the self-righteous to repentance, but those who know their guilt."

"Remember—do not indulge in drunken feasts, do not be led astray by lust and wickedness, do not fall to jealousy or rivalry, but instead, be clothed in the grace of Jesus Christ."

As Novia spoke, his gaze drifted to the sand swirling across the ground, lost in thought. Throughout history, humanity had been shaped by climate and environment.

Then… how had Egypt, land of endless deserts, shaped the thoughts of its people?

Or more to the point—what of its long-departed gods?

But in the end, it no longer mattered. With the twilight of the Age of Gods, this place, too, was ready for its curtain call.

"Beauty and goodness are inseparable, for both rest upon form; thus, what is good, we also call beautiful—"

"Ah—"

A startled voice broke the solemn stillness. At the edge of Novia's vision, a blur of dull green flitted past and disappeared in an instant.

A boy.

Startled by everyone suddenly looking his way due to his outburst, he clutched his head instinctively—likely his hat had been blown away.

But the wind wasn't nearly that strong. Most likely, some prankster magi thought it funny to tease a boy his age about appearances.

After a moment's thought, Novia stepped away from the center of the crowd and approached the verge-of-tears boy.

"Is this your hat?"

In the youth's slender, pale hand, the boy's lost straw hat seemed to appear out of thin air.

"I happened to find it."

Novia smiled warmly. The boy's mother, standing beside them, widened her eyes in disbelief—likely the first time she'd seen someone stay so patient and kind after their grand speech was interrupted.

"Thank you…!"

The boy's eyes sparkled as he gleefully placed the straw hat back on his head.

Novia returned the smile, standing beside him as he continued:

"Grace does not destroy nature—it perfects it."

Beyond the city walls, great waves crashed against Alexandria's stone barriers. The spray glittered like the cheers of the crowd.

It was Novia's fifteenth day in Alexandria. Though his true goal was the sunken Library of Alexandria, he hadn't forgotten the task Emperor Claudius entrusted him with. He had handled it on the very first day.

Under a sunlit sky, the sparkling Mediterranean reflected the glory of Rome as several Roman warships sailed toward the city, singing praises to the empire's might.

"I dislike harsh investigations, though my heart burns with anger toward those who provoke them."

"I declare to you all: abandon your stubborn, destructive hostilities. Otherwise, I will show you how a merciful man wields the fist of justice."

"Remember your ancestors—the people of ancient Alexandria, who welcomed the Jewish settlers here with goodwill and never showed contempt for their sacred rites."

"Likewise, I say to the Jewish community: do not use your faith to pressure the Greek athletic festivals—these are entertainment for all. And cease bringing in endless new settlers from Egypt or Syria—it raises suspicions of Jerusalem's hidden agenda."

"I say again: if these disputes can be set aside, if we agree to coexist in peace as our ancestors did, then the great Augustus will shower this city with his eternal favor. But if not… then, like a plague upon the world, every necessary measure of justice shall be taken."

With Novia dispatched by Claudius himself—and real Roman warships anchored outside—the city naturally fell into peace.

After all, the last Pharaoh, Cleopatra, had died watching Roman ships arrive.

If Claudius had heard Novia's speech, he'd likely be baffled—this was nearly word-for-word what he'd intended to say himself…

But knowing Claudius, if he asked, Novia would probably smile and claim it was divine revelation—and Claudius, ever superstitious, would likely believe it.

Since then, Novia spent part of each day preaching within the city. He couldn't spend all his time diving underwater. Though his version of Christianity hadn't yet shaken the polytheistic believers, it was already stirring waves among the Jewish community.

Some converted, intrigued by the 'progressive' faith. Most clung to tradition. Novia didn't press them—common folk would eventually come around. It was the group in Jerusalem that required… more careful handling.

"I believe it should be near here…"

After sharing a meal with his followers, Novia approached an ancient structure alone.

One of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World—the Lighthouse of Alexandria, rising nearly 120 meters into the sky.

When Novia first arrived in Alexandria, he politely refused the local governor's invitation, offering instead to 'contribute to the welfare of the people' by residing in the lighthouse.

In truth, it was because he remembered from Extra CCC lore that the sunken Library of Alexandria lay near the ruins of the lighthouse.

"Been searching so long… maybe it's further out. Guess I'll have to use magecraft—what a hassle."

Novia glanced at some half-eaten fruit, strode through the grand stone entrance, and walked down the high-ceilinged, narrow stone corridor. His footsteps echoed, mixing with the rhythmic crash of waves against the walls.

Days of searching had yielded nothing. Novia nearly considered reporting to the Atlas Institute—at least then, he'd likely be granted access to see Hermes Trismegistus, maybe glean some information.

But that wasn't his original goal. He wanted a formal contract.

After all, it was a contract that allowed Chaldea's old director to acquire the tech to build Chaldeas.

A contract that let Gray's family obtain the "Law Reactor"—one of the seven Holy Weapons—to extract King Arthur's soul.

A contract that allowed Sion to negotiate an entire year of virtual time within the Wandering Sea after Earth's bleaching.

So, if he returned this lost treasure to the Atlas Institute, surely they'd owe him a contract too. And compared to the absurd things those others did with their contracts, his own request was minor: to turn Albion's dragon corpse into a controllable device. Child's play, really.

Besides, Albion's soul had long fled to the Sea of Stars. The corpse was fair game.

Emboldened by these thoughts, Novia's confidence swelled.

Low risk. High reward. Fourteen days in, worst case—he'd stall for a year. He was young. He could afford to wait.

"Hopefully, this goes smoothly…"

With that, the silver-haired youth slipped out the lighthouse's rear entrance and dove beneath the waves.

In the shadowy depths, Novia's magically enhanced eyes saw everything—the fish, the seabed—perfectly clear. The light here wasn't natural, but a product of magecraft.

Eyes sharp, wary, Novia scanned his surroundings as if expecting unwelcome company.

But today, all seemed peaceful as he reached the seabed.

"Where the hell is it…? I've searched everywhere…"

Frustrated, he shook his head—then paused. Something at the edge of his vision.

A smirk crept across his face.

"Finally caught you, stranger."

In that instant, faint mist filled the seabed—a boundary field, known only to those familiar with mystery.

But Novia hadn't cast it.

The mist cleared. His body twisted involuntarily, limbs bound by slender threads that locked him in place.

"No harm intended. My apologies."

A mechanical voice spoke from behind, utterly devoid of human emotion—like a humanoid machine.

Novia showed no irritation despite his predicament. Instead, he asked calmly,

"I'm just curious—how did you know I was here? I hid myself well, didn't I?"

"Coincidence. I've been researching Cleopatra's ruins for months. At first, I thought you were like me. But after observing… clearly not."

Ah. A coincidence. Unlucky, but unavoidable. Magecraft masked magical fluctuations well down here—but also made it easy to get caught off guard.

"Mind letting me go, then?"

"No."

The voice was firm.

"I watched your speeches. Your influence on common minds—fascinating. I intend to study whether it qualifies as a form of psychic manipulation."

"Oh? And how exactly do you plan to 'study' that? Maybe we discuss the glory of Christ? You see, in the beginning—"

Novia smiled, entirely unbothered by the situation.

"Curious as I am about your God, we do not rely on such things. We rely only on what lies within."

Several hair-thin threads materialized before Novia—

"These are Ether Lines—direct links to the brain. With them, I can hijack knowledge, peel back the mind's layers, even invade the soul itself to extract thought patterns. No shame in your defeat—my Ether Lines are top-tier even within the Atlas Institute. And don't worry, I won't kill you."

"Oh? So, you're with the Atlas Institute."

Novia's voice was flat.

The mage behind him gave no reply—only began inserting the Ether Lines toward Novia's brain, ready to seize his every secret—

"Impossible! You… you have no neural structure?! You're an illusion—!"

But by the time realization struck, it was far too late. A sharp pain exploded across the mage's face, and everything went dark.

"You've been awfully bold for a guest. Stealing food from the lighthouse, hmm?"

Novia, now behind the mage, withdrew his fist from the unconscious figure's face and casually pocketed the Ether Lines—the perfect tools for mind control, as promised.

It hadn't been hard to realize someone was snooping around. The lighthouse housed only Novia, with a supply of apples—yet fresh apple stems had appeared, green and pliant. Someone had recently picked them… clearly, this mage lacked basic common sense.

"The Library has four levels, dangerous ones at that… Guess you'll be my guide."

Inspecting the Ether Lines, Novia wasted no time plunging them into the unconscious mage's brain, adding yet another layer of safety.

Finally, he removed the mage's mask, puzzled as he examined their features.

A hatless cap… three long braids down to the waist… purple hair… purple eyes…

Familiar.

Unmistakably familiar.

Suddenly, it hit him—

Wait a minute… isn't this the famous Type-Moon cyber-hacker, the next Director of Atlas, Sion…?!