Magician in Type-Moon

Page 531

They would sit around the dining table, chatting about the games they played with their friends that day, and discussing seemingly trivial but joyful details.

However, will Hartres, as the "replacement," also return to his rightful place at this moment?

Where to return to?

For some reason, it makes me want to cry.

Yvette turned her head and looked at Matou Ike, asking:

"Did you get any useful clues from this visit?"

Matou Ike nodded slightly, his gaze piercing through the distant sunset: "Yes, there are a few things that are indeed very valuable for reference."

He squinted, his gaze fixed on the afterglow of the setting sun, his eyes deep as a bottomless abyss, carrying a silent sigh.

"However, even with an assumption, it is still a conjecture based on conjecture."

He sighed softly, his gaze slightly lowered.

"Such speculation is hardly sufficient as a concrete indicator for action."

Yvette gently shook her head; she didn't press for an answer.

She understood that the Matou Ike in front of her was not the kind of person who pursued perfection.

In her view, although she may not be able to get a perfect answer from every situation, if Matou Ike thinks that certain information is helpful, he will definitely share it with her without hesitation.

"...It's probably just a little bit short." Matou Ike's voice was low and slightly tired.

He gazed at the distant twilight, as if trying to grasp the clues to the approaching dawn.

Every detail, every piece of information, is like digging a mud wall in endless darkness. It's just an inch away from another opening, but you can never reach the final answer.

He sighed, and as he turned around, his hand unconsciously reached into his coat pocket and patted the contents of the bag a few times.

His fingertips lightly touched the ancient coin, and the coldness of the metal instantly made him pause for a moment.

"Stadt gold coins?" Matou Ike murmured to himself, his voice low and thoughtful.

Iskandar gold coins, a type of currency prevalent in the cultural sphere surrounding Greece, hold a pivotal position, especially in the history of currency and economy.

It could even be said that Iskandar quietly formed a cultural and religious bond by circulating these gold coins, connecting East and West.

The king who conquered all directions was not only a hero on the battlefield, but also a symbol of faith in the territories he conquered.

However, the mysterious incantations on the gold coins have not yet been fully deciphered.

But what about things other than the techniques?

In ritual magic, the spells or materials used have their own symbolic meaning.

The symbol of gold coins...

“So that’s how it is…faith?” he murmured softly, as if talking to himself, or perhaps responding to some distant perception.

"Faith?" Yvette turned her head with some confusion, her gaze falling on the gold coins that Matou Ike was flipping through her fingers.

She didn't immediately understand the meaning of Matou Ike's words, but Matou Ike's reaction clearly piqued her curiosity.

Matouchi turned the gold coin over and examined it carefully several times. The metal surface that her fingertips touched was cold and hard, reflecting a faint light.

Then, he slowly explained:

"Money is itself one of the oldest and most enduring beliefs. This belief is profound and universal, and needs no further explanation. You see, today's society is still built on the belief in money."

He paused, his tone carrying a hint of calm insight.

"This is not just a product of capitalism. For thousands of years, almost all human societies have been built around this 'belief.' Money, it can be said, is the largest magic trick in human history."

Yvette understood the implication in Matou Ike's words, and a subtle look of contemplation appeared in her eyes.

However, she couldn't help but ask:

"So, what's the point of bringing something like this into the maze?"

Matou Ike paused slightly, unconsciously narrowing one eye as if he were repeatedly pondering her words in his mind.

"Bring the gold coins... into the maze?"

He repeated the sentence in a low voice, his tone somewhat doubtful, yet also carrying a sudden flash of inspiration.

At that moment, for some unknown reason, Matou Ike's heart was suddenly touched, and his gaze unconsciously began to wander, gradually focusing on the ground.

As he walked, he kept muttering to himself, "Maze...maze..."

It was as if those two words suddenly resonated strangely in his mind.

He walked quickly in circles, as if drawn by some unknown force, his fingers unconsciously running through his dark blue curly hair.

He bit his lower lip slightly, his gaze fixed on the ground, as if searching for some lost clue.

Suddenly, Matou Ike's gaze sharpened, a flash of inspiration struck him, and he blurted out:

"Oh, right! Albion, the Tomb of Spirits, is a labyrinth!"

"...Huh? No, I think it's definitely right."

Yvette hesitated for a moment, but ultimately confirmed her judgment.

This fact is so obvious that there is absolutely nothing to doubt.

Her tone carried a sense of helpless naturalness, as if this was already her default answer to everything.

A vast labyrinth hidden beneath the clock tower.

Legend has it that the labyrinth was originally formed from the remains of an ancient dragon.

After the dragon died, its massive body was not buried, but transformed into a complex labyrinth in a very special way. This labyrinth is not only one of the foundations of the Mage's Association, but also a highly unconventional magical creation, symbolizing a powerful and primal magic.

"Remember what Aozaki mentioned before?"

Matou Ike spoke softly, his voice calm yet thoughtful, "He once said that the labyrinth itself is a kind of magic, and the process of breaking through the labyrinth is actually through a certain ritual."

Ivy nodded, and after a moment's recollection, her thoughts raced:

"Yes, I remember. He said that a maze is different from a maze array. A maze array uses a complex layout to trap enemies, while in the depths of a maze, legend has it that you will encounter another version of yourself."

Her voice paused slightly, tinged with thought, "If that's really the case... then it's more than just a simple confusion."

“That’s right.” Matou Ike snapped his fingers, his eyes flashing slightly. “If this is truly the rule of the labyrinth, then the identity of that Heroic Spirit…”

His tone was slightly calm, with an air of inquiry, "If he can use a Noble Phantasm similar to Iskandar's, then he must have a very deep connection with Iskandar."

He paused for a moment, then gently curled the corners of his lips into a low voice as he pondered.

The legendary Iskandar was short in stature, with hair that was both gold and black, and eyes that resembled golden and silver demonic pupils, one like a pitch-black night sky, the other as if embracing a vast blue sky.

The various descriptions of the Conqueror King make it impossible to ignore the aura he exudes.

"Judging from the images sent back by Aozaki Touko, the Heroic Spirit known as the 'Imitator' perfectly matches Iskandar's characteristics."

"Matou Ike said softly, a subtle emotion flashing in his eyes."

He frowned slightly, his thoughts beginning to race: "Impersonator?" The word churned in his mind.

He suddenly stopped, a few unsettling thoughts flashing through his mind. "Why call him a 'pretender'? He's not one of the seven major classes..."

Matou Ike frowned slightly.

The imposter?

Why are they called imposters?

This is something outside of the seven major job classes.

He pondered for a moment, a thoughtful expression appearing on his face, and murmured to himself.

"Iskandha, as an ancient royal, possessed abilities not only in conquest but also in assassination and warfare. This ability, especially in impersonating him during war, could indeed achieve surprising and decisive results."

Matou Ike suddenly remembered some information hidden deep in her mind.

It's intelligence about El-Melloi II, that guy Waver Velvet—

—After obtaining access to the Summoning Realm Record Belt, El-Melloi II's summoning attempt failed.

"...Wavef failed to summon Iskandar..."

“Teacher?” Yvette was clearly drawn to the name and paused for a moment.

“Yes,” Matou Ike said casually. “After gaining access to the Summoning Boundary Record Belt, Lord El-Melloi II attempted to summon a Heroic Spirit, but failed.”

Yvette frowned, looking somewhat confused. "Summoning failed? Why?"

“There are two possibilities,” Matou Ike said in a low voice. “The first possibility is that the Heroic Spirit is unwilling to form a contract with the summoner. However, someone like Iskandar, the King of Conquerors, would almost never refuse the opportunity to descend into the mortal world.”

He paused, his tone becoming even more composed, "The second possibility, perhaps more plausible, is that Iskandar's true name has been taken by another Heroic Spirit, who may have already existed in this world."

Yvette's expression changed slightly, a hint of wariness rising in her heart: "Possessing Iskandar's real name?"

She repeated it softly, as if processing the information.

"So, from a summoning perspective, should we call that guy Iskandar?" Matou Ike suddenly asked.

Yvette was stunned, then exclaimed, "Iskandar? The conqueror? My teacher's dream lover?! She's a woman?"

Her voice suddenly rose, almost reaching the clouds in the sky.

A high note beyond human limits came from the pink-haired twin-tailed lady beside him, making Matou Ike roll his eyes in annoyance.

He ignored Yvette's strange idea and continued along his own train of thought:

“So, Hartres’s intentions toward the ‘King’ are quite clear… Yes, that’s right. Since he brought the King’s shadow imposter into the great labyrinth of Albion, there’s no other possibility…”

......

Even from the restaurant in the skyscraper, the sun was almost setting, gradually turning the London skyline orange-red.

The restaurant was unusually quiet; apart from the occasional clinking of silverware, there was almost no noise.

This upscale restaurant is usually fully booked a year in advance, but today it was unusually empty, with only a handful of guests.

Two figures were still sitting upright in the seats by the window.

The old woman and the burly man, two seemingly mismatched individuals, still uncompromisingly occupied this territory belonging to power and influence.

The old woman's name was Lady Inole Baruyeletta.

She slowly wiped her mouth with a napkin, making a low, sharp critique of the food on her plate.