Type-Moon, Is a Small Opening Also an Opening?

The evening remedial sessions had become one of the few opportunities X had to "complain" to Mizuvia.

"Boss, Instructor Metatron is way too harsh! She made me catch meteors barehanded, and she even said that back when you—"

"Alright, alright, I get it." Mizuvia rubbed his brow, clearly long accustomed to Metatron's "back when Veya..." remarks. "Instructor Metatron's training is indeed strict, but she is also very experienced. She only wants you to grow stronger as quickly as possible."

Mysterious Heroine X hesitated, then could only force out, "Boss, the instructor... was really good to you back then."

A nostalgic expression appeared on Mizuvia's face.

"Yes, Instructor Metatron was quite good..."

The great angels under the Lord of Cosmic Order were, in essence, vessels of power—or rather, "conceptual armaments" or "systems." They possessed no personalities or emotions whatsoever.

And Mei... Metatron was no exception.

It had no emotions. When Mizuvia trained under it, he truly suffered... and this had gone on from childhood to adulthood. After all, the Lord of Order was the sort to leave everything to others, so Mizuvia had always been cared for by Metatron while growing up. As for his other big brother, he had not returned for many years.

Thus, after finding Mikael and obtaining permission, Mizuvia sought out Metatron again and asked it to train Mysterious Heroine X at his own level of intensity—

Distort.

Reorganize the universe's laws of causality as much as possible.

To prevent Mizuvia from approaching the throne where it resided because of some strange request he wanted fulfilled, and to reject his strange idea, it was necessary to ensure that he could not see it today—or for the entire year. Though the entity known as Mysterious Heroine X was an outstanding talent, that was precisely why this was the most appropriate course of action against Mizuvia.

Metatron felt neither doubt nor hesitation about this. It, along with all angels, was a vessel of power; calling them machines would not have been inaccurate.

"...Are you there?"

He was advancing.

Before him, laws fierce enough to make even the rules of the universe creak clashed in savage conflict.

It had originally deduced that by using a fraction of the power of his serious form, known as "Little Yahweh," he should have been able to force it back at his former level of strength.

So that was it. Had he reached an entirely new stage? Re-entering data.

"Do not approach. Entry is prohibited."

Metatron began manipulating the order of causality.

Their positions shifted once more. The further Mizuvia moved forward, the farther back he went. Even teleportation became a complete mess due to the vectors of force and spatial coordinates.

In fact, it had also planted tiny concepts within Mizuvia's body. Small amounts of fatigue accumulated without end; by the time he noticed, he would be unable to stand.

This ability should not have been much trouble for Mizuvia. The reason it had become so threatening was, instead, because Metatron knew him too well.

After all, it had watched him grow up and cared for him since childhood.

"Alright, what now? At this rate, your heart may 'unluckily' stop beating. That is highly possible."

The words Metatron threw at the sweat-soaked Mizuvia contained nothing but mechanical indifference.

Given its nature as an angel, such ruthlessness was only natural. As the strongest angel, it had been unable to help the humans God wished to protect precisely because it was the strongest, and thus had become a failed creation. Yet it possessed an aspect of omniscience and omnipotence, so the silver-haired young man's next move was naturally within its predictions—

"I can't believe it—you really are reckless!"

For an instant, Metatron thought he was about to give up. He struck his hand against his own chest, and in the next moment, stood up again, dispelling the disorder in causality.

That method was far too forceful, far too reckless. It made sense in theory, but almost no one could carry it out without hesitation. The psychological barrier aside, the risk was simply too great.

"I didn't want to do that either. But more importantly, I'm curious—why are you avoiding me?"

"Entry is prohibited."

"Then at least give me a specific time."

"...One year."

"That long... Are you doing this on purpose?"

"You have no right to question me. Insufficient authority."

"Fine, then I'll leave. I'll come find you again in a year..."

So it had rationally rejected this request, but why was its heart drawn to it?

Metatron did not understand. It hoped this request would fail, yet somehow found that outcome a little regrettable, a little unwilling to accept.

It was like when a possibility one had assumed was settled suddenly fell into chaos, leaving one with the sensation of being cast into a pitch-black wilderness...

"I was kidding."

In that instant, Mizuvia, who had come rushing over at extreme speed, arrived before the throne in the blink of an eye.

This made Metatron involuntarily draw a sharp breath.

At this point, even if it carried out its task, there would be no fault in it. Under God's assessment, it was correct.

Or rather, there was no need to think too much, was there? Since its birth, there had been too many things it did not wish to think about, too many problems it did not wish to face, piled up like mountains. It could process them all in an instant, but such thought was pointless. Still, just a little longer—the temptation to forget everything was right before it, difficult to resist...

"I want you to watch X make the same miserable face I used to."

Facing the "throne" that had possessed neither personality nor emotion since its birth, yet had cared for him all this time, Mizuvia smiled faintly.

"I understand what you did just now. I don't dislike that kind of attitude."

For some reason, Metatron felt its entire body go numb. A sensation like an electric current surged through it—more intense than electricity, hotter than radiance. Information called joy transformed into trembling currents and raced throughout the entire throne.

"So help me just this once—"

It was one step away from bursting from his throat, yet Metatron felt no disappointment. On the contrary, it grew even more expectant.

It was certain that as long as he spoke this name to it, his wish would come true—

"Metatron."

Someone he could accept, Someone he could trust, someone who would help him without the slightest doubt.

Even if some terrifying conspiracy lay at the end of the universe, it would not allow the child before it to be manipulated at will. No matter who it was, no one could force him into a mold.

After all these years, he must have been terrified. He must have suffered. It had to be so.

How pitifully lovable, how dazzling!

And so, The strongest angel, the incarnation of the power known as the "Throne," answered the being who had called its name.

Amid a violent wind capable of sweeping through hundreds upon thousands of galaxies, the incarnation of the supreme angelic power—with ten graces, 1,365,000 blessings, seventy-two pairs of wings, 365,000 shining eyes, forty-nine gemstones, and a crown—within the program that sang songs of bliss—

It took human form upon the Throne.

"Remember this... my sloth was born because of you."

She wanted to become the utterly indispensable thing this person needed, and she wanted him to know it. Thus, the voice that stated it so clearly carried its usual languid attitude.

"My lovely child."

As Metatron, suddenly transformed into a human, sat on the Throne and embraced him, Novia merely lowered his head. Then he suddenly looked up and said lightly, As though he were merely mentioning it in passing, as though it were some boring joke.

"...Of course I'll remember."

Then time returned to the present.

"Alright, now for theoretical knowledge. If you encounter a planetary-class Dead Apostle outside, what must you do?"

X tried to force herself to answer, but only meaningless mumbling came out of her mouth.

However, Mizuvia had plenty of ways to perk Mysterious Heroine X up. He took out all kinds of Saber-face merchandise and waved them around her. "Look, when this Saber face passes through three-dimensional space and enters four-dimensional space, her skirt and height will change like this..."

Watching those Saber dolls twist and distort in midair, Mysterious Heroine X felt as though her mind had suffered a double blow. On one hand, the theory gave her a headache; on the other, the Sabers sent her blood pressure soaring. Yet strangely enough, under such extreme stimulation, her brain actually remembered those complicated concepts.

But what drove Mysterious Heroine X to despair the most was that Mizuvia had secretly drawn all kinds of Saber portraits on her face while she slept!

When she woke up in the morning and looked in the mirror, she saw that chibi red Saber on her face and nearly cried from how ugly she looked.

"Boss! You bastard! What the hell did you draw?! It's even affecting my breathing!"

X stormed angrily into Mizuvia's room, protesting as she desperately tried to wipe the graffiti off her face.

Only to discover that he was studying, with a perfectly serious expression, books titled The Startup Story of the Emperor of Rome's Business District and Facial Painting Techniques and Servant Identification.

"Hm? What is it? I'm researching how to help you better remember Saber's features. There are so many Sabers in the world—it takes quite a bit of time for me to find them all."

Mizuvia answered with an innocent expression.

If she hadn't felt she couldn't beat him, Mysterious Heroine X really would have wanted to punch her own boss.

In short, Metatron's physical beatings and Mizuvia's mentally torturous teaching filled every day of Mysterious Heroine X's year. She felt only one step away from a breakdown, but at the same time, she was growing at an extraordinary speed.

By the time the joint examinations and the Cosmic Grand Examination arrived, X had lost a great deal of weight, and her dark circles were as deep as cosmic black holes. Yet her gaze was exceptionally determined.

She wasn't trying to prove how smart she was, nor did she want to become the strongest SSR Servant. She just wanted to escape this "inhumane" life as soon as possible, then go... go settle accounts with Artoria! And afterward, assist that hateful, detestable boss of hers!

At noon on the day before the exam—today—Metatron looked at Mizuvia, and her gaze instantly turned affectionate, carrying a trace of barely concealed possessiveness. Then, when she looked at Mysterious Heroine X, X saw the normally incomparably brutal Metatron reveal a rare, complicated expression. But more than anything, it was one of approval.

"You've done well, X," Metatron said. "Back when Via..."

"Instructor! Stop! Don't bring up Via back then again!" X couldn't help interrupting Metatron, even though she knew this was probably Metatron's way of expressing approval.

Metatron paused, then reached out and, as though tidying a child's clothes, brushed dust that did not exist from X's shoulder again.

"Go. There are many things in the universe outside waiting for you to explore. If you encounter a problem you can't solve, you can... you can ask Via. He'll help you. And you have indeed qualified. From now on, while assisting Via with his work, take good care of him too."

Assist him? Take care of him? Looking at Metatron's gaze, X felt as though she had been entrusted with an important mission—while Instructor Metatron could not "personally watch over" him, X was to "monitor" and "take care of" Mizuvia in her place. What kind of Cosmic Police work was this?! This was a universe-level "substitute babysitter" job! Ugh, could she at least get paid...

Besides, the exam hadn't even started yet. Whether she could pass the theory section and whether her score would be high enough were both still unknown...

"Ugh..."

Mysterious Heroine X tugged at the collar of her student uniform to fan herself, then pressed her whole face against the little fan's air outlet. Her facial muscles immediately relaxed.

"Time to sleep, X."

"Oh... okay." Mysterious Heroine X brushed up her bangs and answered Mizuvia as he entered. "I'll sleep in a bit..."

"If you pass the exam, how about applying with me to go to that address?"

Hearing Mizuvia's invitation, Mysterious Heroine X's eyes widened as she froze.

"If I can pass... but only once! Don't even think about making me accompany you for any longer, Boss. And let me make this clear first: you're covering the expenses."

"Alright, of course."

Mizuvia left the room, and Mysterious Heroine X could not help but deeply realize that she had become a mature adult... right?

She had gone from a "problematic Servant" obsessed with Artoria to a Cosmic Police recruit with exceptional physical abilities, extensive knowledge, and a heart full of all sorts of cosmic gossip... qualified(?).

So, at the very end of her diary, she wrote—

How precious were the bonds nurtured through a time full of dreams (perhaps?), sweat (of course!), and the pain endured along the way.

The next day, when the joint examination and the Cosmic Grand Examination arrived, X was so nervous that her palms sweated. But the thought of failing and having to go back to being unemployed—or perhaps never seeing Mizuvia's punchable face again—kindled a blazing fighting spirit within her.

Sitting in the examination room, Mysterious Heroine X felt like an ingredient about to be sent into a cosmic kitchen.

She took a deep breath and tried to recall Metatron's "Viya Back Then" and Mizuvia's "mental abuse."

Just like that, the questions that had once given her splitting headaches transformed into all kinds of ridiculous scenes in her mind. Legal provisions became images of Metatron whipping her with a neutron-star rope; cosmic history became a slideshow of Metatron passionately recounting "Viya Back Then"; spatial geometry became abstract graffiti Mizuvia had drawn across her face...

As she filled out the exam paper, she could not stop herself from snarking internally.

And somehow, that state let her answer every question as if divinely inspired!

In the end, Mysterious Heroine X successfully passed both the joint examination and the Cosmic Grand Examination. Her scores not only met but even exceeded the average admission standards of police academies across the major sectors.

That special application contract officially took effect, and she was formally renamed—

Mysterious Heroine XX.

Of course, every success story came with a little "surprise."

Just when Mysterious Heroine XX was eagerly imagining herself ascending to the peak of her life, she discovered that Mizuvia had applied to have the two of them transferred to an understaffed, impoverished, and extremely chaotic district of the M87 Nebula. There was not even a local police station; they had to build one themselves while applying for transfer funds.

"Oh my god, Boss, what happened to the guaranteed job, high salary, and great benefits you promised?! At the very least, I don't want to eat instant noodles every day! I already lived like that for thirty years!"

Mysterious Heroine XX looked at Mizuvia, who was discussing construction plans with Mahakala Construction Company in the Indian Sector, and felt like crying without tears.

Still, at least she did not have to take on side jobs delivering packages like her boss did.

But as she looked at the police station with no one in it but herself, and at her boss, who would not reply to messages for half a day, Mysterious Heroine XX could not help but sigh.

"So boring..."