A Type-Moon Start, but an A Certain Magical Index Magician

Chapter 1: The Golden-System Magus

Britain, London, Westminster School.

Morpheus Flaga Macremis, a boy with short, pale golden hair, gently turned the pages of the book before him, letting the sunlight from outside the window spill across the paper as if the light were not dazzling at all.

A girl around the same age as the boy approached with a cold expression. This person was Morpheus's personal maid.

"Young master, the master says that if you don't go to class at the Clock Tower again, you can forget about getting another penny from the family." The maid, whose name was Lizzie McLaren, finished saying this and then continued, "With your status, you really shouldn't be studying in a place like this."

Westminster School was one of the finest high schools in Britain, yet this maid clearly looked down upon it.

"I know my father's thoughts. He hopes I'll go to the Clock Tower to study and research magecraft, but I have no interest in that sort of thing."

Morpheus smiled faintly. "Those fellows at the Clock Tower are rigid and arrogant. Their words smell like the old socks in the attic. Those idiots even look down on folk sorcery, thinking it's not magecraft. Calling them narrow-minded wouldn't be wrong at all."

As he spoke, his slender, delicate fingers gently turned the pages, as though the conversation just now could not affect his reading efficiency.

"Besides, I'm just an adopted son without the Macremis bloodline. The Magic Crest will be inherited by my sister Bazett. I just need to quietly be an ordinary person."

Quietly be an ordinary person? Lizzie offered no comment on that. Although she felt it was a pity, this was the young master's own choice, and she had no right to question it excessively. As for being cut off from her living allowance by the master, that wasn't something she needed to worry about either.

After all, this was a struggle between father and son.

A father who hoped his son would find success, and a son who wanted to slack off and be an ordinary person. Lizzie had always viewed the struggle between these two as a family drama.

While watching this play, she felt she could even eat a few extra bowls of rice.

"Right, how are things over at Chaldea lately?" Morpheus suddenly asked.

"A large number of families have already sent their children over to take the tests. According to reports, the tests have gone without any issues," Lizzie answered her young master's question, then asked, "Are you interested in Chaldea, young master? Should I have the master register you for it?"

"How could that be? I have zero interest in that kind of place." Morpheus smiled, closed the book he was holding, and put it away.

Lizzie had sharp eyes and saw that the cover of the book read History of Christianity: The First Three Thousand Years.

The young master still loved reading books like this. Clearly, there would be plenty of related books inside the Clock Tower, yet he stubbornly refused to go there... Lizzie thought silently, watching Morpheus stand up and walk toward the outside of the classroom.

Stepping out of that century-old building, Morpheus let the wind blow against him. As he walked, he fell deep into contemplation.

He was not a person of this world; he was a transmigrator. When he was still an infant picked up by his current adoptive father and raised as an adopted son, he had not realized anything was wrong with the world, until he later noticed his sister looked familiar and was named Bazett, at which point it all dawned on him.

So he had transmigrated into the Type-Moon World. Looking at the current situation, had several Holy Grail Wars already begun?

Yet strangely enough, there was no news whatsoever about a Holy Grail War. It wasn't until 2004, when he suddenly heard his adoptive father discussing something about a Holy Grail War with someone, and his sister Bazett—who was already a key operative of the Clock Tower at the time—did not go to Fuyuki City, that Morpheus realized it once again.

It seemed this world was not the Type-Moon World where Shirou acted as the protagonist.

After all, according to the original plot development, his sister had gone to Fuyuki City to participate in the competition during the Fifth Holy Grail War, only to be ambushed in a dishonorable sneak attack by the amusing priest, resulting in her disappearance.

Now that Bazett was fine and hadn't even gone to Fuyuki City, it indicated a problem with the plotline.

The so-called Holy Grail War was a chaotic battle where a group of magi summoned Heroic Spirits to fight as their Servants, solely to seize the ultimate reward—the Holy Grail, which was claimed to grant one's wishes.

Several more years passed in this manner, until word came that a family named Animusphere had suddenly struck it rich, earning a vast amount of money, and quickly established a new organization called the Chaldea Security Organization: Phoenix Chaldea. It was then that Morpheus truly understood which world he was in.

It wasn't exactly that the Animusphere Family lacked foundation—after all, they were also one of the bigwigs of the Clock Tower—it was simply that this fellow had suddenly acquired a mountain of cash, vastly exceeding his original assets, an amount that could be described as hundreds or thousands of times greater.

Especially when looking at Lev posing as a high-ranking executive of an ordinary company on the news, Morpheus felt a strong urge to punch him and make the other person understand what "friendly and cordial" communication meant, and what human "kindness" was.

The Animusphere Family was the true victor of the 2004 Holy Grail War in this world, and relying on a wish granted by the Holy Grail, they obtained ancient, buried gold to serve as the foundation for their development and founded Chaldea.

Speaking of which, Morpheus's Magic Circuits were actually not bad—neither many nor few. If he were to be a magus, his achievements would probably be decent. According to the situation of magi in the Type-Moon worldview, Magic Circuits were organ-like entities inside the body that generated magical energy, with the quantity representing a person's efficiency in refining magical energy.

Naturally, the more magical energy that could be produced, the easier it was to unleash corresponding strength.

As for the Magic Crest, it was something where a magus took the magecraft they researched, matched it to themselves, and strengthened and passed it down through generations. It could be handed down to biological relatives or strangers. Possessing a Magic Crest meant inheriting the heritage of that magus family and acting as its successor.

As far as Morpheus was concerned, this was essentially the practice of researching a mystery, converting it into a crest, and carving it into the human body, allowing the body to directly execute magecraft relying on that crest. It was neither brilliant nor highly efficient, and it was quite troublesome besides.

Morpheus's adoptive father, old Macremis, stated that the family was still quite well-off and had spare crests they could give to Morpheus, provided he studied hard at the Clock Tower and strove to be a "model student" of the Clock Tower, becoming a noble magus in the future.

Then, on the day he arrived in London, Morpheus turned around and went to Westminster School, leaving the Clock Tower far behind.

Knowing that this world was the FGO world, and knowing that this world would face crisis—with even the possibility of the entire world being wiped out—yet still refusing to study magecraft.

This was not because Morpheus did not want power, but rather because Morpheus needed his own space, his own time, and he preferred to seek what he was looking for within the world of ordinary people.

He was far from an ordinary transmigrator. The secrets hidden within him were things that might make even the Root of this world tremble!

Does thinking like this make me sound a bit chuunibyou? Muttering to himself, Morpheus arrived at his residence, a rather small room. If his living allowance was cut off, this house would probably only last until next month, right?

Still, it no longer mattered. Everything that needed to be prepared was already prepared, and now all that remained was to quietly wait for events to unfold.

Whew, I failed to pursue the truth of magic in the world of A Certain Magical Index, but at least in this world, I must pursue the ultimate truth of magic and paint this world in the color of gold!

The secret hidden by the youth was that this was not his first time transmigrating, but his second. The very first world he had transmigrated to was called A Certain Magical Index. In that wondrous world, he had joined a magical society named Dawnlight and become a magician.

Later, during an investigation into a magical society whose objective was the descent of "Yog-Sothoth", he ended up in an accidental situation during the process of single-handedly annihilating the enemy group, triggering a ritual they had laid out well in advance.

Although Morpheus successfully resolved that crisis, he was also swept into a spatial turbulence and ultimately descended into this world, becoming an infant.

Possessing the power of another world, the memories of another world, and with exceptionally rich transmigrating experience, the youth opened his wardrobe at this moment.

Inside it were things he had prepared long ago: a genuine old English trench coat, its slightly grayish tone giving it a sharp and capable look.

The inner lining was designed with a checkered pattern based on red, blue, green, and yellow in a certain order, minimalist and ordinary, without any flashy excess.

He took out a fedora as well, a gray fedora that matched the trench coat perfectly. Putting on the entire outfit and taking a careful look at himself in the full-length mirror, Morpheus revealed a smile.

"I'm practically a master detective from the Victorian era walking the streets of London!"

Afterward, he took out a blue cup, a yellow dagger, a green plate, and finally, a red cane from the wardrobe.

He simply tucked the first three items into his chest, and they miraculously vanished. As for the cane, he held it in his hand; being a gentleman always required a cane.

Having settled all of this, he took out a necklace. This necklace looked somewhat peculiar, resembling an eye. From an artistic standpoint, it inevitably brought to mind the kind of eye found in ancient Egyptian pyramid carvings.

Putting on the necklace and tucking it inside his lining so others couldn't see it, Morpheus took a deep breath.

"Alright, although I don't want to get mixed up in trouble, in order to continue my research on the path of magic and seek the ultimate magic, I suppose I should go take a look at Chaldea."

When the crisis arrived, the world would fall apart. For the future of humanity, and even more so for his own future grand enterprise of magic, he had to stop the disaster that was about to occur at Chaldea!

Chapter 2: Temple Spirit Dress

"What? You're going to join the Chaldea Project?" The man on the other end of the phone let out an extremely astonished voice. Even as a nobleman and the head of a magical society with some history, old Macremis was quite surprised at that moment.

Then he frowned. "You aren't saying this just because I'm cutting off your living allowance and you don't want to go to the Clock Tower, are you?"

Morpheus smiled without a word.

"This is just a delaying tactic! You plan to trick me out of a few more months of allowance and then run away from Chaldea when the time comes?!"

It was truly unimaginable how great of a shock Morpheus, who had chosen to ditch the Clock Tower, dealt to this poor old man.

"Of course not. I genuinely plan to go to Chaldea. I felt the call of my own spirituality and should go there; there are things waiting for me that only I can do."

Spouting a mouthful of lies without any burden, Morpheus felt no guilt. The current situation required him to go to Chaldea first and take out Lev to prevent him from using the bomb. For the sake of this matter, lying was completely fine.

After all, I am doing this to save the world.jpg

"The way you talk sounds just like those astromancy families with something wrong in their heads. Our Macremis family doesn't dabble in that."

Old Macremis spoke, yet he still relented. "Since it's like this, I'll call the current head of the Animusphere Family. She's around your age. Look at her, and then look at yourself..."

"She's already twenty-three. I'm only sixteen."

"She's too short. I always forget her age and think she's about your age."

"She's 162 centimeters tall, you know."

"How do you know so much? Do you like her?!"

And so ensued another tens of minutes of lecturing, while Morpheus smiled throughout without offering a single rebuttal.

Finally waiting for old Macremis to finish his lecture, Morpheus hung up the phone. He knew he just needed to wait for Chaldea's notification next; after all, given the status and power of the Macremis family, securing a spot in Chaldea was hardly a problem.

"Honestly, why couldn't they have sent it earlier..." The young director and current head of the Animusphere Family, Olga Marie Asmilet Animusphere, gently rubbed the corners of her eyes, feeling a headache coming on from the sudden increase in work.

The girl had silver-gray long hair and wore attire that felt more like an expression of a magus's identity than something worn by nobility.

Beside her, a smiling man with strange, messy long hair spoke up, "Didn't someone named Ritsuka Fujimaru just happen to be coming over in a couple of days? You can just test them together then."

This guy wearing green clothes was Lev Lainur Flauros, the very person Morpheus desperately wanted to rub out of existence immediately.

As long as Lev died, the world could be saved. It was as simple as that.

"Then I'll leave it to you, Lev. I have other matters to attend to."

"Understood, Director."

Lev smiled, accepting the task handed to him by the other party, while simultaneously beginning to pull up the required personal identification information:

"Hmm, a child of the Macremis family? An adopted son, too. Even though he didn't inherit the crest, they're still putting this much effort and trouble into him. I suppose Sir Macremis has a truly kind heart."

However, when Lev saw that name, a trace of a puzzled expression appeared on his face.

"Morpheus Flaga Macremis? Morpheus..." He muttered, looking back at the photograph. Gazing at the smiling, cute-looking youth in the picture, Lev narrowed his eyes.

"Is something wrong?" Hearing his self-muttering, Olga Marie turned her head somewhat curiously to look at the man she trusted most.

"It's nothing, I just suddenly thought of a friend. A friend with a very good relationship," Lev said. Whether intentionally or unintentionally, he placed extra emphasis on the words "very good relationship", as if expressing some thoughts deep within his heart.

Olga Marie didn't notice this anomaly; she just continued to ask with curiosity, "Very similar to your friend?"

"That's right, very similar. Extremely similar. You could almost say they were identical." At this, Lev smiled and said, "Perhaps he's a descendant of that friend of mine."

To this, Olga Marie made no comment. She simply continued, "Then make sure you finish this work properly. I still need to go check on Chaldea's related data."

Only after Olga Marie left did Lev continue to look at the photograph in his hand. His narrowed eyes opened slightly, though it was impossible to tell what he was thinking.

"Are you truly the person I think you are? Or perhaps, are you actually a descendant of that person? That bizarre magus who calls himself Veritas000." The corners of his mouth split open into a grin, his smile turning even stranger, resembling something alien.

"Well, whether it's you or not, I just have to be prepared, just in case!"

Mephistopheles let his maid help him tidy his clothes. It was already the next day, and he had also received a reply from Chaldea inviting him to go there to take part in their tests.

"Young master, you clearly said you weren't interested in Chaldea," said Litchi.

With a smile on his face, Mephistopheles asked, "If I said I was interested in the current head of the Animusphere family, would you believe it?"

"You don't need to make up excuses like that if you don't want to talk." As Litchi spoke, she tightened his tie, whether intentionally or not, and to this, Mephistopheles merely smiled without a word.

"Are you really not going to change this outfit? You clearly have more clothes that can display your status, and Chaldea also has their own attire."

"Don't worry, I won't wear the clothes they give me. Besides, this set of clothes is not as simple as you see; they have undergone my specialized consecration process and are true magical Spirit Dresses."

"It's magecraft, not magic, young master. Right now, no one can cast true magic; everyone is just a magus." Litchi sighed as she spoke. "If you talk to the master like that, he'll definitely scold you, young master."

With that, she muttered a complaint: "Besides, that kind of thing is generally called a Mystic Code, not a Spirit Dress. They're extremely difficult to manufacture and can't just be cobbled together using ordinary clothing materials like this."

Mephistopheles still just smiled without a word.

He was not lying; the clothes on his body were indeed Spirit Dresses, and they had indeed been consecrated. They possessed the power called magic inscribed with numerous spell formulas. Purely in terms of defense, the protection of this outfit would leave him completely unharmed even if he were thrown into the center of a nuclear explosion.

As the heir of the Golden Dawn and the number two figure of the Light of Dawn, having prepared himself for so many years, how could these things possibly be weak?!

After all, the clothes on his body themselves represented the existence known as the Temple.

Chapter 3 Chaldea

Snowflakes danced across this world, reminding Mephistopheles of his experiences in the world of A Certain Magical Index. In the process of dealing with various evil magical societies, he had been to quite a few places, including Antarctica.