"An existence like you actually..."
Nero Chaos stared at Roland in disbelief.
Although he was confident about challenging the White Princess, he was not so arrogant that he would foolishly rush to his death when she might bring out a whole crowd of supporters or fans.
It was his employer, the White-Winged Duke, who had explicitly assured him that neither the Burial Agency, the Clock Tower, nor the other Ancestors would interfere.
The only ones he needed to watch out for were the White Princess herself and another elusive Living Saint.
Although he knew that a scheming old fox like the White-Winged Duke might embellish his intelligence, Nero had come with the attitude that there was no harm in trying, since his immortal body spared him any worries about the consequences.
He had never expected the White-Winged Duke's shamelessness to exceed even his imagination.
...This was a fucking Saint?
"Of course I am. You're a researcher who built his power using my legend, yet you don't even know of the miracle of the new millennium?"
Roland shook his head and muttered.
"Looks like I was right not to wait for Arcueid to park and come along. An absurd fan creation like you belongs in the trash."
Sensing the abyss-like aura emanating from Roland, Nero Chaos broke into a cold sweat, like a stray dog seeing lightning for the first time.
But once that appalling fear had thoroughly saturated every personality, what reappeared in the vampire's eyes was an ecstasy beyond all description.
An impostor meeting the genuine article was undoubtedly awkward, but from another perspective, this could also be a recreation of the truth.
Unlike the convenient phases in A Certain Magical Index, the foundation upon which Type-Moon's mages performed magecraft was the Magecraft Foundation engraved into the planet's rules.