[As the light screen has finished playing a character’s primary masterlove storyline, it is now upgrading…
Upgrade complete.
Functions have been upgraded.
Please explore the new features at your own discretion.]
The moment the mechanical voice concluded, the previously static light screen shimmered with fine streams of light.
It flickered twice, as if loading data, then settled back into stability, leaving only a line of prompt text quietly suspended, exuding an air of undeniable casualness.
In the lounge of New Chaldea, the atmosphere was instantly enlivened by this sudden change.
Tomoe Gozen was curled up on a soft sofa, her fingers flying as she manipulated a simulated game controller.
Beside her, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder, were the three Valkyrie Sisters, all in the same posture.
Their gazes were fixed on the game screen before them.
Scattered snacks lay beside them.
Each of the three pressed buttons on their controllers with focused expressions.
It wasn’t until the strange movement from the light screen reached them that they all looked up together.
A gleam of excitement shone in Tomoe Gozen’s crimson eyes, her tone lifting with anticipation: “Wow, it even has a Level Up?
How interesting.” Her fingertip subconsciously tapped the controller button.
The Valkyrie Sisters’ eyes lingered briefly between the light screen and the game screen, their gazes full of unconcealed novelty.
Ortlinde paused her finger slightly, her tone full of wonder: “It’s just like a game, having such phased updates.”
Hildr nodded gently in agreement.
Thrúd loosened her grip on the controller, her gaze tightly locked on the light screen, a hint of anticipation hidden in her eyes.
[The light screen suddenly brightened.
Amidst swirling streams of light, an image clearly emerged—a sky filled with fine, dense snowflakes.
Moonlight on a cold night spilled onto layers of white clouds.
A sleigh conjured by magic was cutting through the wind and snow, racing forward.]
[On the sleigh, Fujimaru Ritsuka, dressed in a red-and-white reindeer outfit, was firmly gripping the sleigh’s edge.
A reindeer antler headband sat steadily on his head.
The fluffy collar brushed against his slightly flushed cheeks.
His wind-swept eyes and brows were full of vivid laughter.]
[Beside him, Artoria Santa Alter was clad in a pure black Santa Claus robe, its silver-white fur trim glowing softly in the wind and snow.
The hood half-covered her eyes and brows.
Her originally sharp golden eyes now held a hint of barely perceptible gentleness.]
[She steadied the sleigh’s handrail with one hand, while the other firmly protected a large, bulging gift bag at her side.
Her posture was upright, yet carried a warmth fitting for Christmas.
The two rode the sleigh, tracing a light arc through the night, dragging trails of fine light behind them.]
[The scene abruptly froze on Artoria Santa Alter.
Pale golden streams of light flowed around her.
Lines of text rapidly appeared and dissipated, clearly laying out her information.]
[Artoria Santa Alter, the Christmas form of the Alter of King Arthur of Britain, Artoria Pendragon.
To reverse her cold image in the eyes of children, she decided to take on the role of their friend—Santa Claus.
Her bag is stuffed with gifts she spent an entire year carefully selecting.]
[Now, she has reverse-summoned Fujimaru Ritsuka as her Master and reindeer to deliver gifts to the recipients.
Currently, it is the seventh night.]
[A conspicuous prompt abruptly popped up: ml radar indicates: It is ml.]
In the hall of New Chaldea, waves of discussion instantly rose and fell.
Fujimaru Ritsuka first stared at his reindeer outfit on the light screen for a couple of seconds, a flash of realization crossing his eyes—this was clearly a scene he had personally experienced.
Then he scratched his head, chuckled softly at the brief character introduction, his tone carrying a hint of satisfaction: “So the new feature just adds a character introduction?
Not bad.”
But when that last radar prompt jumped out, he raised a hand to his forehead and muttered helplessly: “Also, isn’t that last line a bit redundant…”
(light screen: This light screen is for compiling ml.
Having an ml identification radar is perfectly reasonable.)
In the Emiya Residence of the Fifth Holy Grail War world, Emiya Shirou was walking out of the kitchen holding a glass of freshly warmed milk.
His gaze inadvertently swept over the light screen that had appeared out of thin air in the air, and his steps immediately halted.
The glass in his hand paused slightly; he was oblivious to the warm sensation from his palm.
He moved closer to the window, his eyes repeatedly examining the figure of Artoria Santa Alter on the light screen.
His brows were slightly furrowed, his fingers subconsciously rubbing the side of the glass, his tone full of confusion.
“That Artoria Santa Alter on the light screen looks so much like Saber.
Her features and figure are almost identical, but it feels like something’s missing…” It lacked that gentle dignity, possessing instead a sharper edge, yet somewhat softened by the Christmas attire, making it feel particularly discordant and strange.
Beside him, Artoria gazed at the figure on the light screen—identical to her in appearance, yet clad in black-and-red Christmas attire with an imposing aura.
Her body stiffened almost imperceptibly, her fingers gripping the sword sheath tightening slightly.
Her clear emerald eyes were filled with complexity—surprise, curiosity, and a touch of indescribable bewilderment.
She murmured softly, her tone carrying uncertainty: “So that is…
my reversed self…” Such attire, such an identity, was a form she had never imagined.
In the world of the Fourth War, in the hall of the Round Table Manor, Irisviel was standing next to Artoria.
Her crimson eyes sparkled as she stared at the light screen in the air, her tone full of delight.
She gently tugged at Artoria’s sleeve.
“Oh, Saber, this Artoria Santa Alter is actually your Alter form!
That black Santa Claus outfit is so cute.
The contrast with your usual aura is huge.” Her eyes were full of novelty; she couldn’t help but take a few more glances at the figure on the light screen, a gentle smile playing on her lips.
Artoria followed her gaze, her eyes lingering on that black figure for a long time.
The previously bewildered look on her face deepened.
Her hand hanging at her side slowly clenched.
Her tone held disbelief, mixed with an inexplicable sense of wonder.
“To actually become Santa Claus…
my Alter self.” Such a gentle, gift-preparing-for-children demeanor hardly seemed to match the sharpness implied by the word “Alter.”
[The light screen’s scene flowed and changed.
The camera slowly panned down, steadily focusing on Fujimaru Ritsuka on the other side of the sleigh.
Pale golden streams of light similarly spread around him, and corresponding introductory text appeared.]
[Fujimaru Ritsuka, the last Master of humanity.
He traverses various Singularities to repair the incinerated Human Order, a drifter of the correct history.
At this moment, he is merely a novice Master who has repaired over a dozen Singularities.
Currently, he is in the process of superbly delivering gifts as Artoria Santa Alter’s reindeer.]
[The ml radar promptly followed: He is the Master who is loved.]
Fujimaru Ritsuka of New Chaldea looked at that radar prompt, then at the familiar image of himself on the screen.
His expression stiffened, then he laughed wryly, covering his face with his hand in utter helplessness: “This ml radar is really something, almost making me into a narcissist…”
As his words fell, he seemed to suddenly remember something.
The smile on his face gradually faded.
His brows furrowed slightly, his eyes filled with confusion.
He raised a hand to stroke his chin, muttering to himself in a low voice: “But, what does ‘drifter of the correct history’ mean?”
He lowered his gaze in thought.
The confusion between his brows grew thicker.
Fragments of the past flashed briefly through his mind.
His tone carried a hint of bewilderment: “It seems…
someone said something like that to me before?”
But the memory was very hazy.
No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t recall who had mentioned it or when.
Only a faint, elusive sense of familiarity remained.
In the world of the Fourth War, Emiya Kiritsugu stood at the edge of the shadows, his gaze heavy as he stared at the introduction of Fujimaru Ritsuka on the light screen.
His originally indifferent expression gained a touch of gravity.
His fingers curled slightly, his lips pressed tightly together.
He murmured in a low voice, his tone full of inquiry: “Finally, there’s an introduction for this Master named Fujimaru Ritsuka.”
“‘The last Master of humanity’…
Does that mean all other Masters were gone at that time, or that no new Masters would be born after him?” A series of questions churned in his heart, deepening the gloom in his eyes.
When he saw the line ‘merely a novice Master who has repaired over a dozen Singularities,’ the corner of his mouth twitched uncontrollably.
A flash of indescribable complexity passed through his eyes—shock, and a touch of speechless resignation.
Over a dozen Singularities—such achievements enough to overturn the world—were brushed off with a mere ‘merely.’ The weight of it all was truly overwhelming.
In the world of Lord El-Melloi II, in the Clock Tower’s study.
Waver Velvet, who had shed his youthful naivety and now wore the attire of a Clock Tower instructor, was standing before his desk.
His gaze was locked on the light screen in the air, his brows tightly knitted into a deep frown, his expression exceptionally serious.
One hand was clasped behind his back, the other lightly tapping the surface of the desk.
The frequency of his finger taps grew faster and faster, his tone full of puzzlement and deep thought.
“What does ‘drifter of the correct history’ mean?…
Does it mean Fujimaru Ritsuka is a survivor preserved from this incinerated Human Order, or that—this incinerated Human Order is not the correct history?”
He pondered over these words repeatedly, but the information in his mind about the Human Order Incineration and this unfamiliar Master was far too scant.
No matter how much he thought, he couldn’t find a single clue.
In the end, he could only heave a heavy sigh, his eyes filled with confusion.
His fingers stopped on the desk, leaving only a heart full of doubts.