[When fantasy and reality intertwine, our story begins]
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…
Long ago, magic and science were two sides of the same coin; both were fields of study. But as time marched on, the mysteries that once blanketed this planet started to fade away. They grew harder to see, and magic slipped out of the world's view, forgotten by most as the years passed.
Today, if you bring up magic, people just laugh it off as something that only exists in stories. Yet, even in this age where mystery has all but vanished, there are still those who hold onto its ancient legacy. They hide on the unseen side of the world and call themselves…..
"Magi."
And now, as fantasy and reality weave together once again, our story kicks off.
…
Place: Fuyuki City, Hyogo Prefecture, Japan.
This year, New Year arrived earlier than usual, and the cold was a bit deeper than it had before.
The sky darkened as evening crept in, thick clouds swallowing the heavens above. The winter chill mixed with the gloomy light, wrapping everything in a heavy, stifling mood. After a while, a few shimmering snowflakes drifted down from the piled-up clouds. Then a northern wind swept in, gently lifting those icy crystals and carrying them off toward the north.
The snow fell steadily, a soft white blanket dropping onto the steel jungle below. Bit by bit, it covered the gray-black city in white, sliding along man-made channels and pipes until it sank into the city's underbelly.
The timing didn't help. New Year had just passed in this country, and in the Far East, students hadn't gone back to school yet. Office workers were still on holiday, and plenty of people had left town to enjoy this rare break. The streets, once alive with noise and energy, now looked empty and lifeless. Only a handful of shops had opened early; most stayed shut, their stillness making the distant view feel even lonelier.
Walking alone through this vast, silver-gray world, a traveler far from home wouldn't feel the charm of the snow-draped scenery. Instead, a quiet loneliness would settle deep in their chest.
Just like right now…
"I hate snow."
A low, grumbling voice broke the silence of the empty street, shattering the stillness that had hung over the world.
A young man with black hair crunched through the snow underfoot. He popped open a red umbrella and trudged along the white street in his boots. As he took in the scene around him, a small sigh slipped out from deep inside.
"I hate snow, and I hate winter and New Year even more…"
Sure, saying something like that during a holiday most people in the East celebrated with big smiles might make him stick out like a sore thumb.
But sometimes, what everyone else loves doesn't mean much to you. At least, that's how it felt for a wanderer stuck far from home.
"Because… it makes me miss my home even more."
Alex brushed the snow off his clothes and pulled his coat tighter around him. He couldn't help but tilt his head up, staring blankly at the gray sky still spitting out tiny flecks of snow.
Alex, full name Alex Crowley, 22 years old. A wandering magus with a bit of a name for himself in the mystic circles. People called him a genius, but he was also a transmigrator who'd slipped into this body a few years back after the original owner checked out.
The guy who used to own this body? He was a standout among the younger magi at the Mage's Association, always hanging around the Clock Tower. With natural talent and the perks of noble blood, he'd carved out a solid spot for himself in a place crawling with geniuses. Sure, there'd been some family hiccups, but overall, his life was the kind most people would kill for.
That is, until a couple of years ago when things went south. To put it simply, the original Alex had messed around with a forbidden magecraft ritual, something the Clock Tower had explicitly banned. It went wrong, big time. He ended up losing his soul, and his body turned into a lifeless husk sprawled on a carpet for two days and two nights. That's when the new Alex showed up, right on cue, and took over.
The first time he opened his eyes in this world, he couldn't believe it. He'd expected to see the underworld, not the fancy ceiling of some noble's mansion staring back at him.
...…
He remembered it clear as day: the last thing in his old life was a truck barreling toward him, horn blaring. The impact had slammed through every inch of his body, an unforgettable jolt that'd stick with him forever.
'Unless you've been flattened by a truck yourself, you wouldn't get it.' Even with just a flicker of awareness left, he'd felt his life draining away, sharp and certain.
That day, an unlucky soul from another world, just like so many before him, got hauled into this one. Apparently, some cross-world trafficking ring used a semi-truck as their delivery method, and they'd dropped him off on a bright, sunny morning.
As the guy who'd been 'kidnapped' by this ridiculous setup, Alex, a perfectly decent twenty first century dude, was beyond annoyed.
'Seriously, I was on a crosswalk! Following every traffic rule. How does a runaway truck just pop up out of nowhere?' He'd heard the shrill screech of it closing in, but by then, it was way too late. After the pain of dying hit him and he came to, he'd already been dumped into this new world.
So when he woke up in a room littered with broken bottles, random experiment junk, and blood everywhere, he was totally lost.
The weirdly shaped jars were smashed, and the funky smells hit him like a wall. He had no idea what to make of it.
But before he could even start figuring things out, the original owner's memories crashed into his head. It poured in fast, giving him a rough idea of where he was and what was going on.
Here's the weird part: the original owner of this body was also named Alex…..Alex Crowley.
His family was a magus lineage going back five generations. Scratch that—six, now that the magic crest had been handed off to him, and not exactly by choice.
The Crowley family was based near London's suburbs, sitting on a decent leyline that kept them grounded. They weren't on the level of those big-shot magus families with nine or more generations under their belts, but having their own turf in London, the Clock Tower's backyard put them ahead of most magical families worldwide.
Thing is, that cozy stability had gone up in smoke long ago. Years back, his parents caught wind of some near-mythical Phantasmal Species popping up somewhere. Being magi obsessed with chasing mysteries, they didn't hesitate. Off they went to the border between Poland and Belarus, hunting for what might've been a relic from the Age of Gods. Bad news: they never came back.
At least they'd thought it through before leaving. They knew chasing Phantasmal Species could get them killed. But for magi, those nutjobs who live for mystery and truth, the type who only die if they push their luck, dying for that cause was worth it.
Still, reaching the Root was the family's big dream, passed down through the generations. So before they took off, they handed the magic crest to their kid, Alex Crowley, hoping he'd keep the bloodline going and chase that truth all the way to the Root.
Up to that point, Alex thought these parents were already wild, dumping the family and the crest on a teenager over some Phantasmal Species rumors, piling all that responsibility on him. But then he found out the original owner was even crazier…
When the Crowley magus couple vanished into some ancient forest and the Clock Tower sent word they were dead, the old Alex didn't shed a single tear. Nope, he was over the moon.
To him, their deaths weren't a loss; they were the best thing ever. With the last head of the Crowley family out of the picture, he could step up as the new head. That meant he could hog most of the family's resources and dig into the forbidden knowledge locked away in their library.
Hiding behind 'mourning,' he holed up at home and ran every experiment he'd been dying to try. Eventually, he got so full of himself that he messed with real forbidden stuff.
When he'd sorted through those memories, Alex could only clench his teeth and mutter two words about this family:
"…Unbelievable."
Then he caught a glimpse of his worn-out face in the mirror and jabbed a finger at it. "You're unbelievable too, you little maniac."
"Man, I'd love to yell all this at that crazy family face-to-face." But the dead were gone, and no amount of shouting would reach them. On the flip side, it was exactly because the original guy was so reckless that he'd gotten this second shot. If he'd had to kick out a living soul to take over, Alex would've felt bad. But since the old owner dug his own grave, guilt wasn't an issue.
Anyway, after getting a grip on his new identity and reality, Alex didn't just kick back and enjoy the ride.
The world of magi was brutal, way harsher than regular life. No room for soft hearts or handouts.
And him? He was a sixth-generation magus who'd just lost his parents' backing, a so called genius studying under the head of the Clock Tower's Department of Spiritual Evocation. Without big time magi propping him up, how much could a teenage fake like him really pull off? Magus families were like sharks, big ones swallowed the small ones whole. If he didn't have a tight connection to a certain Lord, the Crowley family would've been carved up by greedy rivals ages ago.
To keep anyone from sniffing out he was a fraud, he had to play the genius card hard. That meant sucking up to his prickly teacher while secretly cramming the original owner's memories and brushing up on the Crowley family's magecraft. He pushed himself to the limit, building up enough strength to stand on his own.
Time flew by, and a few years zipped past in a blur.
Plenty happened during that stretch, and he made a lot of calls. To hold onto what he had, he agreed to a bunch of his teacher's demands. Publicly, he claimed his parents' deaths had wrecked his focus on magecraft, so he took a 'break' to hole up in his workshop and study.
And now…
'Sometimes you've got to admit, habits can really mess with you.' After years of forcing himself to grind, even he could tell he'd changed.
At least when it came to magecraft, he had to give the original owner props. The guy was a reckless idiot, but he had talent,no wonder that sharp-tongued teacher had taken a shine to him.
Alex had started studying magecraft just to keep up the genius act, to hide any cracks and prove he was worth protecting. But now…
He couldn't deny it—magecraft was incredible. Mind-blowing, even. Every step forward, every puzzle cracked, boosted his strength in ways he could see and feel. The satisfaction he got out of it? Nothing in his old life came close. It filled him up, gave him a rush of pride.
Little by little, he was starting to think like a magus himself.
But unlike those cold-blooded magi who'd ditched their humanity entirely, he still had a heart. He could laugh, feel good about himself, and yeah, even get a little down being all alone in this world.
Ever since landing here, he'd been on edge every single day. Constantly playing a role, popping pills to stay sharp, forcing himself to slog through dense, confusing magecraft theories. He wished he could split himself in two just to keep up—learning, always learning. It was worse than his high school exam crunch, with zero breaks or warm moments to catch his breath.
Now, finally free from the Clock Tower, he'd set foot in Japan. y.
'Alright, let's get everything ready before this kicks off. This is my one shot, sink or swim, it's all on what happens next.'
With that thought, Alex pulled up his hood and glanced off into the distance. That way led to the Tohsaka family, the ones who managed this city's leylines.
'Step one: I'm on their turf, so it's only polite to say hi to the host. Time to meet the infamous 'Scourge of the World.' After that, I'll figure out how to sweet-talk him and snag that purple-haired girl. I've been setting this up for over a year…'
"Let's get this started. I can't wait to dive into this crazy Holy Grail War myself!"