Alex felt a pang of sympathy for her unfortunate fate. In the original timeline, Sakura's destiny was undeniably tragic: adopted by a monstrous old man, cast into a pit of worms, losing the only person who cared for her, her uncle in the war, enduring years of torturous modifications in secret, and ultimately falling in love with the same person as her sister, whom she hadn't seen in years.
If a god of fate still existed in this era, their treatment of Sakura Tohsaka could only be described as brimming with malice.
'So… am I some kind of righteous hero saving a girl from a demonic abyss?'
Flipping gently through the storybook in his hand, Alex turned his head to gaze out the window at the dimming sky, murmuring to himself in his heart.
'Probably.'
Though part of his motive was to pave the way for his future plans, the outcome was undeniable: he was rescuing this girl from a miserable life,
"…"
Closing the book softly, the corners of Alex's lips lifted slightly.
He looked out the window again. After the heavy snow, Fuyuki City had settled into an exceptional stillness. The city, cloaked in a silver blanket of white, appeared even purer under the moonlight spilling through the glass, its radiance bathing him in a pristine glow, flowing quietly amidst the starry night sky.
He shook his head with a faint, self-mocking smile, tinged with a hint of acceptance and muttered jokingly to himself, "Rather than playing the righteous hero, maybe I just want to try raising a girl…"
He felt pity, perhaps even a fondness, and wished to do something within his power.
As for whether it was worth it, trading his family's magic crest to adopt someone else's daughter? To others, it might seem excessive, but to Alex, it was a fair price.
Unlike the magi of this world, who were obsessed with pursuing the Root, his own desire for it was lukewarm at best. Besides, his family's magecraft was unique, they weren't short on crests.
Alchemists valued inheritance even more than typical magi. A genius magus could craft a first-generation crest with relative ease, their only concern being whether it might be rejected by the body. Alchemists, however, could devise their own transmutation arrays and, with sufficient materials, reconstruct a magic crest tailored to its user. While such crests paled in value compared to those from ancient family lineages, they were still a practical solution for passing down magecraft, albeit an expensive one, affordable only to specialized alchemists like those of the Atlas Institute.
Yet the Atlas Institute was famously reclusive, leaving few genuine alchemists in the world. Most were charlatans, save for rare families like the Crowleys, who upheld alchemy as their core magecraft. As the current head of the Crowley family, Alex was intimately familiar with this craft, which gave him the confidence to sign a magical contract with Tokiomi Tohsaka.
'If Tokiomi ever found out that I, his newfound confidant, was outmaneuvering him like this, he'd probably be livid.'
But Alex didn't care. Whether Tokiomi uncovered the truth or not was irrelevant to him. Even if Tokiomi stormed in waving the contract, it wouldn't hold Alex accountable. The document specified only 'the Crowley family's magic crest' ; it never stipulated it had to be the original. Who's to say a replica crafted by an alchemist doesn't qualify as a family crest?
And if Tokiomi resorted to force? No need to worry. Once the Holy Grail War began, they'd be enemies regardless. Neither would spare mercy.
Compared to the ceaseless scheming and backstabbing of the Clock Tower, Alex preferred the open sky. But that didn't mean he disliked magecraft itself. On the contrary, he was captivated by the world's hidden mysteries and the intriguing events yet to come—like the Holy Grail War.
Experiencing fascinating anomalies, amassing knowledge, and steadily carving his own path in magecraft until he attained the treasure he sought, that was enough for him.
As for conspiring with other magecraft families or emulating certain transmigrators—amassing power, seizing the Clock Tower, plundering the Mystic Eye Collection Train, or battling the Twenty-Seven Dead Apostle Ancestors—he had no interest. Why bother? What was the purpose? To grow strong just for the sake of strength? To make others fear him and dominate the mystical world?
This wasn't a world of lunatics endlessly cultivating power to ravage the earth. Nor was it a cultivation novel where everyone vied for immortality.
There were many ways to live, many choices to make.
Without a goal or meaning, such pursuits would be empty and tedious.
Alex harbored no grand dreams of ruling the world or uplifting humanity to the stars. He simply did what he wanted, what he could.
That was his creed:
[Do as thou will, that shall be thy law.]
'Pursue what you desire, and that shall be your purpose.'
With that thought, Alex closed the storybook, switched off the bedside lamp, and gently pinched Sakura's soft cheek before tucking her in. He stood and stepped out of the room.
"Goodnight, Sakura."
'Rest well. Peaceful days like these won't last long. Now, I should head out and prepare for the war ahead.'
"For the time being, I'll leave Sakura in your care. That shouldn't be an issue, right, Mr. Kariya Matou?"
Alex turned his head slowly toward a secluded spot near the doorway.
There, in the corner, stood a man with a refined and gentle face, a backpack slung over his shoulder. Dressed in a black tracksuit, his dark bangs half-covered eyes brimming with deep concern.
"…Thank you."