Faced with those violet eyes, piercing as if gazing through his very soul, Steve chose the boldest and most effective tactic—he lifted the corner of the card table, displaying the chips in his hand, demonstrating that he had the means to play as an equal. He leaned back, sinking into the soft office chair. The tension in his muscles slowly eased, replaced by a composed calm that let him take control of the situation.
Steve looked at her like a guest finally arriving very late to a promise.
"Of course, I already know you in the mystic world. You've been accounted for, always."
His voice was serene and clear, resonating through this thoroughly soundproofed office. This wasn't an explanation. It was a declaration.
Steve noticed Sion's brow twitch ever so slightly—that was perhaps the only visible reaction you could catch from her, as if her precision instruments received an accidental input.
"Since you hold such sway in the front world, your existence is no secret to me. I recognize you as a partner worth accepting."
He paused—letting the vast information and nearly arrogant confidence of those words settle over her.
Steve firmly steered the conversation, starting to systematically analyze the world she inhabited. Not as a victim ravaged by some mysterious force, but like a venture capitalist conducting due diligence on a potential investment.
"After all, the true focus has always been on the three great branches of magic—the types of powerhouses—studying divine magecraft, dismissing post-AD mysteries as no longer worth mentioning, forever pondering the 'Wandering Sea' lost in its autism.
Even after the Common Era, countless studies have probed the mysteries of magic, but with Earth propelling civilization toward science and technology, all mysteries are fated to fail. All magecraft (Clock Tower) will one day inevitably vanish."
"Only you—Atlas Academy—possess hands that can master it all. Even if mysteries are extinguished, you still have alchemists who can keep working, and form cooperative relationships with someone like me from another world."
At that, the room fell into a long silence.
Sion did not reply immediately. Her violet pupils seemed to unfocus.
Steve knew she wasn't confused. Her mind was simply racing through unimaginable calculations at incredible speed, coming alive now with Atlas Academy's famous Memory Partition.
In her internal evaluation model, Steve had transformed from "source of change" into an "unknown processor with an independent, enormous database."
His words struck directly at Atlas's deepest anxiety: how would they survive once the world's mysteries vanish?
Finally, for the first time, a real expression touched her doll-like face—rational, a smile mixed with both gratitude and questioning.
"...The operation ends here."
"Doctor Steve, your existence is, indeed, a variable beyond any known specification."
She turned her attention back to him. "Your assessment of the three major organizations matches the conclusion of this institution's 'future calculation' that we've researched for centuries—up to a 92.7% correlation," she said.
"The 7.3% you omitted covers the internal struggles of the Clock Tower and the secrets being watched over by the Wandering Sea during the Age of Gods... but, there's no harm in being elegant, is there?"
"Your information-gathering, or perhaps your knowledge itself, is astonishing."
She did not ask where his intellect came from. That was so very Atlas. Alchemists cared only for results—not the process.
What he'd demonstrated already proved his value.
Steve seized the opportunity to guide the conversation toward his true goal, leaning forward.
"Now that my analysis has your institution's stamp of approval, you must understand why I'm promoting the 'Project Terra Sancta.'
"The sleeping spider—the future crisis you call ORT—is our common enemy."
"I am simply buying time for civilization in my own way. And your Atlas, surely, has observed countless futures spiraling toward destruction."
"So—let's exchange information. Tell me what you see in the future, and I'll provide you with... whatever it is you might need in exchange."
He thought she would immediately begin discussing possible futures. But Sion gently shook her head.
"The future isn't a single railroad track," she said. "It's a probability cloud of endless possibilities. Even if I told you ten thousand destruction endings, it would do little to stop the next ten thousand from emerging."
"And Atlas Academy's alchemists aren't permitted to share research externally—not even the Director holds such authority. At most, I can offer only my personal observations."
"But even then, information exchange is necessary. Still, before that, a sturdier foundation for cooperation must be built."
Sion took two steps closer, stopping in front of the desk. Her fingertips moved delicately, and from thin air, lilac-hued ether threads appeared, weaving into a complex three-dimensional model.
It looked... like a model of the human circulatory system, but with countless strange, unnatural circuits overlaying it.
"This is my body—a cursed, degenerate sample, irreversibly evolving toward the 'Vampire' race."
Her tone was calm, as if discussing someone else, not herself. "According to Atlas calculations, in 99.9% of timelines, within the next ten years, I'll devolve completely into a Dead Apostle, then be destroyed by the Church or Clock Tower's Executor."
"It's an all-but-certain 'ending'."
For the first time, her violet eyes held a glimmer of expectation as she gazed directly at him.
"Atlas alchemy is built on the 'division' and 'reconstruction' of what already exists. We can forge the mightiest weapons, but we cannot create what we lack out of nothing."
"We cannot generate unknown technology to reverse this degeneration on a 'Spirit' level. But..." A pause as the ether vanished from her fingertips.
"You are different. Your technology, your knowledge—they are unconstrained by mystery, as if conjured from air itself."
"So, Doctor, let this be both the first theme of our cooperation, and my 'test' for you—"
"Use your wisdom. Solve my 'inevitable death.'"
"So long as you can propose a theoretically achievable solution—even if it's only a single possibility—then all seven Atlas Arsenals, and every avoidance plan I've calculated regarding 'the collapse of Human Order,' will be opened to you."
It was an offer he could not refuse. She used her deepest secret and most urgent need as the cornerstone to an alliance.
At this moment, his chess match finally truly merged with the heart of the world.
…