As the wine flowed and the conversation drifted from the stars to the subtle alchemy of human connection, Sion's guarded demeanor began to unravel. The Burgundy warmed her from within, loosening the rigid algorithms that had always governed her thoughts. Steve's gaze lingered on her, not with calculation, but with a quiet invitation—one that mirrored the vast, uncharted void outside the window. She felt it, this pull, not as data points but as a spark in her core, igniting circuits she hadn't known existed.
When their hands brushed across the table, it was no accident. Sion didn't pull away; instead, her fingers tentatively intertwined with his, her pale skin contrasting against his warmth.
"This... sensation," she murmured, her voice a whisper of curiosity and wonder.
"It defies analysis."
Steve leaned closer, his breath mingling with hers, and in that moment, the observatory's chandelier lights dimmed as if on cue, casting the room in a soft, ethereal glow. Earth hung below them like a silent witness.
He guided her to the nearby sofa, the panoramic view framing their silhouettes against the cosmos.
Sion's sterile suit felt suddenly confining, a relic of her old burdens. With gentle hands, Steve helped her shed it, layer by layer, revealing the lithe, ethereal form beneath—pale as moonlight, marked faintly with the etheric scars of her alchemical heritage.
She trembled, not from fear, but from the raw flood of sensation: the cool air on her skin, the heat of his touch tracing the curve of her neck, her shoulders, down to the small of her back.
Their lips met in a kiss that started tentative, exploratory—like decoding a new theorem—but quickly deepened into something primal.
Sion's hands, usually so precise in the lab, fumbled with his shirt, pulling him closer as if to merge their essences.
She gasped softly as he laid her back against the cushions, his body covering hers.
The wine's haze amplified every touch: his fingers exploring the soft peaks of her breasts, eliciting a quiet moan that surprised even her. Her legs parted instinctively, wrapping around him as he entered her slowly, reverently, the rhythm building like a crescendo in one of her Ether calculations.
It was chaos and order intertwined—her body arching beneath him, hips rising to meet his thrusts, each movement sending waves of unquantifiable pleasure through her.
Sion's nails dug into his back, her breaths coming in sharp, analytical bursts that dissolved into pure, unfiltered cries.
"Doctor... this is... alive," she whispered between gasps, her eyes—usually so cold and calculating—now wide with ecstasy, reflecting the blue orb of Earth.
He moved with her, their bodies syncing in a dance that transcended logic, his hands gripping her thighs as he drove deeper, the intensity peaking in a shared release that left them both shuddering, entwined in the afterglow.
For Sion, it was more than physical; it was the alchemy of freedom, transmuting her from a vessel of data into a being of flesh and fire. They lingered there, bodies slick and spent, the stars wheeling silently outside.
Three hours later...
A heavy metal door slowly closed. Sion's delicate moon-colored dress had replaced the military uniform she had just doffed.
In that brief instant, as she whispered a hurried farewell, Steve let out a long sigh of relief.
The scent of shampoo lingered in her hair, and the delicate blend of fabric and body heat that silk dresses evoke—he could still feel it. His fingertips remembered the tension of her body, the warmth that escaped her control during their embrace, and... other sensations he could not fully hide.
Even with a brain as sharp as a supercomputer, Steve had to admit today was filled with ambiguous variables that defied quantification. There was no way he could have invited Atlas Academy's genius girl to his bed on the very first day. Yet, her clumsy changing, her curious glances at the table, and the last, sincere but awkward hug at their farewell—all showed that his connection with Sion Eltnam Atlasia was, bit by bit, moving from "ally" into the private domain.
A good start.
He returned to his empty executive suite, poured himself some water, and faced the gigantic window. Outside, the sky was silent and empty, with the blue planet eternally rotating below. What had been a busy flight lane by day was now still. Only the distant colony lights flickered like artificial stars. In this perfect silence, his thoughts returned to calm, and he began his final and most strategic review of the day.
A thought, like a bubble rising to the ocean's surface, came to him—should he interfere with the "Tsukihime"?
His gaze pierced the deep space, fixing precisely on the bright spot of Japan's archipelago. Misaki Town. Time flowed the same for him as anyone there.
His "Project Terra Sancta" had been launched but focused mainly on urban lower strata migration. In remote towns like Misaki, its ripples were minimal. Given his current wealth and power, quietly reaching that town would be easy. But the real question was, what would he do once he arrived? His mind, almost ruthlessly efficient, began listing and analyzing every possibility.
Arcueid Brunestud?
As soon as this option appeared, it was marked with a bright, red "rejected." She was perhaps the incarnation of the collective will of planets Earth and Moon. He knew that the door to the True Ancestor Princess's heart couldn't be opened with a normal key. Only a special one, "Shiki Tohno," stained with her blood, could do it.
If he truly wanted to reenact the "glasses-wearing ghost" scenario, he'd first need to surpass physical limits, use nearly immortal means to dismember the princess into seventeen parts, and let her taste a "death" never felt before. And after her miraculous recovery, and when her fury faded with time, ultimate terror and shock might give birth to that incomprehensible feeling called "love," born in the warped web of causality.
Thinking of this, Steve could only smile self-deprecatingly. Did he have that power? The Mystic Eyes of Death Perception that see all ends directly? No. As an ordinary person with weak magic circuits and almost zero combat power, showing up before Arcueid would at best land him a harmless background role, at worst make him... disappear while chasing a dead apostle, not even qualified to be beaten by her.
Then what about Ciel?
Much easier. Her core desire was to destroy Roa. As long as Steve aided in that, gaining her favor wouldn't be hard. But when he thought about the blue-haired agent... he found not the slightest interest. Logic told him it was a wise choice, but emotionally he gave a clear "no." She simply didn't match his aesthetics, and at the height of the world, emotional self-harm wasn't necessary.
The Tohno Maids, Kohaku and Hisui?
Steve excluded them outright. That was a long story—starting from zero, demanding endless patience and gentleness to melt the ice, and unearthing the buried love and hate of an old, gloomy mansion. Too hard, and the input/output ratio far too low. He had neither the time nor the energy to play savior.
And then Akiha—the hardest of all under normal strategy.
From the start, her affections was tied to "Shiki Tohno." Perhaps Steve could try a twisted humiliation drama, using absolute power and force to bend her will... but those ugly desires were already far beyond his pursuit. He sought equal, mutually attracted souls, not dolls ruled by power.
Moreover, as a "normal human" with influence on the surface world, stepping foot into mysterious Misaki Town would be like shining a kilowatt searchlight into a dark forest, inevitably drawing the gaze of hidden predators—the Dead Apostles. Then, he wouldn't only face heroine-capturing issues.
So, the only conclusion: just ignore it, as in "Mahou Tsukai no Yoru." Let the gears of fate turn on their own small stage.
Once his thoughts left Misaki, Steve thought of another, more distant future—three years later: "Fate/Night." But even that made him laugh. In the "Tsukihime" worldline, it was simply a joke. He was well aware the world's fundamental divergence had already happened centuries ago. When Arcueid was fooled by Roa and tasted human blood, the world's scales tipped irrevocably toward Gaia. Human reason weakened; Earth's will dominated.
The direct outcome? The Servant summoning system—rooted in "human history"—became dysfunctional in this timeline. No Heroic Spirits, no Holy Grail War. That shadowy man's plan to build the Greater Grail in Fuyuki City and achieve immortality had likely collapsed centuries ago.
As for Tohsaka Rin and her sister—should call her "Matou Sakura" here—perhaps they still existed, but their destinies differed. Without the Grail War, Tokiomi might have adopted his second daughter into another magus family per ancient custom; Sakura might even be in Finland, raised in the Edelfelt family, a gem magus.
Steve raised other logical riddles—how, with no Grail War, did Tokiomi's father ever meet Edelfelt's sister and bear him? But considering worldline convergence, he assumed Rin and Sakura somehow still existed—but what did it matter? Nothing to do with him. Now, isolated from the magical world, Steve turned his attention back to his quiet suite.
On the table lay his signed "Project Terra Sancta" second stage strategic partnership document with Sion. His path had never been clearer: complete the grand project, find a route to the stars before civilization's end. And his one hope: if he could grow closer to Sion—the awkward, still-learning girl—perhaps even go beyond allies, he could consider this life fully resolved.
…