The altar was ready.
The bodies were all prepared.
The ritual could begin at any moment, prompting Rozen to decisively announce its commencement before everyone present.
Beside him, Tenzen and Raishin wore solemn expressions.
"Are you absolutely certain about this?"
Raishin couldn't help but voice his concerns.
"Resurrection is inherently perilous. Even with your abilities, reviving the entire clan at once seems too reckless."
Even Tenzen shared his apprehension.
At this point, both brothers were visibly uneasy.
It was understandable. The bodies of their entire clan lay before them.
Seeing the faces of their kin—faces that perfectly matched their memories—Tenzen and Raishin struggled to suppress their emotions.
Nearly three years ago, these very people had perished before their eyes, consumed by flames, lost to the world.
Now, seeing those familiar faces again, arranged peacefully as if in slumber, the brothers couldn't help but feel a mix of hope and dread.
Especially when...
"Nadeshiko..."
Raishin clenched his fists as his gaze fell upon a young woman lying at the center of the group.
That girl was Akabane Nadeshiko.
Her body, like the others, had been crafted by Rozen using the alchemy of Atlas.
Originally, Nadeshiko's preserved body had been stored within the bodies of the Tenzen's automaton girls. There had been no need to create a new vessel—simply extracting and reassembling the living tissue from the automatons would have sufficed. But doing so would have required dismantling all six girls, sacrificing them for Nadeshiko's revival.
To prevent that, Rozen had instead crafted a new body for Nadeshiko, sparing the automaton girls.
Now, alongside Irori, Yaya, and Komurasaki, the girls from Tenzen's unit carefully arranged the newly formed bodies of the Akabane clan in neat rows before returning to Rozen and Tenzen.
Seeing their task complete, Rozen's expression remained relaxed.
"Seeing is believing. Just watch."
Without further explanation, he strode toward the altar.
Irori, Yaya, and Komurasaki quickly followed.
"Wait—"
Raishin tried to protest, but Tenzen stopped him.
"Let's trust him."
Tenzen spoke firmly, and after a moment of hesitation, Raishin nodded heavily.
Thus, Rozen ascended the altar with the Setsugetsuka trio.
"Begin, Irori, Yaya, Komurasaki."
Without preamble, Rozen issued the command.
"Yes!"
The three responded in unison before moving to their respective positions.
"Uooo!"
Irori raised a conch shell and blew into it, producing a deep, resonant sound.
"Dong!"
Yaya struck a large drum with her drumsticks, the impact reverberating through the air.
"Boom!"
Komurasaki channeled her magic into the braziers surrounding the altar, igniting them in towering flames.
From each of the three girls, a surge of jutsuryoku rose—energy channeled through their familiar contracts, flowing from Rozen himself.
Rozen converted his vast reserves of mana into spiritual energy, then refined it into jutsuryoku, transmitting it through the contracts to empower the trio as they conducted the ritual together.
Then, Rozen lifted a ceremonial scroll from the altar.
"I, inheritor of the Onmyodo tradition, hereby declare before Taizan Fukun and the gods of the underworld"
A solemn incantation spilled from his lips.
"Here, under the mingled light of sun and moon"
"I, Rorelai Arneet, as a modern practitioner of the Onmyodo, invoke the forbidden arts"
"O gods, return these souls to their rightful vessels"
As the chant continued, an overwhelming surge of mana erupted from Rozen.
"Fwoom!"
The scroll in his hands burst into flames, turning to ash and vanishing.
"Hmmmm—!"
At that moment, the entire altar transformed into a bridge. A pillar of spiritual light shot upward, piercing through the ceiling, the bedrock, and the earth itself, erupting from the academy's grounds into the heavens.
"Rumble...!"
Dark clouds had gathered unnoticed in the sky, swirling ominously as thunder roared.
The vortex of clouds churned, a radiant glow manifesting at its center.
In that instant, a realm beyond human comprehension descended.
Ordinary people remained oblivious to this shift.
But the magus were different.
Throughout the academy, magus sensed the disturbance, their faces paling as they looked up at the sky.
This day would undoubtedly be recorded in history.
...
"This is...!?"
In the director's office, amidst reviewing damage reports and planning the academy's reconstruction, Edward Rutherford suddenly turned toward the window.
The sight of the celestial phenomenon outside made him rise from his seat.
"What is that?"
His expression shifted several times.
As the strongest magus of the 19th century, he immediately sensed an overwhelming pressure emanating from the anomaly.
His instincts as a top-tier magus told him one thing:
"Something has descended..."
Something terrifying, sacred, and divine.
Rutherford didn't know what it was.
But he felt it—
"This is what I've been pursuing all along—"
"God."
The realization made him unable to stay still.
Just as he prepared to leave and investigate, an uninvited guest stopped him.
"Interrupting now would be terribly uncouth, Rutherford."
The voice made him freeze.
Only then did he notice—someone had slipped into his office unnoticed, evading the senses of the 19th century's greatest magus.
A golden-haired, beautiful youth stood before him.
"You...!?"
Rutherford's composure shattered, his eyes widening in shock.
The youth, however, merely smiled warmly.
"Long time no see. You've grown, Rutherford."
The words were spoken with familiarity.
"...You, on the other hand, have grown younger." Rutherford replied stiffly, forcing a wry smile. "The patriarch of the Mage's Association—Father Time."
Indeed.
The youth was none other than the highest authority in the magical world—Father Time, the revered elder of the Mage's Association.
"Forgive the intrusion."
The patriarch grinned playfully.
"Would you care to join me in witnessing this?"
Witness what?
"The birth of the Machine Doll."