In the end, it turned out that even the godlike abilities of Steve, capable of interfering with causality and controlling fate, were completely useless against his sharp-tongued, perceptive adopted daughter in her adolescence.
After thirty minutes of facing off against Caren, brimming with verbal traps and philosophical debates, he finally managed to evade the girl's relentless questions, relying on his rich rhetorical experience and a physical promise: "Next week, the limited edition of the newest game console."
During dinner, as always, the atmosphere teetered between warmth and wit. Spinning pasta around her fork with elegance, Caren commented casually,
"Come to think of it, Sakura seemed a little down when she visited this afternoon."
"I checked her. Her magic circuits were a bit too active. Father, your performance last night seems to have affected the innocent audience,"
she added nonchalantly.
Steve paused slightly as he cut his steak, but quickly resumed.
"That's just regular magical waves. For a magician wanting to learn imaginary number magecraft, it'll be good practice. Tell her that it's her homework for tomorrow, and ask her to control her restlessness."
He casually turned potential side effects into an educational activity.
"Oh really? I thought your luck with women was so bad, and even the king of another world wouldn't forgive you."
Caren put down her fork and gently dabbed her mouth with a napkin. Her golden eyes glinted with mischief.
"Ahem!"
Steve, overwhelmed by her precise wit, started coughing and could only raise both hands in surrender. This seemingly idle conversation, which could always escalate, came to an abrupt and merciful end.
After dinner, Steve retired to his room alone. Without turning on the light, he walked to the large French windows, drew the curtains, and sat cross-legged on the spacious windowsill. Outside, the quiet, dazzling night view of Fuyuki City spread out, lights gathering like a warm ocean of stars, echoing the real stars above.
The daily life he had protected now seemed especially peaceful and beautiful. He savored the sense of relaxation that came after work was done. Yet, what followed was a subtle feeling of boredom, an emptiness only beings on his level could understand.
The script was over, the actors had all found their places. To one who had just experienced major events, the following eleven years of peace felt excessively long.
Just then, a unique idea suddenly bubbled up in his mind.
"Come to think of it… last night's substitute for that person was really merciless…"
Mumbling, he pointed lightly into the air in front of him. At his fingertip, space rippled as if over water, and a small, dazzling nebula composed of countless points of light began to slowly spin. This was a special technique of cosmic magecraft—a portal connecting to the outer world.
His consciousness passed through this nebula, instantly breaking the barrier between the real world and the Throne of Heroes, entering a realm where all heroic legends were recorded.
But instead of staying in the ordinary Hall of Heroes, he proceeded straight into the deepest part—a strictly guarded private domain protected by concepts and laws. Only a tiny number of beings with the qualifications to save the world could access this Messiah-net.
Skillfully, he found a contact in his friend list whose avatar was a dove and whose nickname was Pacifista, and sent a psychic wave—[You there?]
Almost instantly, a similarly relaxed mind replied, dynamic emoji and all:
[[GIF: a small person making a V-sign, backlit with a halo]] I'm still here.
"What's up? Did last night's stage satisfy you?"
Steve's lips twitched.
He continued telepathically, "I'm satisfied. But weren't you a little harsh on the actors, making Solomon fight like that? The actors were overwhelmed and had to bow out early."
[Sketch of someone shrugging, arms wide]
"Well, kids always need a little pressure, right? If you don't push them to the limit, how can you see their souls' brightest shine? I completely trust your script."
His partner's reply, as ever, was laid-back and sly.
Steve couldn't help but shake his head. He chatted with this Prince of Doves for several minutes, exchanging recent stories from their respective film sets, then ended the call.
Staring out at the city night, a bolder and more amusing idea began brewing inside him. (PS: My best guess here for Prince of Doves is Jesus. He is also a Messiah-type Servant like Buddha and of course Steve.)
"Come to think of it... If I summoned those enlightened under the bodhi tree from the Throne of Heroes and had them spend some time in Fuyuki... wouldn't that be a riot?
That'd be a colossal bestseller, right?"
The more he mulled it over, the more feasible it seemed.
But just as his fantasies peaked, an inevitable problem surfaced.
Bringing only them into the play while excluding the Prophet—who wielded equal power and influence—would seem both inappropriate and cliquish. The suspicion of forming an exclusive circle arose.
"But… what if I bring that person? What would happen…"
Steve's expression turned momentarily serious. He started to mentally simulate the potential consequences of such actions.
In his vision, the Twelve Lords of the Clock Tower were holding an all-night emergency summit and declaring the highest alert. The Church summoned all its agents and knights to recover holy relics, the Mage Association and the Church erupted into their fiercest war in a thousand years, and over a billion believers were thrown into frenzy and chaos by the arrival of miracles...
Worse yet, since the collective unconscious of humanity dictated the Prophet's face must never be shown, any camera or magical recording would depict him as either a meaningless mosaic or as a box labeled "Due to copyright issues, this content cannot be displayed."
This phenomenon threatened the fundamental laws of mystery and recognition in the TYPE-MOON world and would trigger a chain reaction leading to the collapse of the worldline itself.
Finally, even Alaya and Gaia's suppression couldn't deal with this rule corruption from a higher dimension—the world would collapse entirely, and the story would be erased from existence for violating the ultimate taboo of the real world.
"...No, no, this project is far too risky."
Steve shook his head vigorously, banishing the dangerous thought which might destroy the world setting—or even the novel itself.
He let out a long sigh.
Indeed, there are some jokes that should never be taken lightly.
Feeling more at peace with this particular brand of tranquility, Steve turned his gaze back to the calm night outside the window.
Since things had come to this, he might as well take a proper rest and make the most of his hard-earned holiday.
…