---
Darkness.
A vast, endless nothingness.
There was no pain. No sound. No sensation.
Only a distant, fading awareness.
Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald was dead.
Or at least—he should have been.
Yet something stirred. Something pulled.
A force beyond reason. Beyond understanding.
A suction, slow but relentless.
It latched onto him—his soul—and dragged him forward.
Somewhere beyond the darkness, beyond the abyss—something awaited.
And against all logic, against all natural law—
Kayneth was moving toward it.
---
At first, he did not understand.
He was conscious, yet not.
He could think, yet his thoughts were fragmented—drifting—as though he were on the verge of vanishing entirely.
He had no form. No voice. No body.
Yet still, he moved.
It was not Heaven's Feel—that much was certain.
He had studied the Third Magic extensively. He understood its principles. Its purpose.
And this was not it.
This was something else.
Something wrong.
He should have been gone. His existence should have ended.
Yet something had changed.
Something had interfered.
And as Kayneth's fragmented consciousness drifted closer to the unknown—
A voice rang out.
A voice that did not belong.
A voice that should not have been here.
"Hoh? Now this is unexpected."
---
It was distant at first. An echo in the void.
Then it sharpened. Grew clearer.
And with it, Kayneth felt something—for the first time since his death.
It was not pain.
Not touch.
But rather—a faint, lingering presence.
It was as if something was observing him. Studying him.
And then, the voice spoke again.
"My, my. What an interesting little tear in the fabric of reality. I would've ignored it had it not been for that peculiar pull..."
The presence shifted. Moved.
Kayneth could not see it. Could not perceive it.
Yet he knew—it was watching him.
"Now, what could have caused such an anomaly?" the voice mused, almost playfully. "Ah, but I suppose it is rather obvious."
A pause. Then—
"Tell me, Magus of the Moonlit World—"
"Do you know what happens when a corrupted Grail grants a wish?"
---
Kayneth wanted to respond.
To demand answers. To question who—no, what—was speaking to him.
But he could not.
His soul was not whole.
He had no voice. No means of expression.
And so he could only listen.
As the voice continued.
"You were dead, yes? Ah, but something remained. Something lingered."
"A wish, perhaps? A final, desperate plea?"
The presence drifted closer.
"How fortunate. The Grail heard you. And in its last moment, before corruption swallowed it whole..."
"It answered."
The words reverberated. Echoed through the void.
Kayneth's consciousness trembled.
Something clicked. Something shifted.
And suddenly—he felt himself being pulled faster.
The void around him warped. Twisted.
And ahead—
A hole in reality.
A tear in existence itself.
An opening beyond which something else awaited.
And standing before it—
A figure.
---
For the first time since his death, Kayneth saw something.
A man.
Or rather, a shadow of a man.
His form was illusory, flickering like a candle flame—unstable—as if reality itself struggled to hold him in place.
Yet there was no mistaking the power he exuded.
The sheer weight of his presence.
He was ancient. Beyond mortal time.
And his eyes—gleaming red—burned with amusement.
"Ah, there you are," the man said, smiling.
Kayneth did not know him.
Yet somehow, instinctively—
He knew what he was.
A Dead Apostle.
A being that should not exist here.
Yet here he was. Watching. Studying. Guiding.
And then—
A name. A title.
A legend whispered throughout the Moonlit World.
"Zelretch."
---
Kayneth's consciousness shuddered.
The Wizard Marshall.
The Kaleidoscope.
A monster. A legend.
And he was here.
Why?
Why was he here?
As if reading his unspoken question, Zelretch chuckled.
"Do you think I would normally meddle in such affairs?" he asked, tone light, almost amused. "I had no intention of interfering in this war. But then—"
His gaze turned toward the hole.
"This… thing appeared."
A pause. Then—
"And, to my surprise, it was trying to take something."
He gestured—at Kayneth.
The meaning was clear.
This tear in reality—this rift—
It had not formed randomly.
It had formed for him.
And Kayneth's fragmented mind reeled.
---
Zelretch sighed, placing a hand on his chin.
"This hole—it's similar to my Kaleidoscope, but different."
"An intersection of fate, perhaps? A place where worlds bleed into one another?"
His smile widened.
"Oh, now this is interesting. The magic levels on the other side are... profound."
A chuckle.
"If not for my job, I would have joined you for a vacation."
Then—his expression hardened.
"But this anomaly cannot remain open forever."
His red eyes glowed.
"So let us proceed, shall we?"
Zelretch raised his hand.
And Kayneth's soul—powerless, weightless—was dragged through the hole.
---
Beyond the rift, something watched.
A presence. A figure cloaked in darkness.
It had no shape. No face.
Yet it watched.
And as the rift closed, as the Wizard Marshall sealed the anomaly—
It smiled.
---
Light.
Blinding. Overwhelming.
After an eternity in darkness, it was an assault on his very existence.
Kayneth fell.
Or at least, that's what it felt like—if a soul could truly fall.
His being was weightless, yet he could feel the rapid pull of gravity, the sheer force dragging him down through the blinding expanse.
Down, down, down—
And then—
A crash.
A shattering sensation.
Not pain. Not impact.
Just… the sensation of breaking.
Like something delicate, something fragile, had cracked beneath the force of his arrival.
And then—
Everything stilled.
---
Silence.
Not the empty, hollow void of before.
But rather—a silence filled with presence.
Kayneth's mind drifted.
Slowly, sluggishly, he tried to process his surroundings.
There was no more weightlessness.
No more falling.
He was somewhere.
But where?
The blinding light had faded, replaced by an eerie, dim glow.
Not the cold, artificial radiance of magecraft.
Not the deep, oppressive blackness of the void.
But something different.
A soft, muted glow—like dying embers.
Like the final flickers of a candle before it was snuffed out.
And in that dim radiance—
Figures.
---
They were watching him.
He could feel their gazes—pressing against his fragmented awareness.
He still had no body. No voice.
But they saw him.
And slowly—one stepped forward.
A shadow. A presence unlike anything he had known before.
Not a Servant. Not a Dead Apostle.
Something else.
Something older.
Something primal.
And though Kayneth had no lungs, no breath—
A chill swept through his being.
A fear unlike any he had known before.
A presence beyond comprehension.
And then—
It spoke.
---
"Fascinating."
The voice was smooth. Cold.
Neither man nor woman, neither kind nor cruel.
A voice that existed outside the flow of time itself.
"So you are the one who has fallen through the gap."
It moved closer, stepping into the dim glow.
And though its form remained obscured, Kayneth knew—
It was looking directly at him.
Studying him.
Measuring him.
Weighing his very existence.
---
Something shifted in the space around him.
A whisper of something vast, something incomprehensible.
And then—
The presence tilted its head, as if in thought.
"A magus of the Moonlit World. A soul adrift in the remnants of a wish. A being lost between death and rebirth."
A pause.
Then, almost amused—
"How utterly… unprecedented."
---
Kayneth could not move.
He had no voice. No body.
And yet, in this strange new world, he was being acknowledged.
Not as a corpse. Not as a discarded remnant.
But as something unique.
Something that should not exist here.
And as that realization settled, the presence leaned closer—
And spoke a name that Kayneth had never heard before.
A name that did not belong to the Moonlit World.
A name that belonged here.
"Lerneas Orion Malfoy."
---
Darkness.
For the first time since his fall, Kayneth felt the weight of a body.
It was faint—weak, even—but it was there.
A slow, rhythmic pressure against his chest. The subtle rise and fall of breathing.
Breathing.
That realization struck him harder than anything before.
It was such a simple thing—so natural, so ordinary—yet the very fact that he could do it meant one absolute truth.
He was alive.
---
His body felt… strange.
It was small. Weak. Fragile.
He tried to move—instinctively, as a test—but his limbs did not respond as they should.
Not just stiff, not just sluggish—wrong.
The proportions, the sensations, the very way his muscles strained—everything was wrong.
His fingers curled inward, tiny and unrefined.
His breathing was uneven, as if his lungs were unaccustomed to the act itself.
And the world around him—
It was too loud.
Too sharp.
The faintest shuffle of fabric sounded like a storm in his ears.
The muffled voices outside his awareness were deafening.
Every noise, every sensation, every breath was too much.
And yet—his mind was clear.
The soul of Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald remained intact.
---
Slowly, cautiously, he opened his eyes.
The world came into focus—not the distorted chaos of before, but clarity.
A ceiling. Simple, smooth, a muted shade of white.
Not the grand stone halls of the Clock Tower.
Not the luxurious decor of the Archibald estate.
Somewhere else.
Somewhere unknown.
He turned his head—a struggle, but he managed.
And that was when he saw them.
---
Two figures.
A man. A woman.
Both dressed in fine robes, their silhouettes outlined in the soft glow of candlelight.
The woman's features were delicate—regal, even. Pale blonde hair, sharp yet refined cheekbones, and eyes that held a quiet strength.
The man was taller, his posture composed, exuding authority. Long silver hair cascaded past his shoulders, framing a face of cold elegance.
Both gazed upon him with expectation.
Not curiosity. Not confusion.
But expectation.
And then—
The woman smiled.
A small, faint thing, but warm.
And when she spoke, her voice was gentle.
"Welcome to the world, my son."
---
Son.
The word echoed through his mind, sinking deep into the very foundation of his existence.
And in that moment, Kayneth understood.
This was not merely survival.
Not merely rebirth.
This was something else entirely.
A new life.
A new existence.
A new name.
Lerneas Orion Malfoy.
And as that truth settled, as his consciousness wavered between exhaustion and wakefulness—
The first true breath of his new life escaped his lips.
---