Chapter One: Arriving in Fuyuki City for the First Time

The Key of All Spirits.

That was what Roland called the ring on his hand.

From this morning, this ornate silver ring had abruptly appeared on his finger. The sensation was so seamless, as if it had fused with his very skin, that its presence was almost imperceptible.

It wasn’t until later, when Roland noticed it and curiously tried to remove it, that he discovered something strange: no matter how he set it on the table, the instant he closed the door, it would reappear on his hand as if it had never left. Whether locked in a box or tossed out the window, the ring would always return to his finger the next moment. While Roland was still racking his brain over what to do with this so-called Key of All Spirits and what kind of “golden finger” it might be, the clock on the wall struck noon.

And then, suddenly, he found himself transported.

That was why Roland now sat alone on a bench at the park entrance, wearing only a thin shirt and jacket while everyone else was bundled in winter clothes.

“So, is this Japan? Or a so-called parallel world?”

Roland calmly surveyed his surroundings. He was no exchange student, but the signs hanging from the tall buildings, the Japanese characters on street signs—all of it made the truth clear.

What surprised Roland was not the fact that he had crossed into another world. Because, as soon as he arrived in this new place, with the Key of All Spirits on his finger, a flood of information about the ring and its abilities surfaced in his mind.

The Key of All Spirits not only allowed him to traverse worlds, but could also bestow upon him all manner of supernatural abilities. The reason it had chosen Roland was simple: he possessed the necessary qualifications.

These qualifications were not about his intelligence, talent, or character, but his ability to connect with unknown entities in the void.

In short, Roland was highly sensitive to inspiration.

This trait, inconspicuous and even somewhat dangerous in everyday life, was precisely why the Key of All Spirits had bonded with him.

Within the Key dwelled many Contracted Spirits. Some were gods from ancient times, others were extraordinary mortals or beings from myriad worlds—yet in most cases, these spirits existed in a state barely above oblivion, less than wraiths.

To preserve their power and erase their will, the owner of the Key could, by forming a contract and paying a certain price, gain the spirit’s strength. By fulfilling specific conditions, he could eventually absorb them completely and make their power his own.

But ultimately, the Key of All Spirits was just an object without self-awareness. Without a user, its power was incomplete—after all, a contract required both parties.

While wandering aimlessly through the multiverse, seeking a master and creating new spirits, it was inevitable that some spirits, by chance, would escape capture and scatter across different worlds.

As the one chosen by the Key, Roland’s task was to recover these scattered spirits, increase his authority, and ultimately become the true master of the Key of All Spirits.

In every sense, it was an outstanding golden finger. There was a goal, but no compulsion—if he wished to live idly in this world for a lifetime, that would be fine too.

As a simple tool, the Key would not impose any forced or punitive missions on Roland; it merely conveyed how to gain more power.

Except for the abruptness of this first transfer, Roland was quite satisfied with his new “cheat.” After all, he had no attachments in his old world.

“But is this really another world?”

Roland felt a little awkward under the scrutiny of those around him. The park entrance had a steady flow of people, and his thin clothes made him stand out among those bundled up against the cold.

If not for his age—barely past twenty and still carrying the youthful air of a university student—the curious looks cast his way would surely have multiplied.

After nearly half an hour of observation, Roland could preliminarily conclude that this was a world that had entered modernity. Though he couldn’t yet judge the historical or cultural differences, the level of technology seemed somewhat behind his original world.

Judging from the clothing of passersby and the housewives playing with their children in the park, there appeared to be no widely-known supernatural abilities—at least not on the surface.

“In any case, I’d better gather some information first.”

Roland stood and walked into the park. Near a flowerbed, a salaryman in a suit had just packed up his lunchbox, stood from the bench, and hurried off toward the exit.

He left behind a folded newspaper, seemingly without intention to retrieve it. Though Roland had only read newspapers as a child, he knew something of the importance such seemingly flimsy sheets once held in media.

During the past half hour, not a single person—neither the mothers chatting quietly nor the office workers taking lunch—had pulled out a cellphone, not even to check the time. For that, they relied on watches or the tall clock in the center of the lawn.

For someone from a modern society, it was a refreshingly novel scene. Even in the elderly-populated, run-down neighborhoods where he’d lived before, there were always a few people blasting short videos from their phones.

Barring surprises, this newspaper might yield a trove of information. Still, Roland didn’t expect it to solve all his questions about this world.

He unfolded the newspaper, sat down, and concealed his expression behind its wide pages as he scanned the familiar characters.

The first thing that caught his attention was the small black text at the top of the newspaper column. Next to the date, in parentheses, it read “Heisei 6.”

“Nineteen ninety-four… This must be the bubble economy era, right?”

Roland instinctively glanced to the left, only to be dazzled by a sea of kana and narrow columns of miniature announcements. For someone with no language foundation, reading a text-heavy newspaper was not an easy experience.

Fate, it seemed, always enjoyed revealing its sly side when least expected.

Just as Roland thought he’d gain nothing, his eyes fell on a headline composed mainly of Chinese characters.

—Fuyuki City hits record high of 11.2 degrees

And beside the headline, in striking black font, was the name of the newspaper:

Fuyuki News.

This term was all too familiar. Though he couldn’t quite claim the title “Type-Moon fan,” Roland had seen more than a few works from the series.

But if he had truly crossed into Fuyuki City as an ordinary person, even Roland, who considered himself composed, would be hard-pressed to keep calm.

He had long heard of the city’s infamous disasters.

Though the specific year was unclear, judging by the era, this was undoubtedly the time of the Fourth Holy Grail War.

Roland took a deep breath and forced himself to exhale slowly, trying to steady his nerves, though it could do little to ease his agitation.

By convention, even if one must undergo a trial, shouldn’t it begin with something like Highschool of the Dead? To place a normal person’s first stop in the Nasuverse—wasn’t that a bit much?

If there was a silver lining, it was that, after scanning the newspaper, aside from a minor report of a murder, there were no sensational headlines—no gas explosions or other disasters. The Fourth War clearly hadn’t started in earnest yet.

But that offered little comfort. On this wintry afternoon, the northern wind was as pitiless as Roland’s current mood, sinking ever further into bleakness.

He pulled his jacket’s zipper up to his chin, wrapping himself as tightly as possible for warmth. Then, as he patted his stomach, he became acutely aware of a more immediate problem.

Compared to the distant, intangible threat of the Fourth Holy Grail War, where he would sleep tonight and what he would eat next were far more pressing.

He was now saddled with three handicaps: unable to speak the language, lacking any official identity, and penniless—stranded and alone in a strange city. Once the novelty of transmigration faded, dread for the future washed over him.

Only in adversity does one become aware of the overlooked blessings of ordinary life.

Staring at the trembling newspaper in his wind-chilled hands, Roland’s expression darkened. Was this Heaven’s way of sending a message? No sooner had he crossed over than he was thrust into this?

“And besides, the achievement for being a vagrant isn’t supposed to be unlocked here, right? Shouldn’t that be on the other continent? High schoolers are Japan’s true specialty.”

Muttering nonsense, Roland slapped his cheeks, trying to banish his unease. One mustn’t sit and wait for death in the face of trouble. Besides, even if given a chance to abandon the Key of All Spirits, he would still choose to hold onto it.

No one could ignore a miracle within arm’s reach.

Moreover, he had one chance to reverse his fate.

Roland caressed the ring, feeling the information it conveyed.

Key of All Spirits

—Contracted Spirits: None

—Number of Draws: One

This ring was no wish-granting machine, nor could it, like the Main God, allow free selection of desired powers. Yet, as a tool capable of creating spirits across all worlds, how could it possibly ignore the one it had chosen?

Roland did not crave earth-shattering power; like a contract spirit, he knew nothing came without a price. Still, he longed for an opportunity.

“Draw a spirit.”

After a moment’s silence, Roland issued the command in his mind and closed his eyes, awaiting the hand of fate.

Then, a chaotic silver-white light appeared behind his closed lids, swirling and twisting as it delivered the result.

—Contracted Spirit: Yoshikage Kira