Type-Moon: My Destiny Guide

"Although I don't know what you're really thinking, King Arthur, Mordred is not a tool for you to make up for your guilt. If you want to help her, go and talk to her clearly, whether it was back then or now!"

Chapter 523 What kind of king do you want to be?

What was your response to Shi Zi Jie Li's questioning?

I'm sorry, but I don't know either.

Yes, that's what she said. Facing Mordred's Master, she chose to be frank, because her intuition told her that this seemingly rough-looking magician could understand her complex feelings at this moment.

While trying to teach Mordred, Artoria would occasionally see images flashing through her mind: the foggy city of London, which had been shrouded in darkness and appeared as hell in the eyes of countless vengeful spirits of children, caused by the interference of Joan of Arc and Atalanta.

Despite her outward composure, the shock she experienced in the illusion was no less than that of Atalanta, or even Sieg in the original story. Although Merlin had repeatedly warned her that darkness and light were always intertwined, like two sides of the same coin, this was the first time Artoria had personally witnessed the terrifying extent to which human evil could develop.

Compared to that profound despair, even war-torn Britain, with its impoverished people, seemed much milder. If the country she had built were to become like this, she would rather fall into evil than let it be destroyed.

—Inevitably, I recalled my naive words from back then.

Many people are laughing, and I believe that must be true.

Living for the people, living with the people, leaving a future for them, the girl drew her sword and killed herself. To this day, Artoria has to admit that there was an element of self-pity in this. The king is too high and mighty. Even if her heart is beating fervently, people can only see her lonely figure at the top.

That's why Britain perished—overthrown by her nominal child, Mordred.

During her time in the idyllic land, she had imagined countless reasons for becoming a rebellious knight, but she could never find the answer. Now, however, she had a vague idea in her heart.

What if, in the eyes of the homunculus created in imitation of her, which is only a few years old, the Britain built by her father is like London, a prison filled with sin and punishment?

What if the king reflected in her eyes is the source and vessel of all this sin and sorrow?

In that case, it would be justifiable to draw a sword out of anger, and what right would one have to express indignation at her act of resisting and successfully destroying 'hell'?

It was with this in mind that Artoria was able to stand calmly beside Mordred and ask the question that had been nagging at her:

"Hey Mordred, tell me... are humans good or evil?"

You didn't address me as "卿" (qing)? That's a more formal way of addressing me...

Mordred's hand tightened slightly, her whole body tensed, and she tried to make her voice sound fierce and impatient:

"Are you an idiot? Humans are just humans, a bunch of beasts who choose to do good or evil depending on the situation."

Why? "

"Because if there's a lack of food and clothing, all manners and righteousness will vanish without a trace. To put it bluntly, you'll just be a slightly smarter beast!" Mordred seemed to recall the past and couldn't help but get excited. "In my opinion, everyone else is completely unimportant, as long as I am an extraordinary being!"

King Ming has sacrificed so much for the country, and his wisdom is impeccable... Yet, with just a simple drought and war, those foolish people will abandon their sense of shame and morality, turning their fear into rage and venting it on that supreme ruler...

Do you hate humans?

In response to Artoria's direct question, Mordred answered without hesitation:

"Of course I hate them. They never forget their resentment, yet they forget the kindness they received. They'll do anything to avoid anything that could harm them, even at the cost of their own lives. If things aren't troublesome, they'll do some pointless acts of kindness, but if things are really troublesome, they'll turn a blind eye to powerful evil forces. They always act out of self-interest and greed, and if they fail, they'll shift the blame to others. They have absolutely no value worth protecting!"

As if to say "the conclusion has been reached," the girl took a bite of the pancake, twisted her neck, and tore off the filling with a sharp and graceful movement, like a handsome lion.

“What a sad conclusion,” Artoria murmured, then continued, “So, was this the reason you rebelled in your previous life?”

The air seemed to freeze for a moment, the candlelight in the church stopped, and the shadowy outlines outside the window remained still, as if bound by some invisible pressure, almost suffocating.

"No, understanding humanity and my rebellion are two completely different issues. Are you trying to use this as a pretext to attack me, King Arthur?"

Mordred's eyes instantly filled with murderous intent; if he continued speaking, she would probably draw her sword and strike.

"Well, let's put aside the matter of rebellion for now—but there are many people who follow you, aren't there?"

Just when Mordred thought the conversation would end, Artoria pressed on without hesitation. Perhaps she hadn't expected to be pressed further, because her eyes widened in surprise.

King Arthur, the Holy King who was rebelled against, casually inquired about the details of the rebellion in front of the rebel leader.

Is there some mistake? They're all clearly dead, so what's the point of talking about this?

"Aren't there many who hold you in high esteem and are willing to make you king? Are you going to despise them as well?"

The holy sword was drawn, the holy spear raised high. In a daze, Mordred saw a fully armed king charging towards her. Her mind tensed instantly, and almost instinctively, the girl, revered as a queen by the rebels, spoke, her words as sharp as swords:

“They have no choice but to bet on me for their own reasons. They have a duty to rebel against the king. I will neither despise those who oppose me nor regard those who support me as my own kind.”

Are you going to look down on everyone?

I am meant to be king. How can a king treat humans as his own kind? Does a king think he can save them simply by crying and laughing with them? That's impossible. A true king should never be that kind of being.

Facing the legendary King Arthur, Mordred spoke quietly, in a tone devoid of any emotion.

Facing the solemn Mordred, Artoria quietly held her breath. In her holy blue eyes, this familiar figure overlapped with several kings she had encountered and fought against.

Moonlight, courtyard, king, banquet.

Past memories prompted Artoria to blurt out:

"What kind of kingly way do you intend to practice? Do you want to be a wicked king or a benevolent king?"

!!!

As he understood the words, Mordred clearly heard the sound of blood flowing through his veins and his heart pounding like a drum.

She knew very well that this was a question she could not escape, because Artoria, in her capacity as the Holy King, was questioning the heart of another king.

—The king has approved of her.

Mordred's expression twisted slightly, even revealing barely suppressed anger. However, this emotion was not directed at Artoria, but at herself, at the foolish future king whose mind was still blank.

I am now fighting to become king. Given the chance to challenge the chosen sword, I am absolutely confident that I can draw it.

So, what kind of king do I want to be?

I aspire to be the ideal king. I wish to be a king who can protect all those I need to protect, a king who is recognized by everyone.

To achieve this goal, should one become a king like one's father, a symbol of the people's ideals? Or should one become a greedy king who is willing to drag everything into achieving one's own dream?

To be the king of ideals must feel suffocating, and to be the king of greed must incur the resentment of the people.

Mordred stared blankly out the window at the street. According to the knowledge granted by the Holy Grail, this country still bore the scars of being ruled by a tyrant.

A tyrannical ruler, driven by twisted delusions, led people to build meaningless, extravagant palaces. Ultimately, the tyrant was defeated and killed in a rebellion. I must never become such a king—

So, wouldn't it be better to be a perfect king like my father, who sacrificed himself for his ideals? Even my father fell halfway through his journey, didn't he?

hateful."

The problem I had been ignoring was now being confronted by the very thing I hated.

He wanted to become king—this was just a simple aspiration, without any vision of what the future would hold after becoming king.

Did other kings ever consider this? Did the tyrants, wise rulers, or incompetent rulers who left their mark on history ever envision the future of their reigns?

My father, Artoria Pendragon, what are your expectations for the country you rule?

"I ruined it myself, so what's the point of talking about the future?"

Before Artoria, Mordred suddenly gave a self-deprecating smile. Indeed, it was King Arthur who led Britain to peace, but the one who utterly destroyed it was none other than himself.

If you ask what the worst thing is—I have never regretted it.

They receive no recognition, no care, no love, and will not fall in love with anyone. A peaceful world is wonderful, and those who risk their lives for it are equally wonderful.

But why can't we give even a little bit of affection to those who have dedicated everything to this wonderful thing?

He didn't even dare to hope for her love. At the very least, if she could give him a little attention, or even just glance at him, that would be enough.

"Don't talk nonsense. You will never be satisfied. You will endlessly demand her love, her affection, and eventually even the throne. In the end, you will still completely destroy her rule."

It was a whisper from the depths of her heart, and Mordred, while feeling anxious, also accepted this explanation.

Perhaps that's really the case—after all, I don't even understand what love is. Is it something sweet, something bitter, something sour, or something tasteless and odorless?

How could a knight who doesn't even know what love is presumptuously declare to King Arthur what kind of king he wants to be?

A bitter feeling welled up in her heart, but before the girl could hang her head in dejection, a pair of hands cupped her cheeks, forcing her to raise her head and meet those earnest, holy blue eyes.

"Don't be discouraged, Mordred. It's okay if you can't answer it." Artoria said earnestly to the dumbfounded Mordred. "Just like tonight's question, I believe you will solve it one day."

As if finally realizing the contradiction, Artoria lowered her hand, coughed lightly, and turned to leave.

"I hope that next time we meet, I will hear a heartfelt answer from you."

Mordred didn't speak; her mind had been fried the moment Artoria touched her. She simply stared blankly as her father left, a single sentence playing on repeat in her head:

She's encouraging me. She's encouraging me. She's encouraging me...

My father, she has me in her heart!

"Hehe, hehehehe..."

Outside the church, Joan of Arc looked at Mordred, who was grinning foolishly, shook her head, and couldn't bear to look at her: "This child has gone mad."

"Hmm, I never expected it to turn out like this." "Oh, my inspiration has struck!" "Has King Arthur finally accepted Mordred...?" "Do you think Mordred will choose the good king or the evil king?" "Master, let's go for barbecue tonight!"

Behind her, a group of people didn't go back to rest at all, but instead started discussing excitedly. There was even a magic screen, clearly indicating that some empress was abusing her magic to livestream the spectacle from afar. Despite being from opposing factions and facing a brutal battle the next day, at this moment, the heroes tacitly forgot their conflict and chatted freely like friends.

Those who become heroes are already outstanding individuals among the masses. When they put aside their prejudices and try to accept and communicate, the harmonious and warm atmosphere they create can easily infect all onlookers and even those who join in.

"King Arthur left without noticing us. It seems that the effect of the new moon's imitation of concealing its presence is quite good... New moon? New moon!"

Joan of Arc called out several times, then turned around in surprise, only to find the assassin in black robes smiling silently. In his eyes, she could see the noisy crowd and Mordred grinning foolishly in the church.

The warm light inside the church bathed his handsome face, and the young man looked as if he were gazing at a most precious, soon-to-be-lost treasure, his expression one of such cherishing and reluctance.

"New moon...?"

Chapter 524 Do the Red and Blue teams have the same objective?

Everyone was satisfied with the gossip about King Arthur and Mordred, and finally everyone withdrew. However, Shuoyue did not return to the Mirenia Fortress immediately, but instead used a displacement spell to appear at the anchor point of the Sky Garden.

"Ah, it's Dad!"

As soon as he appeared, the silver-haired little girl cheered and rushed towards him. Shuoyue hugged Little Jack and spun him around, making her giggle.

"You've grown a lot, little Jack."

"That's right, I was watching my sister learn too!" Little Jack puffed out her chest and put her hands on her hips, just like a primary school student who had been praised. However, Shuoyue noticed her form of address.

"elder sister……?"

"Hmm, isn't that Mordred sister Toria's child? She's even taller than me, so of course she's my sister~"