Tonight, Alice joins the hunt.

They fought and quarreled with each other.

They encouraged each other, and they looked forward to each other's future.

Failure came one after another, while not a single hero managed to make the sword tremble. Later, even lowly farmers and merchants were allowed to try, thousands of them. Yet the outcome never changed.

No one drew their sword, and the sun gradually moved from east to west. The gazes of the onlookers slowly shifted from anticipation to despair. And the noisy assembly gradually fell silent.

"Is anyone else going to try?! Is there no one left?"—the attendant in charge of calling out names shouted hoarsely. But no one responded. He himself couldn't help but jump off the platform, wanting to pull the royal sword from the boulder.

Naturally, he failed. And his failure didn't even earn him a single boo.

No one could pull out the King's Sword, and no one could even make it waver.

Alice, who was in the stands, had been watching the crowd and had successfully spotted a pretty face hours earlier.

A familiar, youthful face.

A girl's face disguised as a man.

Artoria Pendragon. Captain of the West Blue Team, she now appears with a youthful face—Iris saw her waver several times, wanting to step forward. But she ultimately hesitated, unable to overcome her inner barriers and take the first step.

Ah...it seems she's completely unaware of her interference.

—Or is this actually a clever disguise?

Alice's lips curled into a slight smile. She knew that, as things unfolded normally, the still-young King Arthur would appear after all the other suitors had given up in fear. He would draw the royal sword and, for the rest of his long life, remain a conquering queen disguised as a man. Until then, she had no intention of trying to draw the sword.

She didn't want to be queen.

Or perhaps there would be a different reason in the original timeline, but Alice understands her, knows her past, and can guess her wishes. Therefore, in this parallel worldline that is not part of the main storyline, this future Knight King will inevitably hold such thoughts due to the influence of the main storyline.

This is inevitable, predictable, and one of the few inevitable things that can be locked in here.

Just as the girl disguised as a boy was about to break free from this 'inevitability,' and before she could take that final step to become the one to try it out—Alice suddenly stood up from the stands.

Her movement elicited gasps of surprise. The knights and nobles around her stared at her in astonishment, which also attracted the attention of many people at the gathering point—and she managed to catch, out of the corner of her eye, the moment Artoria stopped in her tracks.

"You have disappointed me greatly." The girl's clear yet slightly childish voice echoed throughout the area. "I thought there were countless heroes and great men on this land. But to my surprise, I haven't seen a single one."

Her words were like accusatory blades, and these blades from someone in a high position deeply humiliated the knights present. Perhaps at any moment, a warrior, unable to bear the humiliation, would draw his sword against her, forcing her to apologize, even though she appeared to be a timid girl with no strength to even kill a chicken.

But she had no intention of giving these people a chance. Because in the next instant, amidst the gasps of the surrounding crowd, she leaped from the stands, landing steadily on the ground, much to everyone's surprise.

“So,” her voice continued, echoing through the slightly chaotic assembly hall caused by her actions, “you bunch of good-for-nothings are no longer worth counting on. I’ve decided to do it myself.”

The next moment, she bypassed the bewildered attendant and placed her hand on the hilt of the royal sword.

—Time stops.

The world ceased to function the moment her fingers touched the hilt of the sword. All intellect, all thought, all will, all soul froze and solidified. And within this solidification, a pair of empty pupils opened in the heavens and cast their gaze downwards!

This wasn't the captain of the West Sea team—Alice, having quickly controlled her reaction and briefly detached her thoughts from this physical body, was contemplating on another dimension. She sensed the power of a true god within that gaze, but she didn't observe the essence upon which that power resided—in other words, she hadn't located the West Sea team captain's inner light through that gaze.

This is a puppet, an institution, a prop—Alice thought to herself. Because she knew she had done the same thing more than once. After all, while paying attention to the source world line is beyond instinct, there are various levels of differences in source world lines. Even she occasionally uses those derivative parallel worlds of source world lines as bait to lure people in.

—And fishing requires a line and a hook.

She remained calm, allowing that merciless gaze to pierce through the outer shell of her temporary body and repeatedly examine her inner structure and the soul that dwelled within. The high-speed calculations during that examination were clearly visible in her perception—she wasn't worried about failure; if she failed, she could simply try again in another place. Beyond that, she was even more convinced that her disguise was flawless.

And so that gaze faded. After examining the body and soul of 'Transmigrator Satori Aika,' confirming the integrity of the causal chain and finding no trace of external interference, the testing mechanism, or rather the hook, adhering to fixed mechanical logic, silently vanished. It allowed this parallel world line to continue operating, and time began to flow once more.

And so, Alice grasped the hilt of the sword. In the next instant, with the magical talent and power that Sajou Aika possessed as an individual, she swiftly mastered and subdued the sword destined for its master. And when she pulled with all her might, raising the sword high with a clang, almost everyone present was breathless at this utterly illogical turn of events!

This is impossible!

So many famous warriors couldn't pull out the sword, yet a child pulled it out? And it was a girl!?

—[Ah, as expected, your wish is to deny your past.]

Alice's lips curled up slightly.

She then raised her sword and turned to look at the crowd whose thoughts were in disarray.

“It seems I have drawn this sword,” she said calmly, glancing at the knights and warriors around her. “But you do not seem willing to admit your defeat.”

Her voice silenced the crowd.

In the brief silence, a small voice rang out from the crowd.

"How can a girl be queen..."

Section Twenty-One: Awakening

How exactly did that day end? Everyone present remembered it vividly, but no one could recount the complete story. Because most people only saw the short girl hold up the sword and ask a question.

"Are you all dissatisfied with me?"

"Then I'll show you why I call you trash."

The next moment, the girl swung her sword.

There were no terrifying sounds or lights, nor the magical bursts of sword energy that powerful knights occasionally unleash. The girl simply swung her longsword, using techniques that any ordinary person could understand to take down the knight standing at the front.

It was a swordsmanship that... could be recognized by ordinary people, but was difficult to comprehend. Every strike had a traceable pattern, yet every strike left the opponent unable to react correctly. At first, some knights tried to use their bravery to stop the duchess from drawing the royal sword, attempting to end what they saw as a utterly absurd farce. However, they soon had to unite.

Because the Duchess challenged them all at once. And she was enough to defeat those famous knights who couldn't let go of their manly pride and claimed to be ashamed to face women with swords—their proud skills and well-honed bodies were nothing but dust under the Duchess's sword. Even their shameless attempts to subdue their opponents with brute force by wielding a giant sword as big as a door were no match for the Duchess's seemingly light but swift strike.

Ten knights charged forward with shouts, falling at the Duchess's feet as if they had crashed into a city wall.

A hundred knights cautiously surrounded them, but the duchess charged into their ranks like a tiger into a flock of sheep.

Finally, the remaining nearly a thousand knights and countless soldiers at the assembly point, driven by a strange frenzy, surged forward with the fervor and relentless abandon of war. And then they learned what a rout truly meant when an army collapsed like a house of cards.

Each of them saw the Duchess, perceived her clearly, and remembered every detail of how she struck them down. All countermeasures were futile and powerless; whether it was a one-on-one fight, a group attack, or even simply using a dense crowd to overwhelm them, the final result was always weak and ineffective.

No one remembers exactly how that day ended, though everyone witnessed it all clearly. Yet, no one could accurately describe the entire process—all that was known was that as dusk fell, only the Duchess remained standing at the gathering place; all the knights, nobles, rangers, and even peasants lay dead on the ground. And—

—No one died from their injuries in this battle where a thousand faced a single opponent. This was because the Duchess was able to apply the appropriate force to each opponent, even in such a fierce fight. Even the most tenacious fighters only suffered minor injuries.

The ceremony for choosing the king has ended.

Even though no one had the strength left to stand and shout "Long live the King!", the meaningless ceremony was over. The Duchess had proven with her sword that all customs and rules were utter nonsense, and that pure violence was ultimately the deciding factor.

however--

Even though they had already submitted to the Duchess's violence and were willing to acknowledge her as their king, the Duchess had lost interest in these losers.

No one remembers exactly how that day ended. Because everyone who does remember would rather forget.

Because when no one was qualified to stand up straight in front of the Duchess, the Duchess simply threw the sword of the Elector, a symbol of the British monarchy, into the ground.

“A bunch of useless trash.” She uttered the word “useless” for the third time that day.

"I don't need such a thing to acknowledge whether I am a queen." With that, she arrogantly stepped over the collapsed crowd and returned to her own carriage, having discarded the royal sword.

“I don’t acknowledge that you are the same race as me,” she said before getting into the car.

She then left.

The gleaming royal sword lay stuck in the muddy ground, ignored by everyone.

The next morning, news of the Duchess of Wales' actions that evening, and that she had left Britain and returned to her homeland, spread like wildfire across the land.

................................................

Destroying a country is actually much simpler than most people imagine.

When the Duchess of Wales displayed overwhelming military force and utterly trampled the legitimacy of King Uther's decision to choose the king by sword, the monarchy within Britain was no longer as firm and stable as it had been before. The authority of the monarchy derives from the approval of the authoritative figure, and when the monarch who could control everything without a crown or a sword denied that crown, this supreme authority became a laughable iron ring.

The kingdom of knights has lost its central axis.

Because in the concept of knighthood, 'loyalty to the monarch' is an indispensable condition—a knight without a monarch can at best be considered a wandering knight. And every wandering knight longs to be loyal to a sufficiently reliable monarch.

So, what kind of monarch is the most reliable?

It's quite simple: the most reliable monarch is one destined for great achievements and immortal fame. And in the British Isles today, which monarch possesses a greater capacity for magnanimity than that duchess?

Obviously not.

When the duchess returned to her domain, she made no secret of recruiting soldiers, expanding her territory, and establishing military settlements. Her contempt for the old British monarchy and her desire to restore order were blatantly obvious. As this news circulated across the land, many knights who yearned for glory and fame began to waver.

Joseph had no children.

A monarch without an heir is inherently unstable in his power.

Originally, the deceased King Uther had a brother named Vortigern who could have filled the void. However, Vortigern was already old and frail, and he too had no children.

Therefore, unless a successor of Uther's blood, recognized by the nobles and knights, suddenly steps forward and declares an immediate campaign against the rebellious Duchess of Wales, the British monarchy will never again possess its prestige.

But is there such an heir?

Have.

Even many people of high status knew about it.

They knew that the deceased King Uther had a bastard son who had been raised in seclusion by Uther's men—though they didn't understand why the prince was left to roam freely instead of being placed in a castle to receive a full education in the ways of a king. They speculated that this might be because Uther wanted to cultivate the prince's character.

Now is the time for this prince to take responsibility.

But... does anyone know where he is now?

....................................

Alice lowered her eyes, gazing from the Duke's seat at the girl who had shed her masculine disguise, revealing a slender, feminine figure. A trace of childishness still lingered in the girl's blue eyes, but beyond that childishness lay a firm resolve and determination.

A few minutes ago, the girl came to visit her castle carrying the royal sword that she had abandoned.

A few minutes later, the girl gripped the hilt of the King's Sword and challenged her.

“I recognize you.” Alice gazed at the girl, whom she knew very well. “On that evening, you were the only knight who could withstand my second sword strike. If there was one non-non ...

"Why do you challenge me?" Alice asked. She waved her hand to stop the knights who wanted to come over and help her, to drive away this presumptuous little girl.

"As long as we defeat you, everyone can continue to laugh."

"A knight who lives for others?" Alice chuckled softly, rising from her seat and casually drawing an ordinary longsword. "That kind of lifestyle must be exhausting... What's your name?"

“Al…” The girl opened her mouth, but then stopped herself from saying her name. She coughed softly, then answered hesitantly, “Lily, you can just call me Lily. The Grand Duke of Wales.”

“Lily?” Alice nodded. “Then I have a suggestion for you: if you want to see me again next time, you’d better bring a large army.”

The next moment, her sword arrived in front of 'Lily' along with her voice!

It was a battle that dazzled the audience. The royal sword in the hands of the wandering knight Lily shone brightly, like a sturdy tree. But the storm that was the Duchess was in form fiercely lashed at her, tearing at her and engulfing her with dazzling, yet clearly discernible, swordplay.

It is only natural that storms can knock down large trees.

Six seconds after their swords clashed, a gasp escaped the young knight's hand as the royal sword fell from its hilt.