Fairy Round Table Realm, Poem of Eternal Mist

The ethereal voice echoed again, tinged with complex emotion: "Compared to Liliana, Vivian has indeed accomplished astonishing feats here. However, 'that being'—'the imposter'—will not sit idly by. He has already changed his form three times. We cannot stand by and watch Britain fall into his hands. Remember, Caster, this is your first and last chance. After you leave, the Sea of ​​Stars will cease to exist. Children of Paradise, you must fulfill the mission you were born to complete… Caster, from now on, it all depends on you…"

The sound gradually faded, and the vast, dazzling galaxy around them began to shrink and dissipate like a vortex. A pink sky replaced the boundless sea of ​​stars, slowly coming into view of Castor. The Sea of ​​Stars, the sacred place that nurtured and protected the three fairies of Paradise, had closed its gates forever.

Before Castor could even begin to get used to this real world, a voice rang out from the side, filled with undisguised shock:

"How is this possible... You're already out? It seems..."

Morgan, clad in a long black robe, had been waiting for some time. She gazed at the now completely sealed and unmarked Sea of ​​Stars, her eyes filled with endless sorrow and complexity. When she saw that it was Caster who had appeared, she was even more astonished. The appearance of all three fairies meant that the wheel of fate for the Fairy Kingdom had accelerated, and collapse and end were imminent. However, looking at the innocent, naive girl before her, Morgan was determined not to let her repeat her own past experience of being overprotected and ultimately facing harsh reality.

Prior to this, Morgan had already found the most remote village in the Fairy Kingdom—Autlin Village—as Caster's initial place of lodging. But lodging was only the beginning; Morgan immediately arranged a series of extremely rigorous "training" for her. At that time, the affairs of the Fairy Kingdom were not as heavy as they would become later, and many matters could be handled by a few fairy knights.

At first, the naive Castor thought it was just a simple orientation or basic training. However, she soon realized that she was very wrong.

Physical fitness is the foundation for mastering all skills—this was the first ironclad rule Morgan set for her. The training was ruthless from the start: basic running, long-distance sprints with added weight, double the sit-ups and push-ups…everything was pushed to the limit. If Caster slacked off even slightly, the cold, sharp whip would fall without mercy.

In the first few days, Morgan himself was also suffering from the pain of being eroded by the magic of the Imaginary Tree. His lower limbs were in excruciating pain, and he could only lean on his crutches, pale-faced as he supervised each training session. The continuous and rigorous training left clear marks on Caster's tender body—thick calluses formed on his palms and soles, and his skin was covered with bruises.

At this moment, she sat beneath a rushing waterfall, wearing only a thin undergarment. The icy, heavy water crashed against her thin back like countless boulders. Finally, exhausted, she stumbled and plunged into the pool below. Sharp rocks instantly cut her skin, and streaks of crimson blood spread in the clear water.

Looking at her battered and bruised body, grievance and exhaustion finally broke through her defenses, and she tearfully complained to Morgan on the shore:

"Why...Your Majesty...you must do this...I..."

"Don't stop! Sit back up right now!" Morgan's voice was firm and unwavering. "I don't want you to repeat my mistakes! Here, even magicians must have strong bodies! Weakness means being at the mercy of others! I've witnessed far more tragedies than you can imagine!"

She understood the道理 (principles/reasons). Even without witnessing it firsthand, she knew that Morgan had endured 1,800 years of hardship on this land and was well aware of its suffering. But such intense torment was simply beyond her capacity to bear. Exhausted both physically and mentally, her tears finally broke free.

"I can't do it... I really can't..."

"What kind of expression is that! What can your tears change!" Morgan's rebuke pierced her self-pity like an icicle. "Does that expression make you a prophetic child? Can your tears save Britain? Here, showing weakness will only get you devoured until there's nothing left! Stand up, Caster!"

Urged sternly by Morgan, she gritted her teeth and struggled with her nearly exhausted body back into the cascading waters of the waterfall. The law of the jungle prevails, an immutable rule of this world, especially in the fairy kingdom. Morgan was already numb to it, but Caster was different—she was just a naive young girl, and even with immense potential, without arduous training, she would ultimately fade into obscurity.

Gradually, the girl who initially complained incessantly began to transform. She started to adapt to this brutal pace, persevering through even the most arduous tasks, and even proactively taking on more extreme challenges. Unbeknownst to her, sixteen weeks had passed, and the frail blonde girl's eyes had gradually developed a resolute light.

“It seems the foundation is fine now, Caster…” Morgan slowly sat on the edge of the bed, putting down her cane. The lingering pain from the magic's corrosive effects made her frown slightly. “This damn backlash…”

Castor quickly stepped forward to help him up, asking with puzzlement, "Your Majesty, is your injury... not healed yet?"

“It’s just a matter of time.” Morgan waved his hand, his gaze falling on her already resilient figure, a hint of barely perceptible relief in his eyes. “Seeing you grow makes me feel at ease. Next comes the training in knowledge. You’ve already laid the foundation for physical fitness and magic; just practice diligently in the future… That’s all I can teach you.”

“Your Majesty, that is enough,” Castor replied softly.

“I should head back to Camelot; I’ve lingered too long.” Morgan stood up and gave one last piece of advice. “Remember what I told you in Otrin Village: don’t bluff, don’t reveal your strength easily. Contact me immediately if anything changes. Understand?”

At that time, though I solemnly promised, I had no idea what fate awaited me. The impending cruelty almost completely shattered my last remaining hope for this world…

-

The village Morgan chose for her was indeed far removed from the hustle and bustle of the world. This rare tranquility was exactly what Caster needed. She vaguely knew the discrimination the fairies of Paradise faced within the Fairy Kingdom—immortality was seen by ordinary fairies as nothing less than a mark of being an outsider. To avoid potential rebels, settling here was undoubtedly the best choice.

Because of its remote location and lack of large-scale development, the residents here still maintain a simple agricultural lifestyle. While Caster was familiar with this, she wasn't exactly skilled, even clumsily plowing the fields. She frequented the blacksmith's shop in the corner of the village. Despite knowing nothing about blacksmithing, she always found it fascinating to watch the scorching metal deform under the hammer and the steam rising during quenching. The unkempt, portly blacksmith never seemed to mind her "intrusion," always patiently reminding her to be careful and offering her warm hospitality whenever she came.

"Ah, I wish I had a daughter," the blacksmith said with a simple smile as he wiped his sweat. "Castor, you've brought a lot of joy to my monotonous life."

"No, Uncle..." Castor was always a little embarrassed.

"It's alright, it's alright!" the blacksmith waved his hand. "I need a bit of excitement too. Feel free to 'bother' me, I'll be happy to!"

However, this tranquil beauty, like morning dew, was fleeting and fragile. Castor lived peacefully in the village until the year 1902. That winter marked the beginning of her eternal nightmare.

As usual, after a day of magical training, Caster returned to the village to rest in the increasingly short winter twilight. However, before she could even stand at the village entrance, several burly men suddenly pounced from the shadows and forcefully pinned her to the ground!

"Gotcha! That damned paradise fairy! She was hiding in a place like this after all!"

"Eh...?" Caster's pupils suddenly contracted, instantly losing focus.

When she struggled to lift her head, a scene of utter devastation greeted her. The familiar village had become a slaughterhouse, houses ablaze in flames, corpses strewn about, and blood staining the snow. The rebels His Majesty had warned her against… they had come! In an instant, the pure, emerald-green light in her eyes dimmed completely.

Why? Why did this happen? Is there no kindness among fairies at all? I... I always trusted them so much... Is there no one in this world who can be trusted...?

"Hey! What do you think you're going to do to that child! Get out of my way, you bunch of animals!!!"

"Pfft—!"

The dull thud of a blade slicing through flesh rang out, and several rebels who were about to attack Caster fell to the ground. Immediately afterward, a pair of strong, blood-stained hands abruptly pulled the limp Caster to his feet.

"Run! I can't hold on much longer... Caster, you have to get out of here! Hurry!"

"Uncle Blacksmith...why..."

The short, stout blacksmith was now covered in blood, with hardly an inch of undamaged skin left. Clearly, he had fought his way through a bloody battle. Despite her blank mind, the instinct for survival compelled Castor to act without further hesitation. She wiped the blood from her mouth, picked up her fallen magic wand, and charged towards the blacksmith.

However, the blacksmith's injuries were too severe, and he could only stagger forward. Fortunately, the pursuers had not yet closed in, and the two managed to escape to the river behind the village.

"Quick...hurry up...I'm afraid...I'm already...cough!..." The blacksmith leaned against the tree trunk, blood gushing from his mouth.

Gazing at the blacksmith dying before her, who had tried to save her, Castor was overwhelmed with mixed emotions. This was the first time in her long life that she had witnessed such cruel fratricide. The piercing screams and the profound fear constantly eroded her pure and innocent heart.

Let it break... let everything break...

The eerie sound echoed in her mind. Whether by her own will or consumed by despair, she felt her body grow cold and numb, her consciousness dissipating like water. She didn't know where she was or what to do. All she could see were rising plumes of smoke, intertwined with horrific screams, and her own reflection in her pupils—a blood-soaked, wretched image.

-

Morgan, far away in Camelot, was almost completely unaware of the catastrophic destruction that had befallen her village. In those days, the conflict between the Wind Clan and the King Clan was at its peak, and the overwhelming administrative burdens overwhelmed her, leaving her with no time to spare, not even a moment's respite. When she finally finished dealing with the mountain of documents and was able to rest briefly, and thought to inquire about Caster's condition, all she received was deathly silence.

A sense of foreboding gripped her heart instantly. Morgan rushed towards the village without hesitation, only to be met with ruins and countless charred, rotting corpses. This hell on earth prompted the queen, who had weathered a thousand years of storms, to utter the most heart-wrenching cry of her life:

"Cast! Where are you? Answer me! If you're still hiding somewhere, come out now!"

No matter how she called out, only the howling wind and the desolate ruins answered her. Little did she know that Castor had already drifted downstream on the icy river, carried by fate to the frigid Edinburgh region.

Like Pan-Human History, Edinburgh is located near the Arctic Circle. Winter hadn't officially arrived, but temperatures had already plummeted below minus twenty degrees Celsius. Having fled in haste, Caster carried no warm clothing; in this frozen wasteland, she was like a lamb caught in a pack of wolves. Cold, fear, hunger, weakness, exhaustion… a multitude of torments intertwined, slowly eroding her will and vitality. Thick frost covered her entire body, heavy icicles hanging from her hair and nose. She could only huddle behind a massive rock, barely managing to stay afloat.

...So cold...So hungry...So sleepy...

She hugged her frozen, red body tightly, trying to create a tiny bit of warmth with her meager magic. However, the prolonged exposure to extreme cold had completely disrupted her thermoregulation system. When the core body temperature drops below 30 to 26 degrees Celsius, breathing, blood pressure, and heart rate plummet, and a fatal "paradoxical heat sensation" occurs—the victim paradoxically feels intensely hot all over and has a strong urge to undress.

At this moment, Caster was going through this terrible phase. She began to feel unbearably hot all around her, and the biting cold had strangely vanished. Her fingers, acting on their own, clumsily unbuttoned her blouse and slowly pulled off her already thin coat. Her senses were numb, as if this body, which was freezing, no longer belonged to her.

"Stop! Caster, you can't take any more off!" A familiar voice, filled with panic and regret, pierced her fading consciousness. "I can't let you die here! Come back with me, now!"

Consciousness rose slowly, as if submerged in warm water. When Castor opened her eyes again, the familiar blue-black curtains came into view. Several fairies dressed as nurses were anxiously bustling around the bedside. Upon seeing her awake, they rushed out of the room in a flurry, calling out loudly:

"Your Majesty! Your Majesty! The child has woken up!"

The sound of hurried footsteps grew louder as Morgan and the red-haired, gossamer-winged elf knight Mordred rushed into the room. Before Caster could even sit up, Morgan strode forward and pulled her into a tight embrace. His usually cold hands trembled slightly as he gently stroked her forehead, his voice trembling with a rare sob:

'Thank goodness...you're finally awake...I almost thought...I thought I was going to lose you...'

"Eh... what's wrong with me? Your Majesty..." Castor's voice was weak and confused.

Mordred, standing nearby, explained softly. It turned out that although her life had been saved, the extreme cold had claimed two of her toes. When Morgan found her on the frozen plains of Edinburgh, her vital signs were so weak she was practically on the verge of death. For a full week, Morgan personally led a medical team in tireless efforts to save her, finally pulling her back from the brink of death. Only now did Caster feel a dull, throbbing pain in her toes. She had truly been on the verge of death… but regardless, she had survived.

In the years that followed, to ensure Caster was no longer harassed by the rebels, Morgan forcibly kept her in Camelot, where she was cared for in turns by the fairy knights Gareth (Kalia) and Mordred (Silph). This was the origin of the deep friendship between the two fairy knights and Artoria Caster. It was also at this time that the name 'Artoria' was chosen to conceal her overly conspicuous true name 'Caster,' becoming her new code name for hiding her identity.

(Back to the present)

After a long journey, the group finally arrived at the edge of Edinburgh. Exhausted from the day's travel, everyone hastily pitched their tents and fell into a deep sleep. Only Artoria sat alone outside the camp, removing her familiar beret, gazing at the starry sky, lost in silent contemplation.

"What's wrong?" Sylph's voice came from behind, "Still thinking about what happened before? Alas, those were ultimately unavoidable fates..."

"Who knows?" Artoria didn't turn around, her voice so soft it was almost a whisper. "I have a feeling that once we leave Edinburgh, you and Kalia will be summoned back by His Majesty… You know the reasons, don't you?"

Silver nodded silently. Morgan had indeed given such an order: their safety must be ensured before they arrived in Edinburgh. After all, that woman named Merlin wouldn't be so arrogant for long. No one can live under protection forever; only by leaving the greenhouse can one truly become strong.

This conversation also reached the ears of the lightly sleeping Senji Muramasa. Although he didn't know the specifics of Artoria's past, he could sense her fear of the cold from her few words. [She's such a worry—] he sighed inwardly, [Looks like I'll have to finish this before dawn—]

The next morning, when Artoria woke up, she found a sweater and a pair of fleece pants neatly folded beside her pillow, the size of which fit perfectly. As she was wondering about this, her gaze fell on Senko Muramasa, who was yawning not far away, and she immediately understood what was going on.

'Muramasa…' she called softly, her cheeks slightly flushed.

At that moment, Ritsuka woke up, rubbing her eyes, and asked with concern, "Grandpa? You don't look like you've had enough rest..."

Senjimura casually ruffled his hair and laughed heartily: "It's nothing, just a little bit of adjustment issues. I'll be fine in a couple of days."

Upon entering Edinburgh's territory, the temperature plummeted. This was not surprising, given that the area borders the Arctic Circle. The royal clan soldiers, already stationed there, immediately rushed forward to greet the group, offering them thick, warm clothing. This was undoubtedly a timely help—further north lay a desolate, frigid wasteland.

Gratefully accepting the clothes, the group continued on their way. Soon, at the edge of their snow-covered horizon, the outline of a pavilion-like building vaguely appeared. As they drew closer, Ritsuka suddenly shuddered—

It wasn't a building, but a huge, crystal-clear block of ice. Even more chilling was that a figure she knew all too well was sealed inside the ice.

"Mash?! It's Mash!"

Ritsuka cried out and was about to rush forward when a dark figure suddenly appeared and blocked her path. Everyone instantly went on alert, and upon closer inspection, they saw that the figure's attire was exactly the same as that of the legendary Arthur Pendragon. Although the face was blurred, the kingly aura was identical.

Surprisingly, the figure showed no hostility. He quietly scrutinized the newcomer, and when his gaze fell upon Ritsuka, he seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, waving his hand slightly and saying:

“It’s alright… Vivian instructed that if you come, there’s no need to stop you.”

“Vivian?” Ritsuka repeated the name, puzzled. “Who is she?”

“I have no right to tell you more, child,” the shadowy figure—the soul of King Uther—said in a deep voice. “Now, it is up to you to unravel this ‘water mirror’.”

"Water mirror? Isn't this ice?"

Despite her doubts, Ritsuka did as she was told and reached for the huge block of ice.

The instant your fingertips touched the ice—

"Click".

The azure ice crystals shattered with a resounding crash, like blooming ice flowers. The sealed face of the young girl gradually became clear, still retaining her usual gentleness and tranquility. Perhaps sensing the arrival of the most important person, all the heartache, grievances, and longing accumulated during the long wait surged into her heart at this moment. A thousand words churned in her throat, finally transforming into a trembling, deepest cry:

"senior…………"

Fragments of Intelligence Gathering - Fairy Round Table Realm, Poem of Eternal Mist

The ice shattered, and Mashu gazed at her Master, who was both familiar and unfamiliar, a flood of questions washing over her. She keenly sensed that Fujimaru Ritsuka was simultaneously surrounded by the auras of six different Heroic Spirits, some of which even possessed extremely high levels of divinity. Such power, if an ordinary person were to forcibly withstand it, would likely have already been completely consumed by the backlash. What unsettled her even more was the strange familiarity with this power—she had sensed a similar aura when assisting the magical girl Illya. But the fluctuations emanating from Ritsuka now were hundreds of times stronger than before.

'Senior, what exactly are you...?'

"To make a long story short," Ritsuka interrupted her concerns, "this is Beryl Gath's doing, just like the Heroic Spirit cards that appeared in the Singularities. These 'Heroic Spirit Capsules' are directly connected to the original bodies on the Throne of Heroes. They were initially used against us by someone named Diana Tasha, but now Leonardo da Vinci has cracked the technology." She gently stroked the faint lines on her wrist, "Just consider it an extra piece of defensive equipment."

Mashu's eyes instantly dimmed: 'So... Senpai no longer needs me? How could this be...'

Ritsuka immediately realized her junior had misunderstood her. She quickly grasped Mash's hand: "That's not it! I just wanted you and Da Vinci to worry less. As your Master, I can't live under your protection forever!" Her voice was filled with unwavering fervor. "I also want to use my own strength to share some of your burdens!"

This heartfelt confession moved everyone present. Mash, especially, who had been separated from Ritsuka for three weeks and had witnessed her Master's growth firsthand, felt both moved and gratified. Through countless adventures, Ritsuka had mastered a variety of combat skills—martial arts, self-defense, swordsmanship, and spear fighting. Even if she were to face a crisis alone one day, with these Heroic Spirit capsules and her own skills, she would never become a lamb to the slaughter.

Mashu slowly bent down, her fingertips lightly touching the contract mark on Ritsuka's hand, her voice gentle yet firm: 'I have never doubted your resolve, Senpai. Let us continue to fight side by side, and together we will escape this British Lostbelt—'

After the initial pleasantries of their reunion, Mashu, not forgetting her mission, began to briefly recount her experiences in the Age of Nothingness: