Fairy Round Table Realm, Poem of Eternal Mist

Morgan: "Yes. You are special, Sylph. I want to protect this Britain until the end of time. You... are an indispensable piece of my puzzle."

"Ha, what a ridiculously grand ideal." Sylph chuckled, the aloofness in her eyes fading slightly. "Are all you people from Paradise so prone to daydreaming? But... alright. Let me see just how far your so-called 'great undertaking' can go."

Morgan nodded slightly and solemnly declared, "Then, from this moment on, you are 'Fairy Knight Mordred'."

(An even earlier memory, Sylph's own inner voice: I used to loathe this power, loathe this self that others feared, that I was seen as a symbol of calamity. Even in peacetime, it was the same… Only she, that woman named Vivian, walked towards me without fear, reached out her hand, and asked for my help. I thought it was just bluffing… but I was wrong. Watching her recruit knights step by step, quell the chaos, and truly pull this kingdom back from the brink of collapse… I realized that every word she spoke was not empty talk.)

(The memory freezes in a gloomy, secret room, where blood drips from sharp claws, and two "Vortigerns" reveal cold smiles.)

Sylph's eyes widened in fury as she roared in a hoarse voice, "That's enough! Vortigern!!"

One of the "Vortigerns" just looked at her mockingly, as if admiring her futile efforts: "Look... you're still... a step too slow."

(Despair washed over me like a tidal wave, but one thought remained crystal clear at the last moment: Britain's self-destruct program had been activated... I had failed. But I couldn't let them have their way! I had to restrain myself! Yes... my [Disguised Hunter] ability... perhaps it could still be preserved! At least... at least I had to ensure those foreign travelers... could... survive!)

The present moment and fragmented memories overlapped before Ritsuka's eyes. She saw, in the final rush of Sylph, a fleeting, incredibly clear resolve in the depths of her dark purple eyes, and a barely perceptible, extremely slight deflection in a certain direction—

That was not an attack or a killing.

That was... a final sprint, a charge with all its might to control the direction, a final mission!

"Pfft."

The dull thud of a sharp weapon piercing flesh was not loud, but it clearly echoed in the suddenly quiet world.

The expected shock and excruciating pain did not come. Ritsuka opened her eyes trembling, and the scene that came into view made her gasp for breath.

Sylph did not attack.

She sprinted forward at high speed, slamming precisely and decisively into the tip of Ritsuka's instinctively raised spear. The sharp blade pierced deep into her chest, precisely at her heart.

Warm blood, carrying a strange floral scent and a faintly sweet, metallic taste, instantly gushed from the gun, soaking Ritsuka's hands that gripped the handle tightly, and staining Sylph's tattered clothes red. More blood uncontrollably spilled from the corners of her lips, dripping down her pale chin.

However, a faint smile, almost serene and even tinged with a hint of former arrogance, appeared on that face covered with scars and purplish-black erosion lines. In the final moments of his rapidly passing life, his eyes, previously obscured by murky purple gloom, strangely regained a trace of their original azure luster, gazing quietly at Ritsuka.

“It seems… I… didn’t hurt you…” Sylph’s voice was weak but exceptionally clear, filled with a relieved ease. “I’m sorry… for causing you… so much trouble…”

“Silph…” Ritsuka’s voice choked in her throat, bitter and painful. She wanted to say something—comfort? Thanks? Farewell? All the words were stuck in her chest, turning into a heavy burden, making it almost impossible for her to breathe. Tears welled up in her eyes, but stubbornly refused to fall. Her heart was pierced, her life force extinguished; any words seemed pale and powerless at this moment.

Sylph seemed unconcerned by her silence. With her last ounce of strength, she slowly and tremblingly raised a bloodstained hand and offered it to Ritsuka. In her palm was a small, exquisitely crafted Mystic Code, its surface shimmering with a subtle light. Its style was ancient, radiating an aura distinct from Sylph's own magical power, yet subtly carrying a sense of restraint and revelation.

With this movement, more blood gushed from the wound on her chest, and even two thick lines of bloody tears slowly slid down from the corners of her eyes, which were gradually losing their luster, and down her cheeks, which were stained with dust and blood.

Ritsuka didn't hesitate. She released her grip on the gun, her hand trembling, yet incredibly steady, as she accepted the Mystic Code that still carried Sylph's warmth and last bit of magical power. It felt cool to the touch, yet heavy, as if bearing a thousand pounds of weight.

“This is… the last resort… to see through… the disguise…” Sylph’s voice trailed off, each word like the last spark of her life being consumed. “The key to defeating… Vortigern… I can only… deliver it here…”

"Yes... I received it." Ritsuka nodded vigorously, her voice hoarse, clutching the formal dress tightly in her hand as if she wanted to embed it into her bones and blood. "Thank you, Sylph."

Upon hearing this, Sylph's faint smile seemed to widen slightly. Her unfocused gaze seemed to pass through Ritsuka, looking towards the distant void, towards the queen who had given her the name "knight" and vowed to protect Britain's dream, and also towards every companion on this short but tumultuous journey.

"Perhaps... I've wandered... for thousands of years... through countless storms..." Her voice was as soft as a whisper, carrying a detached melancholy and a strange satisfaction, "Just so... in the final moments... I could meet you... Fujimaru Ritsuka..."

Her last gaze seemed to fall on Morgan, who stood silently and pale-faced not far away, and on all her companions, whether present or absent.

"Your Majesty... farewell..."

"Goodbye, everyone..."

As the words fell, it was as if the last gentle breeze had extinguished a candle.

Sylph's body lost all support and became incredibly light. She didn't fall, but rather, starting from the point of contact with the spear tip, she transformed into countless shimmering, translucent pale green specks of light, like dandelions scattered by a spring breeze, or like the thin mist rising in the forest at dawn, slowly drifting away.

Immediately afterwards, an unprecedentedly gentle and clean breeze, centered on the spot where she had disappeared, softly swept across the land, which had just been ravaged by natural disaster and was now scarred and devastated. Wherever the breeze passed, the remaining violent energy was soothed, and the stench of burnt blood in the air seemed to be washed away.

Ritsuka subconsciously released her grip on the spear. The tip was now empty, with only a few wisps of light lingering for a moment before vanishing with the wind.

She stared blankly in the direction where Sylph had disappeared, at the breeze that seemed to contain a different kind of vitality, and slowly, with utmost solemnity, raised her right hand, placed it in front of her chest, and gave a standard salute that belonged to a soldier.

There was no uncontrolled destruction, no utter madness. This fairy knight who controlled the weather, in the final moments of his life, maintained his rationality with astonishing willpower and chose the most resolute yet gentle way to end his own life, transforming his last strength into a soothing breeze.

Perhaps this is the last and most beautiful interpretation she could give of the power that was once seen as a symbol of calamity.

The breeze gradually subsided.

The last trace of magical energy belonging to the fairy knight vanished into silence.

Thus, all the fairy knights who had mutated and wreaked havoc due to the calamity—Melusin, Bagst, Machia, and Sylph—have been brought to an end.

All that remains are ruins, scorched earth, and traces of the flood that have not yet fully receded.

Before them, in the center of the ruins of Camelot, a city now a vast abyss, a terrifying being, ancient and profound, embodying all the sins and curses of Britain, slowly stretched out its enormous body, composed of pale fur, jagged antlers, and writhing purplish-black matter.

The god of sacrifice, Cornunos.

The source of all evil and calamity.

The final battle is about to begin at the edge of that bottomless pit.

Avalon, the Land of Hope - Fairy Round Table Realm, Poem of Eternal Mist

As long as you haven't given up and still hold hope in your heart, the fairy of Paradise will listen to your voice. And then, her mission will no longer be to save Britain, but to save the entire world.

Please hold my hand one more time. This might be... the last time.

What made me happiest was actually Gloucester on the eleventh day. To you, it might just be a trivial matter. But for me, it was the first time in my life that I could walk side by side with someone I 'like' on a sun-drenched avenue.

[By the contract forged with the 'Foreign Magician,' I have answered the call. If the target of this conquest is not Britain, but the salvation of this world—then, even at the end of time, I will place this sword in your hands.]

[In a foreign land, at the end of time. Yet the sword is in his hand. The walls stand firm as iron, the shouts echo for miles, and a cold, decisive victory will be etched upon it.]

-

A cool, gentle touch, like a tide, slowly receded from my limbs and bones. The tearing pain in my body gradually numbed and dissipated, replaced by a long-lost, heavy peace. My chaotic and fragmented consciousness, as if gently smoothed by an invisible hand, gradually settled and gathered together.

After an unknown amount of time, Kalia's long, thick eyelashes trembled slightly, and then she slowly opened her clear, azure eyes, as bright as a summer sky.

The vision was initially blurry, with halos of light and shadow, but it quickly became clear.

"I'm alive?"

The thought, tinged with a vague sense of relief, surfaced in her mind. She subconsciously turned her gaze, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings—metal walls, flashing instruments—was she inside the spaceship?

Then, her gaze froze.

Right beside her bed sat a person. Long golden hair, like flowing molten gold, cascaded over his shoulders and back; his purple eyes were lowered, gazing at her with an indescribable complex emotion—concern, weariness, relief, and a trace of…deep sorrow.

It is His Majesty Morgan.

She was alive. Perfectly unharmed, right before my eyes.

The immense shock froze Kalia instantly. Guilt, like the sharpest icicle, pierced her newly awakened, still fragile heart. If only… if she hadn't hesitated because of Melusin's obstruction, if only she had been quicker, more resolute… would His Majesty have avoided those betrayals and attacks? Could that tragedy have been prevented?

The joy of reunion and the remorse for her dereliction of duty intertwined and collided fiercely, yet strangely, they ultimately settled into an almost numb calm. The overwhelming emotions squeezed together robbed her of the ability to express them, leaving only a blank blankness on her face, while in the depths of her blue eyes, unspeakable waves surged.

A warm and familiar hand gently landed on her head, tenderly stroking her blonde hair. The movement was gentle, carrying a calming power.

Morgan's voice was very soft, as if afraid of disturbing something: "It's... all right now."

Her fingertips combed through Kalia's slightly disheveled hair.

"My most important head maid..."

"Don't think about anything right now."

"That's it... get some rest."

Upon hearing that familiar address and words, Kalia's tense body finally trembled slightly. She closed her eyes and turned her face slightly toward Morgan's palm, as if trying to absorb that precious warmth and reality.

Seeing that Kalia was out of danger and his expression had stabilized, everyone who had been watching over him—Ritsuka, Mashu, Da Vinci, Muramasa, and even Liliana and Caster, who had just returned—all breathed a sigh of relief. The most worrying aspect was finally temporarily safe.

Sylph's suicide meant that the threat posed by all the fairy knights mutated by the calamity had been completely eliminated. However, this was not the end, nor even a chance to catch one's breath.

All eyes were involuntarily drawn to the main observation screen. In the center of the ruins of Camelot, within a colossal crater resembling a scar on the world, the mountain-like silhouette of the priest god Cornunos slowly undulated. It was the source of all calamities, the embodiment of all the tragedies and curses of Britain.

Having just endured a series of fierce battles, the group, whose magical energy and physical strength had been expended at an unprecedented rate, were now in dire straits. Exhaustion gnawed at every nerve like a bone-deep wound. To challenge that colossal behemoth, whose mere existence inspired despair, in this state was tantamount to offering themselves up as nourishment for it.

However, the illusion of peace did not even last a moment.

As if sensing the successive falls of the four "Calamity Knights," or as if having lost the last bit of patience for "playing around," the will that had been dormant for a moment, which sent shivers down one's spine, suddenly boiled up in the deep pit!

A "declaration"—indescribable in any known language, yet resounding directly in the depths of the consciousness of all living beings, a mixture of endless resentment, purifying fanaticism, and destructive desire—struck down like the heaviest death knell:

Let's begin!

This cursed land... needs the most thorough purification!

【You filthy, treacherous, sinful demons!】

I will...without reservation...annihilate you all!

[Surge forth—Sea of ​​Calamity!]

The moment the "declaration" fell, Kornunus's massive, jagged antlers, as large as an ancient forest, suddenly shot upwards!

Rumble—!!!

Centered on the giant crater, the earth shattered and churned like a fragile eggshell! It wasn't soil or rock, but a boundless, viscous, crude oil-like "ocean," bubbling with purplish-black bubbles and ominous light, surging forth from the deepest fissures beneath the earth! Wherever this "ocean" passed, scorched earth, ruins, surviving vegetation, and even the tiny creatures floating in the air were instantly assimilated and devoured, becoming part of the "ocean" itself, emanating an even more intense aura of calamity!

This purplish-black "Sea of ​​Calamity" wasn't just spreading across the ground. Like a monster with its own life and will, its towering waves defied gravity, relentlessly pounding and spewing countless thick, viscous jets of foul liquid at the Nautilus, which had already climbed to nearly ten thousand meters in the sky! The liquid jets tore through the air, carrying a corrosive stench and a suffocating sense of oppression, threatening to engulf and corrode the entire spaceship!

At this moment, everyone on board was at their most vulnerable, with their magic at its lowest and their defenses at their weakest! Captain Nemo gritted his teeth and pushed the engine to its limit in an attempt to evade, but the liquid jet covered too wide an area and was too fast!

Is this... the end?

At the critical moment—

As if in response to that desperate declaration, another voice, entirely different yet incredibly familiar, carrying an ethereal echo and unwavering will, rang out clearly like the dawn piercing through layers of gloom:

This place is the primordial void, without walls, cities, or kingdoms.

[The Primordial Star, shining deep within the earth.]

Now, let you witness... how the soul should exist.

[An eternally isolated paradise!]

Om-! ! !

An indescribable, magnificent radiance suddenly erupted from beneath the Nautilus! It wasn't an aggressive light, but a warm, pure pink halo that seemed capable of cleansing all impurities. The halo rapidly expanded, transforming into an endless, swaying sea of ​​pink flowers, appearing out of thin air between the spaceship and the approaching sea of ​​calamity!

The moment the sea of ​​flowers appeared, the violent, filthy, purplish-black liquid columns seemed to have crashed into an invisible, absolute barrier, emitting a violent "sizzling" corrosive sound, yet unable to advance an inch! The petals fluttered and the fragrance spread, actually beginning to purify and dispel the viscous, calamistic substances!

The pink light continued to spread upwards, gently yet irresistibly illuminating the gloomy sky, which had been dyed an eerie hue by the power of Kornunos. The heavy, gloomy clouds were dispelled, and the long-awaited, pure, and warm sunlight shone through the pink halo, illuminating the flower field below and the astonished crowd.