Fairy Round Table Realm, Poem of Eternal Mist

The truth revealed - Fairy Round Table Realm, Poem of Eternal Mist

As the massive, mangled, lifeless wreckage, along with the last broken antler, plunged into the bottomless dark void, no more sound came. The suffocating pressure and madness that had permeated the air finally began to slowly dissipate.

Caster let out a soft sigh of relief, her tense nerves relaxing, her legs feeling slightly weak. She severed her deep connection with the Holy Lance array, watching the light of the twelve Holy Lances gradually dim and sink back into the foundation of the throne. They succeeded… they really did it! This hard-won victory, imbued with the blood and faith of everyone, filled her with an irrepressible urge to share this joy with His Majesty, with the previous His Majesty, with Ritsuka Mashu, with Grandpa Muramasa… and with all her comrades who had fought alongside her, to celebrate this dawn after despair—

"Did you really think... you've already 'won'?"

A cold, slippery voice, filled with endless malice and mockery, like the hiss of a viper, rang out without warning, very close to Custer's ear.

"Hehehe... You guys are just... jumping around a little more in my predetermined 'script'."

"Now--"

The voice suddenly turned stern!

"It's time for someone to... 'leave'!"

"Pfft—!!!"

The dull thud of a sharp blade piercing flesh was so clear, so... close at hand.

Caster's smile froze instantly, her pupils dilating sharply. An indescribable chill and excruciating pain exploded from her chest, instantly engulfing her entire body! She looked down in disbelief and saw a grotesque claw covered in black carapace, its edges sharp as knives, piercing through her chest! Warm, her own blood was still dripping from its fingertips.

Fresh blood gushed uncontrollably from his mouth, carrying a rusty, fishy sweetness.

She turned her neck very slowly and with great difficulty to look to her side.

Oberon.

No, that was no longer the "fairy prince" she remembered, always with a frivolous smile, seemingly indifferent to everything.

Standing beside her was a humanoid monster covered in a dull, lifeless, pitch-black carapace that seemed to absorb all light. Its limbs were distorted and elongated, ending in sharp, sickle-like structures; behind it spread translucent, veined wings resembling those of a giant insect, emitting an irritating low-frequency buzzing. Its once handsome face was twisted and deformed, leaving only empty eye sockets and a mouthpart filled with fine, sharp teeth that split open to its ears.

Oberon Vortigern.

“Oberon…” Castor’s voice was weak, each word accompanied by oozing blood, “So… you’ve always been… all along…”

"Hmph." The dark monster let out a short, disgusted, and impatient sneer. "What I hate most is all of this. Your boring 'pilgrimage,' your naive 'salvation,' and these disgusting 'bonds.'"

It suddenly pulled its claws out!

“Your role… is completely over, Caster.”

As the cold pronouncement was made, blood gushed out like a fountain from the huge hole in Caster's chest.

"Now—you can die."

"Cast—!!!"

Only now did the gasps of the crowd in the distance explode like a delayed thunderclap! Ritsuka, Mashu, Morgan, Liliana, Senji Muramasa... the joy of victory on everyone's faces had not yet faded when it was completely frozen by this sudden, extreme terror and horror!

Ritsuka's throat felt like it was being gripped tightly by an invisible hand, unable to utter a sound. Her mind went blank, buzzing. Just moments ago... just moments ago they were thrilled by victory, just moments ago everyone was about to celebrate the dawn bought with countless sacrifices... Why? Why, in the blink of an eye, did Caster, who was standing beside the Holy Lance with light in his eyes, now...

Fear? Sadness? Angry? Shock?

These words are too pale to describe the turbulent yet deathly still chaos in her heart at this moment. Caster's smile, Caster's clumsiness and determination, Caster's voice when he said "Thank you, Ritsuka"... Countless images and sounds flashed and collided wildly in her mind, leaving only a blinding crimson and a suffocating emptiness.

She could only stand there, watching helplessly as Caster's body slowly slumped backward like a puppet with its strings cut; watching the Staff of Choice, symbolizing her mission and growth, be casually snapped in two by Oberon Vortigern and tossed aside like trash; watching Caster crash heavily onto the cold, blood-stained ground, a large, glaring red stain quickly spreading beneath her; watching her chest cease to rise and fall, her once clear and bright emerald eyes dimming and dissipating like the receding tide…

"Ah...ah ah..." Caster lay in a pool of blood, his gaze seemingly straining to reach Morgan and Liliana, his lips moving slightly, "I miscalculated...Your Majesty...the previous...Your Majesty..."

Her voice was as faint as a candle flickering in the wind.

"Wait... a minute... I... absolutely... can't..."

The words were cut short before they could be finished.

Those beautiful green eyes, the last glimmer of light completely extinguished, the pupils dilated, frozen in their final pain and a trace of unspoken longing for this world.

The third Child of Paradise, Artoria Caster, has been confirmed dead.

“Take care of one.” Another distinctly different voice, smooth like a businessman yet equally cold, came from the direction of the Nautilus’s deck.

Everyone turned their heads sharply.

A middle-aged man, dressed in a well-tailored old-fashioned suit, with a neatly trimmed beard and a monocle over his right eye, was leaning leisurely against the outer wall of the bridge, clapping rhythmically. His face wore a deeply unsettling, satisfied smile, as if he had just enjoyed a captivating drama.

Shylock Antonio—or rather, Shylock Vortigern.

The nauseating abyssal aura emanating from him, identical in origin and essence to that of Oberon Vortigern, was undisguised. He and the pitch-black monster who had just brutally murdered Caster were clearly... different facets of the same being!

“Vivian, Liliana,” Sherlock greeted the two queens with a smile, his tone as familiar as that of an old friend, “I am very satisfied with this ‘script’. After all, you two have provided me with the best ‘actors’ cast.”

"It's you...!" Liliana's voice trembled with extreme anger and shock. "How could you...!"

Her words were interrupted by another action.

Oberon Vortigern's figure flickered on the deck, appearing instantly beside Sherlock Vortigern like a ghost. The two "individuals," with completely different appearances, temperaments, and historical backgrounds, stood side by side, their gazes sweeping over the crowd below, who were plunged into immense grief and chaos due to Custer's death.

Then, they spoke simultaneously, their voices overlapping, like a duet, yet carrying a chilling synchronicity:

"I am Oberon, the handsome and beloved fairy prince of the fairy kingdom."

"I am Sherlock, a shrewd and ruthless businessman from the Eternal Era."

“Oberon is me.”

"Sherlock, that's me too."

"We are...the same person."

Their voices carried a detached indifference and cruel pleasure, as if looking down upon ants.

“All of you—Morgan, Liliana, Castor, the Chaldeans, and even those foolish fairies, arrogant traitors, and mad calamities—”

"They are all just indispensable 'pawns' in my grand drama of 'destroying Britain'."

"It was also my carefully planned final measure to lure out, weaken, and ultimately 'annihilate' that troublesome behemoth, Kornunos."

Their lips curled into similar, cold arcs.

Surprised?

“I have been by your side from beginning to end.”

"I am everywhere."

"And now—"

Their voices suddenly rose, like a passionate declaration before the final curtain rises:

"This is the most exciting and climactic part of the script!"

"bring it on--"

"The remnants of the children of paradise!"

"And... Chaldea, which you regard as hope, but is destined to be nothing but 'garbage'!"

As if to confirm their words, a kind of invisible, fundamental sense of "dissolution" spread along with their declaration.

[True Name Dissolves and Reveals]

[Oberon – His true identity is: Oberon Vortigern]

[Sherlock Antonio – whose true identity is: Shylock Vortigern]

Two names, two identities, two masks of different eras, peeled away and merged here, all pointing to the true, the only one lurking in the deepest shadow of the Fairy Kingdom's history—the world-destroying worm, the White Dragon Voodoo.

The Insect of Naraku ~Vortigern- - Fairy Round Table Realm, The Poem of Eternal Mist

A bottomless sky, an empty life.

Joy will lose its value by tomorrow, and pain will be forgotten by yesterday.

Beauty is always predicated on ugliness, and ugliness is rooted in beauty.

[...It's truly laughable.]

Do you... really believe that there's some kind of "inner" essence to life?

Ah, please tell me, Blanca…

Is your story... satisfying?

Looking at these two "beings" who had completely torn off their disguises and revealed their hideous true nature, the air seemed to solidify into heavy lead blocks, pressing down on everyone's chests and making them feel suffocated.

He was once a dashing, elegant fairy prince, seemingly embodying all the dreams and beauty of the Autumn Forest—Oberon. Now, beneath that gleaming exterior lies a twisted monster, covered in ominous black armor, radiating the chill of the abyss! His once-praised hair, now jet black, resembles the most filthy sludge from a sewer, utterly repulsive.

Beside him, the man who once presented himself as the shrewd businessman "Sherlock" had long since shed his refined facade. Beneath his suit and tie, a thick, black liquid flowed and dripped continuously, emitting a pungent stench that seemed to be a mixture of rust and decay.

This is Voodoo.

In the broader history of humankind, he was one of the main culprits that dragged British civilization into the abyss of destruction.

In stark contrast to the "Red Dragon," which symbolizes sincerity, protection, and the future, this treacherous and cunning "White Dragon" is more inclined towards pure ugliness, chaos, and... a denial of the value of all existence.

"So...that's how it is!" Ritsuka stared intently at Oberon Vortigern, her voice trembling with anger and sudden realization. "You kept disappearing without a trace...you weren't gathering any intelligence! You were hiding! Hiding from Sylph's [Disguised Hunter]! Her abilities can see through your disguise!"

“Exactly!” Oberon Vortigern let out a grating, insect-like laugh, his tone filled with disgust and impatience. “That damned cicada demon! Time and time again, she ruins my plans! If it weren’t for her hateful eyes, my plans could have progressed much sooner and more perfectly! But now…”

His empty eye sockets swept over the crowd with a cruel pleasure.

"Without that meddlesome cicada, what can you... do to me?"

"All of this—the false peace, the tedious ties, the ridiculous mission, and you struggling insects—"

"I'm absolutely... fed up with it all!"

"Damn bug—!!" Morgan roared like a long-suppressed volcano erupting, his purple eyes almost spewing flames of destruction. "You dare...you dared to kill Caster! This matter cannot be left like this!!"

“Oh? Is that so?” Sherlock Vortigern pushed up his monocle, a cold smile curving his lips as if he were assessing a product. “Then, dear queens, why don’t you… take a good look at your current ‘situation’? See what kind of ‘transformation’ this island you once tried to protect is undergoing.”

"Everyone! Look down! Britain... Britain is being...!!" Mashu's terrified shouts were almost distorted.

Everyone suddenly turned their gaze to the observation screen and the outside of the porthole.

The scene was terrifying.

A colossal worm, so enormous it defies description, seemingly a moving continent in itself, swirling and twisting in a form between insect and nothingness, hovers over the British Isles! Its translucent body, seemingly churning with endless darkness within, slowly writhes, like the most voracious termite, devouring the continent below!

Yes, gnawing!