Nobody knows how to be a villain better than me.

The young king turned and walked toward the stone platform, slowly probing his fingers and palms into the pillar of light.

The light seemed dazzling, but it lacked warmth. However, it felt surprisingly grounding, and the things inside were quite comfortable to hold.

Something that had never been flowing inside my body was injected into it, making my body feel lighter. The next step is simply to pull it out and then accept it again.

"You'd better think carefully before pulling that thing out. I won't hurt you, so don't do it."

Artoria, you have already foreseen the consequences of blindly choosing. Once you accept this fate again, you will no longer be human until the very end.

Not only that. Once you pick it up, you will be hated by all of humanity and face a miserable death!

The voice that had accompanied him throughout the journey sounded from behind.

That was an unprecedented anxiety, an unprecedented seriousness.

This scene feels so familiar.

Once upon a time, Merlin had given her the same advice.

...At that time, she was still afraid of making the choice to try to pull out the sword and accept her fate.

It wasn't that I was afraid of my own impending doom. It was that I was afraid of whether this decision was the right one.

The one who pulled the sword from the rock—there is someone more suitable to be the King of the Promise than himself. Shouldn't that person be able to build a more peaceful country? Such is the fear.

However, no such person exists. At least, not for another ten years. In the meantime, someone must take on this responsibility.

It seems that I still need to shoulder this responsibility.

Everything, after going around in circles, has returned to the origin of fate.

as always.

"This is a ritual to kill oneself."

"I know."

"You will no longer be you..."

“It’s okay, I will try to hold on for as long as possible so that I can do more for my country and my people.”

Each attempt to persuade him was met with a gentle refusal.

Artoria turned her head, revealing a bright and pure smile under the dazzling light.

"Teacher, please tell Kai-ge, Merlin, and Sister Wang for me that I am grateful for everything you have done for me."

However, those emerald eyes shone with an unshakable determination.

"But this country needs to be saved more than I do."

Britain needed a strong king, and a myth to perpetuate its civilization.

This is not a proud declaration from God, but a frank statement from man.

Looking to the future, this petite girl with delicate shoulders has achieved it.

In the end, she became a symbol that embodied Celtic civilization.

Samael sighed, looked up again, and solemnly gazed at his disciple, making a final effort to persuade him to stay.

"Then, I'll ask you one more time: do you really want to bear the burden of this doomed nation? Do you really want to raise the banner of saving the world alone once again?"

"Yes!"

"Are you really determined to use your own fantasies to resist the constraints of human reason?"

"Yes!"

Even if they become my enemy?

At this moment, his deep vertical pupils cracked open with jet-black cross-shaped light patterns, and his tone was cold and stern.

Artoria's heart skipped a beat. After a moment of silence, she slowly raised her head, her eyes clearing of any wavering, revealing only the purity of her ideals, and handed in her answer, word by word.

"That's right!"

Two opposing forces collided, causing the world to shift and colors and vitality to be torn apart.

The beginning of destiny, the end of ideals.

The bands of light from the Holy Lance Rungomminiad intertwined and shimmered between Artoria's fingers, coalescing into a sharp edge.

Those who slay dragons will eventually become dragons themselves.

The prophesied son who intended to overthrow the tower has ultimately become the very thing he once despised, and is about to imprison himself once again in that loneliness and cruelty.

Just as the two world-destroying forces were about to clash, the shadowy figure from the darkness vanished into thin air.

Like a bubble punctured by a long needle, it bursts silently.

On the other side of the light, the man dwelling in the darkness smiled slightly, a smile that was both helpless and gratified.

"Hmm, that's a very eloquent answer. I'm rather curious to see what your so-called thousand-year kingdom will look like in the future."

"teacher……"

"You don't need to call me that anymore. Congratulations, you've graduated."

Artoria looked up in astonishment, staring at the gradually dissipating shadows around the man. Suddenly, she realized something and instinctively gazed at the Star Sword, which had been lying quietly in its original spot since she woke up.

Suddenly, the blonde girl felt a chill run down her spine; a strong sense of foreboding welled up within her.

Holy Sword... Avalon...

Could it be that?

As if it were this terrible guess, the man smiled and looked at his disciple with gentleness and affection.

"Do you remember that promise? This sword is yours from now on. The power of the Holy Sword is no less than that of Rungomminiad, and it won't corrupt your mind. Use it well, and you can do whatever you want..."

As he looked at his fading fingers and palms, Samael felt a pang of regret.

"I'm sorry, it seems I won't be able to accompany you for the next part of the journey."

"Teacher, I'm sorry..."

In an instant, Artoria could no longer maintain her unwavering pursuit of her ideals, and tears mixed with sobs gushed from her eyes.

He ultimately couldn't dodge the devastating blow from the Tower of the End.

And life, along with the holy sword, was handed over to his useless disciple.

The strong knight king felt as if a piece of his heart had been ripped out, leaving him empty and pierced with endless pain.

She clearly got what she wanted, but it seems she lost something even more important.

"Artoria, actually, you don't need to be so sensible. You could have been a little more willful..."

Those sighs and murmurs were filled with boundless love and affection.

"Finally, as a parting gift, I'll tell you a secret: relying solely on the Holy Lance is insufficient. The mystique of Britain is waning. To truly sustain a kingdom for millennia, something crucial needs to fill the void..."

The ancient serpent raised its head and gazed silently at the shattered world of its mind, its eyes deep and distant.

As the words of advice in my ears faded into nothingness, the figure before me gradually dissipated into specks of light.

"The Holy Grail, the object that can accomplish all miracles, go, find it, and everything will be complete..."

Chapter 117 He who obtains the Holy Grail, obtains the world (4.1k)

In the dimly lit palace chamber, the sleeping figure on the bed gradually faded away, and specks of stardust-like light peeled away and dissipated until they vanished into nothingness in the air.

Impossible! Impossible!

The witch's vision went black, and she nearly fell over. She staggered toward the bed, her arms outstretched, trying to embrace the figure.

However, the fair hands passed effortlessly through the almost invisible, light-like humanoid outline, unable to touch any warmth.

No matter how tightly those hands held on, they could not stop the flow of spiritual energy and the fading of the body.

In the end, everything before my eyes turned into a shattered bubble and ceased to exist.

The witch's pale face was devoid of color. She bit down hard on her cherry lips with her pearly teeth, the metallic taste seeping into her mouth, forcing herself to remain calm.

Meanwhile, she stubbornly stretched out her arms again and again, trying to catch the scattered specks of light and hold them tightly to her chest, but as time went by, her slender shoulders trembled constantly, as if she felt an endless chill approaching.

Merlin and Kai on either side wanted to speak several times, but in the end they hesitated, their expressions somber, leaving behind a complex sigh.

Accompanied by the cold, scraping sound of armor plates, a tall, slender figure slowly approached, stopping behind him and casting shadows on Morgan.

The witch turned around angrily, her eyes blazing with fury.

"You killed him!"

After waking up, the goddess remained silent for a moment, then nodded slightly.

In a sense, this is the truth, and there is no denying it.

Morgan's piercing gaze was fixed on the goddess before him, as he uttered a somber question.

"why?"

The goddess lowered her head and did not answer.

"You took away my country, my throne, my father, and gained all the attention and love. Why aren't you satisfied?"

The witch stared at the face that was exactly like her own, a face devoid of any emotion or warmth, still cold and stern. An indescribable loathing suddenly erupted in her chest.

"Why? Why take away even the last thing I cared about!"

The hysterical accusations, like the weeping cuckoo, like the gleaming spear of thunder, gathered before Morgan, poised to strike.

boom!

However, before the attack could reach her, the star-forged holy sword in the goddess's hand hummed and trembled, the beautiful inscriptions on the scabbard floated, and a golden-blue light screen was stirred up. Unparalleled divine power was released, and the magic-woven spear suddenly collapsed.

Even the clash between power and magic caused the maddened witch to stagger backward, a trickle of blood spilling from the corner of her mouth.

His sword was actually protecting this woman.

From beginning to end, he wanted to save you and me, but in the end, he fell to your gun.

Fate is so unfair! So absurd! So laughable!

Morgan wiped the blood from the corner of his lips, his angry and mournful cry filled with resentment and bloodlust.

"Artoria, I curse you! I curse you!"

In the dim light, the witch, knowing she was no match for the enemy, angrily leaned on her staff, gritted her teeth, turned around, and staggered towards the outside.

Kai and Merlin, who were guarding the door, felt a chill and murderous aura wash over them. The suppressed madness made them feel as if they were facing a formidable enemy, and they subconsciously stepped forward to try and salvage the situation.

"Let her go. I'll handle this myself."

However, Artoria slowly raised her hand from the darkness, and her vast divine power directly suppressed Kay and Merlin, allowing Morgan to leave.

Seeing that the matter was already settled, the two could only sigh deeply, lower their heads, and obey the goddess's decision.

"Yes, Your Majesty..."

However, the way he addressed her carried a hint of bitterness and unfamiliarity.

The goddess ignored her, opened her eyes slightly, and looked up at the distant horizon.

"What has been the situation at the border while I was asleep?"

"Your Majesty, the main force of the Saxons in the North has been largely wiped out. Only a small number of barbarians who have hidden in the deep mountains and forests are still putting up a stubborn resistance. The remaining effects of the beast and insect plagues in the South have also largely subsided."

As Camelot's renowned political official and treasurer, Kay naturally paid close attention to the national situation and immediately bowed his head in response.

"but……"

But as he spoke of the end, Kai frowned slightly, glanced at Merlin, and hesitated before speaking.

"Let me tell you."

The great sage sighed and pointed out the crisis beneath the surface of this prosperous era.

"This year, the temperature in the north is several levels colder than in previous years. Frost and snow have appeared as soon as autumn began. Currently, one-tenth of the members of the Righteous Knights stationed in the north have suffered from frostbite to varying degrees. This is only for those with extraordinary physical constitutions. The problem is even more serious with the deaths of livestock and the suffering of the people."

Kai then added, expressing his deep concern about the current serious problem.

"The same is true in the South. According to reports from various counties, the land degradation is quite severe, and there is an expected large-scale reduction in grain production, or even a complete crop failure. Moreover, in many places, crops are no longer able to grow."

Britain was built on miracles, and Camelot was sculpted overnight by the power of the king.