Nightfall.
Artoria lay in bed tossing and turning, but she couldn’t fall asleep no matter what.
It was precisely because she knew the true reason for her insomnia that she felt incredibly frustrated.
As the night grew deeper, Artoria, having failed in multiple attempts to sleep, finally sighed in resignation.
After all, sleep isn’t something you can force.
So she climbed out of bed, changed into her outdoor clothes, and pushed open the window of her room.
Since she couldn’t sleep anyway, she might as well go out for a walk; perhaps walking outside would relieve some of the pent-up frustration in her heart.
Going out through the front door would be too conspicuous, and besides, it was the middle of the night; Artoria didn’t want to trouble anyone.
So, silently, accompanied by the jade-like moonlight and the starry sky, an agile figure leaped down from the window.
Like a light feather, she landed on the ground without a sound.
The town at night was peaceful, with a gentle breeze blowing and the occasional distant bark of a dog; the quiet streets now were completely unlike the bustle and noise of the day.
Artoria liked this atmosphere very much, which made her footsteps involuntarily become a bit lighter.
Walking aimlessly, turning one corner after another, passing orderly houses, and crossing golden fields.
She saw ancient windmills, their blades like spread wings, rolling with the evening breeze, forming a unique landscape with the green grass and wild flowers.
On the outskirts of the town was a small river, like a blue ribbon, encircling the boundless golden fields.
These beautiful scenes made her mood much calmer.
However, no matter how prosperous a town is, it has its boundaries, much like a ring.
Suddenly, as if destined, a square giant stone appeared in Artoria’s field of vision again.
I’ve already walked here…
Artoria’s light footsteps slowed down, and the longsword stuck in the stone pulled her back to reality once more.
Not far from the sword was a stone bench where she could rest, and Artoria walked over to the bench and sat down.
Resting her chin on both hands, she fell into deep thought.
Her thoughts drifted, letting her complex worries roam freely in the dark night.
She gazed at the magnificent sword in the stone nearby, thinking of what she had seen and heard during this journey.
To be honest, since leaving home until now, she hadn’t been very happy.
What she saw along the way were mostly people who couldn’t fill their stomachs, and bandits who burned, killed, and looted.
Coupled with the rampant magical beasts and the inaction of local lords, people lived every day in fear of an uncertain future.
“—It’s truly too painful.”
She heard her own sigh.
This country was already in critical danger; she had actually become very clearly aware of this fact.
Recalling her mediocrity in her previous life, a flat life that never changed.
And every bit of the dozen or so years since she transmigrated into this life.
Like a drop of ink in water, between the existence named Itachi and her current self as Artoria, which one was the real me?
“…”
Why think about such sentimental questions?
Artoria gave a self-mocking sneer at her own thoughts.
The correct answer is, of course, whether in the past, present, or the distant future, I am still me.
Itachi is me, and Artoria is also me.
Isn’t this a natural fact?
Really, the night makes it easy for one to have wild thoughts.
Artoria shook her head and slapped her cheeks with her hands to pull herself together.
Flashes of the people mired in despair along the way, the painful cries of Gert and Abel, and finally, the expectant gaze of her adoptive father before she left home, settled in her mind.
She slowly stood up, tilted her head back, and took a deep breath.
Responsibility, duty, or human conscience?
Whichever motivation drove her forward was fine.
Since she had decided, she must see it through to the end.
Her steps were slow but steady as she came before the sword in the stone, step by step.
“Have you already made up your mind?”
A sudden inquiry rang out from behind Artoria.
She calmly looked toward the sound, and what met her eyes was a young man with white hair, clad in a long robe.
A youth who was like the wind blowing across the grasslands.
It was as if anyone would let down their guard in front of him.
She knew who he was; before her was a dashing and righteous fellow, yet one who always lacked a sense of urgency and responsibility—a man who loved the human world, loved pranks, and loved girls.
Looking directly into his purple eyes, Artoria let out a faint smile.
“Merlin, it’s been a long time.”
It truly had been a long time.
Although Merlin was her mentor and bore the responsibility of teaching her how to become a proper king, the personality of this Great Magus was a real headache.
Half a year ago, with a casual ‘I’m going out for a stroll, I’ll be right back,’ he vanished from the face of the earth, and that’stroll’ had lasted for six months.
She was indeed surprised to see the Magician of Flowers here.
Had this guy really not managed to get himself killed while wandering around outside?
“It has indeed been a long time.”
Merlin felt no shame at all for his half-year disappearance; as if he had forgotten his previous actions entirely, a bright smile spread across his face.
Artoria was practically marvelling at such shamelessness.
However, he was someone she had known since childhood, and more importantly, he was her lifelong mentor.
What could she do with him?
She couldn’t out-argue him, and she couldn’t out-fight him.
Thus, she ignored the magus’s enthusiastic smile and instead asked about his purpose for coming.
“Why are you here?”
As if Artoria had said something strange, Merlin asked back with exaggerated surprise:
“Why shouldn’t I be here?”
“Today is the big day for my beloved disciple!
As her most respected mentor, isn’t it only natural for me to accompany her?!”
…Most respected?
The corner of Artoria’s mouth twitched slightly.
Recalling the painful experiences of being teased by Merlin since childhood, she deeply doubted that term.
She couldn’t help but press her hand to her forehead, preparing to ignore this punchable magus.
Bizarrely, after his interruption, her previously heavy heart—which felt as though she were marching toward a heroic sacrifice—felt much lighter.
“Great power or steadfast protection—if you had to choose, which one would you pick?”
Merlin tilted his head, curiously wanting an answer from Artoria.
“Only children make choices.
As an adult, I naturally want both.”
Puffing out her chest, Artoria expressed her ambition.
“Whether it is power or protection, both are indispensable for any existence.
To save Britain, extremism is absolutely unacceptable.”
Serves you right!
That’s for always bullying me.
Satisfied, she turned back toward the sword in the stone, intending to continue her interrupted task of drawing the blade.
“Before you decide to pull that sword, it would be better to think about it seriously once more.”
The magus behind her retracted his shocked expression and spoke seriously again.
“I won’t lie to you; it’s better not to do it…
Once you pull that sword, you will no longer be human.”
“The moment you obtain that sword, you will be hated by the people and walk toward a miserable death.”
Death?
She already knew about that, of course.
After all, she had long been familiar with her own future.
It was impossible not to be afraid; who doesn’t fear death?
What kind of end she would walk toward after pulling that sword—she had known such things since her past life.
…However.
“—It doesn’t matter.”
The girl had long since made up her mind.
Even knowing her future, Artoria nodded firmly.
“I have already prepared my resolve.”
The magus behind her asked again: “Is this alright?”
Hearing this, Artoria’s heroic brows softened, and a brilliant smile appeared on her face, radiant beyond compare.
She looked forward with an all-encompassing gaze.
Dashing, bright, and holy.
In her emerald eyes, a clear light flickered.
With a warmth no less than that of the sun, the girl replied softly.
“—
Even if darkness swallows everything now, I can still see the light of the burning flames in the future.
Many people will find salvation because of this, so I will not regret it.”
The magus sighed and turned his face away, looking somewhat troubled.
“Miracles come with a price.
In exchange, what you lose will likely be your most important thing.”
Leaving behind these prophetic words, the Great Magus Merlin said no more.
The girl’s movements did not carry a hint of hesitation as her hand rested upon the sword.
The sword was drawn as if it were the most natural thing in the world, without any feeling of resistance.
The surroundings were enveloped in light, and a ray of holy light shone down from the sky onto the girl holding the holy sword.
A hymn, rising from nowhere, echoed across the entire land of Britain.
The commotion woke all the sleeping people.
When everyone in the town rushed to gather there, what met their eyes was a blonde youth draped in holy light, holding the sword in the stone.
As if reflecting the scene, the sun gradually rose, drawing back the curtain of night.
Sunlight, like a sword, cut through the silent night to welcome the rising sun.
With this, the dawn of Great Britain had arrived.