Volume 1: The Fourth Holy Grail War
Chapter 23 — The Last Peace
Another year quietly slipped away.
Ren had turned twenty-four.
Morgan was now twenty-six.
Time had left its mark on both of them.
The boy who had once wandered into Fairy Britain through Astra Horizon’s Simulation had long since vanished.
In his place stood a king whose legend had spread throughout the island.
Yet…
Ren himself had changed very little.
He still preferred traveling over remaining inside Camelot.
He still greeted every citizen by name whenever he could remember it.
He still believed that a king should walk beside his people…
Not above them.
The first light of dawn bathed Camelot in a warm golden glow.
The city had grown larger than ever before.
New districts stretched beyond the original walls.
Stone roads connected every neighborhood.
Rune-powered water channels carried fresh water throughout the city.
The workshops never ceased operating.
Blacksmiths crafted armor beside fairy artisans enchanting everyday tools.
Human scholars discussed history alongside fairy elders.
For perhaps the first time in Britain’s history…
The two races truly lived as one.
The streets were unusually lively.
Today marked Camelot’s Founding Festival.
A celebration held every year to commemorate the day the city was established.
Colorful banners fluttered from every building.
Children laughed while chasing one another through the plazas.
Musicians performed cheerful melodies.
The aroma of freshly baked bread drifted through the streets.
Even the usually stern knights found themselves smiling.
Ren wandered through the festivities wearing only a simple white cloak.
Without his armor…
Many visitors failed to recognize him immediately.
He preferred it that way.
Stopping before a small bakery, he purchased several pastries.
The elderly woman behind the counter chuckled.
“You remind me of someone.”
Ren smiled.
“Do I?”
She nodded.
“Years ago…”
“A young boy used to come here whenever he returned from his travels.”
“He always bought more food than he could possibly eat.”
Ren rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.
“…Perhaps he was feeding someone else.”
The old woman laughed.
“I suppose so.”
Only after Ren walked away did she suddenly freeze.
“…Wait.”
“…Was that…?”
By then…
He had already disappeared into the crowd.
Near the central plaza…
A group of young knights demonstrated their swordsmanship before an enthusiastic audience.
Each movement was disciplined.
Precise.
Refined.
One child stared with shining eyes.
“I want to become a knight!”
His father smiled.
“Then train hard.”
“Perhaps one day…”
Elsewhere…
Morgan quietly watched the celebration from a castle balcony.
A faint smile rested on her face.
Camelot had become everything she and Ren had dreamed of.
For a brief moment…
She allowed herself to simply enjoy the view.
“You’re hiding again.”
Ren’s voice came from behind.
Morgan turned.
“I could say the same about you.”
He walked beside her, offering one of the pastries.
She accepted it with a small laugh.
“You really bought food before attending the ceremony?”
“I know you’d skip breakfast if I didn’t.”
Morgan sighed.
“…You’ve known me for too long.”
Ren smiled.
“I’ve had plenty of practice.”
The two stood quietly together, overlooking the city below.
“You know…”
Morgan suddenly spoke.
“When we first met…”
“I never imagined we’d build something like this.”
Ren nodded slowly.
“Neither did I.”
Back then…
They had been nothing more than frightened children trying to survive.
Now…
They were watching over the greatest city in Britain.
Life truly was unpredictable.
A loud cheer erupted from the plaza.
The annual tournament had begun.
Young knights competed before the citizens, testing everything they had learned.
Ren watched silently.
Noticing one young boy’s nervous expression, he smiled faintly.
“It reminds me of my first lesson with Odin.”
Morgan couldn’t help laughing.
“You mean the lesson where he threw you into the river because you couldn’t activate a single rune?”
“…I was hoping you’d forgotten that.”
“I haven’t.”
“And I never will.”
Both of them laughed.
For a while…
They simply enjoyed the festival like everyone else.
As evening approached…
Thousands of lanterns illuminated Camelot.
Their warm light reflected beautifully across the lake surrounding the city.
Children released floating lanterns into the water, each carrying a small wish.
Some wished to become knights.
Others wished for peaceful harvests.
A few simply wished for tomorrow to be as happy as today.
Ren quietly watched them drift into the distance.
“I hope those wishes come true.”
Morgan looked at him.
“…Me too.”
The peaceful atmosphere lasted only a moment longer.
A knight hurried toward the balcony.
“My King.”
Ren immediately noticed the urgency in his expression.
The knight knelt.
“A western settlement has stopped responding.”
Morgan’s smile disappeared.
“When?”
“Three days ago.”
Ren and Morgan exchanged a silent glance.
Three days…
Far too long.
Without another word…
Ren immediately reached for Excalibur.
Morgan summoned her staff.
The festival continued below.
The people laughed.
The music never stopped.
No one noticed the two rulers quietly leaving the castle.
By the time they reached the settlement…
Night had already fallen.
Silence greeted them.
No lights.
No voices.
No laughter.
Only ruined buildings standing beneath the moonlight.
Ren slowly stepped forward.
His expression hardened.
There were no signs of battle.
No bodies.
No blood.
It was as though…
The entire village had simply vanished.
Morgan knelt near the ground, placing one hand against the earth.
Ancient runes spread outward in every direction.
A few moments later…
She slowly withdrew her hand.
“…Mors.”
Ren closed his eyes.
Another village.
Gone.
Without warning.
Without survivors.
Without answers.
As they stood amidst the empty streets…
A cold wind swept through the abandoned settlement.
Somewhere in the darkness…
Something watched.
Not with hatred.
Nor with hunger.
But with endless patience.
Waiting.
As though Britain’s inevitable end had already begun.
Ren tightened his grip on Excalibur.
The warmth of Camelot’s festival still lingered in his memory.
Behind him…
The lanterns released by countless children were likely still drifting peacefully across the lake.
Ahead…
Only darkness remained.
He opened his eyes.
“…Then we’ll fight.”
No matter how many times darkness returned…
He would continue drawing his sword.
For Camelot.
For Britain.
For everyone still believing in tomorrow.
End of Chapter 23