[6] Clear, chill water streamed from the sleeves of the court mage’s robe, dripping and trickling, impossible to stop.
Hebe estimated that in about fifteen minutes, her left arm would disappear completely.
Thinking back on it now, Morgan the Enchantress had probably “taken an advance” on her Great Deed.
Morgan the Enchantress had personally pushed Albion to the brink of destruction twice already.
She had been only a single step away from truly accomplishing that Great Deed.
In that state, she used [From the Ends of the World] to posit a version of herself that had successfully destroyed Albion.
Under normal circumstances, an attempt like that should never have worked.
But Morgan’s Great Deed had always been limited to the three isles of Albion—to some future that might, perhaps, come to pass upon them.
Morgan the Enchantress was a witch who had truly inherited the island’s sovereignty, and the sovereignty she wielded allowed for such caprice.
And so, in hypothetical form, Morgan temporarily managed to prove [The Now Unreachable Utopia].
If it had gone no further than that, then the accomplishment Morgan had borrowed in advance would soon have been falsified.
Because Arthur, though weakened, still remained, and Albion still endured.
Reality’s rejection would have rapidly destroyed that hypothetical self…
but Morgan used [Fairy Eyes] to nail the future she had observed onto the two kings.
As long as either of the two kings lived, Arthur’s rule could be gravely shaken, and Albion driven into irreversible decline.
The moment Arthur’s Great Deed collapsed, Morgan’s would truly be accomplished.
It was like borrowing money from a bank to gamble on stocks.
As long as Morgan kept winning at the table before she was liquidated…
all would be well!
She had mortgaged away her sovereignty over the island in exchange for a pseudo-Great Deed that operated at only a fraction of its proper power…
and Arthur had already lost all ability to stop her.
The future that belonged to Morgan lay right within reach.
And then Hebe appeared before her and told her this was as far as she could go.
“I have fewer Marks than Morgan, and I also lack destructive power…
but [Illusion Arts] can make her attacks miss, and even twist them to my own use for a short while.” Hebe forced herself to think, using it to distract herself from the numbness and pain spreading little by little through her whole body.
“Because I turned Morgan’s own attack back on her and used it to kill the two kings, the ‘wedge’ she used to hold that future in place disappeared…
the cycle couldn’t sustain itself anymore, and Morgan could no longer continue bearing the weight of that Great Deed.” The instant [The Now Unreachable Utopia] vanished, Morgan suffered irreparable damage.
Even maintaining her own existence became extraordinarily difficult.
And at the instant Morgan went bankrupt and was liquidated, Hebe’s Great Deed was accomplished instead.
This body can still hold together a little longer…
Hebe thought.
The road sank soundlessly beneath her steps.
Clear water welled up from underground, gradually gathering into a river, while blue-violet pansies sprouted and bloomed along both banks, binding the water within a fixed channel.
Only then did the people of London notice the invisible change.
From windowsills, from alley corners, from the roadside, they turned their eyes toward it, marveling at the clear, cool river and praising the flowers in bloom.
…
Buckingham Palace, deep within the palace forever shrouded behind heavy curtains.
On the iron throne wrapped in countless cables, Arthur jolted awake.
A hoarse sound burst from her chest.
It was plainly nothing more than a breath, and yet it landed with the weight of an ancient bell tolling.
That was an unpleasant dream…
Arthur thought.
She had dreamed of the last conversation she shared with Morgan.
Arthur had once been bitterly disappointed by Morgan’s betrayal, and furious beyond measure at the choice she had made.
But time had passed.
The subordinates of former years were long gone, and the trusted attendants at her side had grown fewer with each passing day.
Arthur had once possessed so many followers, yet time had taken every last one of them away.
In the end, the only familiar people left were still just Morgan and Merlin.
Arthur lifted her head and looked out through the window to her left.
Beyond layer after layer of curtains, her gaze fell upon the Tower of London, now empty of all people.
Two prisoners, in different stations, yet trapped in much the same way.
Compared with Merlin—forever elusive, forever youthful—it was Morgan, whose circumstances so closely resembled her own, that Arthur found easier to empathize with.
In the end, hatred and anger had been dulled by time into something smooth and pearl-like.
Arthur even felt a little…
pleased.
So much so that she had even begun to look forward to the moment Morgan pushed open the palace doors.
When that time came, what expression would she greet her with?
Just imagining it made the pain that had lasted for centuries seem a little lighter.
The palace doors let out a heavy groan and slowly opened.
Footsteps approached from far away, but the voice that reached Arthur’s ears was not the one she had been waiting for.
“I’m back,” said the girl with the white hair.
“Why is it you…
Where is Morgan?” Arthur demanded tiredly.
“She couldn’t maintain her form.
She dissolved into lake water.” Hiding the arm that had already turned completely into clear water behind her back, Hebe did her best to keep her tone steady.
“Just outside London.” “…” The silence was cold as iron.
Hebe paid Arthur’s reaction no mind and went on speaking.
“I dealt with both the Red Dragon and the Lion, and their armies too.
Every noble who marched with them, from every rank, is dead.
The nine remaining Knights of the Round Table are all dead as well, every last one of them.
Over these past decades, you—” “Enough, Merlin.” Arthur’s voice was strange and cold, as though anger were being forcibly suppressed, and as though her heart had already gone dead.
“You’re like some elusive ghost, forever doing things on my behalf, but…” “Enough.” Arthur repeated herself.
“I’m tired.” But the sage did not react at all.
She kept on chattering about all the things Arthur no longer wanted to hear in the slightest.
“Enough!” The ruler on the iron throne spoke for the third time.
Her eyes burned like molten gold, and her voice was strange and terrible.
The shadow cast between the curtains twisted, like an old dragon crouched within a cavern.
The sage’s voice was swallowed by the king’s roar.
“Who do you think you’re deciding things for, Merlin?
And who do you think gave you the standing you have now?!” “You’re nothing but a fool who understands nothing…” Arthur looked at the sage in disappointment.
She felt betrayed all over again.
“I never needed you to do anything for me.” The king let out a mocking laugh.
“Why don’t you try guessing what I had intended to do?” The sage said nothing, as if stunned into silence.
“I’m already tired of sitting on this throne.
The ideal country lies impossibly far away, and it can never be realized.” Arthur said, “If so, then I might as well use all of this to accomplish Morgan’s Great Deed…
Heh.
Destroy this Albion that has already grown loathsome to me once and for all, and then rebuild it from the ruins!” “All this time, you seem to have misunderstood your place, Merlin.” “I truly did once have unrealistic hopes…
but you appeared less and less often.” Arthur’s disappointment showed plainly.
“If that’s the case, then why shouldn’t I raise Morgan to the throne?” She had been tormented on the iron throne for far too long.
She no longer wished to remain a prisoner.
In the midst of that endless pain, Arthur had finally begun to understand Morgan.
History had already entered a dead end.
There was no future left to speak of.
Only the two of them, bound by blood, could support each other and understand each other.
Beyond that, there was no solution at all.
Albion would be destroyed and rebuilt again and again.
War was the true engine that kept the world running.
With a vindictive kind of pleasure, Arthur looked down at the sage from on high, waiting for her answer.
“So that’s what you were thinking.” The girl with the dark pink eyes lifted her head and met the furious king’s gaze.
“Then that’s a relief.” The sage’s expression did not change in the slightest, but there was a faint, irrepressible lift hidden in her voice.
Arthur frowned.
Hebe’s reaction was completely beyond her expectations.
The king studied Hebe more closely, taking in the oddly bright note in her voice.
Only then did she realize that ever since entering the palace, Hebe had been standing sideways to her.
“What are you hiding, Merlin?” Arthur suddenly felt a flicker of unease.
“Why won’t you face me?” Splash.
What answered Arthur was a spill of turquoise-clear water, streaming from the court mage’s sleeve and pouring unhindered onto the floor.
Hebe’s left shoulder sagged limply.
There was nothing inside the empty sleeve now but water.
Sunlight fell across the water on the floor, and the glare was blinding.
That turquoise color began creeping upward along Hebe’s neck, little by little, tracing serpent-like patterns across the girl’s delicate cheeks, making her look eerie and despairing.
“As you can see, Your Majesty.” Hebe suppressed the joy in her heart and answered in an even tone, “I am about to die.” [CURRENT LOSTBELT PROGRESS: 98.5%] — T/N: uhhh her appearance looks like proto merlin in this lostbelt, but in the “real world” she has flaxen hair and dark green eyes, but just imagine proto merlin with color swaps 😀