(This chapter is from Artoria’s first-person perspective.)
I took a deep breath.
Closed my eyes.
Sensed the rhythm of my heartbeat.
Then, as if releasing all my gloomy thoughts, I exhaled heavily.
My mind returned to the stage.
My identity changed back to Artoria Pendragon.
I prepared the dance, prepared the…
song.
“So, Merlin, what should I say now?
Say some predictions about the fut—”
“…Artoria said it before, didn’t she?
Before becoming Artoria, you were just an ordinary person.”
Merlin smiled gently, her hazy white robes almost merging with the hazy paradise.
Her purple eyes shone brightly under the sunlight, reflecting the sea of flowers, gentle and radiant.
She was beautiful, more beautiful than this sea of flowers, more beautiful than this paradise, more beautiful than Morgan, more beautiful than Guinevere, more beautiful than anyone I had ever seen—this was the first time I had seen Merlin look so beautiful.
In the past, her eyes were either calculating something, or the smile on her face looked fake, devoid of any beauty.
A flower is most beautiful only when it blooms to its limit with sincerity.
But for some reason, looking at Merlin smiling like this, I actually felt a bit nervous.
It felt as if something bad was about to happen.
“Before, I thought Artoria meant she was actually adopted by an ordinary farming family and lived the life of a farm girl.
But thinking about it now, that’s probably not what you meant, is it?” Merlin maintained her smile and looked toward the distant horizon again.
“Merlin.
What exactly are you trying to say?” The one who spoke wasn’t me, but Mordred.
Her tone was unfriendly, and she was very wary of Merlin, like a cat hissing with its fur standing on end.
“I’m afraid Artoria is talking about her past life, isn’t she?” Merlin’s voice was very soft, yet it immediately made me panic.
“At least in Artoria’s memory, she has a past life, and that past life was as an ordinary person.
It’s just that her identity changed and her body is different, so the previous memories have become very faint, as if they are about to be completely forgotten, right?”
Movie…
It must have been this word that made Merlin notice something was wrong.
This is a very special word; it isn’t actually a noun referring to an object, but a variant and extension of ‘Move.’ Such a morphological change does not exist in any language of this era.
Because of this, Merlin sensed something was amiss from that word.
Thus, facing Merlin’s question, I neither admitted nor denied it.
I felt that what Merlin wanted to ask wasn’t who my past life was, or whether I was truly Artoria.
Sure enough, her vermilion lips moved—
“Because you still have memories of a past life, you’ve always refused to admit you are Artoria.
You’ve always felt you were just playing this role, and you’ve never been able to truly integrate.
As a result, you are distant toward everyone and instinctively resistant.
You never treated your subjects as subjects, never treated your family as family…
Until the final moment, you simply decided to die alone, treating it as an end, as if you were giving up at the last step…
Artoria, is that how it is?”
I blinked, momentarily lost in thought.
To be honest, hearing this from Merlin’s mouth—
A long, long time ago, the emotional function of fear had already been removed from my consciousness and soul.
Furthermore, even if I was still called Artoria, I was no longer King Arthur after all.
—I actually had nothing to panic about.
“So, what of it?”
The one who spoke was still not me, but Mordred.
She furrowed her brows, hostility burning in her golden eyes.
If she had a sword by her side, she probably would have drawn it.
“Are you trying to say that Father isn’t King Arthur at all, but a forged fake?
Ha!
Merlin, I never expected you to be so shameless!
Don’t think I don’t know what you did!
Wasn’t Father copied from Vortigern’s likeness by you and Uther?
What, now that Father doesn’t want to be king anymore and doesn’t want to let the history of Constantine and Pendragon continue, you’re unhappy?
I’m telling you, Merlin!
No matter how you, you witch, weave your conspiracies like a venomous spider, I will never let you succeed!
Never!”
I blinked again—Mordred seemed to have matured a lot, at least she didn’t match the image in my memory.
My brain immediately went to work, and I soon understood why it was like this.
In this current experience, Artoria was a humanoid dragon soldier created with Vortigern as the prototype.
Naturally, Mordred was also completely different.
This difference wasn’t just in her essence.
The experiences, perceptions, concepts, and education between the two were entirely different, to the point where they could be called two extremes.
My relationship with Mordred was very good.
I knew of her existence from the very beginning and sent people to protect her.
I even visited her a few times, which led to some errors in her perception before the conquest of Gaul; she insisted that I was her mother.
Even after the conquest of Gaul was completed, this perception of hers remained confused for quite a long time.
As a result, the education she received was of the highest caliber.
Despite her young age, she was remarkably mature.
Not only was she skilled in martial arts, but her leadership, strategy, and internal affairs were all excellent; she could even perform mental division—a truly remarkable ability for that era.
In fact, shortly after joining the Round Table, she earned everyone’s recognition and was considered the knight with the greatest overall capability—at the time, her actual age was only six.
If it were me, I certainly wouldn’t have been able to achieve such a feat.
During the conquest of Gaul, Mordred showcased her talents and was enfeoffed with Aquitaine and Gascony.
Afterward, a scene of recognition was staged with Morgan, and she became my adopted son under the guise of being my nephew, allowing her to publicly call me father.
As long as I had no other children, she was the undisputed heir to the throne and crown—though in the end, it seemed she didn’t want them at all.
Until I made that request of her, she had always been my most loyal knight, an incomparable child.
It’s just that I probably spoiled her a bit too much, which led to her being quite arrogant and unruly.
She had a poor attitude toward everyone and was very impolite.
I originally intended to fix this flaw of hers, but I ran out of time; there was no way.
Merlin sighed in distress and rubbed his forehead, feeling helpless and quite frustrated.
“How is that possible, Mordred?
From the moment Artoria defeated Vortigern, no one would ever question her identity.
I’m just trying to say…” As he spoke, Merlin looked toward me.
“Artoria, you are in a lot of pain, aren’t you?
You are chasing a phantom, striving to become a phantom, trying to replicate what that phantom did and achieve the great deeds that phantom accomplished—from the very beginning, you knew the story of ‘King Arthur,’ and then you forced yourself to complete that story, didn’t you?”
“You foul enchantress with a belly full of schemes, what do you know…”
Mordred had just started to speak when I stopped her.
“Mordred, let me speak with Merlin.”
Spitting in dissatisfaction, Mordred turned her head away as if she had seen something filthy.
She gave me a slight bow and then answered crisply, “Yes, Father.”
After shooting a vicious glare at Merlin, Mordred consciously retreated behind me.
Even though I said I was no longer a king, everyone still treated me as one.
“Yes.
I knew the story of King Arthur from the very beginning.
Like an actor on a stage, I had memorized the lines by heart long before the play even started.
But I am not her.
Her power was light; she shone like the sun and guided her people like the stars.
I lack the talent of a king and cannot inspire conviction; instead, I invite too much suspicion and resentment.
In the end, I could only use unsavory methods to become the Artoria I am now.”
Mordred let out a “tsk” behind me.
She scoffed at the King Arthur I spoke of.
Merlin listened to my words and then continued to ask, “And then?
What happened to that King Arthur?”
“…At Camlann, she and Mordred perished together.” I spoke very calmly, yet the air seemed to stagnate.
“In her final moments, she made a contract with the Counter Force of the world.
She would continue her journey in search of the Holy Grail, and once she obtained it and made her wish, she would become an agent of the Counter Force, an existence similar to a Guardian.”
“But Artoria, you mentioned before that you actually participated in a Holy Grail War, right?” Merlin asked gently.
“Yes.
I first became Artoria during a Holy Grail War, and only after that did I come to this fifth-century Britain.”
“Then, during your time in the Holy Grail War, was your nature also darkness?” Merlin continued to ask.
“It was…
and it wasn’t.
That King Arthur’s eyes were blue, while mine have always been gold.
However, I couldn’t unleash the power of the Holy Sword, and my physical capabilities were no better than an ordinary person’s.
I only managed to hold on until the end by relying on psychology and rhetoric, eventually obtaining the Holy Grail.”
“Did that King Arthur eventually obtain the Holy Grail?”
Merlin’s question suddenly stunned me.
There wasn’t just one Holy Grail War; another one began ten years after that.
And that Holy Grail War, at least in my understanding, was the true main story.
I frowned slightly, struggling to search my hazy memories, and only gave an answer after a long time.
That Holy Grail had been corrupted long ago.
Its way of granting wishes was through destruction; it couldn’t even be called plunder.
Whether it was me or that King Arthur, we both ultimately destroyed that corrupted Holy Grail.
After completing the quest for the Holy Grail, King Arthur’s consciousness returned to Camlann, then she returned the Holy Sword, and finally went to Avalon to end the story.”
“So, were there any similarities or differences between your journey for the Holy Grail and that of King Arthur?”
Merlin’s question made me lick my lips.
My heart suddenly raced, and I became very nervous, unable even to meet Merlin’s gaze.
Instead, I looked down at the tips of my shoes.
Even my ability to think clearly had noticeably declined.
After hesitating for a long time, I finally gave an answer.
“…There were major differences.
That King Arthur participated in two Holy Grail Wars, while I only had one.
The second one happened ten years after the first, and many things occurred in both.”
“So, my King, the next thing you must do is likely participate in the second Holy Grail War, isn’t it?” Merlin smiled and walked toward me, stopping only a meter away.
“My King, what did that King Arthur gain in the second Holy Grail War?
And what was the ending?”
“The ending…”
I looked up at the sky, trying to recall the past.
But…
I really couldn’t remember anything; it was just a blank space.
I suppose I must have forgotten all of it.
My own name, what my parents looked like, whether I had a pet, what I was doing before I died—I’ve forgotten it all.
So, forgetting the content of a game shouldn’t be anything surprising, right?
Yet for some reason, I suddenly found myself unable to speak.
I even forgot how to say the words, ‘I forgot what happened in the ending.’
Then, almost instinctively, a strange set of words spilled from my mouth.
“The ending was nothing much…
The girl laid down the responsibilities of a king, shed the disguise of a king, and finally became a living person…
someone who could love and be loved, who could laugh, who could laugh with the one she loved, who could eat all kinds of delicious food, who could walk down streets showered in cherry blossoms wearing beautiful clothes…
finally letting go of all her anguish and longing, peacefully and quietly welcoming her own end, until the final meeting with that person.”
“It really is…
a dream like a fairytale…”
As I spoke, a smile involuntarily tugged at the corners of my mouth.
As I spoke, my eyes involuntarily filled with tears.
Despite being in a paradise free of pain and illness, I felt as if I were in the depths of hell, looking up at a heaven I could never reach.
I won’t have such an ending.
I cannot have such an ending.
I am no knight; my heart is full of cold calculations, and my mind is filled with dry interests.
I achieved the Britain of today through plunder and fear, so naturally, I have become a tyrant who is hated and loathed.
Like Vortigern locked upon his throne, welcoming eternal liberation amidst malice and hatred.
So, I let out a heavy breath and blinked, making the smile vanish and the tears disappear.
%&
Returning to the role of that cold, dark, ‘perfect king’ from Machiavelli’s books—a monster, a devil who manipulates schemes and human nature.
I looked at Merlin; he had lowered his head, the light gone from his dark eyes, his gentle smile completely frozen.
I looked at Mordred; her back was to me, her fists clenched with all her might, her body trembling slightly.
I looked at Morgan; she was kneeling among the flowers
Then, I blinked again, standing there awkwardly, not knowing what to say.
Even though the most important people in my life were right beside me, a feeling of desolation surged from the depths of my heart, making me let out another heavy sigh.
“…It’s nothing.
That…
after all, is different.
That was the King of Knights, whose nature was light, bringing hope like the stars…
I am different, I never…”
Suddenly, I felt very tired; suddenly, I felt as if I had no strength left in my body.
My legs could no longer support my frame, and I slumped to the ground, leaning against the flowers of paradise.
Looking up at the azure sky, my consciousness gradually blurred, my senses dissolved, and my ability to think faded away.
As if falling into a deep sleep, as if dying, I kept my eyes open as the curtain fell…
Dying with eyes wide open…
(Prologue · End.)