Chapter 66: The Courtyard of Disappointment (4)

"This country will be destroyed sooner or later. Even if it survives for another hundred years, it won't have much impact on the history of this island. It's better to say that it's already been destroyed. Britain has come to an end... If I say this, what will you do?"

Artoria reached out to draw the Sword of Selection, just as she had before, but suddenly, these words echoed in her ears. She froze, her hand hanging in the air, unsure of what to do.

Those were the words her teacher, Merlin, the Flower Magician, had said to her when she was bidding him farewell at the port, before leading her army on her final naval expedition to Rome.

How did she respond back then? Artoria closed her eyes and recalled.

"If you're making bad jokes like usual, I'll be angry. Britain will not be destroyed. I will do everything in my power to ensure it."

Yes, that's what I said.

Before setting out to sea, Artoria was just as she had been for the past ten years—never feeling confused or uneasy. She firmly believed that she would succeed and that she could accomplish what she needed to.

The ever-victorious King of Knights had lived like this for the past decade.

Even if she lost everything, even if everyone hated her, she still chose to fight. This was the oath that Artoria Pendragon made as a king.

In exchange for my own fate, I hope to protect everyone.

But...

The outcome was just as Merlin had said. It wasn't one of his usual bad jokes, but rather, he had revealed the truth out of some kind of reluctance, and she failed to grasp her teacher's intent.

When she returned from the expedition to Britain, she was met with a rebellion led by the knight Mordred.

And so began the final battle of the ever-victorious king.

They did try, giving their all, but Britain still fell to ruin.

Unable to accept that all her efforts were in vain, unable to accept such a cruel ending, she signed the contract, sacrificing her life in exchange for becoming a Servant before her death, seeking the Holy Grail to find a way to save Britain.

"In fact, your sister didn't tell you the whole truth," the magician, his face obscured by the shadow of his hood, said to Artoria, still seated there. "Human history has already reached its conclusion. Whether it's the corrupted Holy Grail or the original, untainted one, achieving its goal won't change anything."

Artoria quickly asked, "Why? If it's the correct Holy Grail, it should—"

"As I mentioned earlier, human history has come to an end. The destruction of Britain is a catastrophe for its people, but for human history as a whole, it's a necessary process for its continuation." The white figure seemed to sigh as he revealed the truth to the King of Knights. "With your death and Britain's destruction, the last remnants of the Age of Gods will vanish from the earth. From now on, it will be an era belonging solely to humans."

There will no longer be a need for gods or beings beyond humans to guide them.

History, for better or worse, must be written by humans themselves.

If you insist on denying this outcome, no matter what kind of Holy Grail it is, no matter the method used to achieve it—

As long as Britain isn't destroyed, there will inevitably be a deviation that cannot perfectly fit within the framework of completed human history.

By that time—

"The result will be that Britain is severed from history, becoming a foreign body that distorts human history..."

Only half a day had passed since Morgan said that to her in the church, but her words were still fresh in Artoria's mind.

So, it's unnecessary.

There is no need for Artoria to sacrifice her posthumous self at such a high price.

There's no need for Artoria to search for a miracle to change the outcome.

All she needs to do is accept the result.

As if responding to Artoria's realization, the scenery around her suddenly shifted. The sunny afternoon vanished, replaced by a cloudy sky.

Heavy rain poured down, drenching her body and soul. The Sword of Selection still stood between the rocks, unyielding despite the wind and rain.

In the distance, the sounds of battle echoed across the fields, and farther still, the forest was ablaze.

She raised her rain-soaked face and looked beyond the town, now a battlefield.

There were no townspeople, nor were there any knights coming from afar to participate in the selection.

There were only monsters and warriors locked in combat.

They were heroic spirits from different eras, summoned by the Counter Force of humanity to fulfill their missions in Britain.

Familiar and unfamiliar faces gathered together.

Some fought side by side, while others were enemies.

"Is this... Britain, the singularity in human history?"

Artoria's heart ached.

She didn't want to dwell on which ending was more cruel.

"Even if you create a prosperous Britain, end the war, and bring happiness to the world, it will still lead to the result of 'Britain is still destroyed.' Because all of this has been recorded by the quantum record. How to reach a more stable ending, do you... really know?"

The Flower Magician stood beside her, his form fluctuating like an unstable phenomenon, changing appearance with each word.

Gawain, Lancelot, Tristan, Percival...

Finally, it coalesced into the form of Merlin.

"Why... tell me this?"

Artoria asked, lowering her head.

She didn't know whether she was asking her teacher or the Knights of the Round Table she had been so proud of.

She only knew that this was an illusion, and everything she saw, heard, and touched here had been prepared to make her yield.

So, she asked this question.

"As for the reason, shouldn't you know it best yourself, the sorrowful red dragon, Artoria Pendragon?"

Morgan's figure appeared beside her, answering Artoria calmly.

No one needed to tell her; it was all knowledge Artoria had within her, presented in this way by her own mind.

The answer had long been engraved in Artoria Pendragon's heart, and she had rejected that answer from the very beginning.

It's not as if nothing remains.

Accept it all. Accept Britain's destruction, and consider it the result of doing everything in your power.

Then, before the King of Knights could make a choice, darkness swallowed everything once again.

Before her stood the room in Einzbern Castle.

The only change was that the bed was now empty.

The wetness of the rain, the warmth of the sun, and the comforting feel of coarse cloth—all were gone.

She was still dressed in black men's clothing.

"Irisviel?"

She let out a soft cry of surprise as she realized what had happened.

At that moment, a loud explosion resounded from outside.

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