Type-Moon: The Human Love Simulator [31]

"Nimue, Hengist is onto me. We must make a decision, and quickly."

Before the ships had set sail, Powell had sought out Nimue and said, "I've been exposed. It's only a matter of time before Hengist kills me. Sigh… We've never really hidden ourselves well over the past few years. If Hengist makes his move, our brothers might be uprooted entirely."

"The foundation of the Saint's teachings cannot be lost because of a foolish old man like me. We have to come up with a plan."

There was deep regret in Powell's eyes. Kaelar had warned them to be wary of Hengist, but Powell had dismissed him.

It had seemed so simple at the time—Hengist, that sniveling sycophant who grovelled before Vortigern, was nothing but a lapdog. If not for the fear of the Tyrant King's wrath, no one would have followed Hengist.

But now, Powell realized how wrong he had been. Anyone remembered by Kaelar was never a simple man.

He understood now that his arrogance had left a glaring hole, and he would need to pay the price for it.

"I've noticed it too," Nimue replied grimly. "But now that Hengist controls the ships, there's no way for us to escape by sea."

"And I've seen something worse—a few of our own are planning to defect. They want to return to Hengist's side."

Powell scoffed. "Those turncoats! They're only pretending to follow Kaelar because they're afraid he'll execute them. The ones who shout the loudest are often the least worthy to be called disciples of the Saint."

Powell then handed Nimue a worn copy of The Gospel of Kaelar. "If you can, Nimue, find a way to get rid of those parasites. Don't let them taint the purity of our cause."

Silently, Nimue accepted the book, gripping Powell's hand firmly.

"I have a plan, Nimue. You're the one I trust the most." Powell's voice was steady as he gripped Nimue's arm. "But it will require a great sacrifice… No, the greatest sacrifice. I don't have any other options. I can only place my faith in you."

Powell outlined his plan. "You'll need to betray me to Hengist. Report me to him, and kill me in front of all the Anglo-Saxons. To make it convincing, you must do it yourself."

"Horsa loves to indulge in brutal punishments. You should cater to that. I know a particular torture—"

"No! I refuse!" Nimue's reaction was immediate. Such an act would mean unthinkable torment for Powell.

"Hengist has no son. That is his greatest regret and his only weakness," Powell explained with cold clarity. "If you follow the plan, you'll earn his trust. And when the moment comes, suggest that you become his adopted son. He's likely to agree."

"The plan is flawless," Powell continued. "But it's a cruel one. You can refuse, Nimue. This is not a demand, and I won't force you. I'm just an old man, and I don't have the strength to carry out this scheme myself."

Nimue's lips trembled. "But—"

"There's no time to debate," Powell interrupted. "This is the only way to preserve our strength to the greatest extent."

Nimue fell silent. After a long pause, Powell spoke again, his tone filled with quiet resignation. "I can't think of anyone else. I know my limitations. I'm just an ordinary man who happened to be the first to hear the Saint's teachings. That's the only reason I'm considered a guide."

He rubbed his nose, a self-deprecating smile crossing his face. "I'm too old and too blind to tell who's truly loyal. I fear I'd entrust the wrong person."

"But you're different, Nimue. You're Kaelar's best student. I trust you. Only you can do this."

Nimue's voice was hoarse when he finally spoke. "Powell… you will suffer. Is it really worth it?"

Powell didn't answer the question directly. Instead, he said, "Nimue, dying is easy. Living is the hard part..."

Finally, Powell's gaze became piercing as he said, "Nimue, the fate of the Anglo-Saxons is in your hands."

Nimue looked back at his only true friend, and, with a heavy heart, he nodded. "Alright, Powell. I'll do it."

---

Hengist was dead. His head lay severed, and the Anglo-Saxons—driven by years of bitter hatred—would have torn him apart piece by piece if it weren't for the years of Kaelar's teachings that had tempered their savagery.

In the distance, the sounds of clamor echoed—a mixture of desperate pleas and cries for mercy.

The clang of metal rang out endlessly, the sound of weapons being shattered reverberating through the forest like the hiss of a long, slithering serpent. The sound seemed to rush forward, and moments later, it was followed by the thud of weapons hitting the ground.

In less than ten breaths, before anyone could fully react, Kaelar's calm voice rang out. "Stop. Killing brings misfortune. You must all follow my law."

At the sound of his voice, most people instinctively dropped their weapons, while a few glared at Hengist's severed head before reluctantly releasing their grips.

"Too late. I arrived too late."

Kaelar's gaze immediately found two broken and battered corpses, but his eyes passed over them, settling instead on Nimue, who was slumped against a tree, barely clinging to life.

Yes, Nimue was dying. Though Hengist had not been a weak man, Nimue's sacrifice to block his escape had exacted a fatal toll.

In the darkness, lit only by the faint glow of scattered fires, Nimue's final act had gone unseen by all save the dead Hengist.

One of the Anglo-Saxons sneered at the dying Nimue and then turned to Kaelar. "Kaelar! He's a traitor—a despicable betrayer. Nimue sold out Powell, flayed him alive, and drowned him in the sea!"

"Yeah! He even called Hengist 'father' and became his adopted son!"

Another Anglo-Saxon spoke up, recounting Nimue's alleged crimes one by one, as if tattling to a parent about a schoolyard rival.

Nimue made no attempt to defend himself. Instead, he smiled at Kaelar and asked, "Master Kaelar, you're finally here. Even after everything I've done, will you still forgive me?"

Kaelar listened in silence for a long moment. Then, his voice was solemn as he said, "My student, you are a hero. You are not guilty."

"Who says only those who stand in the light are heroes?"

Nimue's face was ashen as he tried to smile, his voice barely a whisper. "But I killed so many… even Powell. I killed him with my own hands."

"This is Powell's Gospel of Kaelar. I offer it to you."

His breathing grew ragged, each word coming in gasps. "Master Kaelar… I thought about spinning a clever lie to deceive you, but I couldn't. Under your gaze, I couldn't tell a single falsehood. These past days, I've been so scared… so full of pain..."

"Thank you for believing in me. Thank you for forgiving me… Master Kaelar… truly, thank you…"

"Nimue, I should be the one thanking you. Thank you for putting your life on the line to uphold my principles, to trust in my justice."

"You are a hero. My student. I will never forget you."

For the first time, Kaelar felt the weight of his ideals, the sheer burden of his ambitions. Could his vision—his righteousness—truly inspire an old sailor to endure such brutal punishment? Could it drive a bright young man to endure shame, humiliation, and even sacrifice his life?

Kaelar finally understood that he had already begun to change this era, to reshape a nation, two peoples, and perhaps even the future of many more.