"A king without desire is nothing more than a decorative vase for the nation!"
Iskandar's voice rang out with conviction. "Saber, you are a noble saint, incorruptible and idealistic. But not everyone is as selfless as you."
"Who truly desires a life of martyrdom?"
"A king," Iskandar continued, "should be greedy, laugh the loudest, and accept both the highs and the lows of life. Only in this way can the people feel drawn to him, admire him, and be willing to follow him to the ends of the earth."
Hearing this, the First Emperor and Chihiro, along with others who understood the complexities of ruling, looked at Iskandar with newfound respect. For a conqueror from the West, he displayed an understanding of balance and the burdens of leadership that resonated deeply.
Iskandar fixed his gaze on Artoria. "King of Knights, your justice and ideals may have saved people, but what was the final outcome for those you saved?"
"You fought to save them, but you never guided them. You left your people in confusion, lost within your ideals. You believe yourself noble, but in truth, you are shackled to an ideal of kingship, bound by the image of an idol called 'king'!"
Artoria staggered back, visibly shaken by his words.
"Saber!" Irisviel rushed to support her, worry etched across her face.
But Artoria's gaze was distant, her spirit cast into self-doubt. Her ideals, once so unshakable, now felt precarious.
"Ahh…."
At that moment, the Berserker began to rise, his movements driven by sheer willpower despite his frenzied state. He seemed desperate to say something, yet his madness prevented him from forming coherent words.
"Oh, Berserker, it seems you have something to say," Iskandar remarked, both surprised and intrigued. "I'd love to hear your perspective, but it's unfortunate you cannot speak."
"That can be arranged." The First Emperor raised his hand and, with an authoritative command, activated a Command Spell. "Berserker, I order you to regain your sanity, if only temporarily."
Under the pressure of the Command Spell, the madness in Lancelot's eyes subsided, and his breathing steadied.
"King Arthur…"
Lancelot's voice was hoarse as he removed his helmet, revealing his weathered face and striking purple hair.
"You… you're Sir Lancelot!" Artoria gasped, stunned to see the true face of the knight before her.
Iskandar looked at Lancelot with interest. "Lancelot? Ah, the famous Knight of the Lake, the one responsible for the fall of the Round Table?"
"Yes," Waver muttered. "One of the greatest knights—and the one whose actions played a role in Britain's downfall."
"So, he's a former ally of yours, Knight King?" Iskandar mused. "But from the look of him, his loyalty to you remains."
Artoria's voice was filled with confusion and sadness. "Sir Lancelot… I never imagined that you would return as a Berserker."
She could hardly reconcile the image of her once-honorable knight with the frenzied, tortured figure he had become.
"Is it… because of me?"
"No!" Lancelot's voice was pained but firm. "This was my own choice. It was I who brought ruin upon Britain. I who… killed Gareth. I am unworthy of the title of knight."
"Sir Lancelot…"
"Please, my king, do not doubt yourself because of the words of others." Lancelot fell to one knee before Artoria, his voice clear and resolute. "Your path as king was not wrong. Every knight who served you did so with conviction, from the depths of our hearts."
"Do not forget," he continued, "it was you who saved Britain. You who led the people. Without you, Britain would have fallen long before."
"Sir Lancelot…" Tears glistened in Artoria's eyes as she looked at her loyal knight, feeling the strength of his faith in her.
Iskandar crossed his arms, studying the scene thoughtfully. "Berserker… Lancelot, are you suggesting that my ideals of kingship are flawed?"
Lancelot met his gaze firmly. "I do not deny your way, King of Conquerors. But each king has their own path. My king's way led Britain to glory. It is not as meaningless as you claim."
"Hah! Well said!" Iskandar laughed, acknowledging the knight's loyalty. "King of Knights, it seems you are blessed with loyal followers."
Artoria offered a grateful nod to Lancelot. "Thank you, Sir Lancelot."
"It is nothing, my king," Lancelot replied with a deep bow. "We knights exist to uphold your honor."
Turning his attention back to the First Emperor, Iskandar asked, "And you, Ruler? What is your wish?"
The First Emperor scoffed lightly. "A wish? I am here as a Ruler. I have none."
After all, those summoned as Rulers are, by nature, heroes without earthly desires.
Iskandar raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "Is that truly so? I've heard that you were quite… fixated on certain goals during your life."
The First Emperor's expression softened, as though reflecting on a distant memory. "Call it an epiphany. As my life neared its end, my vision became clearer."
He continued, his tone calm and almost nostalgic. "Death is a journey into silence. All desires, all ambitions fade. Looking back, you realize how many pursuits were but fleeting whims. Some of them… even laughable."
Iskandar chuckled, intrigued. "Laughable, you say? Would you share an example?"
The First Emperor's eyes held a glint of self-awareness. "Take, for instance, my search for immortality… all while constructing a tomb for myself. Even though I doubted the promise of eternal life, I still clung to the pursuit. And in the end, I achieved nothing of the sort."
Iskandar laughed heartily. "Hah! It seems even emperors cannot escape the contradictions of humanity."
"Immortality is merely a lure, dangled by gods to tempt mortals," Gilgamesh interjected coldly, a bitter edge to his voice.
"Oh?" Iskandar turned to him, intrigued. "Hero King, you sound as if you have personal experience with this pursuit."
Chihiro, who had been quietly observing, finally spoke up, smiling faintly. "The great Gilgamesh once obtained the herb of immortality from the depths of the underworld. But before he could consume it, a snake devoured it."
Gilgamesh's expression darkened. "You insolent fool, that was not for you to reveal!"
Iskandar burst into laughter again. "Hero King, it seems your luck was rather poor."
Gilgamesh's glare shifted to Ishtar, a glint of accusation in his eyes. "It was no mere coincidence. I suspect a meddling goddess could explain."
Ishtar scoffed, folding her arms with a smug look. "How dare you insinuate that I, a goddess, would interfere with your petty pursuits?"