Merlin was the observer, the spectator of destiny.
The dream demon who always stood on the sidelines, watching the "plot" unfold from a vantage point high above, showed a rare, almost human expression of remorse—a sense of guilt for having misunderstood a true saint.
It wasn't just Kaelar she'd misunderstood; she had spread her prophecies everywhere, causing misunderstandings along the way—the prophecies about Artoria, about Kaelar, and about the Knights of the Round Table…
Every prophecy scattered into the world had Merlin's hand behind it. She had believed that destiny was absolute, that events would inevitably unfold. And her role in spreading those prophecies was part of that inevitable fate.
Before, Merlin never thought there was anything wrong with this. Even as the leader of the Druid Mages, as the advisor to three generations of Celtic kings, as the sage of Britain whom they revered—none of it meant anything to Merlin.
Because this was the "destiny" she had foreseen; as "Merlin," it was her lot to advise three kings, to become a legendary figure of Britain, the mage sung of by all.
Why should she feel anything for a path she had already seen?
Her life was like reading a poorly written novel in which she played a supporting role.
A novel that was terribly predictable. Even though her role was significant, knowing the entire script made all of its inspiring moments feel as hollow as a cliché.
It was all predetermined, an immutable destiny.
Any deviation from the main path was nothing but a tiny variation, adding only a small flicker of interest to her otherwise dull life…
And that was all.
It wasn't that Merlin lacked emotions—they were simply dulled, and she felt no immersion in her life's events.
To put it simply, she viewed those around her as mere "NPCs." And what kind of feelings could a player develop for an NPC?
But now, Merlin realized she had been wrong. What you see isn't always what's true, and "plots" don't always follow a fixed course. There will always be those who hold the script for the world's destruction yet dream of becoming its savior.
She gazed at Kaelar for a long moment before placing a hand on her chest, saying, "I owe you an apology, Kaelar. You are a true saint. But… have you forgotten your Geis?"
No killing, mercy, ceasefire, universal love.
Suicide itself would be a violation of his vow. Breaking it would mean breaking his Geis.
In Artoria's despondent eyes, a glimmer of hope flared. She trembled as she said, "Y-yes… Kaelar, if you break your vow, your Geis will turn on you and exact a heavy price."
"If you break it, then your… your… everything you're trying to do will fail!"
Though she couldn't bring herself to say certain words, her voice quivered with emotion and ended in a near shout.
Yet Artoria was the only one deeply affected by her words. Merlin, Morgan, and the rest of the Round Table, who understood prophecy, all remained silent.
There was a mournful look in Merlin's eyes as she gazed at Artoria. Gone was the detached, whimsical trickster; in her place was a compassionate high mage, a true friend to King Arthur.
She had watched Artoria grow and knew more than anyone about her feelings for Kaelar.
Morgan's face was a mask of despair, lacking Artoria's flicker of hope. Artoria's voice echoed through the hall, and only then did she realize that her words hung unanswered in the heavy silence.
Merlin's unhidden expression made Artoria's heart sink. For the first time, she felt the weight of a force that was undeniable.
A force that no one wanted, yet no one could resist. A force they could only stand by and witness.
"So, 'Vows shall be in vain'… this is what it means?"
Morgan's voice was hoarse, and she seemed to crumple inwardly, her red-rimmed eyes fixed on Kaelar. "Kaelar, you swore an oath to me—an unbreakable blood vow of Britain…"
"Are you going to break that vow?"
Morgan's voice trembled with grief. "Have you forgotten? If you break your promise, I, as the witch, must take something from you…"
"Kaelar, let go of this notion. Britain doesn't belong to you alone, nor does it need you to save it!"
"All of us are willing to accept the fate of destruction, even if it means falling to the Roman Beast. We don't want you to…"
"I'm sorry."
Kaelar's voice was low. "Morgan, I am a savior. I am the only answer. This is my purpose, my mission. I may be able to defeat that Beast without a price, but Britain will be destroyed, and that outcome would invalidate my entire life and identity."
"Living would be no different from dying."
"I will defeat that Roman Beast, even if the cost is myself!"
Kaelar loved all of humanity. He valued each life deeply, believing that every soul was precious, deserving of protection and care.
The fact that he couldn't save the hundreds of thousands in Rome had already caused him agonizing remorse, a torment rooted in the helplessness he felt against the Beast in her complete form.
Now, even though he had a way to drive Nero back, by the time the battle was over, Britain would likely be left with only one man and one woman. Winning would still mean losing.
Forget about saving the world—if he couldn't even protect a single land, wouldn't that mean that everything Kaelar believed in, everything he had lived for, had been a lie?
At that point, living would feel like death.
For Kaelar, universal love was no mere philosophy.
Kaelar spoke calmly, "When I break my vow, Morgan, you may use your magic to reclaim everything I have left. I will leave you my final gift. You may regain your full power, stronger than before."
Breaking the vow would exact a price. Just as Morgan had transferred part of her magic to Kaelar, anything remaining in him would be returned to her.
Seeing his "mother" so grief-stricken, Gawain removed his helmet and said, "Lord Kaelar, you already have the power to defeat the Beast. The sacrifice should not be yours."
"We are willing to lay down our lives, to create an opening for you!"
Gawain and the knights were willing to die because they knew it was inevitable. They stood no chance against the Roman emperor who had become the fully-formed Beast of Revelation. Not fighting was also death, and as Celtic warriors, they were willing to face the end with pride.
But Kaelar was different. He was already carrying every buff there was and could drive away the Beast, becoming the only hero and savior of the world. Even a hollow victory was still a victory, wasn't it?
Gawain asked himself: if he were in Kaelar's place, would he ever make such a sacrifice? Would he offer up his life and honor for others?
Kaelar looked at him gently. "You don't understand, Gawain, and I don't blame you… But let me ask you this: is one life worth more than many?"
"They are equally precious!" Artoria answered immediately. "Every life is invaluable. A single life is worth as much as a thousand!"
Kaelar, you are worth more to me than my entire world…
"Yes, I believe that too. But… except for oneself."
Kaelar nodded calmly. "Because one has only the right to make decisions about oneself, never to make such choices for others. Therefore, the life of one or the lives of many hold equal worth."
"But if I have to kill myself to save thousands…"
Kaelar smiled. "I am willing to bear it."
One may choose to sacrifice themselves for the world, but they have no right to demand another's life for that cause.
This is what it means for a single life to hold the same value as many.
"Lily, my mind is set." Kaelar's expression was resolute. "I may have broken the holy sword, but I will forge it anew!"
"One must always make amends for what they've done." Kaelar laughed. "And so, I will forge a sword—a sword that will surpass the Star-Forged Sword."
"Lily, take up the holy sword once more. You will save Britain. You will save the world…"
"Kaelar!" Morgan struggled with all her might. She cried out, "Don't be foolish. No one understands you, no one will ever appreciate what you're doing. Everyone here, including me and Artoria, we can't understand your thinking—you're just moved by your own convictions!"
"No one needs you to save them! You're willing to throw your life away, yet you preach about love—love starts with loving oneself… Wasn't that your own teaching?"
"Look around you, at Britain itself. The Anglo-Saxons fear your might, the Celts scorn your ideals. They don't care about your principles—they only call you a saint because they want to curry favor with you!"
"Britain isn't worth your sacrifice or your salvation. Everyone misunderstands you—even right before you entered this hall, I, Merlin, Gawain, Lancelot… all of us believed you would violate your Geis!"
"No one understands you… truly, no one. Please, wake up. Britain is not worth your sacrifice, Kaelar. Please, let it go?"
"Sacrificing yourself, no one will remember your contribution. You won't be a savior—you'll be a fool paving the way for others!"
Kaelar listened to Morgan's accusation in silence. The others she named were overcome with shame. They respected Kaelar's strength, but many had mocked his compassion…
Even now, it was Kaelar's influence that had united the people of Britain under Camelot's banner.
Without him, Artoria would still have to expel and defeat them as Britain's king.
And so, in the crowded throne room, Morgan's despairing cries rang alone.
Kaelar gently wiped her tears and shook his head, saying, "A savior? Morgan, you really don't understand me at all. I don't care about being a savior!"
Unlike the Celtic warriors, Kaelar wanted only to save the world and cared nothing for honor. This was what set him apart from Gawain and the others.
They could sacrifice themselves in loyalty to Britain, even if it meant death. But to give everything, knowing there would be no glory, gratitude, or understanding—this was something that…
Or rather, this was something that no ordinary person could ever accept.
"Those who kindle the fire for others should not be left to freeze in the snow."
"I can sacrifice myself for everyone, but I must not be abandoned."
Yet Kaelar waited patiently for Morgan to quiet before speaking again. "Why would one need anyone's approval to pursue their ideals?"
"You misunderstand, scorn, or even slander me…" Kaelar's gaze swept the room, and all lowered their heads in shame, for Morgan's words had struck at their hearts.
"But I don't blame you," Kaelar said, "because I love you all."
Kaelar had reached the ultimate expression of universal love, genuinely willing to sacrifice himself for humanity.
That was why he had held his Beast within, too afraid to unleash it against the Beast of Revelation.
The Roman Emperor had fallen into despair, descending into the Beast to save Rome, only to destroy it.
Kaelar loved all of humanity, yet he couldn't guarantee that he would not, as a Beast, destroy humankind in a twisted attempt to enforce peace.
The more compassionate and just one was, the darker the Beast within.
It was like that fallen art student from a later era, a once-patriotic youth who dreamed of saving Germany…
"Enough!" Artoria shouted, her hands gripping the holy lance. Rhongomyniad's divine energy was so intense it turned her normally pale green eyes into a brilliant gold.
"Even without that sword, I can vanquish the enemy!"
"I am the King of Knights, the King of Britain, Artoria Pendragon!"
She raised the holy lance. "Kaelar, look at me! I wield Rhongomyniad, the anchor between the physical and mystical worlds!"
"And I have Avalon, the 'Ideal Land from the World's End,' which grants absolute defense."
"Kaelar, I am no longer the little girl who followed you and waved the banner while you fought. I am the King of Britain, and the greatest king this land has ever known!"
There was no need to discuss the holy lance's power; it was a supreme weapon, conferring divinity upon its wielder.
Artoria truly embodied the title of Type-Moon's beloved heroine—when she lost one weapon, she had another just as powerful. Holy Sword, Holy Lance, and Avalon were all EX-ranked treasures. She was a hero without peer!
Avalon, the "Ideal Land from the World's End," was the strongest defensive Noble Phantasm. None could harm one sheltered within.
With EX in attack, defense, and endurance, Artoria had strength unmatched. Even the likes of Gilgamesh, Ozymandias, and Karna were no match for her.
She had proven that in the singularity, where the Lion King, without even possessing Avalon, overpowered all, forcing the Sun King and the Mountain's people to retreat.
Artoria now had every reason to be proud, holding both the holy lance and Avalon, flawless in every way.
Kaelar sighed. "If it were so simple, that would be enough."
If Avalon alone could defeat the Beast, the Beast wouldn't be a world-ending disaster with the power to obliterate humankind.
Aside from the Star-Forged Sword with its thirteen seals fully unlocked, no other means could conquer an enemy of that level.
While Artoria, with her lance and Avalon, was undoubtedly powerful, she still lacked the might to stand against Nero, who embodied the full glory of Rome—the gods, emperors, and people, wielding the might of both past and future Rome.
Nero's endless mana supply rendered Artoria's absolute defense null; while Avalon's complete activation did protect her, it required mana. In a battle of endurance, the entire world combined couldn't match Nero!
Artoria snapped, "Regardless, I refuse to allow it. Kaelar, I will never agree to your ridiculous plan!"
"In the name of the King of Britain, I command that no one aid Kaelar in this madness. Anyone who disobeys my decree shall face the holy lance's judgment!"
The holy lance echoed her decree, and divine light filled the realm of Britain. Defying her would mean facing annihilation.
Artoria could no longer bear to discuss the matter with Kaelar. She stormed off, lance in hand. Merlin cast a conflicted look at Kaelar and followed, with the fae and knights trailing behind.
But Artoria's command did not bind everyone.
As King of Britain, her decree held sway over her subjects alone. Anyone of equal standing who had not sworn fealty could defy it.
Morgan was about to leave in a daze when Kaelar suddenly reached out and took her hand. Smiling, he asked, "Morgan, you'll help me, won't you?"
Morgan, you'll help me, won't you?
It was just like ten years ago when that handsome, sunny youth had looked at her with that same smile. "Morgan, big sister, you'll help me, won't you?"
"Kaelar… I won't help you anymore…" Morgan sank to her knees, defeated, her voice a broken murmur. "I won't help you again…"
"But you will," Kaelar said gently. His words, though soft, were brutal. "Because now, only you can."
---
Nero stood in the region of Normandy, her gaze fixed intently on the distant British Isles...
No, "gaze" was too gentle a word. It was more a ravenous, predatory stare—as though Britannia was a toy to be played with, a quarry to be hunted.
She touched her forehead briefly. Though her injuries had long healed, the sense of being shattered, torn apart, remained—a reminder of the one who, in a single blow, had scarred the Roman Empire at its peak and drawn blood from its most dazzling jewel, herself.
Though her gown was restored, it still bore an impression of rupture, as if the concept of "broken" had been ingrained into it. No matter how flawless it appeared, at first glance, the red-and-white fabric still seemed torn.
"The shame inflicted upon me... I shall cleanse it with my own hands!"
Gazing toward Britannia, Nero spoke softly, "The lash of the Roman Empire will reach all barbarians, even across the sea. Bow down before my splendor!"
She lifted her delicate foot and stepped onto the sea's surface. In an instant, the entire ocean began to churn, its waters tainted red by the sinister power of corruption that bled into it. Like one of Egypt's ten plagues, the waters turned crimson under her touch.
Countless sea monsters, stripped of reason by her dark influence, emerged from the depths, forming a path beneath her feet, the Empress of Rome's carpet. Heads of corrupted creatures bobbed up and down in the scarlet sea, as if the water itself had sprouted twisted, hideous visages.
If a devout Christian witnessed this sight, this mingling of holy terror and profane corruption, they would realize they were looking upon the prophesied vision from Revelations: the harlot of Babylon, bringing doom to the kingdoms of the earth, astride the seven-headed, ten-crowned beast.
A terrifying aura rippled outward, unchecked. As one of the Beasts of Revelation, Nero's might was a match even for the ancient god-kings of the Age of Gods—if not more. Her very breath consumed magic at a scale beyond human comprehension, a staggering quantity.
And this was only breathing. Were she to unleash her full strength, the Beast of Revelation's power would bring despair to any "individual" entity. Why should such a creature even exist?
Nero advanced toward Britannia slowly, casually. Artoria had already seen her, and Nero had already seen Artoria.
Yet the Empress continued her leisurely pace, strolling barefoot across the crimson sea, savoring the fear and oppression she radiated toward her enemies.
"Cower before my majesty!" she laughed, pointing at Artoria, whose golden eyes and aura radiated a godly presence. "King of the barbarians, savor the final moments of your reign before Judgment Day descends!"
"Rome has come to lash you."
Artoria gritted her teeth. Now, at last, she understood Kaelar's pessimism—why he saw the forging of the Star-Forged Sword as his only option, his sole ace, without leaving room for any other approach.
It was only when faced with such a monster that she could truly grasp why Kaelar was willing to sacrifice himself to save the world.
If anything, Artoria felt admiration for Kaelar. He had not only managed to scar this Beast, this Roman Emperor, but had even returned from the encounter intact and made the right choice...
"No... that was never the right choice. Not in the least."
She shook her head, pushing aside her respect for Kaelar. Accepting his choice would mean watching her beloved sacrifice himself.
Even if she might ultimately be unable to stop him, Artoria refused to accept Kaelar's decision. To fight with all her might to keep him from foolishly throwing his life away—perhaps that was her last act of defiance.
"If we all fight with all we have, leaving no regrets, even if the destruction of Britain cannot be averted—even if we all fall—at least we will have no regrets."
Artoria spoke calmly, "I have driven Viviane away and sealed Britain with the Holy Lance. Without my permission, Kaelar has no one left to help him carry out that foolish plan."
Looking to the Knights of the Round Table, she continued, "I am Britain's king. How we defend it is for me to decide."
Gawain's voice was tinged with worry. "But what of Lady Morgan? My king, you should order her confinement…"
"No need… my elder sister would never agree to Kaelar's foolish plan!"
Artoria waved a hand dismissively. "My sister's resolve is completely aligned with my own."
"The Knights of the Round Table stand fully behind you, our king of Britain."
None of the knights opposed Artoria's decree, even though it was an open declaration to march together into death.
Those chosen to join the Knights of the Round Table feared nothing, least of all death. To save their own lives by letting another sacrifice themselves to save Britain… such words could never pass their lips.
In fact, Morgan had voiced what was in everyone's hearts: almost no one supported Kaelar's self-sacrifice to forge a holy sword.
"Kaelar, the Savior's blessing was given to you. You are the hero meant to save this world, and you must live!"
"I command you to live…"
---
Kaelar held Morgan's hand as she led him through the many wards Artoria had set, personally guiding him to the Reverse Side of the World, the only place with the conditions needed to forge a holy sword.
"Kaelar, are you sure you're not mistaken? What if your plan fails?" Morgan asked, her question echoing for the umpteenth time. "The Star-Forged Sword was a gift from the Earth itself, unique in all creation. Are you really certain you can rival it?"
"And there's your Geis to consider. The strength of your vow powers your greatest spells. If you violate it, your Geis will crumble. What good would your sacrifice be then?"
"I am a saint who seeks to enlighten the world, yet a sinner who dictates it; I am a hero of the past age, and a pioneer of the future; I am the love and the evil of humanity, a Beast, and a Savior…"
Kaelar smiled. "Not only that, I also bear the blessing of the past Savior, Jesus. With the power of salvation from both past and future anchored in me, my fate is assured. With the Savior of the future as my guiding point, I am destined to save the world upon receiving the blessing of the past."
"Morgan, I, Kaelar, am not a fool. A person's life is invaluable, and loving others begins with loving oneself. If I wasn't completely certain, do you think I would make this decision?"
Kaelar was, in fact, the person who cherished his own life the most. Though he had resolved to sacrifice himself to save the world, it did not mean he valued others above himself.
In truth, he valued himself more than anyone else.
It was because he loved himself that he could project that love outward, to encompass the whole world.
Kaelar's self-love surpassed that of any other, which allowed him to universally love all.
From the beginning, he had said that he would sacrifice himself only because he could not live without his ideals; for him, a life without purpose was no life at all. It was out of love for himself that he chose to give himself up.
It was a philosophy few could attain or comprehend.
"As for the Geis… that is a matter to be resolved."
Kaelar closed his eyes. Deep within his soul, a purple light flickered—a gift he was born with, rooted in his essence. Through decades of growth, it had provided no assistance…
This gift had only one purpose: to allow Kaelar to break a single, terrible vow without suffering any consequences.
Kaelar had taken many vows—his vow to never betray Morgan, his Four Great Geis, his vow to never betray Artoria…
Artoria's vow was only verbal, not sealed as an oath or contract. However, the vow of loyalty and betrayal shared with Morgan was a blood oath, and breaking it would exact a severe price.
But Kaelar had no intention of using the trait known as Oathbreaker on his blood oath with Morgan.
He planned to apply it to his vow: I, Kaelar, have vowed not to kill and will never take a life. In doing so, even if he violated his vow not to kill, he would retain the strength granted by his Geis. His full powers would remain intact.
Suicide was also a form of killing. Without Oathbreaker, the moment Kaelar died to forge the Savior's Sword, he would lose the power of his Geis, potentially missing a crucial element needed for the sword's completion. His sacrifice would be in vain.
"This is my highest-level trait, usable only once in my life."
---
T/N: So that's where it will be used...
Thanks for reading! Let me know if you spot any mistakes or inconsistencies!
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