Bonus Chapter!
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Kaelar closed his eyes, feeling an immense relief that he'd chosen this particular trait during his rebirth. Without it, he'd truly be at a loss now.
Realizing that no amount of persuasion would sway him, Morgan's heart sank. She reluctantly tossed all the materials needed to forge the holy sword at him, murmuring, "Kaelar, you really are a cold-hearted bastard."
Kaelar did not deny it, sighing softly. "Morgan, help me just one last time. I promise, this really is the last time."
Kaelar didn't know the first thing about forging swords. In fact, since he was to serve as the sword's core, there was no way he could forge himself into a holy sword.
Thus, the only person who could do it was someone with the skill level needed to forge a holy sword—Morgan.
Kaelar needed Morgan to personally forge him into a sword, a weapon Artoria could wield to defeat the monstrous Beast poised to destroy the world.
With Morgan leading the way, they soon arrived at the Reverse Side of the World. Here, the rules and environment were fundamentally different from those of the Earth's surface. This was a realm born alongside human history, yet detached from it—a mythic paradise.
It was the land of eternal spring, a realm beasts of cunning could never reach: Avalon.
The Reverse Side of the World—the spiritual heart of the planet named Earth.
Though Artoria had sealed Avalon with the Holy Lance, it was only the Earth's surface entrance that she'd closed off. As one of Avalon's nine fae queens and a fae king bearing the title of Savior, Morgan had countless ways of returning to Avalon.
Only the faint outline of a distant forest hindered the view, and even with a full sweep of the horizon, the eye saw only sky and land, perfectly divided.
There were no man-made fences, houses, walls, or castles here; the very idea of a "nation" could not exist in this place.
Spring's warmth and summer's vitality filled the daylight hours, while autumn's cool and winter's starlight embraced the night.
The earth was lush with wildflowers and crawling insects, the streams flowed freely through the dense woods, and the greenery stretched as far as the eye could see. In the lakes, beautiful fae made their homes, each a portrait of grace and charm.
"We've arrived," Morgan announced as Viviane approached them. Looking at Kaelar, she spoke, "So, you have made your choice, saint of humanity."
Kaelar offered his sincere thanks. "Yes, my decision is made. Lady Viviane, thank you for telling me of the one way to truly save the world."
"No thanks needed. I only played the smallest role."
Viviane cast a glance at Morgan, who looked heartbroken and hollow, and asked, "Morgan le Fay, are you really in a state to forge the sword? I could do it in your stead…"
She turned to Kaelar and said with gravity, "Although fairies are not normally ones for formalities, I, Viviane, swear by my title as the Lady of the Lake—I will not betray your trust, saint of humanity."
"I shall devote all my strength to forge the finest sword possible… no, one even surpassing the holy blades of the original six fae."
Before Kaelar could respond, Morgan interjected. "No, I will do it."
Morgan's gaze was slow and resolute as she looked at Kaelar. Her face was as pale as paper, her eyes bloodshot with sorrow, yet she said, "Let me be the one, Kaelar. Please? I mean it. Do you trust me?"
"I trust you, Morgan." Kaelar did not hesitate. "Then, everything is in your hands, Morgan."
The auxiliary materials needed for forging were plentiful throughout Avalon. The fae's swordsmithing craft had been honed to perfection over countless years. The only missing component was that essential core material.
Morgan began preparing the ritual to forge the sword, with Viviane assisting her. Together, they used the auxiliary materials to shape the sword's blade, building it from scratch—a process that would take some time…
The waters surrounding Britannia had turned entirely crimson. Long before Nero had approached, Artoria had issued an order for all coastal villagers to move inland for their safety.
Otherwise, seeing this blood-red sea might have already subjected countless commoners to the Beast's corrupt influence, transforming them into lost souls condemned by Judgment.
In this moment, Britannia demonstrated the full strength of its centralized feudal government, evacuating all coastal counties in less than three days, leaving not a single person behind.
Nero stepped out of the red sea. The monstrous creature beneath her feet, which had served as her steed, finally emerged—a creature made of twisted, mismatched features from countless sea beasts. A shark's head, octopus tentacles, swordfish fins, seahorse scales, and a turtle's shell…
The beast was an abstract fusion, a bizarre leviathan that accompanied the Beast of Revelation—Nero, the Emperor of Rome—as she emerged from the ocean and set foot on solid ground.
"Shame that it's a sea creature. Now that we're on land, its strength has diminished by more than threefold."
Nero sighed. Had Britannia been a landlocked kingdom, her "mount" would not have been so weak. The beasts of the land would have been at their strongest on solid ground.
But, as Britannia was an island, she had to make do with sea monsters.
"Though, it's really just a disposable steed."
A gleam of amusement flashed through Nero's jade-green eyes as she regarded the approaching Knights of the Round Table. "Do these lowly ants think they can defy me—Rome?"
Artoria had not summoned Britannia's full military force, knowing that, in the face of this terrifying Beast, a larger army would only feed her opponent's magic reserves.
What Artoria needed was not a massive force but warriors capable of resisting Nero's Judgment and enduring the Beast's presence.
As she looked over her gathered knights, Artoria couldn't keep the anxiety and worry from gnawing at her heart. Where is Kaelar? Why hasn't he appeared by now?
Ever since their heated argument, Kaelar had disappeared from her sight, as if he had vanished from the world.
And with him had gone her sister, Morgan.
This unnerving situation led Artoria to dark thoughts. She recalled the vision, the tearful, reluctant nod from Morgan…
She had thought her sister would never agree to Kaelar's request. Could she have been mistaken?
Dear sister, can you truly bear the pain of letting Kaelar walk willingly toward his death?
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"Knights of the Round Table, assemble!"
If one's strength is lacking, they're nothing more than cannon fodder in the face of the Roman Empire—easily vanquished with a single glance.
Only those deemed heroes could join the fray. The rest had no business courting death.
Thus, only a dozen or so knights gathered around Artoria, each a figure of unparalleled might. Among them stood Lancelot, capable of decimating armies singlehandedly, and Gawain, whose strength could raze entire cities.
It was noon, Gawain's peak hour, granting the knights a slight, but hardly game-changing, boost.
Rome, however, was unfazed. Nero didn't even glance at Gawain, instead addressing Artoria directly, "How dare you barbarians of the Celts defy Rome's dominion?"
"I know who you are, Artoria. You're the barbarian queen, aren't you?" Nero's eyes narrowed as she surveyed Artoria. Then, her face twisted with undisguised rage. "Blasphemy! This is sheer blasphemy!"
"This is an affront to Rome itself!" she accused. "How dare the so-called Queen of the Barbarians wear my face?"
"Who are you to possess beauty equal to mine?"
Nero's voice thundered, "...I am the Roman Empire's brightest jewel, the symbol of its splendor! And you? A mere barbarian queen. How dare you profane the crown of Rome?"
"By the name of the Roman Empire, I will judge you—and your kingdom."
A cold light flickered in Artoria's gaze. "You Roman beast... Has no one ever told you how insufferably plain you are?" She sneered. "You lustful animal, drinking wine laced with lead—have you poisoned your own mind?"
It was well-known that the Romans had a taste for adding lead powder to their wine, a practice that added a touch of sweetness but carried deadly consequences. Prolonged exposure led to lead poisoning, causing headaches, dizziness, fatigue, insomnia, dreams, and memory loss.
Artoria, having been educated by Kaelar, knew all about lead poisoning. It made a fitting jab at Nero.
"Hmph! Barbarian queen, what a bore!"
Naturally, Nero wasn't competing with Artoria over beauty. She merely found it amusing that Artoria looked so much like her.
After all, the strong could always afford their diversions.
"If you're so eager for your end, then I'll gladly grant it!"
Nero raised her Primordial Flame high above her head, and a surge of power beyond measurable bounds radiated outward, spreading swiftly...
As the Roman Emperor lifted her weapon, an overwhelming wave of energy surged forth, targeting all of humanity. To call it magic would be an understatement—it was a divine Authority.
Magic is achieved through tireless human effort, a culmination of extraordinary dedication.
But Authority belongs to beings beyond humanity—innate, absolute power from birth.
As the Beast of Revelation, the Beast 666, Nero's mere presence summoned her into existence once more, reborn as Rome itself. No longer a mere individual, she embodied humanity's choice, the very essence of the Roman Empire—and was something far removed from humanity.
Since her second coming... no, since her descent, Emperor Nero had carried the Authority to corrupt and judge the entire earth. Her very being was imbued with the power to cast judgment upon the Messiah.
Any figure bearing a savior's destiny would be suppressed by her unique skill, "Anti-Messiah," reduced to nothing more than a lamb awaiting slaughter.
With each passing second, the energy she unleashed would shake even the Age of Gods. In the present era, where the gods have long vanished, her magic's explosive output left one questioning if this was truly a living being—or some kind of celestial body?
One strike from this complete Beast could easily obliterate the British Isles and lay waste to much of Europe.
The fully-realized Beast was a threat on a planetary scale, capable of shaking the entirety of human history with a single blow.
Yet Artoria did not flinch. At that moment, she was one with the spirit of the Holy Lance, divine power coursing through her. The light radiating from her raised lance eclipsed even the sun above.
"Knights of the Round Table, charge!" The radiance from Artoria's Holy Lance descended, enveloping each knight charging alongside her in its blessing.
"Charging to the end of life itself..." Lancelot drew his holy sword, Lake's Unblemished Light, blue magic emanating from his body. Although his glow was a mere flicker beside Nero and Artoria, his resolve to dash into the fire was unwavering.
"My king... the world has no equal to you…"
The British Isles had fallen under Nero's Authority, shrouding the skies in ominous red light. Gawain's power waned as a result…
But just then, another light reflected in Gawain's eyes. In the face of the Beast who could end humanity's story, Artoria shone with a light equally powerful, a human light—a king's light.
Gawain's strength surged anew. In this final moment, he regarded his king as the sun itself, gaining a skill even greater than his inherent Charm of the Unfading Sun. So long as his king endured, the sun's blessing would never wane.
"Such feeble lights, all doomed to perish!"
Though small in stature and craning her neck to meet Artoria's eyes, Nero's verdant gaze held undisguised contempt, leaving the Round Table with the unmistakable sensation of being looked down upon.
As the knights charged forward, Nero's Authority had completed its release. A massive halo appeared in the sky, like a sun illuminating all of Britain, and extending its reach across humanity itself.
This colossal ring appeared to encompass the whole of Britain, but viewed from beyond Earth, it might well be encircling the entire planet.
"The so-called Queen of the Barbarians," Nero declared, "You are the last to resist me, the one king who has yet to bow or be judged. By vanquishing you, I will have conquered that troublesome Messiah once and for all!"
Nero laughed, for the first time fully revealing her true form before all. Her elegant red-and-white attire tore away, leaving behind a skin-tight, painted semblance that adhered to her body, unveiling her inhuman form.
The Beast's features were unmistakable, yet they lacked any sense of ugliness.
Instead, she exuded an almost sacred beauty...
She was a Beast, born to destroy human history, to threaten the foundation of civilization itself.
Humans should have regarded such a creature with clarity, understanding her as the menace she was.
And yet, as each observer gazed upon Nero in her Revelation Beast form, they could only marvel at her sublime, godly beauty, majestic like a father, nurturing like a mother.
This was the allure of Rome, one of the most luminous civilizations in human history.
Even the Beast's corruption couldn't overshadow Rome's magnificence; instead, it seemed to enhance it.
"This," Nero proclaimed, "is the thousand-year glory, the thousand-year enlightenment, the thousand-year conquest of the Roman Empire!"
"Bow down," she ordered, "like your forefathers before you—like your fathers and grandfathers. Kneel before the Roman Empire!"
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