Bonus Chapter!
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"As a Celt, I am ashamed that I could not protect my homeland.""As a knight, I feel shame for having once misunderstood that noble will."
"Kaelar once taught us to cherish life, but now that saint—who loved humanity most of all—is gone. There is no one left in this world to impart such wisdom to me."
With those words, Lancelot drew his sword, the holy blade known as Unfading Lake Light.
The blade shone as brightly as a mirror, reflecting the melancholic, sorrowful face of the knight.
He closed his eyes, then opened them, revealing a steadfast, unwavering resolve.
"The ancient blood of the Celts flows within me, urging me to cleanse this shame with my own."
"But even more pitiful is that I am no better than an unteachable stone, unable to uphold the teachings of that saint."
"In that case—let my life end here."
These were the final words of the Knight of the Lake. After uttering them, he collapsed onto the ground.
Lancelot belonged to that sad, middling breed—neither rising fully nor falling completely, a Celt caught between.
He could not completely adopt Kaelar's principles, to love his life, to be merciful and refrain from killing.
Yet he could not wholly reject Kaelar's influence either, having come to understand Kaelar's compassion.
If he'd been more stubborn, a pure Celtic barbarian, it might have been easier.
If he'd been more flexible, able to discard his own will and follow Kaelar entirely, it might have been better.
But things had turned out as they were, and such was his fate.
Lancelot had the Celt warrior's indifference to death and reverence for honor, as well as the guilt and regret from understanding Kaelar's compassion. With no other way to resolve the madness brewing inside him, he chose the oldest path to follow in the saint's footsteps.
"Lancelot..."
Gawain looked at Lancelot, and his expression softened, his fist clenching reflexively.
But a few moments later, his face returned to its usual calm.
He turned to face the knights standing behind him, his voice heavy with a deathly stillness rather than simple composure.
"After my death, none of you must follow in our footsteps. Someone must live to pass on Kaelar's story; the Savior's tale must endure, and the true truth must never be buried!"
"Brother Gawain..."
"No need to try to dissuade me!" Gawain drew his Wheel of Victory and cast the treasured holy sword onto the ground. "The Sun Knight—what have I even accomplished..."
"Besides, if Lancelot is going to follow Kaelar, how can I let that irritating man follow the saint alone?"
"You all know... I could never tolerate that fool Lancelot."
"You must live well. Kaelar's legacy must be preserved..."
And so, the two most respected and powerful knights of the Round Table chose to follow the saint in their hearts.
Among those who remained, none had Lancelot and Gawain's stubbornness, nor their strength or standing.
And here's a laughable truth—many of them didn't even feel worthy to follow Kaelar to the grave as Lancelot and Gawain had done.
After a silent moment, Agravain's voice broke the stillness, his words as cold and unfeeling as ever. "Brother Gawain is right. We all witnessed this war, a war straight out of myth."
"For those of us who remain, we cannot follow Lord Kaelar now. Someone must pass down this tale of salvation, ensure that everyone remembers that a saint once sacrificed everything to save the world."
"He gave his life for all of humanity. We are his disciples, and we must record this epic and carry it into the future."
The eyes of the remaining knights of the Round Table sparked with a newfound purpose. As Agravain said, they were the only witnesses to this battle. They were Kaelar's disciples.
Standing nearby, Merlin watched the scene in silence.
Her body slightly hunched, her face obscured by the wide brim of her white hood, her pink eyes betrayed no emotion.
She was close enough to be among the knights of the Round Table.
Yet though they were physically near, a clear divide existed between them.
After all, physical distance does not equate to alignment in heart.
Had the knights' minds not been so completely overtaken by their zeal to spread the saint's teachings, one of them might have unsheathed their sword against her in rage.
It was Merlin's prophecies that had once sown doubt about Kaelar among the knights.
Now, that misunderstanding had left an indelible stain on the Round Table's legacy.
The reason for Lancelot and Gawain's drastic choices lay in the guilt that consumed them.
Their past doubts toward Kaelar had led them to foolishly divide themselves between their loyalty to their king and their devotion to Kaelar.
——Even those who had claimed to stand by Kaelar, waving his banner, had, in their minds, insulted and disgraced their saint with such divisive actions!
Though they'd once harbored grievances, only now did they grasp the depth of their folly.
Too many emotions churned within them, the psychological burden unbearable. Even for two such knights, the only solution was to sever it all in one swift cut.
To think they had once doubted Kaelar's virtue—what an unbearable shame!
"Am I... being shunned?"
Noting the disgust and hostility in the knights' eyes, Merlin tilted her head slightly, her gaze filled with a touch of puzzlement and... innocence.
Like a newborn fawn, as if seeing the world for the first time, her eyes, once as calm as a stagnant pool, were stirred by an uncharacteristic shift in her heart.
"Hm... this is only natural."
Merlin had always been an unwelcome figure. After all, this was her fitting end, wasn't it?
She watched the knights, observed their grief over Kaelar's death, their rekindling of hope in his legacy. She saw all of this without a trace of expression on her delicate, pale face.
Perhaps, she was never meant to have expressions, was she?
For though she appeared as an enchanting maiden, a simple exchange revealed that beneath her facade was a being utterly alien to human understanding.
She was a demon, not a human.
Raising a hand, she placed it gently over her heart. Beneath that warmth, as expected, there was...
"Ah, how... empty."
Yes, the being named Merlin was meant to be hollow.
Empty, cold, cruel, and pitiful—devoid of all human emotions, watching the scenes of human history as a mere bystander, stepping in only occasionally and always without an ounce of feeling.
Because, in the end, these were all just the "theater" of fate.
Thinking herself above destiny, she had sneered at those who, like puppets on the Fates' threads, performed the tragic comedies of the world...
Merlin, from the beginning, was a pitiful creature.
Believing the inevitable course of fate to be all of human history, she'd become nothing more than a miserable insect clutching its script.
Merlin had always been this way.
But now...
The emptiness—this sense of hollowness in her chest, as though everything inside had been scooped out, causing her face to twitch involuntarily with discomfort…
"Ugh!"
She let out a labored breath, her body swaying as if it were a puppet that would, in the next moment, collapse, lifeless, to the ground.
"What... is happening to me?"
Her mouth curled upward, and her pink, enchanting eyes gleamed with a hint of madness.
"This feeling... a wish that something might be mended... Don't tell me... this is what humans call... regret?"
She laughed.
It was a mocking laugh.
"Regret? Guilt? That Merlin, the most wicked, base, utterly contemptible creature, would feel guilt?"
"Heh... hehehe..."
A few crystalline tears glistened at the corners of her eyes.
She raised her head, and the white hood slipped from her head.
With trembling hands, she pulled the hood back up, concealing her elegant face once more.
"A body annihilated, a soul erased by the Geis's backlash, even his essence forged into a holy sword..."
"Even his true self shattered..."
To a magician as powerful as Merlin, with her Clairvoyance that could perceive all corners of the world—even the Star's Inner Sea—from the present realm, she could observe every detail of Kaelar's transformation into the holy sword.
Kaelar, having given his everything, left nothing behind for even the Throne of Heroes to grasp; by all accounts, Kaelar was entirely, utterly erased.
"So, even the Hall of Heroes will never see his shadow again. No trace of him will ever return, not until the end of time..."
"But..."
Merlin, showing only her pale chin, lifted her hand gently.
That bright, radiant, resilient self—that essence which seemed as though nothing could extinguish it—
Could it truly vanish?
Merlin believed otherwise, or perhaps she alone would ever hold such a belief—
Her answer was certain.
"How dull..."
The faint words slipped from her lips, barely visible beneath the white hood.
But really, this was nothing more than her justifying her own intentions with a flimsy excuse.
In her raised hand appeared a lantern with a gently flickering flame and a finely crafted bell.
So...
"This is such a bore... I don't know what else there is left for me to do..."
King Arthur's story, its most brilliant chapter, had already ended.
Or rather, that king had lost all interest in pursuing her country's glory.
The last era of the gods in Britain was nearing its conclusion.
In these circumstances, Merlin, Britain's most "crucial" sorceress, had fulfilled her role.
Yet now, she felt lost, unsure of what to do next.
So...
"So..."
"I will find something to do."
Without glancing at the knights behind her, Merlin pulled her hood tighter and walked toward the distance.
The lantern's flame wavered, casting the only light upon the barren land as dusk approached.
The bell at her wrist jingled softly with each step.
Kaelar's brilliant, resilient self may have shattered entirely.
But Merlin refused to believe that something so enduring could simply disappear.
So, she wondered, if given enough time, could she gather fragments of that self?
Then, until her own end came, she would occupy herself with this task.
Oh, saint, let me follow you until…
...until we meet again, or until the end of all things.
Driven by this thought, Merlin abandoned her path to the Star's Inner Sea, walking ever farther into the distance.
Her form faded from the sight of the knights, like a drop of water seeping into the wilderness, gone, never to return.
"Kaelar, I will follow you. No matter how long it takes, no matter how many years pass, I will find you."
Walking with an unhurried step, carrying her lantern, Merlin murmured to herself, "We will meet again, won't we?"
"And by then, I hope... that this hollow chest and vacant heart of mine might, just might, be..."
"Filled."
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Merlin pulled her hood low, and from that day forward, this great mage who once foretold Britain's fall would never utter another prophecy.
She had witnessed the loftiest, grandest drama—a vision of fate entirely different from anything she had foreseen. How laughable it was, that what she had believed as destiny could be so mutable.
Within the flow of human history, a figure cloaked in white drifted slowly into the distance.
Merlin didn't believe Kaelar was truly dead, that he had vanished from the annals of human history. She would follow that faint glimmer, searching for traces of the saint.
She would gather lights bright enough, hoping to recreate fragments of Kaelar's radiant soul.
No two flowers are identical; perhaps all she could find was a similar bloom...
But without a doubt, the hollow being known as Merlin now held but one true and eternal wish—to see that noble saint one last time.
Just once more. Please, just let me see you once more.
And deep within her new, nascent "heart," an impossible dream took root...
If—if all the fragments of that shining soul could be gathered, would it be possible to restore that saint?
I want so desperately to see you again, Kaelar.
I will find your traces, I will inherit your wishes, and with all my might, I will strive to bring forth the world you envisioned…
And maybe, in that world, I'll finally be worthy to stand before you.
Kaelar…
In time, she would wander this world, leaving countless legends behind in her wake.
The fallen Roman Empire was soon overrun by the Germanic tribes and, farther to the east, the Persians. But their kings received two sacred texts:
The Gospel of Kaelar.
And The Saint's Words.
The first recorded Kaelar's teachings, ideals, and hopes for humanity; the second recounted his deeds and his sacrifice to save the world.
And at night, across different lands and cultures, a figure bearing a lantern passed under the moonlight, accompanied by the gentle chime of a bell.
Her pink eyes gazed upon the world below, and with her EX-rank Clairvoyance, Merlin saw the present-day world from the "tower," observing it all unless her magical reserves ran dry. She hardly ever allowed herself a moment without that view, just in case she missed something.
Because she didn't want to miss anything—she could not allow herself even a single instant without hope, whispering to herself, "Just hold on a little longer. Perhaps the next moment will bring me to that radiant soul once more."
What if a fragment of Kaelar's soul appeared while she rested?
Kaelar's soul was dazzling; no one would overlook it. But compared to all of human history, his fragments were but a drop in the ocean. To locate them by happenstance would require far too much luck.
Merlin no longer believed in chance or the whims of destiny.
She didn't want luck. She wanted certainty.
"Charlemagne... how unfortunate, you're not him. You resemble him in some ways, but you're still far from the mark."
"Leonardo? He and Kaelar share that power, but they are different men entirely."
"Napoleon? No, he's too distant; Kaelar never delighted in war."
"Tesla? Kaelar might have admired him, a man who worked to benefit all mankind... but sadly, he's not the one."
...
"Yue Fei... there's something of Kaelar in you, but it's faint."
"Paxipa, your wisdom nearly approaches enlightenment. Yet if you were Kaelar, you'd already know..."
"Zhang Sanfeng... there's only a piece of Kaelar's spirit in you..."
"Wang Yangming. Your unity of knowledge and action brings you closest, but why are you still not him?"
Kaelar was a culmination of every sage, philosopher, and visionary; he embodied compassion and the ultimate answer to sacrifice. Thus, every saint held a part of Kaelar's shadow.
But each sage was unique, and none of them was Kaelar.
Elsewhere...
"Roland, I swear I saw a demon when I was a child!"
"What does a demon look like?"
"It was a beautiful creature, but one that walked without pause, as though atoning for an unforgivable sin."
...
"Leonardo, of all your works, which is your finest?"
"Honestly, none satisfy me. My heart holds a lingering regret… I'd give anything to see that woman of dreams again. Perhaps then, I could create something beyond the Mona Lisa."
...
"What nonsense! She told me the truly compassionate are without enemies—what a joke! I am Napoleon!"
"...But she had a point. Victory after victory, yet one loss would end it all. What a strange woman... What exactly is it you pursue?"
...
"Tesla, you've invented a thousand things. How can you live in such poverty?"
"I have more than enough, and my spirit isn't impoverished."
"For, you see, someone once called me a man who serves all of humanity..."
...
"Yue Fei, any last words?"
"A strange person once taught me this: no matter how many times a lie is repeated, it remains false, just as the false can never become the true. You'll go down in infamy; I shall be remembered with honor."
"The heavens bear witness, the heavens bear witness."
...
"Let it be known to the Khan of the Great Yuan: The world of samsara is one of ceaseless strife."
"But all beings desire life. Compassion, restraint, and mercy will endure; violence is fleeting."
"Mm... this is the teaching of a saint from a distant land, spread westward by those he enlightened."
...
"Zhang Sanfeng, refuse me and your life shall be spared."
"Even without speaking, the word 'spared' condemns me. As I learned from Lord Qingtian, there is no peace to be shared with a ruler lacking compassion. I may be poorly read, but I understand enough to avoid the mockery of that strange woman."
...
"To know is to act, and to act is to know."
"Easier to defeat an enemy in battle than the enemies within your heart!"
"Merlin, I'd dearly like to meet this Kaelar of whom you speak."
"Ah, it's a shame…"
Merlin walked through history, traversing East and West, pursuing Kaelar's traces. She left a footprint in each myth and legend.
But no matter how many shining heroes she encountered, no matter how many illustrious figures, she never once found that flower in her heart.
It seemed, truly, that there were no two flowers in all the world alike.
"But Kaelar, I know you're out there. I will find you..."
"As long as I reach that place…"
[Simulation Complete. Returning Player Consciousness.]
Kaelar's soul had been shattered into countless fragments upon the forging of the holy sword. When the sword was completed, these remnants scattered across all of human history.
Merlin's belief, perhaps, was nothing more than unconscious self-deception. Even the sturdiest soul would fade over time, unless it exceeded time itself, transcended the world entirely.
And so she had wandered a thousand years, in futility.
Yet in this world, a miracle known as "the unforeseen" persisted.
In the gap of time, a crack between worlds, in 1990.
It was a realm on the fringes of reality, where numerous parallel worlds diverged.
Two colossal minds dwelled here.
They were two beings who posed severe threats to human history.
One was the exalted Demon King—a Beast in its complete form, commanding the 72 demon gods of Solomon, residing in the Temple of Time. It sought to incinerate human history and, by harnessing infinite mana, rewind sixty billion years to become the origin of the universe, supplanting Gaia and Alaya as the new guiding will.
The other was an outsider from a foreign star, who sought to plant "trees" of fantasy within human history, erasing the old, entrenched narrative and creating a new history.
But this foreign god was stopped by the Demon King, unable to contend with the first and most powerful Beast, and thus lurked in the cosmic void, coveting human history.
This Beast was named Goetia.
It was the Beast of Pity, the First Beast.
Upon its creation, it defined what it meant to be a Beast.
The alien god, with a cold, mechanical gaze, spoke to the Beast of Pity: "…Demon King, you cannot halt me."
"Fate has already made its decision. Your end is inevitable."
"This star will be our new homeland."
"Surely you've noticed? The birth of each Beast is merely a step on a path to finality."
"'Beta follows Alpha, Gamma follows in turn, and beyond them lies the ultimate Omega.' Demon King, your quest leads only to ruin."
Goetia closed his eyes, his demeanor unusually calm.
This ferocious Beast, born from Solomon's corpse, now displayed a bearing akin to the God-given King he had once been.
His gaze shifted slightly, tracing a line across Earth between Rome and Britain.
The creation of a Beast interferes with the conditions for others.
And the act of burning humanity's history gave rise to the other Beasts.
Because Goetia was the First Beast, the very onset of human incineration marked its true advent; every Beast that followed was birthed in its wake.
As a result, the Roman Emperor—who embodied the Revelation Beast—felt the tug of causality, drawing her back into existence.
Of course, this alone would not trigger the Beast's return.
Artoria had unleashed her wrath upon Nero, who embodied the concept of Rome, destroying her utterly and, in turn, Rome itself.
By bringing Rome to an early end, she had erased its memory from human history. Byzantium had never come to pass.
An error appeared—hence why Nero could manifest again in the wake of human incineration.
It was an inevitable consequence of fate's chain reaction.
Otherwise, even if a Beast were born, it would be an entirely new Beast of the Apocalypse—not the Roman Emperor, Nero, who had consumed the strength of the Hunnic King.
"Humanity is so frail and pitiful."
"Not only are they plagued by threats to come, but even trials long overcome come flooding back."
So spoke the Beast of Pity, his heart heavy.
"How fragile, how tragic."
The First Beast understood that another Beast, perhaps not just one, was about to arrive.
He simply failed to see that his actions were the very catalyst.
The Evils of Humanity might be born of love, but their nature remains deadly.
Such reckless, boundless love often brings greater calamity.
As now, Goetia sought to burn human history and felt no remorse.
In his eyes, his purpose was just.
Once humanity was reduced to ashes, his great plan could begin. Who would even know what he had done?
He would become the ultimate guiding will, the Earth's new guardian.
Yet beyond the Beast of Revelation, the real concern was...
Kaelar.
Bound by causality, entwined with the Beast of Revelation, as Nero had once said—they would contend till the end of human history.
Kaelar's death, itself, had been caused by Nero.
And Kaelar himself was part of what would transcend her.
But Kaelar was not fully a Beast.
With Nero's rebirth, causality shifted…
Fragments of Kaelar's shattered soul, enduring and bright, drifted down the river of time.
It was not a true rebirth.
After all, Kaelar was not a complete Beast.
And though causality linked him to Nero…
The holy sword, an embodiment of that link, already existed, weakening the effect.
Under normal circumstances, this chain of cause and effect might have been strong enough to summon a Heroic Spirit from the Throne.
But it held no sway over Kaelar.
For even the Throne no longer bore his name.
Now…
Scattered fragments of Kaelar's soul sparked, striving to announce their existence.
Compared to the majesty of the two towering presences, his remnants were so small, so fragile.
But he was here, and none could overlook him.
In the past, those fragments had faded, shattered entirely.
But sensing the world's great peril, the pieces clung on, defying fate to endure.
As Kaelar perceived those two sublime presences, they, too, turned their eyes upon him.
And the First Beast, the Demon King Goetia, looked upon Kaelar with a gaze of profound sorrow: "Ah, Kaelar, the saint of a past era. Tragic saint."
"You have already passed; your noble spirit is shattered."
"I hold no enmity toward you. For there is no point."
"So, begone. Depart from this era that is no longer yours, from a world to which you no longer belong."
And then, seizing the moment, the Alien God threw forth a seed bathed in boundless starlight.
It was a Core of the Lostbelt—a mystic essence capable of anchoring worlds, capable of overthrowing the true history of humankind.
But mid-flight, that seed was crushed by the Demon King.
As the first and mightiest Beast, stronger even than Nero, Goetia's vigilance ensured that even the Alien God could not take hold.
Only once a champion vanquished this threat to humanity would the Alien God's seed find fertile ground.
The Alien God, unruffled and unashamed, spoke with unnerving calm: "...Demon King, you must know that some things are fated beyond change."
"Saint of Salvation, I bear you no ill will—for we are not enemies."
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T/N: Damn...this story I'm crying ( ;´ - `;)