Perhaps You All Could Find a Different Savior

But each time, things would change. Every Assassin had a similar, yet not identical, fighting style, so it was necessary to find their openings anew each time before striking them down.

They had already lost "seven" Assassins, yet the remaining ones showed no fear. They continued to leap from the forest canopy, weapons in hand, launching suicidal assaults on Xi Jianxi.

Despite this, Xi Jianxi hadn't retreated a single step under their onslaught.

While fending off the assassins, he analyzed the group in his mind.

To prepare for the Holy Grail War, Xi Jianxi had specifically researched the Assassins most likely to have their true names exposed—the records of the successive Hassan-i Sabbahs.

Unlike external sources, the Mage's Association's data was far more detailed.

Xi Jianxi recalled the information he had studied. Among those Hassans, there was indeed one known for multiple personalities, each distinct and possessing a hundred kinds of knowledge beyond the ordinary.

Some were skilled in strategy, others fluent in foreign languages, some adept at poisons, or masters of trap-making… and some could even wield strength and speed their original bodies lacked.

Furthermore, they could disguise themselves as men, women, young, or old without appearing to be acting, even changing their personalities as needed.

Its name was—Hassan of the Hundred Faces.

Xi Jianxi arrived at the only possible conclusion.

"How is my weapon?" Morgan asked, her back to him. She remained seated on the tree trunk, poking the campfire with a casually picked branch.

She couldn't even be bothered to look. This one-sided annihilation was merely a matter of time.

The Assassins had disturbed her intimate time with Xi Jianxi, a sin for which death was insufficient punishment.

Since Xi Jianxi was handling it, Morgan was naturally pleased.

"It's exceedingly useful!"

Xi Jianxi responded with a hearty cheer, his wording carrying a touch of ancient flair, just to make Morgan smile.

He hadn't expected Morgan's weapon to be able to transform freely, changing into a two-handed greatsword.

Although Xi Jianxi hadn't rigorously trained in swordsmanship, under Scathach's educational philosophy of mastering all martial arts, he had achieved some proficiency in swordsmanship.

The forest was too confined for him to fight effectively, and Xi Jianxi also regretted potentially destroying a large section of the beautiful natural forest. Morgan's weapon's ability to transform into a sword saved him considerable trouble.

Moreover, while his swordsmanship wasn't as refined as his spear techniques, it was more than enough to dispatch these weakened assassins who were split into multiple bodies.

He silently set a limit for himself: if any of them managed to advance past him even half a step to attack Morgan, he would consider himself incompetent.

The eighth.

With a swing of his sword, the assassin's body tumbled backward several times before falling still.

Xi Jianxi flicked the blood from his blade and observed the remaining movements.

However, a surprised voice came from behind him.

He turned to see Morgan with her hand near her forehead, as if checking something.

Confused, he immediately leaped back, landing beside Morgan and crouching down to ask, "What's wrong? Is there a new intruder?"

"Not quite," Morgan shook her head. "It's just that 'Lost Will' being breached is rather unexpected."

Xi Jianxi was shocked. "Breached? Didn't you say that even if someone managed to get through, it wouldn't affect you?"

"Generally, yes. No matter who it is, falling into 'Lost Will' means facing their own heart. Even if they manage to endure, their heart will be worn down to almost nothing." Morgan wore a thoughtful expression. "This is the first time I've seen such a situation… it's as if they have no heart at all."

"No heart?" Xi Jianxi narrowed his eyes.

The Assassins were still lurking in the forest, attempting to continue their suicidal attacks to impede them.

If someone had entered the castle and become trapped in 'Lost Will,' it could only be Kirei.

"Yes… it seems my magic isn't entirely perfect." Morgan said with a relaxed expression. "I didn't expect to encounter a target it wouldn't affect."

"...It might not be your magic that's flawed," Xi Jianxi said with a wry smile, gently taking her arm.

Regarding Kirei, Xi Jianxi didn't have any particular personal feelings. He simply felt that he was someone with whom normal communication was possible.

In fact, Xi Jianxi had always vaguely felt that while Kirei wasn't exactly a bad person, something about him seemed broken.

It was difficult for Xi Jianxi to see ordinary emotions in that Exorcist.

He had met many priests from the Holy Church, but someone like Kirei was utterly unique among everyone he had met.

Even the most cold-hearted Magus couldn't be categorized with him.

"It seems my husband knows what happened," Morgan breathed out softly.

The fragrant scent made Xi Jianxi realize he had gotten too close out of concern, his breath brushing against her face.

"No, I can't say I know what happened, only that if it's Kirei, I can only speculate from a certain perspective." Xi Jianxi helped Morgan to her feet, his brow furrowed. "No matter how disappointing he may be, he is still Karen's biological father, and I've always been reluctant to speak too ill of him."

Morgan shook her head. "But that is the reality."

Releasing Morgan's arm, Xi Jianxi extinguished the campfire.

The surrounding Assassins, as if receiving a signal, began to retreat one by one.

"Speaking of which, knowing they were certain to die, yet they charged forward relentlessly…" Xi Jianxi narrowed his eyes. "They must have used Command Spells."

Morgan placed a hand on her waist, looking towards the castle. "Then the duty of these shadows must have been to delay us with their attacks. It seems we underestimated them."

"This doesn't look good. Let's go too," Xi Jianxi said to Morgan.

"Didn't you say you'd flatten them along with the castle? It's not too late now," Morgan said, smiling playfully at Xi Jianxi.

He paused for a moment. "If you've changed your mind, then we don't have to go. I'll prepare the Grand Magic right now."

"You really know how to kill the mood," Morgan couldn't help but chuckle.

Xi Jianxi waved his hand helplessly, bringing the topic to an end. A swarm of crows suddenly appeared, surrounding the two of them.

"You can go directly into the city," Morgan reminded him. "I've already prepared to release the 'Lost Will'."

"Got it."

Chapter 66: Lost Will (4)

"This country will be destroyed sooner or later. Even if it lasts for another hundred years, it won't make much of a difference to the history of this island. Rather, it has already been destroyed. This is the end for Britain... If I said this, what would you do?"

As Artoria reached out to draw the Sword of Selection as she had originally intended, these words suddenly echoed in her ears. She froze, her outstretched hand hanging in mid-air, unsure of what to do.

It was her teacher, Merlin the Mage of Flowers, who had spoken these words to her when she bid farewell at the port after her final expedition to Rome, leading her army.

Artoria couldn't help but close her eyes, trying to recall her answer.

"If you're playing a cruel joke as usual, I'll be angry. Britain will not be destroyed. I intend to do what I can to achieve this goal."

Yes, that was her reply.

Before setting out, Artoria, just as she had for the past ten years of her reign, felt no hesitation or unease. She was confident in her victory and in her ability to do what was right.

The victorious King of Knights had lived that way for a decade.

Even if she lost everything, even if everyone hated her, she had still decided to fight. That was Artoria Pendragon's oath as king.

She had exchanged her own fate, praying to protect everyone.

But...

The outcome was just as Merlin had said. It wasn't his usual cruel joke, but a revelation born of a certain reluctance, a meaning she had failed to grasp.

Upon returning from her expedition to Britain, she was met with the rebellion led by the knight Mordred.

And the final battle of the Unconquered King.

She had indeed tried her best, given everything, yet Britain still fell into ruin.

Unable to accept that her efforts had yielded no reward, unable to accept such a cruel end, she had signed the contract, offering her soul after death in exchange for the chance to seek the Holy Grail as a Servant and find a way to save Britain.

"Actually, your sister didn't tell you the whole truth," the Magus, whose face was hidden by the shadow of his hood, said to Artoria as he remained seated. "Human history has already reached its conclusion. It doesn't matter if the Holy Grail is corrupted or colorless; there will be no difference even if your goal is achieved."

Artoria urgently pressed, "Why? If it's the correct Holy Grail, it should—"

"I just told you. Human history has already reached its conclusion. The destruction of Britain is a catastrophe for the people there, but for all of human history, it is a necessary process for its continuation," the white figure said, as if sighing, revealing the truth to the King of Knights. "With your death and the destruction of Britain as a beacon, the last remnants of the Age of Gods will disappear from the surface. Beyond that lies a completely human era."

There would be no need for gods, nor for beings surpassing humans to guide them.

For better or worse, history had to be written by humanity itself.

If she insisted on denying this outcome, no matter what kind of Holy Grail it was, no matter how it was achieved.

As long as her Britain had not been destroyed, it would inevitably create an imperfectly fitting deviation from the completed human history.

At that time—

"The result is that Britain will be stripped away and become an anomaly that distorts human history..."

The words Morgan had spoken to her in the church still echoed in her ears, barely half a day later.

Therefore, there was no need.

There was no need for Artoria to offer her soul after death at such a steep price.

There was no need for Artoria to search for a miracle that could change the outcome.

All that was needed was for her to accept this outcome.

As if in response to Artoria, who had realized this.

The surrounding scenery shifted abruptly. The bright afternoon sun vanished, replaced by a sky heavy with dark clouds.

Torrential rain poured down, soaking her body and soul. The Sword of Selection still stood firm in the stone, unmoving despite the wind and rain.

The sounds of battle echoed from the distant plains, and the farther forest was ablaze.

She raised her rain-soaked face, looking out beyond the town that had become a battlefield.

There were no town residents, nor knights who had come from various places to participate in the selection.

Only monsters and warriors engaged in combat.

These were Heroic Spirits from different eras, summoned by the Counter Force to Britain to fulfill their respective missions.

Familiar and unfamiliar faces gathered.

Some fought side by side, while others were enemies.

"Is this... Britain, which has become an anomaly in human history?"

Artoria's heart ached as if being twisted by a knife.

She didn't want to discern which outcome was more cruel.

"Even if I create a prosperous Britain, end the war, and bring happiness to the world, it will ultimately lead to the outcome of 'Even so, Britain was still destroyed.' This is because all of it has already been fixed and recorded by quantum records. Do you truly know how to reach a more stable conclusion?"

The Mage of Flowers stood beside her, tearing through reality like an unstable phenomenon. In just a few sentences, the person standing there had changed several times.

Gawain, Lancelot, Tristan, Percival...

Finally, it coalesced back into Merlin's form.

"Why... are you telling me this?"

Artoria asked, lowering her head.

She didn't know if she was asking her teacher or her proud Knights of the Round Table.

All she knew was that this was an illusion, and everything she saw, heard, and touched here was prepared to make her compromise internally.

That was why she asked.

"As for the reason, shouldn't you be the one who understands it best, tragic Red Dragon, Artoria Pendragon?"

Morgan's figure appeared beside her, and she replied to Artoria faintly.

No one was telling her anything; it was all things Artoria already knew, simply presented to her in this manner.

The answer was already etched into Artoria Pendragon's mind; she herself had refused that answer from the very beginning.

It wasn't that nothing could remain.

Accepting all of this, accepting the destruction of Britain, and treating it as the result of having given her all.

Then, before the King of Knights could make a choice, the surroundings were once again swallowed by darkness.

Before her eyes was a room in Einzbern Castle.

The only change was that the bed was empty.

The moisture of the rain, the softness of the sunlight, and the comforting rough cloth clothes had all disappeared.