But every time, there were changes. Each Assassin had a similar yet distinct fighting style, so he had to find their openings anew each time before killing them.
They had already lost "seven," yet the Assassins showed no fear. They still leaped from the treetops, weapons in hand, launching suicidal attacks against Shi Jian.
And yet, up to this point, Shi Jian had not retreated a single step under their assault.
As he fought the assassins, he analyzed them in his mind.
In preparation for the Holy Grail War, Shi Jian had specifically looked into the records of the Assassins whose true names were easiest to expose—the successive Hassans of the Sabbah.
Unlike the outside world, the Mage's Association possessed far more detailed records.
Recalling what he had read, Shi Jian remembered that among those Hassans, there was indeed one renowned for having multiple personalities. Each personality was independent, allowing them to master countless kinds of knowledge beyond the reach of ordinary people.
Some excelled at strategy, some knew foreign languages, some understood poison, and some were skilled at making traps... Some could even display strength and speed the original body did not possess.
They could disguise themselves as men, women, the young, or the old without anyone suspecting an act, and even alter their personalities as needed.
Her name was—Hassan of the Hundred Faces.
Shi Jian arrived at the only possible answer.
"How is my weapon?" Morgan sat on the tree trunk with her back to him, casually stirring the bonfire with a branch she had picked up.
She could not even be bothered to look. This one-sided slaughter was merely a matter of time.
The Assassins had interrupted her intimate time with Shi Jian, a crime deserving death ten thousand times over.
Since Shi Jian wanted to deal with them, Morgan was naturally happy to let him.
"Exceptionally useful!"
Shi Jian simply called back loudly, using slightly archaic phrasing that made Morgan laugh.
He had not expected Morgan's weapon to freely change forms, becoming a two-handed longsword.
Although Shi Jian had never specialized in swordsmanship, under Scathach's educational philosophy that one must become proficient in every martial art, he had attained some skill with the sword as well.
There was not enough room to fight properly in the forest, and Shi Jian regretted destroying such a fine natural woodland over such a large area. Morgan's weapon changing into a sword saved him quite a bit of trouble.
Besides, although his swordsmanship was not as refined as his spearwork, killing these weakened assassins created through division posed no problem at all.
He secretly set a limit for himself: if any of them got even half a step past him to attack Morgan, then he would count himself incompetent.
The eighth.
His sword rose and fell. After rolling backward several times, the assassin's body went still.
Shi Jian shook the blood from his blade and watched the movements of those remaining.
But then a surprised voice came from behind him.
Turning around, he saw Morgan pressing a hand near her forehead, as though checking something.
Puzzled, he immediately leaped backward, landing beside Morgan. He crouched down and asked, "What happened? Did another intruder appear?"
"Not quite." Morgan shook her head. "It is simply that I did not expect Lost Will to be broken through."
Shi Jian was stunned. "Broken through? Didn't you say that even if someone endured it, it would not affect you?"
"Normally, yes. No matter what sort of person enters Lost Will, they must face their own heart. Even if they endure it, their mind will be worn down until almost nothing remains." Morgan wore a thoughtful expression. "This is the first time I have seen such a case... It is almost as if he has no heart."
"No heart?" Shi Jian narrowed his eyes.
The Assassins were still lurking in the forest, trying to keep them back with further suicidal attacks.
Then the person who had entered the castle and fallen into Lost Will had to be Kirei.
"Yes... It seems my magecraft is not flawless after all." Morgan looked relaxed. "I did not expect to encounter a target on whom it would not work."
"...It may not be a problem with your magecraft." Shi Jian gave a bitter smile and gently held her arm.
As for Kirei, Shi Jian could not say he had any particular likes or dislikes toward him. He merely felt that Kirei was someone he could still communicate with normally.
In truth, Shi Jian had always vaguely felt that while Kirei was not exactly a bad person, something about him seemed broken.
It was difficult for Shi Jian to see the emotions of an ordinary person in that Executor.
He had met quite a few priests from the Holy Church, but Kirei was unlike anyone else Shi Jian had ever encountered.
Even the coldest Magus could not be placed in the same category as him.
"It seems my husband knows what happened." Morgan let out a soft breath.
The fragrant scent made Shi Jian realize that, out of concern, he had moved too close to her. Even her breath had lightly brushed against his face.
"No, I cannot say that I know anything. It is simply that if it is Kirei, then one can only speculate from a particular angle." Shi Jian helped Morgan to her feet, his brows tightly furrowed. "No matter how disappointing he may be, he is still Karen's biological father. I have never wanted to speak too harshly of him."
Morgan shook her head. "But reality is as it is."
Letting go of Morgan's arm, Shi Jian extinguished the bonfire on the ground.
The Assassins around them also seemed to receive an order and began retreating one by one.
"Come to think of it, they knew certain death awaited them, yet they still rushed forward one after another..." Shi Jian narrowed his eyes. "They used Command Spells, then."
Morgan rested a hand at her waist and looked toward the castle. "Then the duty of these shadows was likely to hold us here through attack. It seems we underestimated them."
"This does not look good. Let us head over as well," Shi Jian said to Morgan.
"Didn't you say you would level them along with the castle? There is still time for that." Morgan smiled at Shi Jian teasingly.
He froze for a moment. "If you have changed your mind, then we do not need to go over. I will prepare a grand magecraft now."
"You really have no sense of romance." Morgan could not help laughing.
Shi Jian helplessly waved a hand, ending the subject. A flock of crows suddenly appeared in the sky, enclosing the two of them.
"We can go directly into the city," Morgan reminded him. "I have already prepared to dispel Lost Will."
"Understood."
Lost Will (4)
This country will be destroyed sooner or later. Even if it holds on for another hundred years, it will not make much difference to this island's history. Or rather, it has already been destroyed. Britain ends here... If I said that, what would you do?
As Artoria reached out to draw the Sword of Selection as she had originally intended, these words suddenly rang in her ears. She froze, her hand suspended helplessly in midair.
They were the words of her teacher, Merlin the Mage of Flowers, spoken to her when she had bid him farewell at the harbor before leading an expeditionary force overseas to Rome for the last time.
What had she said in reply back then? Artoria could not help closing her eyes to remember.
If you are making one of your usual cruel jokes, I will be angry. Britain will not be destroyed. It is precisely for that goal that I will do everything I can.
Yes, that was how she had answered.
Before setting sail, Artoria had been exactly as she had been throughout the ten years of her reign. She had not felt the slightest confusion or unease, believing firmly that she would win and that she could accomplish what she had to do.
That was how the ever-victorious King of Knights had lived through those ten years.
Even if she lost everything, even if everyone despised her, she had still resolved to fight. That was Artoria Pendragon's oath as king.
Exchanging her own fate, she prayed to protect everyone.
But...
The outcome had been exactly as Merlin said. It had not been one of his usual cruel jokes, but a result he had revealed to Artoria out of a certain unwillingness to see her suffer. She simply had not understood her teacher's intentions.
When she returned to Britain from the campaign, what greeted her was a rebellion raised by the knight Mordred.
And the final battle of the ever-victorious king.
She had indeed tried. She had indeed given everything. Yet Britain had still marched toward destruction.
Unable to accept that all her efforts had gone unrewarded, unable to accept such a cruel ending, she had signed the contract. She gave up her self after death in exchange for seeking the Holy Grail as a Servant before she died, seeking a way to save Britain.
"Your sister did not actually tell you the whole truth." The Magus whose face was hidden beneath the shadow of a hood remained seated there as he spoke to Artoria. "Human history has already reached its conclusion. Whether it is the corrupted Holy Grail or the originally colorless Holy Grail, there will be no difference even if you achieve your goal."
Artoria hurriedly asked, "Why? If it is the proper Holy Grail, then it should—"
"I just said so. Human history has already reached its conclusion. Britain's destruction was a catastrophic disaster for its people, but for the whole of human history, it was a necessary process for continuing onward." The white figure seemed to sigh as he told the King of Knights the truth. "With your death and Britain's destruction as markers, the last remnants of the Age of Gods will vanish from the surface. Beyond that lies an age belonging completely, entirely to humanity."
There would be no need for gods, nor for beings beyond humanity to guide them.
For better or worse, history had to be written by humanity itself.
If she insisted on denying this outcome, then no matter what Holy Grail was used, no matter how the goal was achieved—
So long as her Britain did not perish, it would inevitably create a discrepancy that could not fit perfectly with the completed history of humanity.
When that happened—
The result will be that Britain is severed from the world and becomes an aberration that distorts human history...
Morgan's words in the church still rang in her ears, though only half a day had passed.
So there was no need.
There was no need for Artoria to offer up her self after death at such a tremendous price.
There was no need for Artoria to seek a miracle that could change the outcome.
All that was needed was for her to accept this result.
As though responding to Artoria's realization of this.
The scene around her suddenly changed. The bright, sunny afternoon vanished, replaced by a sky thick with dark clouds.
Torrential rain poured down, soaking both body and soul. The Sword of Selection still stood between the stones, unmoved despite wind and rain.
Sounds of battle rose from the fields in the distance, while the forest farther away burned.
She lifted her rain-soaked face and looked beyond the town that had become a battlefield.
There were no townspeople, nor any knights who had come from all over to take part in the selection.
There were only monsters and warriors fighting one another.
They were Heroic Spirits from different eras, answering the call of the Counter Force that safeguarded humanity and arriving in Britain to fulfill their own duties.
Familiar and unfamiliar faces had gathered in one place.
Some fought side by side, while others stood as enemies.
"Is this... Britain, turned into a Singularity of human history...?"
Artoria's heart felt as though it were being cut apart.
She did not want to distinguish which ending was crueler.
"Even if you create a prosperous Britain, end the wars, and bring happiness to the people, in the end it will still lead to the result of 'even so, Britain was still destroyed.' Because all of this has already been recorded by the quantum fixed belt. Do you... truly know how to reach a more stable ending?"
Merlin the Mage of Flowers stood beside her, tearing apart like an unstable phenomenon. In the span of only a few sentences, the person standing there changed several times.
Gawain, Lancelot, Tristan, Percival...
At last, they converged once more into Merlin's form.
"Why... are you telling me this?"
Artoria lowered her head and asked.
Was she asking her teacher, or the Knights of the Round Table she had been so proud of? Even she did not know.
She only knew that this was an illusion. Everything she saw, heard, and touched here had been prepared to force her heart into compromise.
That was why she asked.
"As for the reason, should you not understand it best yourself, sorrowful Red Dragon, Artoria Pendragon?"
Morgan appeared beside her and answered Artoria calmly.
No one was telling her anything. These were all things Artoria already knew, merely presented to her in this form.
The answer had long been carved into Artoria Pendragon's mind. She herself had rejected that answer from the very beginning.
It was not as though nothing could be preserved.
Accept all of it. Accept Britain's destruction, and regard it as the result after giving everything she had.
Then, before the King of Knights could make her choice, darkness swallowed the surroundings once more.
Before her was a room in Einzbern Castle.
The only change was that there was no one on the bed.
The dampness of rain, the softness of sunlight, and the reassuring coarse clothes had all vanished.
Before you continue