Miss Hebe Stanton is Slaying Her Way Out of the Lostbelt!

Miss Hebe is breaking out of the Lostbelt!

Author: Qing Sanren

Synopsis:

In the late 20th century, Hebe Stanton opened her eyes to a world both familiar and strange. Twelve Executives, Seven Great Principles, countless Paths... history burned fiercely, the past unrecoverable.

So Hebe stepped into it, guiding the various histories back onto the correct track.

In Albion, she was the court sage. She witnessed the Red Dragon and Lionheart vie for the throne, and the blood of Pendragon and Victoria congeal beneath the Sword in the Stone.

In Egypt, she was the Celestial Scribe. She saw the Divine King who ruled the Great Crimson Desert touch the forbidden. The ruins of the desert echoed with Ozymandias's ravings.

In the East, she traveled with dragons, taught the twin generals and the retired emperor, and instigated change during the late Shogunate.

In Atlantis, she granted the Pure Water Spirit the wish to become human; in Shangri-La Kashyapa, she discussed the meaning of wisdom and asceticism with the Awakened King.

With the will to never truly die (her cheat skill), Hebe saved others time and time again. Looking back suddenly, she found her followers were as numerous as grains of sand.

But before that, there was one small problem.

"You don't remember everything that happened in those Lostbelts, do you?" Miss Hebe broke out in a cold sweat.

1 Hebe Stanton

A chilling wind blew past the church spire in Alfie Square.

Sunlight, rarely seen in Albion, peeked through the clouds and illuminated a corner of London.

Alfie Square, located on Church Street, was an antique market famous throughout London.

It was seven in the morning, but Alfie Square was already bustling with pedestrians, and many second-hand shops had opened their doors to welcome a new day and new customers.

And on the street corner sat a somewhat small shop, its sign reading "Fox Lily Antiques."

The young shop owner yawned as she walked out, her flaxen hair a bit messy, with a stray lock sticking up rebelliously.

She wore a loose-fitting plaid shirt and comfortable trousers, stepping out in plush slippers to flip the hanging "Open" sign to the other side.

Then, she pulled a rubber band from her pocket and skillfully tied her hair into a ponytail.

"It's been over a year now..." A hint of melancholy flickered in Hebe's deep green eyes. "I've completely adapted to my new body."

Hebe Stanton was a transmigrator.

She came from the 21st century of another world. Over a year ago, she had a strange dream, and upon waking, she had replaced the version of herself in this world.

Hebe spent a considerable amount of time adapting to her new body, but what shocked her even more—or rather, left her speechless—was this familiar yet unfamiliar new world.

For instance, in this "Otherworld Britain," Albion, while a king and parliament still existed, the ruler on the throne was not that incredibly long-reigning old lady, and even her surname was "Pendragon."

Oh, and the previous king seemed to have been named Victoria...

If the makeshift government of twin kings ruling in turns only made her feel like "Great Albion was doomed," then when Hebe saw the Red Dragon King of the Pendragon family on television, she couldn't help but exclaim that this world was truly "messed up."

It was unclear which mischievous creator had merged so many different settings into this composite world... God only knew how she felt when she learned that the owner of the small appliance repair shop next door was named Presis.

Besides that, many artifacts that should have been unearthed remained buried, and historical sites that should have been discovered were still lost.

There were simply too many phenomena like this, making history, which should have been clear, seem covered by countless mists.

As a former archaeologist, Hebe was very interested in this. It was just that even the most skilled cook cannot prepare a meal without ingredients. She hadn't been able to accumulate enough startup capital yet... If she hadn't inherited the original owner's antique shop, she might have been forced to go to the welfare center to apply for basic income assistance.

Oh, and she might not even have had a chance to receive it.

In short, no matter how much Hebe reminisced about the past or looked forward to the future, she was currently just an ordinary antique shop owner.

As noon approached, the pedestrians on the street gradually thinned out.

Hebe pursed her lips. It seemed like another day with no business.

"Game, start!"

She sat behind the counter and turned on her computer.

The computer desktop had a dark green wallpaper with faint, winding lines, resembling a minimalist art-style map.

Hebe used the mouse to click the game icon.

The computer screen went black, and then the dark green desktop slowly lit up.

A line of text appeared from the center.

"Secret History Simulator, welcome, Guest [The Knower]."

"Current Lostbelt: [1455 AD · The Rose War]. Current Progress: 90%."

"The Red Dragon and the Lion contend for Albion's throne, the Sword in the Stone is watered by the noble blood of two roses. Where will this country's future lead?"

"Please make your choice. God save the King, the King save me."

When Hebe opened her eyes again, she was standing in the shadows behind a curtain. The heavy curtains of Buckingham Palace prevented courtiers from directly observing the throne, thus creating an intangible majesty.

However, there was an exception for a certain type of person; they were allowed to stand directly beside the throne.

Those were the Court Mages, or rather, the sages.

"Huu, huu, huu—" an aged voice came from the throne, like a broken bellows.

Hebe turned her head and met those golden-green eyes.

"You, you've returned."

The monarch on the throne panted, the crown no longer a glory for her, but an extremely heavy burden.

"You have indeed grown old, My King," Hebe replied calmly. "When I first met you, you were just a village girl... I tried to persuade you not to pull that sword."

"You remember quite clearly," said the emaciated King Arthur. "But we had no choice... Sometimes I envy your freedom. Time cannot destroy your youth, and every time I see you, your face makes me jealous."

Hebe thought to herself that it was indeed so, after all, she was just a "player," not someone truly living here.

"At least your achievements are glorious, aren't they?"

The curtain swayed gently, and Hebe's voice echoed through the halls of Buckingham Palace.

"Yes, I repelled Rome, overcame natural disasters, famine, and plague, and shaped Albion into a glorious thousand-year kingdom... Who doesn't praise the name of Arthur?"

King Arthur closed her eyes. Her body was connected to countless metal tubes, which bound her tightly to the throne. This was how she had ruled the country for hundreds of years.

A long silence descended. Hebe turned her head to look. The emaciated girl sat on the metal seat. It was less like she was a monarch and more like a prisoner.

"Merlin."

King Arthur's chest rose and fell. She hoarsely called out to Hebe.

"Your servant is here."

Hebe, clad in a court mage's robe, bowed slightly, her flaxen hair falling smoothly.

"Is my Royal Sister still in the Tower of London?"

Hebe was stunned.

The walkthrough of this Lostbelt was carried out in stages. Each time a so-called "achievement" goal was completed, it would automatically jump to the next stage.

As for what happened during the process, she couldn't interfere.

If the "achievement" goal was not completed, it would automatically return to this stage and restart after the game ended—the same would happen if Hebe, playing "Merlin," died midway.

"Do you mean Morgan?" Hebe asked tentatively.

"Ha... Who else could be worthy of being called my Royal Sister?"

King Arthur's golden-green eyes gazed at Hebe.

Under the monarch's gaze, the girl with beautiful flaxen hair straightened up. A silver-white court mage robe enveloped her youthful body. The hem of the robe barely covered her knees, and her legs, wrapped in bandages, were straight and together. Her delicate, slender feet rested on the palace floor.

The monarch looked at Hebe mournfully until those deep green, gem-like eyes met hers.

King Arthur's gaze was a little intense, and Hebe gently rubbed her feet together.

"It's time to let her out," King Arthur said listlessly. "How lonely this feast will be without her."

King Arthur's fingers lightly tapped the metal armrest. She spoke softly, but her tone was calm and unquestionable.

"Whether it's that Red Dragon descendant who inherited Mordred's seat, or the Lionheart from the Victoria family—they are all birds of a feather. If they want my crown, let them come and take it."

The Rose War, the final act, had arrived.

2 I Only Walk the True Path

When Hebe first opened the Secret History Simulator, her situation was dire.

In the background story loaded at the beginning, Merlin's achievements were only two: attempting to pull the Sword in the Stone first, and bullying the village girl Artoria every now and then.

The latter was the Artoria who later truly pulled the Sword in the Stone and became the King who ruled Albion.

When Hebe learned that her name in the Lostbelt was "Merlin," she quickly recognized her position and determined the specific method to complete the achievements.

She found Artoria, who was digging potatoes in the field, apologized, and then used a feint to trick the naive village girl into pulling the Sword in the Stone.

The rest of the story unfolded as Hebe had predicted.

The maiden Artoria pulled the Sword in the Stone, swept through the chaotic Albion, then defeated the Romans who wanted to invade, and finally was crowned monarch in London under the name Arthur.

"However, Arthur did not possess 'Avalon.' The Sword in the Stone could grant her kingship, but not eternal health..."

Hebe walked calmly through the colonnade entwined with grapevines. Sunlight dappled through the green leaves, forming patches of light scattered on the ground. The girl's feet stepped on them, as if walking in a river of light.

A servant rushed out from the side. He was startled to see Hebe and dropped the parcel he was holding, which hit the ground.

It was a package of silver cutlery.

"Lord Merlin..." he knelt on the ground in alarm.

"Has the situation become this serious?" Hebe gestured for him to get up. "Tell me about it."

"Thank you for your leniency!" The servant hastily picked up the parcel. "In fact, I am the last of the servants who haven't fled! 'Serious' is no longer enough to describe London... For half a year, news has been coming from outside the city."

He swallowed nervously.

"—The Red Dragon Duke and the Lionheart, they might not fight each other first, but concentrate their forces to capture London, forcing King Arthur to step down from that Iron Throne. Another piece of news says that they have waited for too long, and when the armies of the Twin Kings enter London, atrocities that everyone does not want to see will occur."

What atrocities could there be? Naturally, a massacre.

"The Knights of the Round Table stationed in various places have long since surrendered to the Twin Kings. And it is said that two months ago, someone saw... Morgan, the Bewitching Consort, outside the city."

The attendant's voice grew hesitant as he cast a fearful glance at Hebe.

"Legend says Morgan, the Bewitching Consort, imprisoned for betraying King Arthur, has escaped the Tower of London. And Merlin, the Court Mage who has always served King Arthur, has vanished without a trace. Facing such dire circumstances, King Arthur herself is still nowhere to be found... Perhaps she died long ago on the throne."

Hebe calmly continued the attendant's words.

"That's what you all think, isn't it?"

The attendant stammered, unable to utter a single word.

Though he kept his head bowed, his face showed little shame. It was clear he had long lost any reverence for the so-called King Arthur.

Hebe let the attendant go. He wasn't the only one who thought this way, and there was no point in reprimanding him now.

"So tired..."

This exhaustion wasn't physical, but mental.

Hebe sat on a stone bench in the colonnade, massaging the soles of her feet.

She had spent the entire day finally grasping her situation—after a prolonged siege, London had few soldiers loyal to King Arthur left. As for the knights and nobles of all ranks, they had long since pledged allegiance to the Twin Kings.

Ultimately, it was because King Arthur had grown too old and hadn't inspected her domain in too long. The Round Table Council had long since replaced most of the king's functions. The passage of time was enough to corrupt loyalty.

Arthur had claimed to have defeated war and brought peace back to this land, but war did not disappear; instead, it had taken root deep within her kin and bloodline, like embers smoldering beneath the surface.

"Perhaps Arthur had already foreseen this outcome. After all, Mordred once staged a rebellion at Morgan's instigation... But she is truly old now. The fuel sustaining her life is running low, barely enough to maintain clear thought."

"Heh, perhaps she can't even think clearly anymore... Morgan's already gone, becoming the reliance of the Twin Kings' army."

Hebe looked at the moon, obscured by clouds in the sky, and idly played with a strand of hair falling by her temple, a slight smile curving her lips.

She wasn't mocking anyone, but felt genuinely relieved.