Miss Hebe Is Fighting Her Way Out of a Lostbelt!

Miss Hebe Is Fighting Her Way Out of a Lostbelt!

Author: Qing Sanren

Synopsis:

At the end of the twentieth century, Hebe Stanton opened her eyes to a world both familiar and strange. The Twelve Archons, the Seven Great Principles, countless paths... History burned fiercely, and the past could no longer be pursued.

So Hebe stepped into it and pulled all histories back onto the right track.

In Albion, she was a sage of the court. She had witnessed the Red Dragon and Lionheart battle for royal power, and seen the blood of Pendragon and Victoria congeal beneath the Sword in the Stone.

In Egypt, she was the Scribe of the Heavens. She had witnessed the god-king who ruled the Great Red Sand Sea touch upon a taboo. Ozymandias's wild proclamations still echoed through the desert ruins.

In the Eastern Kingdom, she traveled with the Dragon. She had taught the twin-born general and Imperial Monarch, and had also sparked reform at the end of the shogunate.

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

Relying on her will to never truly die (cheat ability), Hebe saved others again and again. When she looked back, she found that her followers were already as numerous as grains of sand in the sea.

But before that, there was one small problem.

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

Hebe Stanton

A chill wind swept past the church spires of Alphy Square.

Rare sunlight in Albion peeked out from the clouds and fell over a corner of London.

Located on Church Street, Alphy Square was a famous antique market known throughout London.

It was only seven in the morning, yet Alphy Square was already bustling with pedestrians. Many shops dealing in secondhand goods had opened their doors to welcome a new day and new customers.

At the street corner stood a somewhat cramped shop, its sign reading, "Fox Lily Secondhand Goods."

The young shop owner came out with a yawn. Her linen-colored hair was a mess, with a single unruly ahoge sticking up.

She wore a loose plaid shirt over baggy trousers and padded slippers as she walked to the entrance, flipping the hanging sign over to "Open."

Then she took a rubber band from her pocket and deftly tied her hair into a ponytail.

"It's already been over a year..." A trace of melancholy passed through Hebe's deep green eyes. "By now, I've completely adapted to this new body."

Hebe Stanton was a transmigrator.

She came from the twenty-first century of another world. More than a year ago, she had a bizarre dream, and when she woke up, she had already replaced this world's version of herself.

Hebe had spent quite some time adapting to her new body, but what shocked... or rather, left her speechless, was this familiar yet strange new world.

Take this "otherworldly Britain," Albion. It still had a king and parliament, yet the ruler on the throne was not that old lady with the absurdly long reign. Even the royal surname was Pendragon.

Oh, right. The previous king seemed to have been named Victoria...

If the slapdash act of the Twin Kings taking turns ruling only made people think, "Great Albion is doomed," then when Hebe saw the Dragon King of the Pendragon family on television, she could not help but marvel at how completely insane this world was.

Some creator with a twisted sense of humor had apparently mashed countless different settings together into this composite world... God knew how hard it had been for her to keep a straight face 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 excavated remained buried, while historical ruins that should have been discovered were still lost.

There were simply too many such phenomena. History that should have been clear seemed covered by endless fog.

As a former archaeologist, Hebe was quite interested in this. Unfortunately, one could not cook without rice. She still had not saved enough startup capital... If she had not inherited the original owner's secondhand shop, she might have been forced to apply for welfare assistance.

Oh, and she might not even have qualified for it.

In short, no matter how much Hebe missed the past or looked forward to the future, she was now nothing more than an ordinary secondhand shop owner.

As noon approached, the number of pedestrians on the street gradually thinned.

Hebe pursed her lips. It looked like another day without much business.

"Game, launch!"

She sat behind the counter and turned on her computer.

The desktop displayed a dark green wallpaper with several faint, winding lines, resembling a minimalist artistic map.

Hebe moved the mouse and clicked the game icon.

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

A line of text emerged in the center.

Secret History Simulator, welcome, visitor The Knower.

Current Lostbelt: 1455 · The Rose War. Current progress: 90%.

The Red Dragon and the Lion fight for Albion's royal power. The Sword in the Stone is watered by the noble blood of two roses. Where will this nation's future lead?

Make your choice. God bless My King, and My King bless me.

When Hebe opened her eyes again, she was standing in the shadows behind the curtains. The layered curtains of Buckingham Palace prevented courtiers from directly glimpsing the throne, creating an invisible majesty.

There was one exception: those permitted to attend directly at the throne's side.

They were Court Mages, or rather, sages.

"Wheeze, wheeze, wheeze—" An aged voice came from the throne, like a broken bellows.

Hebe turned and met those golden-green eyes.

"You... you've come back again."

The monarch on the throne panted as she spoke. The crown was no longer an honor to her, but an immensely heavy burden.

"You truly have grown old, My King," Hebe replied calmly. "When I first met you, you were only a village girl... I once tried to persuade you not to draw that sword."

"You remember quite clearly." The emaciated King Arthur said, "But neither of us had any other choice... Sometimes, I envy your freedom. Even time cannot destroy your youth. Every time we meet, your face fills me with envy."

Hebe thought that was indeed true. After all, she was merely a "player," not someone who truly lived here.

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

The curtains 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 millennium kingdom overflowing with glory... Who does not praise Arthur's name?"

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 nation for centuries.

A long silence descended. Hebe turned to look, and the emaciated girl sat upon her metal seat. Rather than a monarch, she looked more like a prisoner.

"Merlin."

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

"Your servant is here."

Hebe, dressed in the robes of a Court Mage, bowed slightly. Her linen-colored long hair fell smoothly down her back.

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

Hebe froze.

Conquering this Lostbelt proceeded in stages. Each time she completed a so-called "achievement" objective, it automatically advanced to the next stage.

As for what happened during the process, she had no way to interfere.

If the "achievement" objective was not completed, she would automatically return to this stage after the game ended and start over—this was also what happened if the "Merlin" played by Hebe died midway through.

"You mean Morgan?" Hebe asked tentatively.

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

King Arthur's golden-green eyes fixed on Hebe.

Under the monarch's gaze, the girl with beautiful linen-colored long hair straightened. A silver-white Court Mage robe wrapped around her youthful body, its hem just covering her knees. Her calves, wrapped in strips of cloth, stood straight and close together, while her delicate, slender feet rested upon the palace floor.

The monarch watched Hebe sorrowfully until those deep green, jewel-like eyes met her own.

King Arthur's gaze grew somewhat heated, and Hebe's feet brushed lightly against each other.

"It is time to let her out," King Arthur said listlessly. "How lonely this feast would be without her."

King Arthur lightly tapped her fingers against the metal armrest. Her voice was soft, but calm and impossible to question.

"Whether it is that Red Dragon bastard who inherited Mordred's seat, or Victoria's Lionheart—they are all cut from the same cloth. They want my crown? Then let them come and take it themselves."

The Rose War had reached its final act.

I Only Walk the True Path

When Hebe first opened the Secret History Simulator, her situation had been terrible.

In the early background story, Merlin had only two accomplishments—trying to draw the Sword in the Stone before anyone else, and bullying the village girl Artoria every other day.

The latter was the one who later truly drew the Sword in the Stone and became Arthur, ruler of Albion.

When Hebe learned that her name in the Lostbelt was "Merlin," she quickly recognized her role and determined how to complete the achievement objectives.

She found Artoria digging potatoes in a field, apologized to her, then retreated in order to advance and sweet-talked the ahoge-haired village girl into drawing the Sword in the Stone.

The events that followed unfolded exactly as Hebe had expected.

The young Artoria drew the Sword in the Stone, swept away Albion's chaos, defeated the invading Romans, and finally ascended the throne in London under the name Arthur.

"But Arthur does not possess Avalon. The Sword in the Stone can grant her royal authority, but it cannot preserve her health forever..."

Hebe calmly passed through a colonnade tangled with grapevines. Sunlight filtered through the greenery in scattered patches across the ground. As the girl's feet stepped upon them, it felt as though she were walking through a river of light.

An attendant hurried out from the side. He jumped when he saw Hebe, and the bundle in his arms slipped free and struck the ground.

It was a bundle of silver tableware.

"Lord Merlin..." He dropped to his knees in panic.

"Has it become this serious?" Hebe gestured for him to rise. "Tell me."

"Thank you for your mercy!" The attendant hurriedly gathered up the bundle. "In fact, I am among the last servants who have not fled! Merely calling London serious is no longer enough... Since half a year ago, news has constantly come from outside the city."

He swallowed nervously.

"—The Red Dragon Duke and Lionheart may not fight each other first. Instead, they may concentrate their forces to capture London and force King Arthur down from that Iron Throne. Another report says that they have waited too long. When the Twin Kings' armies enter London, atrocities that no one wishes to see will occur."

What other atrocity could it be? Naturally, the massacre of a city.

"The Knights of the Round Table stationed everywhere have long since sworn allegiance 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 gradually became timid as he cast a fearful glance at Hebe.

"Legend says Morgan, the Bewitching Consort, who was imprisoned for betraying King Arthur, has escaped from the Tower of London. Meanwhile, Merlin, the Court Mage who has always served King Arthur, has vanished without a trace. In the face of such a dire situation, there is still no news from King Arthur herself... Perhaps she already died on the throne long ago."

Hebe calmly finished the attendant's words.

"You all think so too, don't you?"

The attendant stammered, unable to utter a single word.

Although he kept his head lowered, there was little shame on his face. Clearly, he had long since lost his reverence for the so-called King Arthur.

Hebe let the attendant go. He was not the only one who thought this way, and there was no point in reproaching anyone now.

"So tired..."

This exhaustion did not come from her body, but from her mind.

Hebe sat on a stone bench beneath the colonnade, kneading the soles of her feet.

She had spent an entire day finally grasping the situation she faced—after enduring a prolonged siege, London had few soldiers still loyal to King Arthur. As for the knights and nobles of every rank, they had long since joined the Twin Kings.

At its root, King Arthur had grown too old and had gone too long without inspecting her lands, while the Round Table had already taken over most of a monarch's duties. Given enough time, loyalty would rot.

Arthur had boasted that she defeated war and brought peace back to this land, but war would not vanish. Like smoldering embers, it had taken deep root in her kin and bloodline.

"Perhaps Arthur foresaw this scene long ago. After all, Mordred once started a rebellion at Morgan's instigation... But she truly is old now. The fuel sustaining her life is nearly gone, and she can only maintain clear thought."

"Heh, perhaps she cannot even think clearly anymore... Morgan escaped long ago and has become the support of the Twin Kings' army."

Hebe looked at the moon hidden behind the clouds, idly twirling a lock of hair hanging beside her temple. A faint curve rose at the corner of her lips.

She was not mocking anyone. She simply felt relieved from the bottom of her heart.