Miss Hebe is Slaughtering Her Way Out of the Lostbelt!

She quickly turned around, grabbed a towel from the counter behind her, and wiped away her sweat.

"My body doesn't feel too well. I need to go rest for a while... Take that customer to the second floor first," the manager said to the waiter beside her.

Mordred's Recollections

Cool water splashed over her cheeks, and the icy sensation jolted her awake in an instant.

The mirror above the sink reflected the face of a spirited young woman. Her wet golden hair clung softly to her cheeks, lending her a touch of fragility.

She pressed a hand to her forehead, felt her slightly excessive temperature, and gave a nervous laugh.

"What a joke... Have I become this mentally fragile?"

Merlin was already dead. He had died in the Fourth History, obliterated without a corpse beneath the King's gaze. Her mother had told her of that scene herself.

Mordred raised her eyes and stared into her own pupils in the mirror.

Her body, which had begun to adapt to modern life, started to ache faintly again. Her fingertips felt as though they had once more been soaked in blood, carrying an unpleasant, sticky sensation.

"Damn it, my head is starting to—"

The calming spell her mother had cast on her was still in effect, but memories began to Gush Out from the Depths of her mind on their own.

Who was I?

A homunculus? The poison Mother had created to destroy Albion? Or the sword Father wielded?

"Your blood comes from Arthur. It will grant you the noble blood of the Red Dragon and a lion's heart. You were born to walk the path of authority."

"Your body was shaped by me, so your desires resemble mine."

"Your spirit body was brought back from the wasteland by Merlin. With her guarantee, you will have a fine future."

Mordred's father was King Arthur, who ruled all of Albion, while her birth mother was Morgan le Fay, crowned by the island.

Mordred had known from a very early age that she was merely a homunculus, a tool Morgan used to carry out some plan.

—No family affection, no love, no concern, no self... No problem.

If she could fulfill Mother's plan, that would be good.

When she completed her mission, would Mother praise her for being a good child?

If she could become the sword in Father's hand, that would be even better.

Tools did not need ideals. Once they had slashed until they were worn out, they could simply be discarded.

Besides, Mordred had long admired King Arthur. If she could fight beneath the King's banner, even if she were ultimately torn to pieces, she would still be happy.

If everything continued like this, if she kept racing toward that bottomless abyss... she would have no complaints.

Because, in the end, Mordred had never seen the light.

Since she had never witnessed the beauty of the world, she naturally would not cling to life because of so-called suffering.

Until, outside London, she met that girl wearing a Court Mage's robe, with Linen-Colored Long Hair and beautiful green eyes.

"Who are you?" Mordred asked.

The other girl did not immediately answer. Instead, she studied Mordred carefully. "Are you a knight who has pledged allegiance to the new King, or a recruit here to enlist?"

"Can't I be a knight who chose to follow the King of my own accord?" Mordred was displeased.

When Mordred told her name, the girl's beautiful green eyes widened.

It looked both like shock and like relief.

"Since you say your name is Mordred," the Court Mage replied, "then I have an obligation to teach you how to be an adult."

"Hey! Don't make decisions for me on your own! And who exactly are you? Don't act like this is only natural!"

"Who I am, you'll find out later." She smiled and spoke in a voice only the two of them could hear. "Little Mordred, you wouldn't want everyone to know that you're Arthur's child, would you?"

Those words immediately calmed the Mordred who had been on the verge of flying into a rage, and she obediently followed the girl away.

It was not a pleasant beginning, but whenever Mordred recalled it, she still felt happy.

Because aside from her mother, that girl was the only one willing to care about her... No, in "Mother's" eyes, she had only ever been a useful tool, and her ending had long been decided.

More importantly, that girl had acknowledged her identity as "King Arthur's child." Though Mordred had initially been shocked and furious, she soon felt joy at being "acknowledged," like a stray cat being petted.

In a secret garden, that girl had half-forced her into making a promise.

—Whenever a campaign ended, Mordred would always come to the garden first, and in that secret garden, the girl with Linen-Colored Long Hair would always be waiting quietly for her.

Mordred's feelings gradually changed from restless unease to anticipation.

This was a secret she had never even told "Mother." To Mordred, the days she spent with the green-eyed girl were like a piece of candy she had treasured for a long time, sweet with every taste.

No one had ever taught her how to live like a person.

No one had ever smiled at her and told her that it did not matter even if she achieved neither success nor fame.

"No matter when, there will always be a place here for Little Mordred. I will always be by your side," the girl with beautiful green eyes had said.

On that day, Mordred—who had never been understood, never been respected, and never been loved—learned that she was not a wild dog. She did not need to race across the wilderness beneath the night sky until she stopped breathing and rotted away.

After that day, Mordred still strove toward her goal of becoming one of King Arthur's Knights of the Round Table. But unlike before, she no longer swung her weapon with hollow, mechanical motions.

From there, everything followed naturally. No longer empty inside, Mordred won glorious victories in battle and was personally received and knighted by King Arthur, taking her place among the Knights of the Round Table.

When faced with her "mother's" commands, Mordred no longer obeyed blindly. When faced with the King's decrees, she began to think for herself as well.

"I am a child created by Mother, and also the King's knight. But without the trust and support of the green-eyed girl, I never would have achieved what I have today." Every night, Mordred reminded herself of this. "The green-eyed girl is someone who could become my mother."

If time had stopped there, how wonderful that would have been.

Yet time was cruel precisely because it never stopped for anyone, nor could it turn back.

Mordred had always known that "Mother" had not created her for any simple purpose. She had been instilling hatred into her all along, merely holding it back as she waited for the perfect opportunity.

That opportunity finally came one day. Morgan, the Bewitching Consort, found her and presented a series of horrifying plans, demanding that Mordred carry them out exactly as instructed. Should Morgan's plan succeed, Albion would collapse like a tower, and Arthur's life would end along with her reign.

Mordred left in a daze.

Morgan did not suspect her reaction. Mordred behaving this way was entirely within her expectations.

But she had not expected Mordred's reaction to be an act. Mordred no longer wished to be "Mother's" pawn, much less continue living as a tool.

Mordred wanted to find the green-eyed girl and tell her to leave this place of trouble as quickly as possible. Then she would go to see her royal father first, confess her identity, and reveal every detail of "Mother's" scheme.

"Still, it does not matter. Perhaps someone like me, born into an insignificant fate, should have a day to play the hero too." As Mordred ran, she thought, "Even if I am driven into a corner and die fighting beside my royal father, that would be better than rotting upon the bed of conspiracy."

She had never felt so close to being a "hero," and her blood boiled with fervor.

Mordred arrived at the garden where they had agreed to meet. The green-eyed girl was there, waiting as always.

She told the green-eyed girl every detail of her mother's plot.

"I see. Come to think of it, it really is about time."

The green-eyed girl spoke calmly. She looked at Mordred and smiled.

"In that case, can you die for me, and for Albion?"

"...Here and now."

The Latter Half of Recollections

"In that case, can you die for Arthur, and for Albion?"

That was what Hebe said to the young knight before her. "Here and now."

Just as expected, Mordred froze. The faint flush on her face from her long run gradually drained away.

So she couldn't do it after all? That made sense. She was, after all, a renowned Knight of the Round Table. It really was impossible to shake her resolve with just a few words, Hebe thought.

Looking at the utterly stunned Mordred, Hebe lightly furrowed her brow.

"Have you still not realized it, Little Mo? Why did you happen to meet me outside the city that day?"

"Why was it that after getting to know me, you could come here every day without anyone questioning you? You should know that this is the inner city."

"Why did you stand out at the tournament? Why did Arthur take notice of you? Why were you able to win battle after battle, amass achievements, and eventually join the Round Table?"

"Why, despite spending so much time at the Round Table handling state affairs, was Arthur unwilling to be alone with you, always ensuring that at least two Knights of the Round Table were present?"

Hebe's expression remained calm, her tone without the slightest fluctuation.

"Now look at this Court Mage robe I am wearing... If you ask your comrades, you will learn that there is only one person qualified to hold the position of Court Mage."

"I am Merlin, Merlin Ambrosius." Hebe gave a slight bow. "I arranged for you to enter the Round Table. I was also the one who revealed your identity to Arthur, so that she could arrange suitable opponents for you, enemies at just the right level, and battlefields where you could accumulate merits."

"I truly once hoped that we could maintain this relationship. But you are Morgan's child, after all. So I could never trust you, nor could I take a greater risk."

What had Mordred been thinking at that moment? Hebe did not know.

But as she spoke those words, the light in the eyes of that child who had always clung to her went out.

Hebe saw Mordred's hand trembling. Yes, no one could possibly summon the courage to do such a thing.

So Hebe slowly rose to her feet. "I'm sorry, Little Mo. I asked too much of you... For Arthur's sake, and Albion's, please don't move, all right?"

She had already made her preparations. No matter what, she would not let Mordred leave this place alive today.

Hebe could not gamble on whatever contingency Morgan had placed within Mordred. If she softened now, then when news of Arthur's death arrived, whose responsibility would it be?

Yet after she finished speaking, Mordred drew her sword with trembling hands.

The knight's sword swiftly and precisely pierced her own chest. Red lightning joyfully broke free from the blade and surged into its master's organs, destroying the knight's own life just as it had slain countless enemies before.

Pain twisted her face. The red Dragon Blood of the "Daylight" rank and her lionheart were still struggling to preserve her life.

After a while, Mordred finally lacked the strength to hold her sword. Under the searing pain of the red lightning, her blood at last ran dry.

Mordred fell to the ground.

Hebe watched it all. Once she confirmed that Mordred was dead, she pressed her lips together.

The sage still made no sound. Swiftly and deftly, she extracted Mordred's spiritual body from the prematurely matured physical body. Once she had done so, Mordred's body rapidly aged, decayed, and turned to dust.

"One day... one day—" At last, the sage's voice became weary and trembling.

After that, Mordred's spiritual body was carefully preserved until the end of the Lostbelt, until Avalon's blessing descended, until the entire Lostbelt was proven and incorporated into proper human history.

When Avalon descended, Mordred, who had originally been muddled and chaotic, suddenly saw a scene that did not belong there. It was neither the perspective of "Mother" nor that of the "King" she had always admired.

After his own body had turned to dust, after the Father King defeated "Mother" and imprisoned her in the Tower of London, after all things had changed and even the once-glorious kingdom had stiffened into a corpse.

The wise and mighty king no longer had any loyal followers. The Knights of the Round Table fought on their own, and the Fallen Empress sought to overthrow the kingdom Once Again. This time, the king, bound to the Iron Throne and barely clinging to life, no longer had any chance to resist.

Then, that green-eyed girl turned the tide. With no one there to witness it, she defeated "Mother" and pulled the kingdom back from the brink of destruction. Yet the king upon the throne did not thank her. Instead, he rebuked her coldly. If it had been her, what would she have done? She would surely have felt despair, pain, and hatred.

Yet Merlin's expression did not change in the slightest. He remained as heartbreakingly calm and open-minded as ever... At that moment, Mordred understood. Whether Father or Mother, their wills had long changed with time. Only that green-eyed girl had loved this country without ever changing.

Then, she calmly embraced her end. It was not bleak or lonely, but a peaceful, tranquil release after all she had gone through.

It did not matter if no one understood her. It did not matter if no one walked beside her.

In that instant, Mordred finally understood everything.

So you were just like me—walking this road in even greater loneliness than I was.

When Mordred came back to herself, the face in the mirror was already wet with tears, yet the corners of her mouth had lifted.

Now, she finally understood why, whenever Mother spoke of Merlin, the face beneath her veil wore such a bittersweet yet longing smile.

"If that's the case, then I'd be willing to do it another hundred times, another thousand times," Mordred whispered.

Having her body pierced through by the demonic sword had truly been agonizing, yet when she thought of those beautiful green eyes, even her wounds carried a bitter sweetness.

Death was so lonely. Yet when she thought of the green-eyed girl's long solitary journey, it was as though starlight shone at her side. And so, it was no longer frightening.

Hebe set down her bowl of soup.