Miss Hebe is Slaughtering Her Way Out of the Lostbelt!

The Special Inspection Department divided apprentices' loss of control into two stages: being lost and aberration.

The former could still be treated and soothed through certain means, while the latter was a permanent alteration of both flesh and spirit body, irreversible like a Mark.

Generally speaking, there was a process from being lost to aberration.

But Andon's aberration had progressed too quickly; there had not even been time to soothe him.

Normally, such rapid aberration had only one possible cause—he had either directly gazed upon a high-ranking existence far beyond his own status, or been influenced by one.

Andon had renounced his faith in the Holy Grail, yet he had not suffered any punishment from the Holy Grail, nor even from the Principles themselves...

He had even continued to rise steadily.

For Enlightenment to advance to Daylight, one had to carry out deeds that suited one's desires, just as the Knights of the Round Table had once expanded their territory and conquered enemies under King Arthur.

That was why the Daylight status was known as the "Hero" rank.

Yet neither the Special Inspection Department nor the Orthodox Church would readily give their subordinates opportunities for advancement.

Andon had waited nearly ten years for this chance.

Leμian suddenly let out a bitter laugh. "Andon... has advanced to Daylight."

Mostima shuddered. She watched Andon, surrounded by black crows, and saw a hazy halo gradually rising behind his tattered clerical robe.

It was a gift brought by aberration, allowing Andon to achieve the First Mark.

And the wing-like aberrations gradually swelling from his back would allow him to achieve the Second Mark.

In the Present Day, where there was no Dusk, this was the pinnacle of the present world.

What kind of existence was the New God Andon worshipped—why was It so generous in granting power?!

"Even the Holy Grail and Celestial Flint have things they regret beyond redemption," Andon said calmly. "Leμian, Mostima, I know there is resentment in your hearts as well. And the New God I worship has promised me that when It is born, everything will be well. Everything will be set in perfect order."

"Sisters, I sincerely invite you to come sit at my table."

Mostima looked at Leμian immediately.

Pain and struggle appeared on Leμian's gentle face.

Andon quietly waited for her answer.

Meanwhile, Mostima began calling out in her heart to the "high-ranking existence" that had likewise descended upon her.

"Are You still there?"

I am. Hebe replied.

"If I want to ask You to act, what must I pay?"

Mostima had completely given up hope in that Knight of the Round Table. And facing Andon, who had advanced to Daylight, Enlightenment-ranked apprentices like them, who had not even achieved a Mark, naturally had no power to resist.

If this were reality, they could still employ heavy firepower. But this was the borderland.

Faced with such circumstances, Mostima could only save herself.

Your faith.

That vast, indifferent voice rang beside her ear.

"Though I do not know what I possess that could be worthy of Your regard." Mostima took a deep breath. "But if You can truly save me from this desperate situation..."

"I offer myself to You. I offer You my thoughts, my words, and my spirituality. I beg You to grant me peace and joy, to make my eyes clear and my heart bright, to bestow Your protection upon me."

"—Let me walk behind You, in the light of life."

Amid thoughts bordering on despair, she heard the vast voice ring out like a tolling bell.

As you wish.

The old card turned to ash within its slot, yet the ashes became a new card.

Believer "Mostima"

Path: Clockmaker. To a Clockmaker, time no longer moved in interlocking rings.

Principle: Opening. The Principle representing divine revelations, opening, and closing doors.

Rank: Enlightenment. The first level of the Path of Deeds.

Within the gaps of history, Mostima beheld locks and keys. Time was certain to hold great magic for her.

Your believer, student, follower, possession.

With simple, abstract strokes, it vividly outlined Mostima's smiling face against a deep violet background. Behind her, two lock-and-key-like staffs formed the hands of a clock.

Hebe tapped the card and placed it into the newly appeared slot.

"I—I refuse!"

Leμian answered in pain, yet with resolve.

Andon's long brows trembled. "Why? I know the pain you bear in your heart is no less than mine. Don't you want your younger sister to wake up from her sickbed?"

"I truly hope so. Perhaps one day, I'll regret it!" Leμian tremblingly aimed the specially made firearm at Andon. "But what I'm about to do is far more important than my future. My sister, and thousands upon thousands of people like her, live in this world—I will protect this world!"

Leμian's fingers had turned white from gripping the gun too tightly. She seemed to be using every ounce of strength in her body as she screamed at the top of her lungs.

"Andon! You should keep that promise for yourself!"

Blazing fire burst from the muzzle as a nickel-iron bullet, consecrated nine times over, shot toward Andon's heart.

Pfft—

The bullet tore through his damaged priest's robes, opening a massive hole in Andon's chest.

He showed no sign of pain. Instead, he nodded calmly.

"So this is your answer. I respect you, Leμian."

Even as he spoke, Leμian continued firing without pause. The consecrated barrage ravaged Andon's face into a charred honeycomb until the firearm in her hand finally fell silent.

The birds in the sky surged toward that tattered priest's robe, and newborn flesh filled Andon's body.

"If that is the case, then we are enemies." Andon spoke with great regret. "For the safety of my god, I cannot let you leave here alive."

Leμian watched in despair as birds descended from the sky like a torrential downpour.

She had lost every means of resistance, and so had Mostima. They could not inflict any harm upon Andon, who had already become daylight itself.

Yet in the next instant, Mostima, who had stood frozen all this time, suddenly stepped forward. Passing Leμian, she faced the birds diving down like a storm of rain.

She raised her hand and snapped her fingers sharply.

An invisible wave of air rippled outward from her body, as though a vast invisible umbrella were slowly opening above them.

The wave did not cover a large area, but anything that crossed its boundary fell into a slowdown ten or even twenty times greater.

The birds, originally as swift as driving rain, abruptly slowed to a crawl.

Their bodies collided with one another, rapidly piling up into a horrifying sphere in the sky above the border.

A halo like a lock and key lit up above Mostima's head.

—First Mark · Subjective Time Slowdown.

"Attaining a Mark at a time like this?!" Andon nearly laughed.

A scene that should only have appeared in a stage play was unfolding right before his eyes—why was Mostima able to attain a Mark so easily?

How much practice had she gone through?

How well did she understand her own desires?

Did she truly hold unwavering faith in the path she had chosen?!

Heaven was truly so cruel to him, yet so indulgent toward Mostima!

At that moment, Andon finally understood this "cruel truth": talent really did exist, and it was utterly unreasonable.

But it did not matter. The New God he worshipped was fair and generous.

Those who desired power would possess power; those who desired talent would be granted talent!

—Therefore, for the world my lord has promised to arrive, I will spare no sacrifice and stop at no means!

The halo above Andon's head blazed brightly.

First Mark · Light Bestowed Upon Suffering.

A layer of clear, luminous light enveloped the birds. When the transparent airwave swept across their bodies, some of them were "exempted" from the slowing effect.

Their speed was reduced as well, but they were still far faster than their companions.

Andon had completely seen through the effects of Mostima's Mark. Aside from slowing everything within its range, it had no other effect.

When enough birds fell like a rainstorm, even if only a small portion were exempt, it would still be a devastating blow to Mostima and Leμian.

"But this is already enough—"

Within the transparent wave, Hebe controlled Mostima's body and reached out with both hands, grabbing toward either side.

In this state of "descent," Hebe could not use many things. Something like the Pseudo-Sacred Sword: Sword in the Stone could not be brought over at all, and she could not wield illusions as freely as her own limbs.

But what limited illusions was not scale, but imagination.

Hebe had observed the Sword in the Stone up close countless times. Though she had never truly held that sword, whenever she closed her eyes, she could imagine every detail of that radiant, brilliant blade.

When she envisioned the sword, her fingers touched heavy, ice-cold metal.

The sword was already there. Then who would wield it?

A sensation sealed within her memories suddenly surged forth like flowing water. It seemed that someone from a distant place had taken the initiative to respond, and fingers searching through the mist touched scorching body heat.

Along with a faint, indistinct call.

"Merlin..."

Hebe, sitting in the antique shop, was so startled that she nearly jumped out of her chair.

She immediately withdrew from the state of "descent" and quickly logged out of the Secret History Simulator.

When Mostima regained control of her body, she saw that fine, cold scales had grown over both her hands.

Mist flecked with candlelight rose from all around them out of nowhere. A pair of metal boots emerged from the fog and stepped onto the ground before her. The ornate longsword embedded in the earth lit up inch by inch, shining brilliantly.

That was the last thing Mostima saw within the border.

Then the world spun.

When she came back to herself, she and Leμian were already sitting sprawled on the mottled grass. Fiammetta rushed over and hugged them tightly, tears welling in her eyes.

Heavy footsteps sounded.

Bedivere of the Knights of the Round Table was already standing before them.

He possessed an almost feminine beauty, yet his gaze burned as fiercely as flames. But his most distinctive feature was the entire arm extending from his right shoulder.

It was neither flesh and blood nor armor he wore, but pure metal.

"Lady Mostima, I hope you will be able to provide a reasonable explanation later."

"—Regarding what you encountered within the border."

He raised his silver arm in a gesture of refusal.

"Please understand. The ones who will question you later will not be the Special Inspection Department, nor the Archaeological Association, nor even we of the Round Table..."

"But His Majesty Arthur, the Eternal King who reigns over all of Albion."

I'm the Real Simulation... None of You Are

Hebe sat at the table, her expression shifting unpredictably.

Ordinary people would find it hard to understand the sheer horror she felt upon hearing the name "Merlin."

"Good thing I didn't use it carelessly after obtaining the imitation Sword in the Stone." Hebe rubbed her brow. "Otherwise, with Arthur's control over the Sword in the Stone..."