"Answer me, Samael. Was everything you said a lie? Was there never any Holy Grail?!"
In the dim great hall, the Witch standing before the steps roared in fury.
"The Holy Grail is real, and it is indeed on the Isle of Avalon."
The events of the World Tree siege, the eve of Marduk's fall, and that halo of light that had shaped the world and birthed new life reflected in Samael's mind as he answered solemnly.
Morgan remained unmoved, quietly watching the man before her.
"What about the price?"
Samael turned his head aside. After a moment of silence, his tone sank.
"Even if she gets it, she won't be able to come back..."
The Ideal Homeland stood apart from the world; only the sinless could enter.
The ritual was correct, and so was the key.
But he had only told her how to enter. He had never mentioned how to leave.
Without its host's support, and with most of the Round Table's elite gone, even if the Holy Lance sustaining Camelot's operations still stood atop this Tower of End, it was destined to be unable to guarantee the survival of the Age of Gods in Britain.
All the problems would then be resolved.
The Witch's face darkened. Her cherry lips pressed tightly together as she stared fixedly at Samael.
"Why... Why would you do this?"
The ancient serpent raised his head to Morgan, sighed, and spoke with a sincere expression.
"Believe me, I meant no harm. I only wanted to erase this era's aberration and set everything back on its proper course."
"Your so-called proper course means a future where the Celts lose their kingdom, lose their land, and are oppressed by the Anglo-Saxon invaders?"
A cold smile curled across Morgan's lips, her gaze sharp as a blade.