Morgan's Gift

February 16th.

At eight o'clock in the morning, Sherlock hurriedly headed to the Silver and Tin Palace.

When the great detective, who had been missing for several months, reappeared, he immediately attracted everyone's attention. Before he even stepped onto the steps of the Silver and Tin Palace, the news had already reached the newspapers.

When he arrived at the Queen's study, he saw Iver sitting leisurely in the Queen's seat.

He crossed his legs, leaned back in his chair, and hummed a cheerful opera tune.

"Hey, you're here."

Iver said with a smile, "Long time no see, great detective."

"I knew it was you calling me."

Sherlock said irritably, "What do you want with me, Your Excellency Minister Moriarty?"

"Nothing serious, just checking to see if you were dead or alive. Now it seems everything is going smoothly. That's great."

Iver's lips curled up into a sly smile.

—It's hardened, its fists are hardened.

Sherlock gritted his teeth.

However, he could still sense the Fox's concern for him, so he didn't say anything and sat down elegantly and silently in the seat opposite him.

When he didn't see Iver and Isabel during the Promotion Ritual, his heart sank.

It's not that I'm worried about myself.

With Sherlock's pride, even if he were just a frail child, he would never back down in such a place. His main concern was Isabel... Although Her Majesty the Queen had grown up, the Promotion Ritual from third to fourth grade was far too dangerous. If she died here, she would most likely die in reality as well.

If something really happens to Her Majesty the Queen, then Avalon will be in trouble.

Even during Full Moon Ritual, the extraordinary individuals are not necessarily loving and affectionate towards each other. Not to mention that there are at least three failure slots, the extraordinary individuals have different identities and stances, and they also have to find a way to eliminate their own Path of Rejection.

Otherwise, you might accidentally lose points for helping the other person complete their task.

"Now you see, I'm perfectly healthy. Can I go now? I still have some backlogged cases."

"By the way, is Director Kent in your department? I heard he failed his promotion today, suffered four fatal wounds, and was covered in blood after being slashed. Three bishops worked around the clock for two hours to barely keep him alive. He'll probably need at least a year or two to recover."

Sherlock paused here, then suddenly chuckled, "Oh, no, that's not right either. I bet it's more than that... Since you, you stinking Fox, specifically called me here, there's probably some trouble involved."

"Maybe... there isn't?"

Iver smiled, clearly in a good mood. "Just a heart-to-heart talk—isn't that a problem?"

Sherlock paused slightly, his expression subtle. "Please speak plainly."

"Do you know anything about... the Ring Angel?" Iver asked.

I've heard a little about it.

Sherlock nodded. "The Son of the Serpent Father, huh. The Ouroboros Angel, the Infinite Angel... the ritual that Lady Ligeia underwent to reincarnate must have been the power of the Ring Angel. Is there something you need?"

"I gained new information from this Promotion Ritual."

Iver interlaced his fingers in front of him, put his legs down, leaned forward slightly, and asked seriously, "I heard that the Ring Angel used to have another name, the Reincarnation Angel."

"Before the [Cicada Molting] event, the Ouroboros was a Celestial Master of Self-Destruction and Celestial Master of Rebirth, belonging to the Equilibrium Path. Later, after the Molt Event, it obtained the [Endless Knot] and became a Celestial Master Path of Transcendence."

"... I've never heard of that claim before."

Sherlock pondered, carefully searching his memory. "Indeed, there isn't any."

Have you heard of the saying "history is fragmented"?

"—The Multiple Histories?"

Sherlock countered with a question.

"That's right," Iver nodded. "It is said that after the [Cicada Molting] occurred, history was shattered and could never return to the time before the [Cicada Molting]. We are only in one part of history, while many other parts of history are divergent."

"This is the theory of multiple histories."

Sherlock nodded and explained, "This is one of two explanations given by scholars for why past and future events appear in the Dream Realm. One of them, the multiple historiography, argues that history is not singular. We are neither at the very beginning nor at the very end."

"Multiple histories are divergent. The Nine Pillar Gods, through the Promotion Ritual, constantly deduce a 'best past' and solidify the past into a line; while I believe that the Promotion Ritual is less about anchoring the past and more about deducing the future... But listening to you, it seems there's something else to it?"

"Yes," Iver nodded. "According to the intelligence I have, it seems that both the future and the past are uncertain. Neither statement is entirely correct, but both are also correct."

"... That would be interesting."

Sherlock thought for a moment.

He suddenly spoke up and said, "You're asking me this because you want to know... can I tell Iver this?"

"My answer is, I think it's okay. He knows more secrets than any of us, so don't keep it from him. Even if it might be a trap... It's better to die knowingly than to live in confusion."

Upon hearing Sherlock's words, Iver's expression turned somewhat strange.

She was silent for a moment, then her whole being shattered like a bubble, and she became Isabel again.

"... When did you find out?"

Isabel asked, somewhat puzzled, "Did you see through the [Cunning Spell]?"

"No, Your Majesty, I did not see through your illusion at all."

Sherlock said calmly, "But I know that stinky Fox will never have a heart-to-heart talk with me. He's always been one to speak his mind and never says anything vague."

"... He clearly said something similar to me."

Isabel with some regret, "I was hoping to see Iver in the room when he came in."

Sherlock hesitated, as if he wanted to say something but then stopped.

He had something to say, but he didn't dare to.

"... In short, don't hide anything from him."

Sherlock added, "It's better for him to know than not to know—you can't treat a smart man the same way you treat a fool. If Iver were a fool, I would certainly support not letting him overthink things. But he's a smart man. Even if it might be a trap, trust that Iver can walk out of it on his own."

"Okay, I understand."

Isabel sincerely thanked her, saying, "Thank you, Hermes."

"It is my honor, Your Her Majesty the Queen."

Sherlock bowed respectfully in reply.

Meanwhile, Iver was in the courtyard of the Silver and Tin Palace.

He was basking in the warm sunshine of a spring morning, kneeling on the ground facing the sun.

Iver clasped his hands together, closed his eyes in prayer, and whispered a prayer—a warm golden light emanated from him, illuminating the entire grassland. Through that shimmering light, one could vaguely see a transparent ring formed from thorns behind Iver, slowly rotating, its intricate crown-like pattern appearing and disappearing.

Those were the sin thorns that entwined the candle keeper.

The griffin and the white horse lay lazily on the ground, feeling the surge of heat within their bodies.

After Iver finished praying, they eagerly gathered around him and nuzzled against Iver.

Iver smiled slightly and touched the chin and face of the white horse he was going to take away later, then suddenly looked towards the lake.

"Excuse me... is there something you need?"

The next moment, a beautiful goddess holding a silver-white staff emerged from the lake, dripping wet.

She had waist-length, damp, blue-silver hair, elven ears, and eyes as clear as sapphires. She looked about six or seven parts similar to Shafiya and appeared to be around thirty years old. Her clothes were soaked to the point of being translucent, and lake water dripped onto her bare feet.

"... Lady Morgan?"

Iver raised an eyebrow and asked.

Morgan was about to introduce himself when he heard Iver's words and was immediately surprised, "You know me?"

"I've heard a little about it...after all, you are the mother of Mordred."

Iver said with a smile.

"That child..."

Upon hearing this, Morgan's lips curled up slightly, and he chuckled nostalgically.

When she looked at Iver again, her gaze became much friendlier.

"Someone asked me to come find you... Guess who it is?"

"Lancelot... Is that it?"

"You're so smart. I'm liking you more and more now."

Morgan said with a smile, "He told me he was a handsome priest, and I was thinking... that wouldn't be easy to find. But I never expected that almost everyone on Glass Island would know you... I haven't been back for a few years, and I never imagined that Avalon would produce such an outstanding young man."

"Lancelot asked me to deliver a gift to you... What do you think of me?"

"... I have a girlfriend."

Iver took a half step back and said somewhat warily.

As a phantom of the Path of Love and an apostle of the Shadow Angel, Morgan's actions would not surprise him.

Sure enough, upon hearing this, she laughed even harder, "Isn't that even more exciting?"

Seeing Iver's more wary expression, she waved her hand. "So cute... Oh, I was just kidding. Don't be so scared, I'm practically your ancestor."

"I doubt it, "Iver thought.

For the illusionist on the Path of Love, those insignificant ethical relationships might actually be considered a delicious seasoning.

"Don't be afraid. I'm not here on my own this time. I still have to report to Lancelot when I get back."

Morgan smiled and raised his staff, waving it at Iver: "Alright, here's my gift... I hope you like it."

"Then see you on your way, handsome young priest. Oh, by the way, let me pass on a message— Lancelot says he likes you very much and hopes to see you again in the future."

...Um?

Iver paused for a moment.

What did you give?

He did not radiate any light of the Dao, nor did he feel any sense of being eroded or altered by the power.

Even the system didn't give me any notification... You really gave it to me? Are you kidding me? "You'll find out soon enough."

Morgan smiled, put a finger to his lips, and gave a meaningful smile, "It won't be long."

But in that brief moment of doubt for Iver, Morgan swiftly retreated back into the lake and melted away like snow.