Unlike Artoria, who had been taught hand-in-hand and was practically half a daughter to him, the inhuman Half-Incubus saw Arthur more as a writer saw his work.
And not like an artist pouring heart and soul into creating a masterpiece. More like a brat casually piling up a sandcastle. Maybe today he found it delightful and cherished it like the apple of his eye, but in the next moment he might neglect it, ignore it, or even stomp on it himself, smiling innocently as he watched the sandcastle fall apart.
He was different from Artorius Pendragon, who had awakened the justice in his heart.
When Merlin saw Galahad willingly sacrifice himself, his heart did not stir in the slightest. He even found it a little amusing. Even now, the Half-Incubus still could not understand human emotions.
In the original history, it was Artoria's incomparably tragic ending that moved him, allowing him to take that crucial step from monster to human. But now...
Whether he could still take that step, no one knew.
That was why Arthur did not trust him.
Unlike the other knights who disliked Merlin because of his actions, Arthur had seen through his essence. A monster without humanity that pursued pleasure and imitated human emotions.
Someone like that could be used, but never trusted.
"What we need to discuss is the future—the first step toward saving humanity." In the corridor of the black castle, Arthur spoke eloquently to the others. Meanwhile, watching their retreating backs, Mordred and Gareth, who had been left behind at the training grounds, were both envious. Merlin, on the other hand, was surprised.
"Eh? Arthur? Didn't you forget something? Merlin still hasn't answered your question!"
"..."
"Is that necessary?" Arthur asked. "Your answer is definitely no, isn't it?"
"How can you slander