"The Lion King should already know of your existence, Sir Anno. Given what she knows of you, she would certainly understand the significance of your presence in this Singularity—and the fact that you were not summoned by her."
Early the next morning, before dawn had broken, Pindo opened his eyes. Looking at the White Knight sitting quietly in thought, he spoke.
"Mm."
Anno merely nodded.
The Lion King—without a doubt, it was a familiar yet strange title.
Britain had always used the lion as its symbol. Every generation of British kings was called the Lion of Britain, and Arthur was no exception.
Yet no specific king had ever been referred to as the so-called "Lion King."
Since the Holy City already knew of Anno's existence, it would surely make an appropriate response. Judging from how the Lion King had purged knights who did not stand by her side and dispatched her Knights of the Round Table to kill refugees unwilling to submit to the Holy City, she seemed to have an exceptionally low tolerance for dissenting voices.
Why would she think that way? Was it because she feared trouble, or had she simply become withdrawn over the long years?
And what exactly did this Holy Selection mean?
He could not understand it, could not make sense of it.
Everything would only become clear once they reached the Holy City.
But—
Anno turned his head and looked down at the bottom of the crater, where the refugees were still sleeping.
If he left these refugees here and ignored them...
In truth, he knew that compared to the whole world, these few dozen refugees amounted to nothing.
If he delayed and failed to stop the so-called Holy Selection in time, allowing this Singularity to continue festering, all of human history might be