"...Huh?"
Hearing Mash call him "Grandfather," Anno felt his entire body jolt.
Mash took a deep breath and stepped out from behind Fujimaru Ritsuka.
"Sir Anno." She gave Anno a slight bow, her voice still carrying a trembling reserve.
That counted as a formal greeting.
"Ah, right." Anno came back to his senses and nodded, though the way he looked at Mash still held a trace of something strange.
Shaking his head lightly, Anno regained his composure. Smiling, he patted Mash on the shoulder. "Even if you inherited everything that child had, you don't need to become him. Keep fighting as yourself, Mash Galahad."
Hearing Anno's words, Mash lowered her head slightly.
"Sir Anno, where is Sir Lancelot?" Percival walked over, his brows faintly furrowed as he asked, "Has he already left the field? Or did he become as ugly as Tristan and the others?"
Anno looked into the distance and sighed. "No. He hasn't left, nor has he become ugly."
"I merely gave him a kick at the end and told him to think for himself."
"He still needs to think?" For some reason, Mash's voice suddenly rose, and her brows drew together.
"...Sir Anno, does Sir Lancelot know what the Lion King intends to do?" Bedivere too frowned deeply as he asked.
"Judging by his reaction, he probably does." Anno took a deep breath, feeling somewhat stifled as well.
The Lion King must have made her purpose clear to the Knights of the Round Table who had pledged themselves to her from the very beginning. For a king like her, there was not the slightest need for concealment.
Because, in her understanding—she was merciful.
She had given humanity one final path to survival, even if the end of that path meant the extinction of everyone else.
"...Sir Anno,