Servants are essentially spiritual entities, and confining a spirit to extract every detail... wanted or not... is a skill every proper magus should master.
As an orthodox magician, Morpheus was naturally adept at this. He wasn't joking with the red-haired knight before him.
Tristan felt a chill. This man's strength was overwhelming, effortlessly intervening in a battle and countering both his and the Hassan's attacks, proving his defensive prowess surpassed them both.
Moreover, his earlier attack was formidable. The tracking light arrow was nearly impossible to dodge, its power piercing Tristan's reinforced armor and wounding his enhanced, non-standard Servant body.
Finally, his speed was astonishing... standing far away one moment, then right in front of them in a blink.
Any one of these traits, paired with even average stats, would make a formidable Heroic Spirit. Yet, this man possessed all three at an extraordinary level!
Such a being was just a human?!
This power reminded Tristan of one figure... his king, whose connection to the past he could no longer discern. Though this man's displayed strength didn't match the king's, it far exceeded that of their knights!
This man might truly restore the king!
Seeing Tristan cooperate, Morpheus asked, "Why are you hunting these refugees?"
Tristan replied, "They failed the Holy Selection. Those who fail lack the right to live and must be eliminated."
He spoke without pain or hesitation, like an emotionless machine.
"You know what's coming for this world, don't you?" Morpheus pressed.
Tristan nodded. "I do."
"Then you should know that if this world isn't saved, they'll vanish anyway. Killing them is redundant."
Tristan fell silent, then said, "It's an order."
"From Arthur directly?"
Tristan didn't answer. Morpheus pondered. Though Arthur's humanity was eroded, with divinity dominating, her character wouldn't stoop to such pointless acts.
She'd likely conduct the Holy Selection, take the chosen, and let the unchosen fend for themselves.
This suggested another cause.
"Someone else issued the order?"
"Yes, someone else," Tristan confirmed.
Morpheus smiled, glancing at the terrified refugees. He deduced the motive.
"Pure slaughter, no ulterior purpose... not even sacrifices. The reason…" He rubbed his chin, his eyes glinting with flowing mana, activating a unique spell. "It's to prevent those who failed previous Holy Selections from mixing in, increasing the total selections. Killing the unchosen after each round is logical, if brutally so.
"Plus, reducing the unchosen prevents them from joining resistance forces, weakening potential enemies. A two-fold gain."
Tristan listened to the analysis. "I didn't think that far. The one who ordered it didn't explain, but your reasoning sounds like him."
"In truth, the current King Arthur is just a wandering spirit, unable to find peace," Morpheus said, noting Tristan's mix of anger and helplessness. He pulled Bedivere forward, showing his right arm. "A husk driven by divinity."
"That's…"
"The holy sword reforged into a weapon, the Noble Phantasm granting Arthur immortality. Use it, and she'll find eternal rest," Morpheus said, releasing Bedivere's arm. "It's for her liberation."
Tristan looked puzzled. "What do you want from me? To join you?"
Morpheus shook his head. "I said I'd send you back to the Throne of Heroes, and I will. No need to join us. Just tell me everything about King Arthur's current state.
"And if you're willing, share details about her subordinates. I'll decide if I need specific countermeasures."
After hesitating for a minute or two, Tristan began recounting his observations.
A god walking the earth, granting her followers unique powers... not mere strength boosts but conceptual enhancements.
From Tristan's account, Morpheus confirmed his theory: Arthur was a puppet of the holy lance, or rather, the lance's divine power had manifested a false god in her form.
She retained Arthur's behavioral traits but was drastically altered... the Lion King!
Her knights received bestowed powers, greatly enhancing their abilities.
For instance, Gawain, already stronger in daylight, now had the "No Night" ability.
Wherever Gawain stood, night wouldn't fall, amplifying his daytime strength and granting rapid mana recovery.
Gawain was now a mobile, high-damage cannon with swift mana regeneration.
Even Mordred, encountered before, gained a similar power: Rampage.
It suppressed rationality, inducing indiscriminate berserk states, boosting attack and destructive urges but sacrificing strategic judgment.
It felt like Arthur was sabotaging her own daughter.
Tristan, too, received a blessing. Morpheus chanted, summoning a magical array around Tristan. Holy power erupted, designed to dispel evil.
It could also banish unfriendly... or even friendly... spirits.
Tristan's ability was Reversal, explaining his lack of sorrow. It inverted emotions and logic, turning a knight unable to kill due to grief into a killing tool.
Space tore apart, and Morpheus banished Tristan to the Throne of Heroes. He turned to Bedivere, silent nearby. "Regret it?"
Bedivere paused, then whispered, "Yes. I shouldn't have defied the king's order. I didn't return the sword to the lake."
"It's fine. Fix this distorted history, and everything will reset. Even the dead will live again in the proper timeline, as if this never happened," Morpheus said, consoling the knight, who seemed more feminine than masculine.
He then addressed the Hassan. "Take the refugees and go. No one should attack you for a while."
From Morpheus and Tristan's exchange, the Hassan understood his intent and saw no conflict. She nodded. "Thank you."
"No need," Morpheus said, smiling, then added, "Oh, tell your leader I broke Ramesses II's certain-death curse. Don't move against him for now... he's helping us. Once the world's restored, he'll return to the Throne."
The Hassan, confused... could certain death be undone?... nodded. It was just a message.
Morpheus waved to Medea and the others, watching nearby. "Let's keep moving!"
But he frowned, glancing at the refugees.
He asked the Hassan, "Are your supplies sufficient?"
"They'll last a while."
"Good. I was about to offer to visit your base with supplies, but if you're set, wait it out. This crisis will be resolved soon."
Morpheus smiled, urging the group toward the Holy City.
He'd considered using his endless milk to aid them but saw no need now.
…
The Old Man of the Mountain resided in a place the Hassans rarely visited. Seeking his aid meant admitting failure, tantamount to forfeiting one's life.
But passing a message didn't require such a cost.
The Old Man listened silently, his mask muffling low breaths, as if pondering the words.
He'd sensed it... his certain-death curse on Ramesses II had been undone.
A power even the King of Kings's solar temple couldn't erase, capable of granting death to deathless gods, had vanished.
He'd nearly assumed Ramesses II was dead, as that would explain the curse's absence.
But the Hassan's message confirmed Ramesses II lived, his curse nullified by another.
"Morpheus?"
"Yes, Morpheus."
"Morpheus…" As a Grand Servant, he knew many secrets, and Morpheus's name was among them.
A human from Greece's Age of Gods, the moon goddess's lover, Medea's beloved, who fought in the Gigantomachy and slew Typhon!
Such feats could make him a Grand-tier Heroic Spirit, yet he left few traces, vanishing mysteriously from the Root.
Or rather, half-vanished.
Now, the Hassan said he lived, a human from the future, here to save this era.
A human rivaling gods, surpassing main gods, in Chaldea... the Old Man felt his burden lighten, his mood brightening.
He could simply watch the show, no further concerns needed.
As for Ramesses II, he'd spare him. Once the crisis ended, he'd return to the Throne, and he was on humanity's side.
But why did such a human exist, and in the future? Could that era sustain such a being?
The Old Man's heart filled with questions.
…
The king with golden eyes sat silently on her throne, bearing Artoria's likeness but exuding a distinct aura, making it hard to see her as Artoria.
Despite identical features, her presence set her apart.
She gazed into the distance, having sensed a subordinate's death and return to the Throne.
The one who killed him was approaching, soon to stand before her.
But when she tried to see further into the future, it was shrouded.
***
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