"Father…!"
Mordred stared in disbelief at the woman in her arms.
The tall outsider king had turned into Artoria.
The shock smashed through Mordred's mind. After a short blankness, she broke into sobs.
"I understand… I understand everything now…"
"Father, why were you so foolish? Did the nation really have to be saved like this?"
She clutched Artoria tightly.
Cough.
"My daughter… you've finally grown into a true king. I acknowledge you. You will become a king who brings blessings to all."
Artoria raised a calloused yet still pale hand and wiped Mordred's tears.
"Then why go this far? You shouldn't have sacrificed yourself!"
Blood continued to pour from Artoria's chest. Mordred panicked.
"Mother taught me healing magecraft! Father, don't talk… I'll save you!"
Soft green light coiled around the wound, making it look less horrifying.
"It's useless. My life ends here…"
Artoria's voice weakened.
She forced her head up and looked at Morgan, who had appeared nearby.
"Our daughter… is yours now…"
Her hand slipped and fell.
A king had fallen.
Dark clouds gathered. A rain like blood poured down.
Britannia was swallowed in gloom, as if doom had come.
Every citizen felt an inexplicable grief—as if someone precious had left them.
"Mother… you can save Father, right?!"
Mordred grabbed at Morgan like a lifeline.
"Little Mordred, listen. This was for Britannia's survival. Between Britannia and Lia, only one could live. She chose the nation."
"The moment Lia became king, this country began its decline. No matter how brilliant, it would end with her death. She found a way to let you inherit her and carry Britannia forward. She deceived heaven and walked toward death."
"Honor her wish. And don't exhaust yourself. She's still watching somewhere."
Hope slowly returned to Mordred's eyes.
"Avalon… Father secured Avalon's consent. She'll live there after death. I must protect this country—pass it on."
Step by step, she carried Artoria to the royal tomb.
"I'll come often to see you."
She bowed deeply again and again before the grave.
When she finally rose, the sky cleared, sunlight stretching her shadow long, long behind her.
At the very end of the video, a familiar voice sounded.
"Ha… you win. Britannia's future has been rewritten."
[Farewell, my king.]
[Rest in peace. Her resolve and strategy surpassed ordinary people.]
["When there are no upright ministers at home and no threats abroad, a nation perishes—thus one learns that survival comes from hardship, ruin from comfort." She understood this, so she became the outsider king.]
[Our Mordred has grown up… I still remember her crying to play with Arthur… oh wait, we just watched that.]
[It's a great video—rewrote all the tragedy into a perfect ending. But it's still only fan-made.]
[If only a king like this could appear in our world…]
[Yeah… this Arthur and little Mordred are really… well endowed.]
"It's moving, and it's a pity. The world doesn't have so many perfect things."
Illya truly wanted Arthur to live so their family could be together.
The video felt so real that she found herself living as Mordred, resonating with her.
When her brother disappeared years ago, she had felt the same way.
Missing for two days: you can file a report.
Missing for two years with no trace: can be presumed dead.
Missing for four years: legally declared dead.
At first she had hope.
But time passed. Even if her mother never applied for a declaration… everyone knew.
Six years without a single clue—how could he still be alive?
Now that she could see him again, she was overwhelmed.
"Maybe. Maybe that Arthur wanted to die."
Beimu replied casually.
As his final mission, he knew exactly what that Arthur had been thinking.
By then he had lived through over four hundred missions—he'd already decided.
Every life, he'd enjoy as much as he could.
Whether it was growing stronger, waging war, falling for Morgan, having a child… he savored it all.
Ending his life while ensuring the kingdom's continuation—an almost perfect death.
Only… it would make little Mordred suffer.
But he believed she could carry Britannia forward.
"Anyway, big brother, what are you going to do now? You're eighteen, and your bones are still eighteen. Are you taking the college entrance exam?"
Illya turned her head. Silver-white hair slid over her rounded shoulder. As she moved, the white stockings against Beimu's clothes made a soft rustle.
"I… forget it. Didn't Mom say she has a company? I'll go take a look. But enough about me—what about you? You're eighteen too. You should be preparing for the exam. Why are you still here watching videos?"
Illya filled his lap. Any tiny movement made her stockings rub against him.
He had no idea what modern exams were like, but if he took them now, he'd be doomed.
This was the Age of Heroic Spirits—tests definitely changed.
"Mm, I'm on summer break. School starts in a week. I take the exam next year. Big brother, come to school with me. If we don't get in, we can just go inherit Mom's company. It's not a big deal."
Illya pouted, wriggling closer to him.
She kicked off her pink slippers and placed her slender, white-stockinged feet on his thighs.
Her voice turned soft, cheeks warming.
"Big brother… I want recommendation votes."