The sky above Britain that night was heavy with dark clouds drifting slowly over the towering stone spires of the royal palace, as though the heavens themselves were concealing a fate that had yet to be revealed. Cold winds moved across the high castle walls, causing the royal banners to tremble in the darkness while the flames of distant torches flickered against ancient stone that had witnessed centuries of kings, wars, and victories. Yet there was something profoundly different about that night. The air itself felt heavier, thicker, as though the entire world had paused to hold its breath in anticipation of a moment that would shatter the course of history.
At the highest chamber of the palace, behind tall windows that overlooked the vast capital, Queen Artoria stood in silence as she gazed upon the city she had ruled for many years. Lights from thousands of torches stretched across the hills and winding streets like a golden ocean, while the massive outer walls surrounded the capital like an unbreakable shield. For generations the kingdom had stood strong under the crown, its power and stability unmatched.
Yet tonight, despite the beauty of the city below, there was no sense of comfort in Artoria's heart.
Instead, a strange unease slowly spread through her chest.
It was a feeling she recognized.
A quiet warning that appeared before disasters.
Before great wars.
Before the fall of kingdoms.
She placed a hand gently against her chest, attempting to calm the rising tension within her, yet the feeling refused to disappear. Instead it grew stronger with every passing second, as though something unseen in the darkness was moving closer.
Then she heard it.
A distant sound.
Faint… but unmistakable.
The sound of metal striking metal.
Her eyes narrowed slightly as she listened more carefully. The palace was never completely silent at night—soldiers trained even in darkness—but this sound was different. It was sharper, faster.
Chaotic.
The unmistakable sound of real combat.
Slowly Artoria turned away from the window and looked toward the quiet chamber behind her, where warm candlelight filled the room with a soft golden glow. Near the far wall stood a small wooden cradle.
Inside it slept a child.
A small infant who had only recently come into the world.
His breathing was calm and steady, his tiny face peaceful in a way that seemed almost untouched by the chaos that was beginning to awaken outside these walls.
His name was Ultra.
A child who knew nothing yet of the world he had been born into.
Nothing of the forces already moving in the shadows around him.
To anyone else, he would have appeared to be nothing more than a sleeping infant, fragile and innocent.
But Artoria knew the truth.
And before she could gather her thoughts further, the door of the chamber suddenly burst open with enough force that it struck the stone wall.
She turned immediately.
A tall figure stood in the doorway, his armor dark beneath the candlelight, a long sword resting at his side. His presence alone seemed to fill the room with quiet strength.
It was Arthur.
Yet what caught her attention first was not the armor nor the sword.
It was the expression on his face.
The calm of a warrior who had finally reached the moment he had long prepared for.
He looked at her briefly before speaking in a low voice.
"Artoria."
That was all he said.
It was enough.
Her eyes widened slightly as she asked quietly,
"It has begun… hasn't it?"
Arthur remained silent for a moment.
Then he nodded.
"Yes."
At that exact moment a distant explosion echoed from somewhere below the palace walls. The floor trembled slightly beneath their feet as dust fell from the stone ceiling above them.
There was no longer any doubt.
The rebellion had begun.
Arthur walked slowly toward the window and looked down into the palace grounds. Fires were beginning to rise in the distance. Torches were spreading across the lower courtyards like a river of flame.
Not dozens.
Not hundreds.
Thousands.
Soldiers of the kingdom itself.
But they had not come to protect the crown.
They had come to destroy it.
Arthur's voice remained calm as he spoke.
"The army has fractured. Several noble houses have turned against the throne."
Artoria's gaze hardened.
"How many?"
Arthur allowed a faint humorless smile to cross his face.
"Too many."
For a moment the chamber fell into silence once more.
Then screams echoed faintly through the distant corridors.
The clash of swords grew louder.
The battle was already moving through the palace itself.
Artoria walked toward the cradle and gently lifted the sleeping infant into her arms. Ultra remained asleep, unaware of the storm unfolding around him.
Arthur looked at the child for a brief moment.
But this time his gaze was not that of a knight.
It was the gaze of a father.
Then he spoke quietly.
"They are not here only for the throne."
Artoria looked at him.
"I know."
Another moment of silence passed between them.
Then Arthur spoke the truth that had been lingering unspoken since the beginning.
"They are searching for Ultra."
The silence that followed was heavier than any sound of battle.
Artoria whispered softly,
"So… someone discovered the truth."
Arthur nodded slowly.
"Yes."
Suddenly hurried footsteps echoed outside the chamber. The door burst open again as a wounded guard stumbled inside, blood running from a deep wound across his shoulder.
"Your Majesty! The outer gate has fallen!"
Arthur turned immediately.
"How many of our guards remain?"
"Very few… most of the soldiers have joined the rebels."
Arthur looked back at Artoria.
The decision had already been made.
"You must leave."
She shook her head instantly.
"I will not run."
He stepped closer, his eyes steady.
"Artoria."
But she did not move.
"I will not abandon you."
A faint, calm smile appeared on his face.
"If you remain here… Ultra will die."
Her eyes slowly lowered toward the child in her arms.
A long silence passed.
Then she whispered,
"What about you?"
Arthur answered without hesitation.
"I will stay."
The sounds of battle outside were now growing louder.
Steel clashing.
Men shouting.
War had reached the heart of the palace.
Arthur walked toward the door and paused.
Without turning around he spoke calmly.
"Take the hidden passage beneath the palace. The old escape route."
Artoria remained frozen in place.
"Run… and live."
Then he added quietly,
"Raise him."
A short silence followed.
"So he may become what he was born to be."
Arthur opened the door.
Before leaving, he turned one last time and looked at the sleeping child.
"Protect him from this world… until he becomes strong enough to face it."
Then he stepped into the corridor.
And closed the door behind him.
Outside the chamber the palace had already descended into chaos. Blood stained the stone floors as soldiers clashed in violent combat beneath the burning torches.
At the end of the corridor stood Arthur alone.
He slowly drew his sword.
Rebel soldiers rushed toward him from the distant halls.
Dozens.
Then hundreds.
Arthur did not move.
He did not retreat.
Instead he raised his sword calmly.
And spoke quietly into the darkness.
"No one passes."
Then the battle began.
That night…
Amid fire, blood, and betrayal…
The kingdom fell.
But somewhere deep beneath the palace, a mother fled into the darkness carrying a sleeping child toward an unknown future.
A child who knew nothing yet of the world.
A child who would one day return.
Not as a king.
But as something far greater.
A being who would stand before all injustice and judge it.
That child…
Was Ultra.
And history did not yet realize
that it had just witnessed
the beginning
of the Absolute Era.