Chapter 695: Seen It All! The King of Knights Can't Go Back!
The water in the bathroom was scorching hot, steaming up the mirrors and filling the enclosed space with a dense, humid fog.
Artoria Pendragon stood under the spray, scrubbing her skin with a roughness that bordered on self-harm. She was trying to wash away the sticky, translucent evidence of Ren's "teasing" that clung to her body—filth that stained her pristine skin and shattered her knightly pride.
"Unforgivable... absolutely unforgivable..."
She muttered through gritted teeth, her emerald eyes burning with a mix of humiliation and killing intent.
Despite the intensity of her rage, she prioritized hygiene. A King must be clean. She rinsed her mouth repeatedly, trying to spit out the phantom taste of her defeat.
What frustrated her most was the anomaly of her current state.
"Why... why can't I spiritize?"
She looked at her hands, red from the hot water. In a normal Holy Grail War, a Servant could dissolve into spirit particles to cleanse themselves or repair their armor. But this Otherworld was wrong. The laws of physics and magic here were twisted.
She was clearly a Servant, bound by the spiritual connection, yet she was locked in a physical body like a mortal human. She couldn't dismiss her armor; she had to physically take it off.
And worse, she was bound by Command Seals.
Artoria felt a wave of depression crash over her. She, the King of Great Britain, the wielder of Excalibur, had absolutely no way to deal with that man outside. That devil who had humiliated her, played with her body, and defiled her dignity.
Because that person, Ren Kazama, could unreasonably conjure limitless Command Seals. It was a cheat code that rendered her resistance futile.
She turned off the tap. The silence in the bathroom was deafening.
"Splash!"
Artoria wrapped a white bath towel around her body. It was barely large enough to cover her critical areas, leaving her shoulders and long, toned legs exposed. With her blonde hair pinned up to keep it dry, exposing the nape of her neck, she looked less like a King and more like a vulnerable young woman.
She took a deep breath, grabbed the handle, and pushed the door open.
Steam billowed out into the cool air of the living room.
Artoria walked out barefoot, her wet feet leaving small prints on the floor. Her expression was dejected, her gaze downcast. The thought of having to manually wash her soiled armor later made her want to scream.
"Oh?"
A voice, smooth and amused, cut through her thoughts.
Ren was sitting on the sofa, a cup of tea in hand. He looked up as she emerged, his gaze immediately locking onto her.
He didn't look away. Instead, his eyes swept over her with open, unashamed appreciation. He looked at the water droplets sliding down her collarbone, the curve of her waist beneath the terry cloth, and the smooth, taut calves that had marched across countless battlefields.
"Take your eyes off this King!"
Artoria felt his gaze like a physical touch. Her face flushed a violent crimson—not from the heat of the shower, but from pure, unadulterated shame.
"The King's majesty cannot be violated by the likes of you!"
Experiencing this fragile, feminine state in front of a man for the first time was too much for her psyche. Ren's gaze stripped her bare more effectively than his hands had.
Panic and rage short-circuited her logic.
"Die!"
With a soft, desperate shout, she lunged to the side, grabbing the hilt of her sword, Excalibur, which was leaning against the wall.
However, in the violence of her movement, she made a critical error.
She forgot that she was not wearing armor. She forgot that a bath towel is not secured by buckles or straps.
As she raised her arm to draw the invisible blade, friction and gravity conspired against her.
Slip.
The white towel unraveled and fell silently to the floor.
Artoria froze.
She hadn't even reacted yet. Her hand was still gripping the hilt of the Holy Sword, her pose heroic and threatening. But her body was completely exposed to the open air.
Time seemed to slow down.
Ren didn't blink. He leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowing as he took in the view.
It was a body honed by war, yet undeniably feminine. Her skin was pale and flawless, contrasting with the faint, fading pink marks of their earlier encounter. Her muscles were lean and compact, shouting of power and agility.
And then, Ren spoke. His voice was like a connoisseur evaluating a fine piece of art.
"Tsk tsk. It's pink and tender."
His gaze lingered on the peaks of her chest.
"The color is exquisite. The only drawback... is probably that it's a bit flat."
He took a sip of tea, shaking his head with mock disappointment.
"As expected of the King of Knights. She flattened the rebellions, flattened the world... but alas, she couldn't win people's hearts because she lacks the heaviness of a woman's charm."
"..."
Artoria's brain rebooted. The words registered one by one.
Pink... Tender... Flat...
"You! You! BASTARD!!!"
A scream of pure mortification tore from her throat.
...
Five minutes later.
The atmosphere in the room was heavy, thick with killing intent that radiated from the blonde woman sitting on the sofa.
However, despite the murderous aura, she sat perfectly still.
Under the bizarre circumstances where Artoria's desire to kill permeated the air, she was once again threatened by the glowing red Command Seals on Ren's arm. She could only suppress her rage, trembling slightly as she clutched the towel tightly around her repacked body.
The two sat facing each other.
Her emerald eyes were fixed on Ren, sharp enough to slice him into a thousand pieces if looks could kill.
"Don't look at me like that," Ren said casually, ignoring the death glare. "Besides the Command Seals I issued to stop you from gutting me, everything else was an accident. Gravity is a harsh mistress."
He casually raised his hand. Magic shimmered, and two steaming cups of fresh tea appeared on the table before them.
Artoria's eyes narrowed. Space magic? Creation magic?
Ren looked at Artoria and analyzed the situation aloud, his tone shifting to something more business-like.
"I just checked the dimensional data. The Type-Moon world you're from—specifically the timeline of the Fifth Holy Grail War—isn't normally connected to this world."
"But you appeared in my world, became my non-Servant Servant, are controlled by my Command Seals, and have joined the Doomsday Chat Group."
This whole sequence made Ren chuckle.
"It was quite a winding and convoluted path for destiny to take."
"Doomsday Chat Group?"
Artoria frowned, her attention momentarily diverted from her humiliation. She looked at the translucent interface floating before her vision—a display she hadn't managed to figure out yet.
[Ding! System Announcement: 'Ahoge King' has joined the Chat Group!]
[Ying Zheng: The newcomer's name is... outstanding.]
[Tendou Kisara: Not outstanding, but interesting. Is it a literal description?]
[Aqua: Be bolder! It's eccentric! Does the king rule over an army of cowlicks?]
[Artoria: Who are you people?! Daring to slander me so!]
[Ainz: Who is this? Another King?]
[Sakata Gintoki: Never seen her. Is she a character from a new gag manga?]
[March 7th: …Is it possible that this is simply the new member's nickname? 'Ahoge King'? It sounds kinda cute!]
[Tendou Kisara: …]
[Artoria: I am Artoria Pendragon, King of the Kingdom of Great Britain! The wielder of the Holy Sword!]
[Artoria: If you continue to provoke the King's majesty with these insults, you shall bear my wrath!]
[Ch'en: It seems the new group member's red line is her hair. Everyone, let's not mention 'Ahoge King' anymore. It's rude.]
[Artoria: !!!]
[Ch'en: Oh, oh, I apologize. I typed it again.]
Ren watched Artoria read the chat. He found the single strand of hair on top of her head—her ahoge—twitching violently with anger. It was genuinely cute.
It seemed her heart had never been at peace since she arrived here. First the teasing, then the towel, now the internet trolls.
"Don't argue with them. They are a chaotic bunch," Ren said, placing his cup down. "Let me first explain the current situation to you properly."
Ren stood up and walked over to her. He reached out a finger towards her forehead.
"!"
The wary Artoria thought Ren was going to attack—or worse, touch her again. Instinctively, her muscles coiled, and she reached for the imaginary Excalibur to defend herself.
But her reaction, honed by dragon blood and instinct, was as slow as a snail compared to Ren. To him, time was standing still.
Tap.
His finger easily touched the center of her brow.
The next moment.
Buzz—!
A massive stream of data poured into her brain. It wasn't painful, but it was overwhelming.
Information about the 'Lord of Myriad Worlds', the nature of the 'Doomsday Chat Group', the structure of the multiverse, and common knowledge of modern society flooded her mind.
It was somewhat like how Servants automatically gain modern knowledge after being summoned by the Grail, but this was far more comprehensive and precise.
This process was instantaneous.
Artoria blinked, her eyes unfocused for a second before clarity returned. Having acquired this knowledge, her expression shifted erratically. Shock, disbelief, and finally, a dawn of understanding.
She looked up at Ren, her gaze complex.
"Who... exactly are you?" she whispered.
"As you can see from the data, I am the Administrator of the Doomsday Chat Group," Ren replied with a faint smile. "Of course, now I have an additional identity regarding you."
He pointed to the fresh, glowing Command Seal on his arm.
"That is... your Master."
"You!"
Artoria wanted to curse his shamelessness.
She had chosen to be summoned. She had signed a contract with the World to participate in the Holy Grail War because she had a wish to fulfill—to save her country, to redo the selection of the King.
But now?
Not only could she not participate in the Holy Grail War, but she was trapped in an Otherworld, stripped of her spiritual form, and forced into servitude under a man who hadn't even performed a summoning ritual. A man who treated her like a prize.
But in the end, she held back her tongue. She didn't argue.
A calm Artoria had already made her tactical judgment.
Ren was undeniably strong. Unfathomably so. She was no match for him in combat, especially not without her armor and mana support. Coupled with his ability to infinitely replicate absolute orders via Command Seals, any physical resistance would be futile.
For the first time in her life, Artoria, who feared no army or dragon, worried that Ren would forcibly do something to her body again.
He… had already done it once.
Exhaling a deep, shuddering breath, Artoria pushed the shame aside and focused on her objective.
"How can I return to my original world? I have a duty to fulfill."
"I'm afraid I've never encountered a situation like yours," Ren shrugged, leisurely sipping his tea as if discussing the weather.
It wasn't a lie. He truly hadn't encountered such a bizarre bug in the system.
Usually, members joined from their own worlds. The person who should have joined the Doomsday Chat Group wasn't supposed to jump into his living room.
He simply couldn't understand the connection or the error that caused this displacement. Especially the binding of the Command Seals, which tied their souls together.
Could she really go back?
"Damn it!"
Artoria clenched her fists on her lap, crinkling the towel.
Must Great Britain be destroyed? Must her people suffer because of this cosmic error?
She was unwilling!
Suddenly, Ren thought of something. A detail in the data stream caught his attention.
He put down his teacup, the porcelain clinking softly against the saucer. He looked at Artoria with burning, intense eyes.
"Tell me, Artoria. Did you see any information about the apocalypse—the 'Doomsday' scenario—in your personal status panel in the Chat Group?"
"Doomsday?"
Artoria was stunned. She hadn't checked that part yet.
She closed her eyes, focusing on the interface in her mind.
One second later, her eyes snapped open, filled with confusion.
"Yes... It says 'Six-Star Abnormal Doomsday' and 'Eight-Star Uncertainty Doomsday'. That's how it's displayed."
She looked at him. "Why are you asking this?"
Hearing this, Ren's lips curled into a mysterious, confident smile.
"If there is a Doomsday scenario attached to your profile, then the system recognizes a link."
He leaned forward.
"I might have found a way to send you back. And perhaps... save your Britain in the process."
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