Chapter 1133: Fleeting Memories of Spring
Artoria disappeared deep into the forest.
Ector alone confronted the Queen's army.
He died.
Not from battling the Queen's army.
But from the fatal wounds he had sustained earlier.
To rescue Artoria imprisoned in the dungeon, he alone carved a bloody path through the chaos of Tintagel Village.
During that fierce struggle, he had already suffered mortal wounds.
He had merely been forcing himself to endure.
Artoria had long seen through this, fleeing the tragic village with unstoppable tears streaming down her face.
"Someone, get him treatment! Damn it, I just wanted to know what happened here, why is this so unlucky!"
Woodwose roared in furious frustration.
"Ah... to think my final moments would be witnessed by you, you brat..."
Ector lay on the ground, a pool of blood spreading beneath him.
"If only it were Grimm or Mash, or even the useless Totrot..."
There were two more names.
He instinctively wanted to utter them, but at the last moment, he forgot those two names.
"Who were they?"
With that thought, his consciousness sank completely into darkness.
Eiji stood by his side.
Witnessing Ector's passing with his own eyes.
He knew this wasn't the real Ector—this was merely within Artoria's memories. The true Ector had long since died.
Yet he remained speechless for a long time.
"Rest in peace, Ector."
After that.
Memories flashed by like a fleeting glimpse.
After escaping Tintagel Village, Artoria mustered her courage and embarked on her pilgrimage.
She first went to Salisbury, having heard the people there were peaceful and that they might accept her more readily than other cities.
But she was stopped at the entrance of the cathedral.
The guards forbade her from meeting Aurora, citing her shabby clothing, low magical energy, and lack of any resemblance to the Child of Prophecy.
Artoria pleaded desperately.
The guards grew impatient and assigned her a task, claiming that completing it would grant her an audience with Aurora.
She was overjoyed.
But after finishing one task, there was another, and then a third.
When she finally couldn't bear it and asked when she could meet Aurora, the guards pointed at her and burst into harsh, mocking laughter.
She understood instantly.
They never intended to let her see Aurora.
Their promise that completing tasks would grant her an audience was merely a cruel joke!
Disheartened, she left Salisbury.
Thinking that if large cities didn't work, she would try small villages or forests.
However, small villages didn't welcome her either.
The fairies' admiration for the Child of Prophecy was merely superficial.
What they were passionate about wasn't the Child of Prophecy itself, but the trend surrounding it.
As long as it was entertaining and popular, the fairies would embrace it.
No one truly believed in the Child of Prophecy, much less that she was the one.
What the real Child of Prophecy was like, or where they were now—no one actually cared.
Even the fairies living in small villages or forests mocked and used her, driving her away after having their fun.
The fairies of Britain naturally despised the Fairy of Paradise, for the original sin they bore made them fear the emissary of the celestial realm.
Time and again, she mustered her courage, only to be met with rejection each time.
"I'm so tired."
Artoria could no longer hold on.
She deviated from her intended path and headed to the southwestern corner of Britain.
There lay a nameless forest, rumored to make any fairy who entered forget their memories and past.
She wanted to briefly enjoy being a blank slate there.
However.
The curse of the nameless forest had no effect on the Fairy of Paradise.
When she awoke in the nameless forest, she still remembered everything clearly.
Not even a moment's respite was granted.
Not a single second to catch her breath.
It was as if a Magical Creature were constantly chasing her from behind, forcing her to keep moving, leaving her exhausted and covered in wounds.
Until one day.
A girl with long orange hair tied in a side ponytail was brought in.
With her fairy eyes, Artoria saw through the girl's heart, riddled with scars, yet still carrying an unbearably heavy burden of responsibility and expectations.
As if she had encountered a kindred spirit, Artoria felt a flicker of joy.
"If she forgets about being the Child of Prophecy, then we can become friends!"
The summer memories came to an abrupt end.
...
What happened after that, everyone already knows.
After the turmoil in the nameless forest, and in search of Mash, Artoria and Gudako arrived at Salisbury on Oberon's suggestion, reuniting with Eiji, Mash, and the others who had come looking for them.
Then, reluctantly thrust into action, they joined the Round Table Army and embarked on a path of rebellion against the Queen's rule.
Abruptly.
As she sorted through her memories again, Artoria suddenly realized something.
"For what reason did I ever want to save this rotten world?"
Resisting the Queen, though forced upon her, was one thing—but embarking on the pilgrimage journey was a decision she had made of her own will.
Why, then, had she been able to persevere through so much malice until now?
No matter how hard she pondered, she could not find an answer.
"This is the location of the final spring memory."
Merlin led the group to the last spot.
The altar, as mysterious and unfathomable as the starry sky, now lay clearly before their eyes.
"Since it's a spring memory, it must be a good one, right?"
A cheerful smile spread across Artoria's face.
"Yes, it's the happiest memory of your life, so no monsters will appear this time."
Merlin answered with a gentle smile.
"Great! Reliving all those painful memories was putting me in a bad mood! I'm off!"
With a cheer, Artoria dashed forward and vanished from their sight.
"If there are no monsters, then I'll take this chance to ask you, Merlin!"
Seizing the opportunity, Muramasa fixed his sharp gaze on Merlin.
"Having Artoria forge the Holy Sword—does that mean she will disappear as well?"
Gudako and Mash trembled.
"Correct."
Merlin admitted it without hesitation.
"In order to confirm the concept of the Holy Sword, it is necessary to offer up all of her experiences, memories, spiritual foundation, and even fate. This is something only a fairy of paradise can accomplish—the true mission belonging to the fairy of paradise."
For a moment, everyone was left speechless.
A heavy atmosphere weighed on their shoulders.
"Huh? Everyone?"
At that moment.
The vanished Artoria reappeared before them, looking utterly bewildered at the drastically changed mood around her.
"...Isn't this just too cruel?"
Muramasa gritted his teeth in secret.
They had only exchanged a few words.
The memory of spring.
It was far too brief!