"Have you found the answer?"
Seeing Guinevere stumble back a few steps, frozen on the spot as though bewildered, Ptolemy asked.
"...Ah."
After a brief silence, Guinevere gave a slight nod.
"Perhaps I have."
It now seemed that the very starting point of his transmigration might truly have been Proper Human History. He had even married and had children there... Only those memories were erased, and then Proper Human History's Morgan had sent him off in a small boat, away from Britain. After that, he had wandered until he finally arrived in the Fairy Kingdom.
And judging from this so-called Simulation No. 777 of King Lot, his Proper Human History self had indeed been bound to a simulator... perhaps he had even run through a full thousand simulations. That was why, in the Fairy Kingdom, his own simulation numbers had started from 1001.
He and Morgan might have gradually fallen in love during those thousand runs. Thinking about it carefully, her final decision to send him away might also have been tied to something that had happened within those simulations.
Guinevere could not help but wonder: in those glimpses of the future, what had Morgan seen? Something so severe that it had driven her to send him away from that land?
He did not understand.
At that moment, another thought suddenly struck him.
"Wait a moment. I think I have one more question."
Guinevere abruptly raised his head.
"Apologies, but I already told you," Ptolemy replied calmly, unmoved, "each person only has one chance to ask a question."
"Uh, um..."
Just then, Fujimaru Ritsuka timidly raised her hand from the back.
"I'd like to give my chance to Guinevere-senpai... is that allowed?"
"Oh?" Ptolemy turned his gaze toward Fujimaru. "Are you sure? That would mean three of the four slots have all gone to him. Surely Chaldea has its own questions it wishes answered?"
"Well, that's true..." Fujimaru admitted, "but Guinevere-senpai has helped us in Chaldea survive so many disasters already. Without him, I think we would've been wiped out back in the fourth Singularity."
She spoke seriously:
"A person should repay their debts. Besides... honestly, I don't even know what I'd ask. If Da Vinci were here, she'd probably have some ideas, but since I don't, I'd rather give my chance to him."
"Hmph. Very well. Though not the most rational, your way of doing things reflects Chaldea's nature," Ptolemy said with a slight nod.
"Such a way of living may bring losses, but I do appreciate the sincerity it conveys. It seems our cooperation will be pleasant in the future. Enough idle talk—please, ask your question."
Once again, his hawk-like sharp gaze turned back onto Guinevere.
"My third question relates to what I encountered in the fourth Singularity," Guinevere said after some thought. "When I first awoke in the Fairy Kingdom, I found this object on me..."
He reached into his robes and drew out the ancient insignia that had been with him since his awakening—etched upon it was the mark of the King in Yellow.
"Back in the fourth Singularity, I felt this item was somehow tied to me... I wish to know whether my Proper Human History self had any involvement with the King in Yellow, or other alien gods, and why this emblem ended up in my possession—"
But before Guinevere could finish, Ptolemy shook his head.
"Sorry, but I cannot use the Tri-Hermes to answer that question."
"Eh?" Guinevere froze. "Even the Tri-Hermes cannot uncover it?"
"No. You misunderstand. It is not that the Tri-Hermes cannot answer, but that I refuse to use it for this. The present you is not suited to know the answer. In fact, learning this truth may not be a good thing for you at all."
"Eh? How come?" Artoria blurted out. "You've answered everything else—why not this?"
"Because this is the stance of Atlas... and also the directive given by the junior alchemist who summoned me."
Ptolemy spoke slowly:
"The reason he sent me here was to convey one simple stance in his place—Atlas refuses to let you use the Tri-Hermes to seek the answer to that question. They have judged that you, knowing it now, would endanger Human Order."
Guinevere frowned, thoughtful.
"Is... is it really that serious?" Artoria was dumbfounded. "I mean, it can't be that bad, right? We all know Guinevere's character—he's not the type to do evil things..."
But mid-sentence, she suddenly recalled the terrifying control of the Blood-soaked Lord, and chose to shut her mouth.
"Enough. Please change your question and quickly ask your last one," Ptolemy instructed.
"Then... may I ask about the one known as the 'Tyrant of Vice'?" Guinevere asked.
"Sorry. I must also refuse that," Ptolemy said, shaking his head. "All of these questions circle the same core truth. If you hope to pry it out through roundabout wording, abandon that hope. That alchemist asked me to refuse all such inquiries."
"Tch. Someone's really set on targeting me..." Guinevere sighed. "Fine then. I'll return the chance to Ritsuka. Truly, thank you—whatever the case, I'll remember your kindness."
"N-no, it's a pity I couldn't actually help..." Fujimaru waved her hands awkwardly.
In the end, after a brief discussion with Mash and at Guinevere's suggestion, Fujimaru chose to ask what exactly the Lion King's 'Holy Lance' was.
Though Guinevere already knew the answer, he felt it better not to speak it himself, and left it to Fujimaru.
Soon, Ptolemy used the Tri-Hermes to respond:
"The so-called Holy Lance exists in two forms. One is the immense tower that pierces the world itself—what appeared, when the Age of Gods had yet to fade, as a pillar of light rising from the sea west of Britain, standing on the horizon at the very end of the world. Called the 'Tower at the Ends of the Earth,' unreachable by any means."
"The tower's true nature is the anchor of the Storm that binds the stars, the pillar that links the world's surface and its underside. To pull out the spear is to strip away the surface world that rests upon earthly laws of physics."
"The second form is Rhongomyniad, the Holy Lance, the shadow of the Tower cast upon the land—a personal weapon through which one may wield the Tower's authority. You can think of the Tower as the main body and the spear as its terminal. Its mysteries are on par with the Sword of Promised Victory."
"In this Singularity, the so-called Holy City that rose from the ground is not Camelot at all, but the Holy Lance itself. When the Lion King conducts the Selection, she does not choose upright, righteous humans. She chooses only those who can never act wrongly under any circumstance. The Lance can contain the souls of five hundred such humans. Those brought into that city are essentially stored within the spear, preserved like specimens for eternity by her side, proof of mankind's worth in a display case."
"That... that's far too cruel! How could she?!" Mash cried out.
"And that is not all. Once the spear truly manifests as the Tower at the Ends of the Earth, this entire region will become the edge of the world. The price of creating such a perfect world within the Tower... is the complete erasure of everything outside it."
"Wait—what?!" Artoria finally shot to her feet. "You mean, the me of Proper Human History would abandon the entire world, just to preserve five hundred people as specimens by her side?!"
"Yes. That seems to be her answer to the incineration of Human Order by the King of Demonic Beasts," Ptolemy said evenly. "Since Human Order would burn anyway, she chose to turn the world into the Tower beforehand. That way, at least five hundred might survive. That was likely her thinking."
"Unforgivable! That's cowardice to the extreme!" Artoria roared. "Instead of finding a way to stop the King of Demonic Beasts, she selfishly chose a plan where five hundred survive but everyone else is sacrificed? There's a limit to recklessness! Has she even asked those five hundred for their opinion? What does it mean to keep people as specimens?!"
The more she spoke, the more furious she became.
"I can't stand it! I thought the me of Proper Human History might be cruel only to enemies, but she's just a cowardly lizard! If she had any courage, she should've gone to the Temple of Time and smashed the King of Demonic Beasts! What's the point of pulling this here?!"
"Fine! Then this me of this Singularity—I'll be the one to strike her down myself!" Artoria stomped her foot with finality.
"Are you certain? The Lion King now is, in a sense, the embodiment of the Holy Lance. She's like a goddess Rhongomyniad. Incredibly strong," Guinevere warned.
"Holy Lance wielder or not—I'm the wielder of the Holy Sword!" Artoria snapped back. "Just watch! I'll beat her down with my own hands!"
"Hah... full of spirit. In that case, as a mere observer, I look forward to your great victory," Ptolemy said, clearly pleased with her defiance.
"Ptolemy, won't you join us in stopping the Lion King?" Fujimaru asked.
"No. That is not my duty. My duty is only to answer your questions. Nothing more," he shook his head. "This crisis of world's end isn't even worth the concern of the one who summoned me from Atlas. He concerns himself only with the apocalypse he alone has observed... In time, when you interact more with Atlas, you'll understand."
"Now that your questions are finished, please go. Saviors, I look forward to our next meeting."
When Guinevere's group finally departed Atlas, Ptolemy watched their backs recede, then spoke into the empty air:
"Was that satisfactory, my summoner?"
"Yes."
With the sudden sound of a voice, the air rippled, and a faint transparent silhouette appeared beside him.
"You did well, Ptolemy-senpai. Atlas thanks you for your assistance."
"No need for thanks. After all, Atlas aided me in building my library... But are you truly not going to meet them? Your parents were right here, mere steps away."
"No need..." the figure murmured. "I was born never knowing my father. The few times I met him, it was only as an enemy... Besides, I am the one who committed patricide. Isn't it cruel to ask me such a thing?"
"Rather than calling it a sin, I'd call it righteous justice against your own kin, Director," Ptolemy said, stroking his beard.
"I've already stepped down, Ptolemy-senpai," the figure replied with a weary sigh.
"Even so, your deeds cannot be erased," Ptolemy said calmly. "As one who once observed—no, who once lived through—a crisis that could have destroyed humanity, and who gathered power from all sides to correct it alongside countless heroes across many eras... your achievement is undeniable. You ought to hold your head high."
"—Mr. Arsas Pendragon Atlasia."