After realizing that under King Solomon's interference, the incineration of human history had become fact, humanity was destined to lose its future, so she decided, in her own way, to select a portion of humanity to preserve.
Even if they would thereby become eternal specimens, sealed within the Holy Spear.
But it was "happiness for the next visitors to this planet."
When nothing remained, to entrust the future to the future visitors, if it could truly be realized, those visitors would surely want to learn about the great people of the past.
So, from a rational evaluation, "simply wanting to continue existing" for the Lion King meant "eternity," and was also the "proof" of her love for humanity.
"In the Holy City, there is someone I must meet. For that, I need to know all information concerning the Holy City," Bedivere's words carried firm resolve.
But beneath that resolve, the fear was easily seen through by Shirou.
Perhaps not just Shirou, even the great hero could see it.
Yet he said nothing of it, and after some thought said, "Since the two of you share the same goal, I'll share what I know."
He asked, "Do you know where these refugees come from?"
"Related to the pillars of light?", Shirou guessed.
When he first appeared here, all he saw were storms and sand. It took him a whole day to reach the base of the Chalk City/Camelot.
He hadn't even eaten.
"Not exactly," Arash said, "About half a year ago, a man calling himself Richard I led Crusaders into Canaan."
"Crusaders?", Bedivere was surprised, "Weren't they defeated?"
"Yes, but because of the Holy Grail, they returned, easily creating deserts, wielding inhuman power."
Shirou roughly recalled these details and said, "But they were then destroyed by the Lion King and the Knights of the Round Table."
That ruled out the possibility that the Lion King had summoned him.
Because if she had, Shirou should have appeared alongside the Knights of the Round, not at such a critical juncture.
"That's right," Arash pointed out, "The pillars of light those two children mentioned earlier are the means of Lion King Arthur."
"Indiscriminate attack…", Shirou's expression grew heavy.
Unlike Bedivere, who was shocked upon hearing of King Arthur and the Round Table Knights.
What he thought of was that Artoria's personality had likely vanished entirely.
Otherwise, by her nature, she would never rain down indiscriminate attacks.
But since he hadn't seen it with his own eyes, he still clung to a shred of hope.
Arash's words continued to drill into his mind, "After the Crusaders and Jerusalem were destroyed, overnight, this Holy City rose up from the ground…"
The rest differed little from what Shirou already knew.
The Holy City only opened its gates on the night of the new moon to admit refugees.
"Admit" was really just "selection."
The chosen few were kept, while the inferior leftovers were all killed.
This was what Arash called the "Holy Selection Ritual."
"To this day, not a single refugee has walked out of the Holy City?"
After hearing the entire account of the Holy City, Bedivere clenched the silver arm hidden beneath his cloak.
"Mm. Not a single one."
Arash's words sparked imagination, "Why do you think that is?"
"..."
A silent response.
Bedivere moved past that topic and continued, "So, at present, no one knows any intelligence about the inside of the Holy City?"
"The Knights of the Round likely know. But they won't come out to answer for us," Arash spread his hands.
Bedivere was silent for a moment before saying, "Thank you very much."
He took out currency of this era, intending to hand it to Arash.
The great hero did not accept.
Seeing this, Bedivere left the coins behind and prepared to depart.
As he turned, Shirou hinted, "Won't you tell us about yourself?"
"It has nothing to do with you," Bedivere distractedly answered.
Shirou quietly said, "Such an attitude doesn't suit the eight virtues of a knight."
Thump!
Like a sharp spear piercing his heart, those words made Bedivere crouch down, unable to bear it, face twisted in pain.
Shirou watched for a while, then gave up, "Sorry, I said something I shouldn't have."
"No, it's my own problem," After crouching for a bit, Bedivere stood and hurried away.
Shirou watched him disappear into the alleyways linked by crumbling, earth-colored houses.
Just now, he really had thought of telling everything.
But it seemed Bedivere wasn't prepared.
In that case, even if he met the Lion King face-to-face, it would be meaningless.
Would returning the sheath help restore her humanity?
Yet to be discussed.
"Looks like you know quite a bit too, little brother," Arash teased.
Shirou broke from his thoughts, "Just a means to get a meal, nothing worth mentioning."
He rubbed his stomach, abandoning the idea of going to wait at the Holy City's gates, and asked, "Any temporary work, the kind that comes with a full meal?"
"Hmm?", Arash didn't quite follow.
"No?", Shirou muttered, "True, in this situation, even if there is, it won't fall to me. Guess I'll just have to go robbing…"
He meant the bandit merchants he'd encountered before coming here.
As a Hero of Justice, punishing them and then taking a little reward after was perfectly reasonable.
But Arash didn't know that. Hearing Shirou's shocking words made his brain freeze.
Seeing the latter about to leave, he quickly said, "Wa-wait, Shirou."
"?"
Arash smiled awkwardly, "It just slipped out, but you don't seem to like it."
"Not really."
Traditionally, only very close people would address each other so familiarly. So for Arash to directly call him Shirou did surprise him, but it wasn't unpleasant, "A name is just that, doesn't matter."
"Then so be it."
With a warm smile, Arash said, "If you're hungry, I can give you a place to go. All you need is to put in some labor."
Shirou instantly understood what place he meant.
Today's Jerusalem was a barren land divided among three powers.
The white Chalk City, founded around the pure-white Lion King and the Round Table Knights.
To the southeast in the desert, centered on a pyramid, ruled the Sun King Ozymandias.
Also known as the Pharaoh Ramesses II, "Ram II" for short.
Together with Gilgamesh and Karna, one of the so-called "Golden Three Targets."
The place Arash mentioned was no doubt the third faction.
Hidden in the mountains around Jerusalem, the people of the mountain (the Hassan Order), exiles resisting the Round Table Knights, seeking to reclaim stolen lands, waiting for their chance to strike.
"Thank you very much, but I can't go immediately."
Heading to the Old Man of the Mountain's territory would take time. And tonight was the new moon, the Holy City's gates would open.
At least until tonight was over, Shirou certainly wouldn't leave.
Arash understood Shirou's goal.
Besides, even if Shirou agreed, he hadn't planned to take him there right away.
So he laughed, "It's fine. I can first treat you to a meal, consider it making a friend."
"Really?", Shirou perked up.
"Of course it's real," Arash grinned broadly.
A bit of food, he could afford.
Such goodwill made Shirou suspicious:
"Can I ask, what about me makes you want to do this?"
After all, they'd only known each other for less than ten minutes.
"Hahaha! I'm fairly confident in my eye for people."
Arash's gaze searched him, "You have a vigorous vitality, not only full of energy but also eyes that are extremely resolute, like the rising sun."
"So I think you're someone very worth befriending."
"Even if I said I was going to rob?"
"That…"
Arash was momentarily at a loss for words.
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