Mash was thinking of the girl who had been born from a cruel experiment but had never looked away from life. Her precious friend who had given her freedom and watched over her.
"And—more than how one is born, how one lives is what matters!"
Mash looked at her senior—Rikka—who was wrapped in black "Evil" yet was protecting everyone. To Mash, she was the coolest person in the world.
"There is someone here who carries all the world's evils, someone you have branded as 'wicked,' yet who continues to fight!! Our lives have only just begun—and life is something that continues! It's not just for this moment! It moves forward forever and ever, connecting wider and wider!!"
Mash had been given life. She had been given a precious future by everyone. She had friends, her lifespan had been extended... she had so much future ahead of her. She couldn't be "fixed" in place before seeing it.
She would fight. Against a God, or against Ruin itself. To protect everything she held dear.
"Rhongomyniad! If you are the end of the world... then I will fight you with everything I have!!"
The God's sentence was passed.
"Very well. Then I shall show you! The storm called by my Holy Spear, the truth that lies beneath the skin of the world! Holy Spear, Anchor set! From the storm that tears the sky and binds the earth—"
A storm erupted. The Spear—the Tower at the World's End—loomed, impossibly massive.
"Here I go!! Director Olga Marie, Master Rikka—give me strength!!!"
She braced her shield, her resolve for protection catching fire.
"Watch me—I will prove the foundation of our history... and our bonds—!!!!"
Mash's soul of protection reached toward the White Castle.
"That which heals all wounds, all grudges—our home—"
Her chant became power. It was the unsullied gate, the place where all knights gathered, the white castle that healed all who sought rest. The embodiment of a righteous heart.
"Manifest—!!"
"LORD... CAMELOT!!!!"
The ideal castle of the distant past manifested—the Royal Castle, Camelot.
"Ngh... Ahhhhhhhh!!!!"
Mash bore the weight of the Divine Judgment falling upon them, her entire being vibrating as she held the fortress together.
"Interesting. Let us see how long those slender arms can support the White Castle!"
The light intensified. Mash's feet sank into the floor, the pressure threatening to shatter her.
"Haaaaaa... AHHHHHHHH!!!"
With a roar of spirit, she held it. The castle shook violently, a testament to the clash of two absolute wills.
(Tch! If only this pressure wasn't so—!)
The party of three couldn't loosen their defense for a second, or they would be reduced to ash. But then—
"—Thank you. I was about to commit a sin once again."
Bedivere walked slowly toward Mash.
"—You've made up your mind, haven't you, Bedivere?" the King of Knights asked, not looking back as she held the storm at bay with her left hand.
"Yes. But first—I must give some advice to the knight Galahad recognized. To our junior."
Bedivere placed his hand over Mash's on the shield, a gentle smile on his face.
"Don't strain yourself, Sir Kyrielight. That shield will never fall. Not as long as your heart remains unshaken."
"Sir Bedivere... like this?"
Following his lead, Mash relaxed her body and stilled her heart. The shaking castle became a bedrock, equal to the Spear—no, repelling it. Her unwavering resolve took physical form.
"Exactly. You have excellent instincts. Remember: the White Castle changes with the heart of its master. If there is cloudiness or stain, it will fray and break. But—if there is not a single doubt in your heart, the main gate will never fall. You are not a knight who defeats enemies. You were chosen for the Round Table to show the goodness of your heart."
"—Who are you?" the Lion King demanded.
"He is the soul you most need to see. The one you must accept, Goddess," Air sang.
"No, you should know. I know him—and you know him. That knight... that loyal knight. His name is Bedivere," the King of Knights declared.
"—What are you saying? I know no such k-knight—"
Bedivere nodded quietly.
"Of course. But... perhaps this will clear your memory. —Take up the sword, Silver Arm. Switch On—Airgetlam. Now, cleave through the light of judgment!"
The Silver Arm activated. Inside was the Holy Sword. The radiance of his "sin."
With a single strike, he tore through the judgment, the waves, and the authority. He held the light high.
"—That radiance—I know it... I know it—"
The Lion King clutched her head, a sudden, agonizing headache flaring. Something fatal was flashing through her mind.
"—I was only able to come this far because of the strength of the Kings, and because of Rikka. I thank you all for everything. Now, the time has come to fulfill my mission."
"Bedivere—"
"Thank you. It was a short time, but the moments I spent with you... they healed the exhaustion and self-reproach of 1,500 years of wandering."
He turned to the Lion King and spoke with a powerful, steady voice.
"You must recognize this. This is the radiance you were meant to hold. —It is no Silver Arm. It is the Holy Sword, Excalibur."
"Excalibur... Bedivere. That name... I remember..."
The Lion King looked up, her eyes wide. "Could it be... you are..."
"—Yes. I committed a sin. Out of a foolish desire not to lose my King, I committed a terrible crime. But I have been given this final chance. Because of everyone. And because of Rikka."
(Me?) Rikka thought.
"On that night of the Selection, if you hadn't been there, I never would have made it this far."
He remembered the battle to save lives—the battle where she risked everything to protect refugees. Seeing her stand in that fight had given him the resolve to take up his sword.
"I... I cannot remember. I know the name Bedivere, but I have no memories of you. Are you truly Sir Bedivere?"
"..."
"...Fine. Then return to my side. Throw away that sword. I have no need of it." She reached out her hand toward something lost, something precious. "If you are my knight, obey my voice! Return to my Round Table, Bedivere!!"
Bedivere slowly shook his head.
"No, I cannot. Lion King. Avatar of the Holy Spear. To you, I am an enemy to be struck down. You must take your revenge on me—and..."
He cleaved through the storm with his right arm, continuing his steady march forward.
"—I am the Knight of the Round Table, Bedivere! As one who represents the good, I shall strike you down, who have become evil!"
"—No." The Lion King's headache reached its peak. "What are you saying, Bedivere... you were my—the person I once was's..."
"—Will you fulfill your heart's desire, Loyal Knight?" Gilgamesh asked.
Bedivere nodded. "Yes. —Thank you for healing my body. You are... truly... a great King of Heroes."
(Sir Bedivere...)
"The fourth chance you all gave me. Now, at last—"
His gentle smile struck their hearts with a profound weight. Bedivere did not look back. He cleaved through the light and the waves, walking toward the Lion King.
"I am being... pushed back by a mere Heroic Spirit? No, you aren't even a Heroic Spirit. You are just a human... a mere human, approaching me?"
With a body full of strength and a soul full of pride, Bedivere closed the distance.
"...Why go so far?"
"Because... I still remember the smile you wore that day. King Arthur."
"—If your life is fulfilling, then I am happy. Please, do not let the small, everyday things—the things I and the others might overlook—pass you by."
"King Arthur..."
"That is why you have a place at the Round Table, Bedivere."
He slowly raised his right arm—raised Excalibur. He aimed it at the Spear she held, at the source of this world's madness.
"—On behalf of the Knights of the Round Table, I offer you my thanks."
The strike was a ritual of return. The Holy Sword was going back to where it belonged. The 1,500-year journey was ending. The 1,500 years of loyalty were being rewarded.
"—You were left to carry that dark era alone. You never knew the joy of the brilliant Round Table."
The King of Knights lowered her head in silence.
Mash watched with wide, tear-filled eyes.
Rikka closed her eyes and listened to his words.
The Beast felt the weight of a human miracle.
The King of Heroes bore witness to it all.
The Hero Princess closed her eyes and prayed.
"Valiant King of Knights. Savior of Britain. To us, you were the shining star. My King, my Lord. Now—no, this time—I return this sword to you—"
For 1,500 years, his loyalty had been for this moment.
"—Lay down the sword, Silver Arm. Switch On—Airgetlam.—"
The long, long journey was over.
"—Please, rest. For I have wished for nothing but your peace—"
The end of a knight's journey. The final destination of a gentle sinner.
...I see. I remember at last.
That forest. That hill. The face of my knight, eyes swollen from weeping, caring for me until the very end.
To atone for that regret, you wandered for ages uncounted?
...Magnificent. My last, and my finest, loyal knight.
The Holy Sword has indeed been returned. Be proud, Bedivere. You have truly... fulfilled your King's command.
...And, innocent Hero Princess.
The only one among them who affirmed the 'Lion King' while still choosing to stand against her. A truly irreplaceable soul.
—It is I who should show respect. That kindness, those precious thoughts... they were far too vast to ever be contained within a thing as small as my Spear—
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