"And yet, there is still work for you to do, is there not? I shall stay my hand; I will delay the correction of this era. Go. Make the most of the time I give you."
"Ordinarily, there is no logic in allowing those who challenged a King to return alive... but I am she who was defeated by a Princess. I shall accept this loss with grace."
"Go now. My existence shall vanish along with this Singularity."
"...If I have one final prayer to offer..."
"Take care of my knight. Farewell, Hero Princess."
"I pray that as you walk the path ahead, your radiance and your nobility... are never lost."
"Sir Bedivere. And... Air."
"Your feelings have reached me. Truly."
"Bedivere brought me his loyalty."
"And Air... you brought me... your respect and your gratitude."
"Even if the Lion King of the Holy Spear must perish... it had meaning. My existence had meaning."
"For me... it was..."
I hear a voice.
"You've walked a long road. You must be so very tired. Your sin is washed away; your journey of atonement is settled here. It has finally borne fruit."
I hear a voice.
"By all rights, your story should end here. Your soul should burn out and fall into the void."
I hear a voice.
"But... this is a spectacular, thrilling tale woven by a rather temperamental King. A simple conclusion won't do. It's a bit cruel, really—I have to whip you back into shape for just a little longer."
I hear a voice I know well.
"Now, wake up. You no longer need to be haunted by nightmares. You no longer need to blame yourself. Wake, so that we may add the true colors to your journey."
I hear a nostalgic voice—
"Come—everyone is waiting for you."
Guided by that voice, my consciousness rises, drifting upward into the light.
"...I am..."
"—!"
Bedivere sat up with a start. He was in a room in the mountain village. The ceiling, the walls, the floor—everything was made of simple, rustic, and gentle wood.
"Where... am I?"
He tried to remember. The Castle. The Holy City. Facing the Lion King, and then...
"I... I returned the Holy Sword. I..."
His gaze darted to his right arm. The Holy Sword—the proof of his sin. That radiance.
It was gone. Where the Silver Arm once weighed him down, there was only a light, peaceful void. He no longer heard the hum of the silver or the sound of his soul being scorched.
"Am I... alive?"
The words left his lips in a daze as he confirmed the reality. His body, his heart, his mind—they were all here.
"I am Bedivere. A Knight of the Round Table... a knight of the King..."
"Are you awake, Bedivere? I apologize for disturbing you right after you finished your grand task, but... you have one final role to play."
He looked up instantly. Entering the room was the King of Knights herself, Arturia Pendragon.
"King of Knights... I..."
Arturia gave him a look of exasperated affection. "To not even consider your own survival... how like you. For what purpose do you think I restored you to health?"
"Am I still...?"
"Be at ease. This Singularity is being corrected. Even now, the Holy City—that impossible history—is being erased by a force far faster and stronger than usual. We have already secured the Holy Grail."
Bedivere let out a long, shaky sigh of relief. "Then we won. We truly won."
"Yes. You returned the Holy Sword, and the Lion King acknowledged her defeat. As a final gesture, she gathered everyone here, in one place."
"A gesture...?" Bedivere didn't quite understand, but the King of Knights offered him her shoulder.
"Your life was healed; the Sheath held you together. You did not vanish. Because I am using the power of the Era-Grail, my departure will be later than the others. I can still assist you in this final hour of your loyalty."
"M-My King?!"
"But first, let us observe the customs. Everyone is waiting."
They stepped out into the village square.
"Ah! He's up! Everyone! Bedivere is awake—!"
Sanzang, the gentle monk, spotted them and raised her voice in a cheer. Hearing her, the Great Hero of the East and the young boy Rushd turned with smiles.
"Good work, partner. Thanks to you, the village is safe and sound!"
"Welcome back, big brother Bedivere!"
"Lady Sanzang... Sir Arash. Rushd..."
Arash and Rushd shared a grin.
"The Cursed Arm and I are from similar enough eras that we're sticking around for a bit to help rebuild. We wanted to say a proper goodbye. I guess I'll be looking after Rushd for a little longer."
"Big brother Arash promised to teach me the bow! It's a promise!"
"Yeah. You did good, Bedivere. I saw your resolve through to the end."
"...I... I was just... doing everything I could..."
Arash said nothing more. He simply placed a hand on Bedivere's head and nodded, as if to say I know.
"Anyway—you've got one last job. You've got enough energy left to manage a smile, right?"
"A smile...?"
Before he could ask, a boy with purple hair and a young man with green hair approached them.
"Good work. That was quite the long trip. Ah, but that right arm... looks painful."
"You're one to talk, Moses," Tawara Touta replied. "Your left arm is the color of a corpse. It's a ghastly sight."
"Ahaha, well, that's just how the technique works. It's fine. I'm the same as him—if I protected what I set out to protect, I'm satisfied. Though... Rameses and Nefertari—ahem—did cry a bit, but as long as I'm alive, it's all good!"
Moses raised his right arm cheerfully. Touta sighed and offered him a shoulder.
"...I see why you were summoned now. Thank you, Moses."
"Wasn't he a great student? A bit more free-spirited than you, Touta, but still!"
"Wait a minute!" Sanzang interrupted. "What part of his 'anything goes' rule-breaking was just 'a bit' free-spirited?!"
"Yikes, Master is mad! Rameses! Help me!"
"Hahahaha! All is right with the world! If you're hungry, speak up, Sir Bedivere! I'll whip up one last meal for the ages!"
Laughing and shouting, the three of them ran off into the village.
"Everyone..."
"Sir Bedivere."
Four shadows knelt silently before him. It was the Hassans of the Mountain.
"Master Hassan!"
"On behalf of the people of the mountains, we thank you. You have struck down the Lion King. History will return to its proper course, and the Holy Land shall be reclaimed. Our gratitude is beyond words."
Bedivere shook his head at Cursed Arm's praise. "There is no one in this era who did not give their all. It was because everyone fought that I was able to fulfill my role."
"...It seems 'Knights' weren't such fools after all," Hundred Personas mused.
"What was that?" Serenity teased. "Weren't you the one shouting that 'Knights are worse than beasts' just the other day?"
"Hahaha, pay her no mind, Hundred Personas. Let's let bygones be bygones, shall we?" Cursed Arm laughed.
"...Um. Good work," Serenity whispered softly.
"A magnificent journey, truly. We shall never forget this debt," the Hassan of Intoxication added.
They would remain in this era to aid in the reconstruction until the Holy Land was restored, fulfilling the command of the First Hassan.
"I won't forget you either. Your skills, your ways... they will stay with me."
"Hmph, strange for an assassin to have his 'ways' remembered. We shall meet again."
With a flash, the four of them vanished like a gust of wind.
"Ah! You're awake, Bedi! Over here, over here!"
Heroine X (Arturia) was hopping up and down, waving. This time, her "Saber-Slayer" persona was gone, replaced by a bright smile.
"Ow, ow... Hey, you chicken... survived, didn't you? Tough bastard..."
"...Sir Bedivere. Well done."
Mordred and Lancelot, both covered in bandages and undergoing treatment, looked up.
"Sir Bedivere, congratulations on returning the Holy Sword! You did a truly, truly wonderful job! Unlike these embarrassments to the Round Table," Arturia X said, kicking their armor mercilessly. "Losing your cool, making Agravain mad, and turning a winning match into a draw? Are you mocking chivalry? Licking your chops before the prey is caught is for third-rate hacks!"
"It's not my fault, Father!" Mordred yelled. "This guy said something stupid and made him go all out! Are you listening, Lake-head? I had to work twice as hard because of you!"
"...I have no excuse. I was the only traitor..." Lancelot muttered, looking utterly defeated.
"Perhaps what we needed all along was this kind of 'honest talk,'" the King of Knights said with a gentle smile, watching the chaotic scene.
"Well, leave the treatment of these blots on the Round Table to me. I'll have them ready for the photo! Come on, heal up! I protected your spiritual cores, so this is nothing!"
"Ow! Don't kick me, Father!"
"Am I... perhaps... a useless knight in everything except swordplay...?"
"...Live strong, Lancelot," the King of Knights said, leading Bedivere away.
"The Sun King and his party will arrive soon. I want you to join the customary ritual for the local Servants." She looked up at the sky, her expression noble and beautiful. "It is the final form of eternity. A way to end the journey with a smile. A 'commemorative photo,' Bedivere."
"King of Knights! Sir Bedivere!"
Mash Kyrielight, the new knight of goodness, called out to them.
"The preparations are ready! Let's begin the final ritual!"
"Sir Kyrielight... am I to be included as well?"
"Yes! A group photo with everyone!"
Mash nudged them forward. "Go on! I'll go call the others!"
"FUHAHAHAHA! It is only natural that I, the Sun and God, occupy the center!"
"Oh? So you mean to challenge my hegemony, then?!"
Ozymandias and Iskandar glared at each other, while Semiramis looked on in exhaustion. "Noisy fools... who cares who is first... ahhh..." She finally sank into her precious throne, her face relaxing into pure bliss.
"Touta! Lift me up! I can't see!" Sanzang shouted.
"Alright, alright! Stop hitting me!"
"Smile, Rameses!" Moses said, throwing an arm around Ozymandias.
"I shall allow it!"
"Iskandar, this is disrespectful!" Nitocris cried as the King of Conquerors hoisted her onto his shoulders.
"Nonsense! It is the duty of the senior to show the junior the view! Hahaha!"
"Shall I do the same for you, Cleopatra?" Caesar asked.
She shook her head, leaning against him. "As long as you are here, I want for nothing, my Lord..."
"Cleopatra... you are so beautiful..."
"Lord Caesar—eeeek!" She hugged him too hard and was bounced off his round belly.
"My apologies, Cleopatra. I am currently in my 'prime' form," Caesar joked.
"...Fitness... gym... someday...!" she muttered.
"Big brother Arash... the shooting stars are pretty," Rushd said, sitting on Arash's shoulders.
"Oh? You still think I was lying? It sounds like a fairy tale, but it's a 'true' fairy tale."
"But if you do it, you'll die. So... don't do it, okay?"
"...Yeah. You're right. I can't die until you've grown into a fine man."
Hanam and Salia stood quietly together, sharing a moment of peace from a past life.
"Are we okay in a photo? Is this allowed?" the three Hassans whispered.
"It's fine as long as we keep the masks on."
"Is that really the issue here...?"
"Father," Mash said, walking up to Lancelot.
"Y-Yes, Sir Kyrielight? I, uh..."
"Pull yourself together for once!"
"Gah—!"
After deflating him with a sharp word, Mash sat down right next to him. "...I'll sit here."
"Sir Kyrielight...?"
"I should at least be kind at the very end. Otherwise, there's no point in the bond between parent and child."
Lancelot's eyes widened. Mash turned her face away, blushing.
"Ah..." Lancelot breathed.
"'Ah'? What is it?"
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAA—!!!!" Lancelot roared with joy, finally achieving a "Class Change" into a doting father.
"Shut up! You're hurting my wounds!" Mordred barked.
"You too, Mordred! Be quiet!" Arturia X snapped.
"Are you awake? Since this was a mess caused by you Round Table fools, I suppose I'll let you have the center."
Gilgamesh, the King of Heroes (Class: Gorgeous), stood behind the camera he had prepared.
"King of Heroes..."
"A single-minded obsession. Like a drop of water piercing a stone. It was a magnificent display."
Bedivere bowed deeply. "Thank you, my King."
"King of Knights. I leave the cleanup to you."
"Yes. That is what the Era-Grail is for. Thank you, King of Heroes."
"No thanks are needed. I only act as I please. Now—"
"I'm back—!" Rikka descended from the sky on her jet-black horse, Ryuki.
"Did you say your goodbyes to the Old Man of the Mountain?" Gilgamesh asked, taking the camera from her. Rikka nodded.
"No thanks are necessary," King Hassan had told her. "I was merely a helper. To declare the Mandate of Heaven was your own power."
"But you were there for me, Gramps. I won't forget that. Thank you... I'll keep this cloak as a treasure."
"Rikka Fujimaru. Walk forward without hesitation. What lies ahead is a Great Evil. The original sin of humanity. Something close to you, yet eternally distant."
"I understand."
"Steel your heart. We shall surely meet again, Proud Dragon."
"...We'll meet again, Gramps," Rikka whispered, clutching the cloak.
"The actors are all on stage!" Air sang.
(Leave the shutter to me!) Fou cheered, setting the timer.
"Everyone..."
"Come on, Bedivere! Hurry, hurry!" Rikka pulled him by the hand to the center of the group.
"King of Knights... you too, if you would."
"Yes. Bedivere." Arturia took her place beside him.
"Alright! A commemorative photo for the conquest of the Singularity! Show me your best smiles! Here we go!"
"Three, two—!"
(One!)
The camera clicked, capturing the end of an era—a smile frozen in time, made eternal.
"SAY GORGEOUS—!"
A chorus of voices rang out. Everyone was smiling. Everyone was there. A bond that would never fade.
"Then, let us go, Bedivere. Do you have any regrets?"
"No. The Lion King has him now. Even without me... he is far more suited for the task."
"Then, take my hand. In the name of the King of Knights, I shall see you off. Truly... well done, Bedivere."
"No. To have met you... I have been the happiest of men."
The Royal Castle
"Ha... ha... ha..."
Agravain leaned against a pillar, his breath shallow.
"Lion King. Are you... well? The rebel army will arrive soon. I know you cannot be defeated, but... please, be cautious."
"..."
"You have a habit of... respecting the ideals of your enemies."
"Sir Agravain. It is you who needs caution. Your limbs are shattered, your torso is torn, you have lost an eye. What manner of foe did you fight...?"
"...Haha. Indeed. A man of ridiculous strength and a knight with the swordplay of a mad dog. It took everything I had just to force a draw. I could not... let a filthy traitor stand before you while I still drew breath."
"I see. Sir Agravain, come. I grant you permission to approach the throne. My hand cannot heal such wounds, but it may dull the pain."
"...No. It is too great an honor. Besides... I still have five tasks remaining."
"..."
"The removal of the rebels. The expulsion of intruders. The repair of the Holy City. The guidance of the selected citizens. And... the finishing touches on the magnificent detached palace where you, who will be left alone, shall dwell."
"..."
"There is still... so much to do. So much... and yet... it seems reality has reached its limit. I intended to present you with the ideal kingdom this time... how shameful. My plan... failed once again."
"...Yes. But I shall not hold you to account. Rest now, Agravain. Overworking was your only flaw."
"...Hardly. Compared to you... I have done nothing..."
A Certain Utopia
A young man lay leaning against a tree, his eyes closed in a peaceful sleep. Beside him, a young knight looked up at the sky.
The young man's face was beautiful, unblemished, and free of pain. He breathed softly, steadily. A breeze swayed his hair and stroked his cheek. Flowers bloomed in profusion around him, cradling him in their scent.
His right arm was gone, but he slept without a care in the world.
The young knight spoke to him in a soft, quiet voice.
"The end of the age of chivalry has vanished. The heroes who gaze at the stars are moving forward."
"..."
"They will be fine. I am sure of it. They will even strike down the 'Evil' that waits at the end. After all, they are lead by a King of Heroes who stood against me time and time again. If they are the protagonists of this story, there is no need for worry."
"..."
"Truly... well done. That was a long, long journey you took."
"..."
"Sir Bedivere..."
"..."
"What manner of dream... are you having now?"
-------------------------------
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