[You have successfully vanquished the Beast Calamity, Bagst.]
[As the massive beast's form slowly faded away, you heard the cheers erupting from behind you.]
[Whether it was the lords who had temporarily united, the soldiers who bore curses and fought tooth and nail through the beast horde, or even the anxious civilians watching from afar—once they saw the once-invincible creature fall, they all cheered as one.]
[Your reputation across Fairy Britain has reached its peak.]
[Thanks to your predominantly positive actions—despite the fall of Salisbury—your public support remains intact due to your skill: Morning Star.]
[With your reputation maxed out and your relationships with all current leaders at friendly or better, a special event has been triggered: "The Coronation."]
[You have been unanimously nominated by the fairy lords as the new King of Britain.]
"I hope you're not misunderstanding this. I'm not giving up on becoming Queen. It's just… after the devastation that's befallen Britain, this is a time for healing and recovery. If I were to start fighting for the throne now, it wouldn't be good for the fairies, would it?"
"And besides, didn't you once tell me how amazing humans from Proper Human History are? Well then, let me see for myself. If you were to become king, just how far could you lead the humans of Britain…? If we want to improve the status of humans in the Fairy Kingdom, then maybe having a human king is necessary."
"Humans don't live that long anyway. Once you die of old age, I'll make my move for the throne again. By then, no one will be able to stand against me. Honestly, it sounds kind of lonely."
"…Let's say it's in memory of that person."
—That's what Knocknarea said.
"This is insane… They actually made you king? Whatever. Not like it matters. She's the boss now—what she says goes. And I never wanted to be queen anyway. I just like reading books."
"Besides, I've got my hands full figuring out how to civilize those toothless brutes from Clan Fang. As long as you don't get in my way, I've got no objections to you being the new king."
—Said Muireann.
"I've always believed humans weren't fit to be warriors, but you've proven me wrong. Letting you be king isn't so bad. In Sheffield, humans and fairies are equals. You becoming king just validates my policies."
"But don't think you can boss me around. If you turn out to be a tyrant like Morgan, I'll overthrow you myself."
"…Still, you did free that fool Bagst, didn't you? Thanks—no, I hope you'll make a good king."
—Said Bogart.
"…How boring. Beryl's dead anyway, so whatever. Just as long as you acknowledge I'm my mother's daughter and my right of succession stands. I'm heading back. Once you're dead, the throne's mine."
—Yōltré, surprisingly, didn't cause Guinevere any trouble. After finding Beryl's body, she simply left. Rumor has it she cremated Beryl with magical fire until even the ashes were gone.
"I'm truly sorry about Artoria. But even in another form, she'd probably be happy to stay by your side as you became king."
"The Round Table Army was created to support the Child of Prophecy. For us to witness someone she acknowledged become king… it's an honor."
"In history, the Round Table also stood by the side of the mighty Knight King. So from now on, we remain your most loyal subjects. You are the true Commander of the Round Table."
—Percival handed over control of the Round Table once again. This time, he relinquished even his title as Commander.
And just like that, Guinevere was somewhat absurdly crowned the new King of Fairy Britain by unanimous consent.
Well… not entirely unanimous.
"By the way, have you gone to see my elder sister yet? She is one of the lords of Britain, and also a Fairy Knight. But don't worry, she's never shown any interest in the throne. I'm sure she'll support you."
Percival's reminder finally made Guinevere snap to realization.
Right. There was still Yolan.
So where had she gone?
…
Far off in the night sky, the first hint of dawn began to peek through.
But oddly, in Fairy Britain, there was no such thing as a sunrise or sunset. The sky remained an eternal twilight throughout the day, only to darken rapidly at night—as if whoever painted this world couldn't be bothered to illustrate dawn and dusk, skipping straight from light to dark.
Yet, if light had now appeared in the sky, it meant a new day was beginning.
However, just before that day began, in the Lord's Manor of Manchester, an unexpected disturbance erupted.
"OPEN THE DOOR! FAIRY KNIGHT!"
Glass shattered. The door to the lord's bedroom was violently kicked open. A petite knight in blue armor stormed in, exuding righteous fury:
"Bagst! Surrender at once! I won't give you a chance to become a Calamity and ruin Britain again! (｀Д′)"
Bagst, startled from her stupor, turned to the intruder with wide eyes.
"Huh? You're… rational? Σ(っ°Д°;)っ"
Melusine gawked. Though Bagst still had streaks of tears on her cheeks and puffy eyes, her gaze was clear, free from madness.
This… was awkward.
Melusine had assumed Bagst was mid-transformation—about to go full beast. She'd charged in intending to knock her out before the disaster unfolded.
But if Bagst was lucid… then this was, well, kind of embarrassing.
Wait a second—if she was in control, then didn't that mean her transformation into a Calamity was a conscious choice?
Melusine narrowed her eyes in realization.
This was worse than she thought.
From her simulations, she knew Bagst's beast form would decimate the population and that she'd be nearly unstoppable, even at full power.
That simply couldn't happen.
According to Morgan's prophecy, he would return this year. If he died because of Bagst's rampage…
Melusine's gaze turned sharp.
No. That cannot be allowed.
To protect him, she would do anything… anything.
With that thought, the two-thousand-year-old girl knight's eyes filled with a dangerous glint.
And so…
As she looked at Bagst, a bold idea suddenly took shape in Lancelot's mind.
"…Why are you looking at me like that? That's the look of someone about to commit a crime—wait, no, you're already committing a crime! You broke into another lord's manor! Don't tell me… you're here to assassinate me, Lancel—no, Melusine?!"
"Ah, uh, no, I mean—yes—wait—I mean, I didn't—Σ(゜ロ゜;)"
Busted. Melusine gave a sheepish, panicked grin.
Bagst, puzzled but distracted, turned away and glanced again at the floating screen beside her.
Melusine didn't react to it at all. Never once did her eyes linger on it.
So it really was something only Bagst could see?
That final line still hovered on the display:
[Mental state stabilized. Full-immersion mode disengaged.]
So… everything she'd seen before—it was all a dream? No, more like a simulation?
Even if it wasn't real, she had learned so much from it.
She glanced toward the room where he once stayed.
But she knew—he was no longer there.
Unable to summon the courage to look inside, she turned away.
The urge to end her life returned—but no. She had seen the light. She remembered what he had said:
You don't fight because you can win. You fight because you must stand here and fight.
His words mirrored her own thoughts now.
She couldn't give up.
She had to atone.
For all the people—fairy and human—she had devoured. For those still living.
She had to keep fighting.
Bagst looked once more at Melusine, who flinched under her gaze, a bead of sweat rolling down her forehead.
Bagst now realized why Melusine had burst in so suddenly.
She recalled a conversation from her third simulation—with Artoria, who came to her lands disguised as a commoner. Even back then, Artoria giving up her role as the Child of Prophecy hinted at something greater.
And now, Melusine's intrusion seemed to confirm it.
But this "system"… was it something Queen Morgan had created with her magic?
It made sense. The simulations had only been experienced by Artoria, Melusine, and herself—those Morgan had deemed eligible to inherit the throne.
Yet Bogart and Woodworth didn't seem to have undergone any simulations… did Morgan deem them unfit for succession?
The thought made Bagst sweat.
Even with all her sins and stupidity… the queen still saw her as a better candidate than the Lord of Oxford?
She felt unworthy.
No, there was someone far more deserving.
She recalled the knight who had slain her in that final simulation.
She was deeply grateful.
Had he not stopped her, she would've killed an old friend—and destroyed her homeland.
If she had done that under the beast's influence, even if it was "for the greater good," the guilt would've crushed her.
But he saved her.
That radiant sword of his had redeemed her.
He… was everything she aspired to be.
If anyone should be king—it was him.
She was a warrior, meant to serve on the battlefield. That was her role.
And now, she had someone worthy to serve.
Whether as gratitude, or for the nation's future—she would dedicate herself to him.
…Wait.
Something felt off.
Where was Melusine?
"Wasn't Melusine just here a moment ago?" Bagst muttered, glancing around the now-empty room. "I wanted to discuss what comes next with her…"
Just then, a sudden gust of wind came from behind.
As a warrior, she should have reacted instantly—but she was exhausted, her heart still tender from all she had endured.
So, when something struck the back of her head, she could only widen her eyes in shock.
And the next moment—
Everything went black.