After nearly ten days of waiting, the Sword Emperor Lucius finally set foot on the British Isles.
That day, when the Roman soldiers in the camp spotted the fleet approaching from the sea, their eyes instantly filled with tears.
Men don't cry easily—but they do when grief strikes deep.
And after all they had experienced in Britain, the Roman soldiers understood that truth all too well. First, there were the heavy casualties from the initial landing. Then, the desolate coastline, so barren they couldn't even spot a single hare. They were forced to survive on weeds.
Last but not least, Britain was simply too cruel. Jeanne Alter's bizarre sense of competition kept them on edge day after day.
So, when reinforcements finally arrived from their homeland, it was nothing short of salvation for these exhausted and demoralized soldiers.
Lucius had come at the perfect time. At the moment the troops saw their emperor, they erupted in thunderous cheers: "Long live the Emperor!"
Not even during previous victories had their cries sounded so fervent. The sheer enthusiasm caught Lucius off guard.
His arrival was celebrated by nearly everyone. To the Roman soldiers, their emperor's tall, commanding figure had never seemed more reliable.
But for Jeanne Alter, it was all insignificant.
"Tsk. The moment they saw their master, they forgot who's been protecting them all this time. Just running over with their tails wagging. What a hopeless bunch," she scoffed, her tone full of disdain.
Of course, that was just a small complaint—a way to vent her frustration.
It didn't really matter to her what the Roman soldiers thought.
It didn't matter what happened. It had nothing to do with her.
What did surprise her, though, was the boy standing before her. Someone who, by all logic, should have been just as excited as the soldiers outside.
She could see a flicker of excitement in his eyes. But it was different. There was a distinct sharpness in his expression—a decisiveness, a darkness, a malice.
It was as if—
If the Roman soldiers were like customers waiting for a long-anticipated store opening—eager to spend lavishly and fulfill their desires—then Arthur…
Arthur was more like someone ready to ransack the shop on opening day. Not to shop. To destroy.
That was the level of malice she sensed.
"You… you're thinking of something terrible again, aren't you?" she accused. "Don't bother lying. The malice in you is practically overflowing."
"Something terrible? Of course not." Arthur offered an innocent smile. "I'm simply happy His Majesty the Sword Emperor has arrived. But you, Alter… have you decided whether to sign the contract? It's the only way to set you free. Otherwise, even if you sever the summoning link, there's no escaping the Sword Emperor."
"Shut up already! I told you, that contract was meant for—my familiar! It has nothing to do with me!" she snapped, her voice rising.
If he had been the one to propose the contract first, maybe she would've signed after a few sarcastic remarks.
But now that she thought about it, she'd been the one to bring it up.
If she signed it so easily now, wouldn't it seem like she was eager—desperate?
Unacceptable!
Completely unacceptable!
"Really? Why are you so stubborn?" Arthur shook his head with a sigh. "To be honest, Alter, I'm preparing to leave. I want you to come with me. I don't want the next time we meet to be on opposite sides of the battlefield."
The words came without warning and left Jeanne Alter speechless.
Leave?
Where to?
Of course… to return as King Arthur.
That so-called "truth"—no, Arthur had never once said he was a Roman mage. There had never been a real deception. From the start, he had hoped she would notice the inconsistencies herself. The flaws in his words were too obvious.
And Jeanne Alter had noticed them.
She was naive, but not foolish.
She'd seen through it. But she had never said a word. She had even avoided bringing up anything suspicious.
Why?
Because she had been genuinely happy with Arthur.
Ever since being summoned to this era, everything—be it Roman soldiers or Emperor Lucius—had only brought her misery. Vengeance and the destruction of the British dynasty became her sole purpose.
But after meeting Arthur, that purpose began to fade.
This era meant nothing to her. Even the nation destined to bring her suffering in the future was now just a band of savages, already thoroughly defeated.
So in truth, Arthur was the only connection she had.
And now… he was leaving. Taking with him the last thread tying her to this world.
How cruel, Arthur…
No—King Arthur.
Perhaps you are even more suited to be an Avenger than I am.
Jeanne Alter looked at Arthur with a complicated expression. After a long pause, she spoke softly.
"Compared to being with me… your throne is more important, isn't it?"
Her voice was heavy. Laced with sorrow.
To be honest, Jeanne Alter didn't think this kind of atmosphere suited her at all.
As an Avenger, she was supposed to be arrogant, full of wrath, sweeping aside everything in her path until she finally collapsed into hell.
But maybe it was just the nature of being a woman.
Without warning, Arthur suddenly felt like a scumbag preparing to abandon his wife and children. He scratched his head in frustration, his mouth twitching.
"Ah, come on. I knew this would happen. You're such a pain!" he groaned. "Fine. This time, I'll say it plainly, and I mean it. Listen to me."
He looked at her seriously.
"Jeanne. You're very important to me. Very important. Who in their right mind would let such a cute girl walk away just like that? Do I really have to say it out loud?"
"W-What… you… y-you…!"
Jeanne Alter flushed. Her words stumbled. She couldn't form a proper sentence.
"But," Arthur continued, his tone sobering, "if you're asking me which is more important—you or Britain—then I can only give you one answer."
He looked her in the eyes.
"Britain is more important. This has nothing to do with power or status. From the moment I was crowned, I accepted the responsibility to lead my people into the future, no matter what. There's no deep emotional bond between us yet. So yes—for Britain, I would leave you. But for you, I will absolutely defeat Rome. And when that happens, even if you resist, I will force you to stay by my side."
"You—! You, what the hell are you saying?!"
"Is it so hard to understand? Ah, you're such a handful." He sighed. "Listen, Jeanne. There's not much time left. Don't ask anything else. Just sign the contract—and come with me."
"Shut up! You're the kind of guy who—" She started to yell but trailed off under his gaze. Her voice softened until it became a whisper.
"…You're the one begging me, not the other way around. So even if we both fall into the Hell, don't you dare regret it."
-End Chapter-
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