Spiritrons scattered, stirring a blue tempest within the cramped room. Little Jack gasped in astonishment while Reika Rikudou, captivated by the majestic sight, murmured in awe.
"A white... white knight...?"
Her description held no error, for the knight's silver-white armor bore not a single blemish.
Though Reika and Jack stood awestruck by the knight's dignified bearing, Sakatsuki—the summoner—beheld instead the radiance from the world's edge.
What manner of light was this? Unlike any brilliance known to man.
Neither the mystical glow of magic, nor the faint shimmer of falling stars, nor the pristine radiance of the silver moon. Yet even the dazzling blaze of sunlight could not overshadow its brilliance.
This was the light that ignited human hearts, crystallizing countless prayers.
Though confined to this chamber, its majesty stretched boundlessly.
To witness this glow was to banish all hesitation, regardless of circumstance.
So long as it endured, no era could remain devoid of hope.
Its source? A holy spear—wielded by this silver-white knight.
Clad in a lion-like helm and plate armor of gleaming silver, the warrior's blue-and-gold trimmed tassets connected to a beast-hide cloak billowing dramatically behind. Mountless yet magnificent.
"I ask of you—are you my Master?"
The voice—clear, piercing, and indisputable—carried undeniable authority.
To Sakatsuki, it struck like a hammer upon his soul, awakening half-remembered visions:
A full moon's glow. Hazy night. A warehouse strewn with discarded relics.
Where a red-haired youth once met the golden-haired maiden who altered his destiny.
"Gh—"
Pain flared above his chest like branding iron. Clutching the spot, Sakatsuki watched in shock as the three Command Spells stolen from the old man faded from his right hand like dissolving ink.
In their place, twin agonies erupted across his pectorals—as if winged creatures nested within his flesh now beat desperately for flight.
Perhaps his movement signaled something. The knight nodded solemnly, stepped forward, and parted Sakatsuki's black robes to reveal his collarbone.
"You—" Before he could protest, the transformation on his own body stole his attention.
Six Command Spells now adorned his bare chest—three on each side—spread like wings embracing him.
"This is—?!"
"No mistake remains." The silver knight inclined her head knowingly before kneeling in flawless fealty. "Servant·Ruler, answering your summons. With spear of the world's end and sword of shining light, I become your strength."
Her visor retracted, unveiling a face both adorable and sublime. Her smile outshone the moon and dimmed the stars.
"Long has it been, Lord Sakatsuki."
***
There lay a tranquil plain adorned with a riot of colourful blossoms.
The only obstruction to the view was the distant forest on the horizon. Gazing across the vast expanse, one saw nothing but evenly divided land and azure skies stretching endlessly.
Here, there were no fences or houses built by human hands. Walls, castles, and the trappings of nations held no meaning.
By day, the air was filled with the warmth of spring and the breath of summer. By night, it was enveloped in the crispness of autumn and the starry skies of winter.
The paradise envisioned by mankind was but a pale imitation of this land.
This was a place untouched by human footsteps—an island at the end of the eternal forbidden lands, a small world known in myth as the Everlasting Spring or the Isle of Apples.
Avalon, the utopia beyond the reach of even the wisest of beasts.
Even the confines of a mere ten-square-meter tower, a quadrilateral prison, were surrounded by blooming flowers.
"Let us speak of the tale of the king..."
The man who murmured these words wore a simple yet exquisitely woven robe of the finest fibers.
His rainbow-hued hair shimmered under the sunlight, and his violet eyes, capable of perceiving even the farthest distances, held an unwavering gaze.
What was he looking upon? What joys and sorrows, what reunions and partings, did he contemplate?
"Ah, you've arrived?"
With a smile, as if greeting an unseen guest, the man lightly waved his staff—the Staff of Paradise.
Within the mana-saturated air, something descended amidst the unseen turbulence. Even the slightest glance caused the tower imprisoning him to tremble as if under immense strain.
Yet the man paid it no mind. Faced with the reproach of two unseen wills, this half-human, half-phantasmal being merely chuckled and spoke as if to himself.
"If you must ask why—well, my Artoria goes where she pleases. If she wishes to experience the battlefield as a Servant, then as a mere magus who once served her, I can only support my king's decision~"
"Ah, but this is a matter for the Round Table, is it not? The two of you have no authority to interfere. If you wish to question us, send an envoy with a formal letter of reprimand. Though, come to think of it—"
Narrowing his eyes, his smile took on a teasing edge.
"You never told that little maiden from Orléans, did you? That the greatest source of chaos in this Holy Grail War is none other than the last knight of our Round Table?"
"Because you feared that Ruler would understand his wish—and then, she too would be ensnared by it."
BOOM!
The unseen forces shook the fabric of time and space. Not only the tower imprisoning the man, but the entire paradise itself let out a mournful cry.
Yet the man merely flicked his staff, and flowers bloomed anew across the land, quelling the wrath from beyond.
"Now, now, both of you—calm yourselves. I still have a very, very long stay ahead of me here."
Turning his gaze afar, his clairvoyant eyes pierced through the present, witnessing the silver-clad King of Knights kneeling before a stunned young man in black robes, pledging her loyalty. The sight made him chuckle heartily.
"Ahaha... That last knight probably hasn't realized it yet, has he? The very reason my king went there was to keep an eye on him—that unruly variable."
Without mentioning who it was that altered the spiritual foundation of a certain spiky-haired one into a Ruler, nor who personally modified the summoning pathway, the man simply smiled in eager anticipation, awaiting the wonderful tale about to unfold.
The presence that had stirred ripples moments ago now fell silent as well—whether its gaze had already shifted away or it lingered here still, observing the events to come, remained unknown.
"Rest assured," murmured the handsome yet languid man, though to whom he spoke was unclear.
"With a King who bears the anchor of the stars, this world shall never be destroyed, nor shall humanity meet its end."
"This is my guarantee—as a candidate for the Grand title, as the Magus of Flowers."
To the land, he gave blossoms; to mankind, dreams; to history, only the future.
Such was the nature and essence of this man.
His name was Merlin, the Magus of Flowers.
Among the great magi who appeared across countless myths and legends, he stood at the pinnacle.
A hybrid of human and incubus, he bore the mark of the highest-ranking magus—eyes that pierced the world itself.
At once, he was the court magus who guided Arthur to kingship, witnessed the fall of the Once and Future King, and opened the gates of Avalon to welcome the monarch's arrival.
Like a breeze drifting across the plains, Merlin narrowed his eyes, his voice carrying softly.
"Let us speak of the King's tale..."
***
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