The Holy City of Camelot stood on what was once Jerusalem.
Around the pristine White Wall City, remnants of old urban structures remained—home now to the displaced, the desperate, the ones who had nowhere else to go.
Shiomi and the Lion King reappeared atop the roof of a derelict building in that very zone.
To people struggling with hunger and thirst, uncertain if they'd live to see another day, the workings of Magecraft went completely unnoticed.
"It's... really bleak," Shiomi muttered as he stood on the roof, looking toward the Holy City.
Compared to the immaculate white spires, the surrounding neighborhoods were crumbling and sunken. People of all kinds drifted through the wreckage, their steps unsteady and purposeless.
"That's why the Holy Selection is necessary," said the Lion King. "Only those who pass the ritual are worthy to reach the end."
"What it means to enter the Holy City—you're not seriously still trying to wordplay with me, are you?" Shiomi turned and descended the stairwell clinging to the building's outer wall.
The Lion King gave no reaction to his retort, simply following him in calm, measured steps.
Thanks to the interference of perception Magecraft, the two of them appeared to the surrounding residents as well-dressed but unfamiliar travelers.
"It's both selection and salvation," the Lion King continued. "Because of one man's so-called great achievement, this planet's history came to an end. Human Order was incinerated, human history erased. That contradicts the very meaning of my existence."
"Meaning of existence?" Shiomi slowed his pace to match hers.
"We were beings created by humans. Without humans, the gods cannot exist," she said. "That's why they must be preserved—protected at all costs."
"That's your decision, then?" Shiomi raised an eyebrow. "I've already seen what you mean by 'at all costs.' You collect the worthy, and kill the rest. That's not much different from the King of Magecraft's methods."
"If the King of Magecraft could act according to his own will, then so can I," the Lion King replied, not denying the accusation. "To be frank, I've wanted to do this for a long time."
Shiomi was taken aback. "You have?"
"I love humanity. They're precious to me. I can't bear the thought of losing them," she said. "So I decided to grant them eternity—those souls fit to endure. I gather these pure souls, preserve them, make them into records. No matter how much time passes, they'll remain unchanging in value, safeguarded within my spear."
"...Because you knew the incineration of Human Order couldn't be stopped, you chose to preserve the last surviving humans—like specimens—forever." Shiomi abruptly turned and stepped in front of her. "I understand your plan. I'm not here to pass judgment on your motives. But I can never accept what you're doing."
"Is that so."
As always, her demeanor remained unchanged—no surprise, no anger. As if this response was exactly what she'd expected.
She said, "Your will isn't so easily broken. Even as a prisoner, you're destined to become a new complication."
"Then why keep me around? With your power and authority, even if you can't kill me, you could seal me away just like the others. Lock me in your holy spear with all the rest. Or do you think I'm not worth the effort?" Shiomi stared into her eyes, trying to see the truth behind them.
"It's a meaningless question. You're like me. Even if you haven't reached your full potential yet, one day, you will sit on the throne of the gods," the Lion King replied in her usual tone.
She wanted to preserve Shiomi—not as a subject, but as an equal god. A companion to watch over the eternal souls at the end of the world.
But as she called it—"meaningless"—Shiomi still couldn't grasp what meaning lay behind it all.
Why... would she need another god?
Suddenly, Shiomi felt a tug on his sleeve.
Looking down, he saw a boy—around ten years old—staring up at him timidly.
"Stranger from afar... do you have any food?" the boy asked. "...Grandma hasn't eaten in days..."
His small, dark, and skinny frame was just like most children of this era.
Even before the 20th century, getting enough to eat was a luxury for common people. And even well into the 21st, hunger from food shortages still plagued most of the world.
"Take me to her," Shiomi said, crouching down. He pushed aside the pity in his heart and forced a gentle smile.
Sensing a sliver of hope, the boy immediately grabbed Shiomi's hand and led him running down an alley.
The pure white clothes given to him by the Lion King were soon stained with dust and grime, but Shiomi didn't mind in the slightest.
The boy's home was a cramped, run-down shack.
Fortunately, the region's temperatures rarely dropped too low, even in winter. At least it wasn't cold enough to kill.
But that was secondary. The house was bare of all possessions, and in one corner, an old woman lay on a dirt bed, frail and barely breathing.
When she saw guests arrive, she tried to rise, but Shiomi gently urged her to lie back down. Then he took out an apple and handed it to the boy.
"Sorry, I don't have much on me. But take this apple," Shiomi said. "It won't fill your stomach, but... it might ease the hunger a little."
Chaldea's supplies weren't with him. Ever since he was captured and brought to the Holy City, Shiomi had barely eaten, relying solely on magical energy to sustain himself.
It was a technique he'd mastered back in the Land of Shadows, so he didn't think much of it.
The apple was larger than both of the boy's hands. He held it, stunned, unsure of how to share it.
Seizing the moment, Shiomi lightly placed his hand on the old woman. Gradually, some color returned to her face—she was regaining strength.
As the boy happily shared the apple with his grandmother, Shiomi quietly sighed and slipped out of the room.
"This little bit of food will only let them cling on a moment longer."
"It might," said the Lion King, who had silently watched it all.
"But I can't turn a blind eye to the suffering of the helpless," Shiomi replied.
They walked one behind the other through a narrow alley, and Shiomi placed his hand on the trunk of a nearby tree.
It was a date palm—common in the Middle East. While dates weren't particularly filling, they were still a precious food here.
There were many such trees scattered across the ruined city. But after the Lion King's Rhongomyniad had descended one day and turned the city center to ash, the land quickly lost its life, becoming a vast wasteland of sand.
In just over half a year, water and food had all but disappeared. To survive, refugees gathered before the Holy City once a month for the "Holy Selection."
Yet no one ever knew what truly happened during the "Selection." No one had ever seen a returnee.
Even the disturbances from a few days ago hadn't reached the people here.
As Shiomi walked through the decaying city, the surviving trees lining the streets and alleys began to stir with new life, sprouting fresh fruit.
At first, only one person noticed. Then more came. And when they saw the ripening dates, they dropped to their knees in awe.
They thought it was a miracle—and offered sincere prayers.
Shiomi didn't respond to the crowd's reaction. Quietly finishing his work, he made his way to higher ground outside the city.
"Even if you use your powers and show kindness, destruction will come in the end," said the Lion King, gazing down at the ruined city now flecked with green.
"Destruction? By who—you? Or the King of Magecraft?" Shiomi shook his head. "This isn't mercy. I'm just doing what I can. If I had food and water, I wouldn't even bother with this. Fake miracles only make these struggling people forget their will to survive, turning them into docile followers waiting for a god to save them."
"So you think gods only make people weak?" the Lion King asked.
Shiomi leapt up onto a rock overlooking the wildlands, leaned down, and offered her his hand.
"That depends on how you define it, Lion King. Come on—there's still too little to see from here."
Though she could've climbed up alone, the Lion King still reached out and took his hand.