"If Britannia has been destroyed… then there's no civilization left."
Shiomi lost his composure, gripping Morgan's shoulders in desperation. "Does that mean… you're no longer alive?"
Servants, after all, were beings who came into existence only after death.
One of the rare exceptions was Artoria Pendragon during the Holy Grail War.
But Shiomi knew Morgan was different. She was still alive, yet had used some method to become the Servant he summoned.
Morgan, however, remained calm. "Originally, yes. As a fairy of paradise, I should have died six thousand years ago."
"Originally?" Shiomi grew even more confused.
"But someone from the future changed that." Morgan raised her face, locking her gaze with his.
"Was it me?" He was stunned.
He had crossed time before. But Rayshifting with Chaldea had already proven extremely difficult just to reach Uruk over four thousand years ago. To reach Britannia's Lostbelt six thousand years past…
"Who else could it be?" Morgan asked with a faint smile.
"But if that's true, why is this island still stuck in the state it's been in for two thousand years after its destruction?"
"The only ones who can reach the next quantum time-lock are those who lived in that era," Morgan explained patiently. "As my husband in the 'present,' every action you take from here on will affect this entire age—whether in the Lostbelt or Proper Human History."
"So… what we see now is only because I'm still here, without having gone to the 'past,' so history hasn't yet changed?" Shiomi thought aloud. "But if history already has a result, then even if I go back—"
"That would be history already fixed as a time-lock. The clearest example is Proper Human History. The reason Demon King Goetia chose to burn history through Singularities, turning the planet's past into fuel, rather than rewriting it directly, was exactly because of this." Morgan resolved his doubts. "But when a pruned history resurfaces, it does not immediately become fixed."
"I see… yes… that makes sense…"
Shiomi's grip loosened. He lowered his head, burying his face in Morgan's shoulder. "If nothing has been decided yet… then that's enough."
His voice trembled faintly with tears. Morgan simply embraced him gently.
She knew well enough that their relationship was a taboo among taboos—
A human and a fairy, beings from different histories, had fallen in love.
A fate even more forbidden than a bird loving a fish.
And yet, Morgan did not regret it. Nor did Shiomi.
After a long silence, Shiomi lifted his head, smiling bitterly.
"Thinking about it now… even if I refused to become a Crypter, it wouldn't have mattered to the Alien God."
"Are you truly going?" Morgan asked seriously. "To borrow BB's words, I only have a one-way ticket. Once I go, there's no coming back."
"Can you tell me your real age?" Shiomi asked instead.
"…Over six thousand years." Morgan's cheeks flushed slightly, and she glared at him.
"I guess that makes me…" Shiomi swallowed back the teasing words with a suppressed laugh. "Never mind. Six thousand years old… then I'll try to live as long as you."
"Mm." Morgan's reply was soft, yet utterly certain.
"So, you have a way for me to meet you?" Shiomi asked earnestly.
"I didn't waste my time in Chaldea. I've already analyzed the Rayshift system. Using the 'Water Mirror' and 'Ice Coffin,' I can reproduce it. Though in truth, I'll have to send you together with the Ice Coffin itself." Morgan explained, "But it's an enormous spell—calling it magic wouldn't be an exaggeration. Once it's cast, my Spirit Origin will collapse completely, and I'll return to where I belong."
"Everything has its price, I suppose." Shiomi smiled bitterly, cupping her face with both hands. "All these years, you've never once been hurt. And now… you'll have to experience 'death.'"
"Only by understanding death can one grasp the value of life," Morgan said calmly. "Besides, it's only a false 'death.'"
"Maybe so… but it still hurts."
Shiomi held her tightly, memorizing the warmth of her body, the fragrance of her hair, and her voice—clear as water, yet carrying a hidden warmth. Only by holding on to these would he be able to find her again in the 'past.'
"Time is precious. I must begin preparing the ritual," Morgan whispered into his ear. "Take care of the 'me' of the past, my husband."
"To be honest, I'm worried the past you might not like me."
"She will. She might even—" Morgan stopped herself, then smiled faintly. "Never mind. My husband will discover that himself."
"Eh…" Shiomi muttered in mild protest.
Morgan pushed him back, and the Ice Coffin began forming at his feet.
"Once the Ice Coffin is complete, your consciousness will be cut off. For you, it will feel like only a blink." Morgan spoke with deliberate clarity. "I'll send you directly to Orkney, in northern Britannia, six thousand years ago."
"That's your homeland?"
"Yes. A small country where it rains for most of the year. Poor, but peaceful." Morgan's eyes softened with nostalgia.
"So that's why they called it the Land of Rain," Shiomi mused. "Right… when I meet the 'you' of the past, how should I introduce myself? Should I just say, 'I'm your future husband'?"
"That wouldn't be bad." Morgan didn't object—in fact, she looked as if she was quietly looking forward to it.
The Ice Coffin slowly encased most of Shiomi's body. Drowsiness overcame him, and he knew his consciousness was about to fade.
"As a farewell, I thought long and hard about what I should say. And now… I know." Morgan gazed into his eyes.
"It doesn't matter if you don't say it. I already know—"
Shiomi tried to smile through the stiffness of his face, but before he could finish, Morgan kissed him once more, just as she had in the past.
A fleeting yet eternal kiss, and with it—parting.
"I'll be waiting for you in the future, my husband."
Consciousness slipped away.
The sky darkened. Heavy clouds spread across the heavens, and a single beam of light descended, striking the Ice Coffin.
Space and time twisted briefly, and then the place where Morgan had stood was empty.
Looking down at her own body turning transparent, Morgan smiled in quiet satisfaction.
A breeze swept across the wasteland, making the weeds sway. But the witch's fluttering dress was gone.