Chapter 153 The King Conquers Another World
Golden, flowing short hair, green-gold eyes radiating otherworldly majesty with a faint glow, clad in silver armor decorated with blue patterns—the tall, slender, and handsome boy stood on the earth. When light shone on him, he seemed to shine entirely.
The most dazzling thing was the Noble Phantasm he held: a golden, spiraling holy lance.
In this state, the boy looked both like a sacred king and somewhat like a god treating all things as pawns.
This simulation of a spirit-class servant had been chosen from the perfected form of the one selected by the holy lance. Due to repeated use of the lance, the boy's body—and eventually even his mind—began to be reshaped by the lance's radiance.
However, King Arthur's soul had not descended. The emptiness within was filled with the divinity emanating from the holy lance.
This was the boy bidding farewell to Artoria and his teacher, wielding the holy lance to protect the future of the world. Now, he no longer needed to carry a sealed ceremonial outfit; he could wield the lance freely, just like Artoria with her holy sword.
At this moment, Shirou raised the holy lance, aimed it at the barbarian king, and assumed a battle stance, ready to pierce at any moment.
"Hahaha! I was just thinking the Round Table lacked a flashy member. There you are!" Seeing the boy's stance, the barbarian king sheathed his axes and laughed, seemingly no longer interested in fighting.
"Barbarian king, are you still going to fight?" Artoria asked, holding her black holy sword.
"Ahahaha! No, no more fighting. Since the holy sword and holy lance are here, the Noble Phantasms needed to defeat Vortigern are complete. We have no reason to fight you further," the barbarian king said.
"Then how will the victory be decided? Will you admit defeat and submit?" Artoria pressed. Before battle, she always feared disorder in organization or divided hearts. Even if only symbolic, hierarchy must be clear.
The barbarian king raised both hands and shouted: "I understand! We lost. King Arthur! I, Barbarian King Sam, on behalf of the Anglo tribe, swear to submit to your command. Lead us to defeat the dragon Vortigern!"
"Very well! I permit you to follow behind me! We will share the glory of defeating the dragon together," Artoria declared, exuding authority with a single gesture.
"Olala olala olala!!!" The barbarians raised their hands and shouted in celebration.
In this world, they had long suffered from Vortigern's destruction. They had left their homeland seeking land and livelihood, only to be forced to fight daily meaningless battles. Many of their
kin had been corrupted by the black mud, becoming mindless monsters of war. Now, the time to end it all had come.
Artoria, showing the skill of a true king, immediately held a meeting with the barbarian leaders. They reached a consensus and forged an alliance. The barbarian king and his capable warriors would join the dragon hunt, while their troops would hold back other monsters and black mud-controlled soldiers, minimizing the dragon's ability to absorb power.
After some arrangements, the barbarians' compliance was no longer just verbal; both leaders and subordinates genuinely agreed to Artoria's terms. Mor-chan's eyes sparkled, filled with admiration.
"The decisive battle will be tonight at dawn. At that time, obey my orders, and we will launch the attack together!" Artoria commanded.
"We understand. We will arrive at the battlefield on time," the barbarian king responded.
"Good! I will now go invite the other forces. Farewell." Artoria spoke and decisively moved toward her motorcycle at the entrance of the barbarian camp.
"Mor-chan, let's go." Shirou tugged at the dazed girl.
"Ahhh…" Mor-chan snapped out of her admiration and followed.
"Mordred, get in the vehicle! Don't make me say it twice," Artoria said.
"Ah… yes! Father," Mor-chan obediently replied.
Shirou then sat at the back.
When the vehicle started moving, Mor-chan realized a major problem.
In front was the cool and handsome blonde girl, King Arthur, driving. Behind her sat Shirou, whose hair had suddenly turned golden and eyes green-gold, strikingly handsome.
Sandwiched in between, Mor-chan blushed violently, her thoughts in chaos. "What do I do? I'm surrounded by two such handsome people at once! Is today my lucky day?"
"What's wrong, Mor-chan?" Shirou asked, glancing at the girl in front.
"Shirou! Don't hold that lance so close to me!" Mor-chan shrieked like a startled kitten, thinking, "What's happening? That holy lance is near me… my heart is pounding! I feel like I'm dying~!!"
"Ah… sorry." Shirou quickly retracted the lance, recalling Mordred's previous death. However, in this state, he indeed resembled the King Arthur of another world more and more.
"Is it okay now, Mor-chan?" Shirou leaned forward and whispered by her ear.
"Waaah! Don't come near!" Mor-chan jumped as if electrocuted, hitting the back of her head on Shirou's chin.
"…Mor-chan… what's wrong?" Shirou said, covering his face. His body was strengthened, so he wasn't injured, but it still hurt.
"…It's fine…" Mor-chan said, holding her head, trying to endure the pain, though her ears flushed red for a long time.
"Maybe I should cancel this mode," Shirou said. Though possession summons lasted a while and it would be better for him to adapt to the enhanced body, in this state Mor-chan couldn't even function as combat support, so it was better to cancel.
Shirou understood. Even if he summoned another era's Arthur, the holy lance concept was the same, so Mor-chan's resistance and dislike were natural.
Shirou had also experienced being killed by a spear more than once.
Seeing someone like Cú Chulainn here would indeed be unpleasant; differences in personality aside, it's hard to smile at someone who had killed you.
"No! That's such a waste!" Mor-chan grabbed Shirou's sleeve, shouting.
"What exactly do you want?" Shirou asked, puzzled.
"I don't know~!!" Mor-chan shouted even louder, angry.
Though usually somewhat strange, Artoria and Shirou were used to her behavior. But recently, she became even stranger, her emotions suddenly spiking.
"Mor-chan, are you feeling unwell? Any side effects from being summoned to this world?" Shirou worried and reached for her forehead. The influence of the holy lance's divinity made his demeanor more direct and domineering.
"Don't touch me! Idiot! Stupid! Waaahhh!!!" Mor-chan's face turned red, she flailed her limbs, almost falling from the vehicle.
"You're the idiot! Don't move! Do servants even get fevers?" Shirou quickly held her, checking her forehead, then his own, muttering strangely.
"Waaahhh!" She shrieked again as her temperature rose, seeming to emit smoke due to her servant physiology.
Artoria could no longer tolerate this and slammed the brakes, stopping the motorcycle. She coldly looked back at Shirou.
"Shirou, shut up! Cross your arms and sit still! Don't move!" Artoria said, word by word.
"Huh? My bad?" Shirou asked, confused. "Weren't we joking like brothers before? This isn't right."
Under Artoria's gaze, he complied.
Interestingly, Mor-chan became much calmer, tightly hugging Artoria's waist, refusing to approach Shirou. Their relationship seemed to improve, but Shirou felt a bit left out.
They continued toward the next camp. By now, the stream was visible, and following it led to the place where Shirou had dissected deer meat yesterday. Wooden fences surrounded the camp, with a large white tent at the center—the camp of Pellinore.
In this world, among Britain's rebellious factions, knights opposing the Knight King, or warlords, Pellinore's strength and influence were the greatest. At least, with five Round Table knights and Morgan le Fay with her husband King Lot absent, this was the case.
The steel giant roared, crashing into the camp before the guards could react, the resulting wind making the flags bend inward.
"Hmph, I thought it might be someone else. Boldly barging in… It's you two brats again? Still alive, lucky. And you brought another brat… what are you planning?" Pellinore said arrogantly, barely looking at the newcomers.
"Your majesty! You've come too!" Lamorak recognized them instantly and said with delight.
"Majesty?" Pellinore looked at the girl in front, eyes wide in shock, shouting angrily: "King Arthur! Seeing your former allies, knights, and even those you killed… what does it feel like now?"
The girl casually greeted them as if reunited with old mischievous friends: "Hmph! You're as noisy as ever, Pellinore. Lamorak, long time no see."
Pellinore's voice carried far, spreading through the entire camp.
"King Arthur! That girl is King Arthur!" "King Arthur is here!" "Now we have hope to defeat that dragon and end everything!"
They had once been rebels and clearly understood how terrifying Arthur could be as an enemy.
They had also fought alongside him for ten years, witnessing twelve great battles, driving off invading barbarians, bringing peace to Britain— A saintly king.
Being close to him might inspire awe or fear, unable to comprehend, yet dominated by his presence.
As an observer, Arthur was a venerable figure with unmatched achievements. To fight alongside someone so powerful was exhilarating.
But as the leader, Pellinore disagreed.
"Hmph! King Arthur, you're still cold as ever, inhuman! How ironic—you bring back the rebel who caused your death to meet those you killed? I can't understand your motives. Are you going to kill us again?" Pellinore shouted.
"Pellinore! You dare provoke the King of Britain!" Mordred gripped her silver greatsword, shouting angrily.
"Perfect! My son was slain by you, Mordred!" Pellinore held his silver spear with both hands.
"Stop! I've accepted all grudges and attachments from the past, and let them go," Artoria said softly.
"What!?" Everyone present was shocked, looking at the girl.
Artoria glanced at the boy and slowly spoke:
"Since pulling the chosen sword, Merlin told me that before being human, I would be a king. I was raised for this purpose and have acted accordingly. I have always made the optimal choice for Britain.
"To benefit the many, some must be sacrificed; to maintain order, rebels must be ruthlessly suppressed. I never considered personal feelings, which is why knights feared and betrayed me.
"I tried my best, but everything was destroyed, filled with regret. That's all. Now, I will not dwell on the past. When I die, all debts will be settled. Mordred, if you wish to stay by my side, I will keep you close. For other knights, I will treat them equally."
The girl spoke from her heart.
She accepted her fate, abandoned the Holy Grail, renounced the contract with restraint, and became a heroic spirit.
In her Alter form, she leaned toward the tyrannical side of Arthur, but that allowed her to face everything freely.
As a servant, she could pursue her own happiness.
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