"...And that's how Mash and I met, and how we began our journey to restore the Human Order.
"After that, we survived the initial inferno of Fuyuki, then the Evil Dragon War, and later formed a bond with the Rose Emperor in the City of Seven Hills... all leading us to this place.
"One, two... In the blink of an eye, this is already the seventh Singularity we've experienced."
Da Vinci-chan really was incredible. She could craft bathtubs in the middle of the desert and erect cloth partitions for privacy. After finishing her work, she promptly left—though she possessed a perfect female body, the soul within was male.
Now, shielded by the fabric enclosure and with the wooden tubs raised on stands, Guinevere lit a fire to heat the water. The five of them, each occupying a tub, gazed up at the starry sky together.
"Ritsuka, I'm eager to hear the full details of your adventures," Guinevere said. "If you continue on this path, you'll surely become Heroic Spirits yourselves. In fact, when it comes to saving the world, most Heroic Spirits can't match your accomplishments. My own deeds, for instance, pale in comparison to yours."
"You're too kind, Miss Ruler," Ritsuka replied.
"Yeah, Auntie Guinevere, you're being way too modest!" Mash blurted out.
Ritsuka still addressed her as "Miss Ruler." As much as she enjoyed flirting, she didn't dare call Guinevere "Big Sis." She had a nagging feeling she'd be completely outplayed.
Mash, on the other hand, had called her "Auntie" without a second thought. But if she were speaking as Galahad, "Auntie" would indeed be the proper term.
"I've told you before—call me 'Auntie' again, and I'll take you to bed! Now, be a good girl and stick to 'Ruler,' or call me 'Big Sis'!"
The bathtubs stood side by side, steaming in the cool night air.
They could only afford to use their precious water for bathing because the final battle was tomorrow. The refugee camp had lifted all resource restrictions, and Tawara Touta had fully unleashed his Noble Phantasm. With these two factors combined, the refugees were already holding extravagant feasts, too preoccupied—and forbidden—to approach this area.
"Fine, 'Big Sis' it is," Mash conceded. "It's just that your idea of 'taking me to bed' doesn't sound like a good thing. It reminds me of some... very unpleasant 'big sisters' I met in previous Singularities."
Mash was right next to Guinevere, her clean form visible in the tub, revealing most of her collarbones and shoulders.
Mash, Ritsuka, Guinevere, Serenity, and Nitocris—all girls. Chaldea had temporarily disabled its surveillance, and aside from the First Hassan, no one could breach their perception.
Thus, they had nothing to guard against.
Except...
"Mash, thank you for the hospitality!"
Guinevere pressed her palms together, imprinting the scene into her mind. She had no intention of cheating, but she had no intention of holding back either.
In fact, Guinevere would be delighted if Artoria got angry over this.
After all, this was nothing more than what they had done countless times in their lives—soaking together in large bathhouses.
"By the way, Ritsuka," Guinevere said, "here's what I promised you."
What was the catalyst that could reliably summon Guinevere? The answer, of course, was the lock of hair Merlin had used to summon her.
She certainly hadn't left that with Merlin.
Upon receiving the strand of ash-blonde hair—from her 'original' body—Ritsuka froze for a moment. Then, under the watchful gaze of four pairs of eyes, she leaped out of the tub, went to her clothes, and carefully stored the hair away.
"What a magnificent sight," Guinevere purred. "That perfectly toned body... You three could probably enjoy it for a year."
"Huh?"
"More than a year. For the rest of my life."
"Not even death could separate me from her."
The "huh?" came from Mash. The "rest of my life" was Serenity. And the final declaration belonged to Nitocris, wielder of the Mirror of the Underworld.
Mash is still so naive, Guinevere thought, so inexperienced with human ways.
With a faint smile, she leaned back and slid into the water, leaving only her golden hair floating on the surface.
Having bathed in Lia's body several times now, Guinevere had grown more familiar with it. For instance, its desires were faint—far more normal than her own body's had ever been.
Submerged and holding her breath, Guinevere's thoughts turned to the Lion King. But the more she considered it, the more she realized there was nothing left to dwell on.
Tomorrow, she and the Chaldea group would prove to the Lion King that the Human Order of this world could still be saved—that she didn't need to resort to the desperate measure of creating a "pure human gene pool."
Once the Holy Sword fully contracted, shrinking from the size of a city into a lance that could be held in one hand, not a single living being currently within its range would survive.
There are three hours until dawn and six hours until Agravain's final deadline, Guinevere thought underwater. Instead of admiring these girls' beautiful forms, I should be talking to Bedivere. I need to see if I can get that Holy Sword from him.
Her decision made, Guinevere burst from the water, materializing Artoria's classic blue armor the instant she landed.
With a snap of her fingers, golden flames enveloped her dripping hair, burning away the moisture in seconds.
Her EX-Rank skill, [Execution], granted her control over fire and immunity to its effects.
"Mash, Ritsuka, and you two," she announced, "I'm going to have a chat with Bedivere. If the water gets cold, you'll have to figure something out yourselves."
"Also, Mash, there's something... Uhm, anyway, tomorrow, if you hear a voice telling you to release the Holy Sword's seal, remember to agree."
Guinevere believed that when she wielded the Holy Sword, Tristan, who couldn't bear to face her, would consent. Gawain, freed from his duty as a Knight, would consent. Even the Knights who had defied the Lion King's wishes and chosen death over obedience would surely consent.
This was all assuming, of course, that Bedivere and Mordred would never object.
The real problem was Bedivere himself—the one whose wish was to personally return the Holy Sword. Would he be willing to entrust it to her?
-
"Ruler, are you saying you want to use the Holy Sword?"
Inside a tent, Guinevere, fresh from her bath, sat alone with Bedivere, who had just returned after a few drinks.
At her request, the alcohol's haze instantly vanished from his mind.
He had witnessed the Lion King's cruelty and understood Her desire to preserve only human specimens. He was tormented by his failure to return the Holy Sword to the Lake.
Returning the sword to the King was the only way Merlin had told him to awaken Her, but returning it personally was merely his own obsession.
If a better candidate existed to return the sword, Bedivere wouldn't mind dying with his guilt.
When he awoke from his petrified state, both his body and soul were shattered. He had long since reached the end of his journey—the point where his body and soul would burn to ashes.
"Ruler, if the sword recognizes you and allows you to wield it, then take it."
The Holy Sword chose its master. While the Sword of Promised Victory wasn't as exclusive as the Sword in the Stone—which could only be wielded by the King of Knights—it still couldn't be used by just anyone, let alone have its thirteen seals released.
With trepidation, Bedivere detached his Silver Arm, revealing the Sword of Promised Victory hidden within.
Then he saw it: the sword resonated with joy at being held by Guinevere, even though she claimed it was only because she inhabited the King of Knights' body.
Now, Guinevere possessed two Holy Swords. She could totally pull off a Starburst Stream.
Holding the Sword of Promised Victory in one hand and drawing the Sword of Destined Judgment with the other, Guinevere felt them first regard each other with unfamiliarity, then radiate a joyful desire to be close.
Sensing the swords' emotions, Guinevere let out a laugh.