Crack.
With that strange sound—like the world itself splitting—everything returned to silence.
In the very next instant after the desert realm shattered, the Conqueror King and Waver reappeared in reality.
They stood side by side.
But compared to the earlier, crushing dominance, Iskandar's eyes now held solemn respect.
Ahead of them, the silver knight who had clung to his belief had finally reached the end.
Already at the brink, Bedivere's body had been battered by the impact of that sand-world until it was barely holding together. Now it began to crumble—slowly, relentlessly.
Crack. Crack. Crack—
Under the black night sky, the brittle sound of breaking echoed again and again.
Bedivere's face was deathly pale.
His entire existence had reached its limit. He no longer even had the strength to stand—
and yet he still stood.
He propped himself up on a silver sword that had been broken to pieces beneath the grinding of countless warriors. He held himself there, alone, still barring Iskandar's path.
His eyes had lost their light. Even speaking, even simply maintaining form, was torture.
But even so—
he didn't step back.
"An unbelievable knight…"
Iskandar's heart shook.
Bedivere's over-release of the holy sword had pushed even the silver arm to its limit; the glow that once coated it had begun to fade.
His sword had been overwhelming.
His resolve had been immovable.
But in the face of the Conqueror King's absolute power, he had finally been forced down.
"Rider… what—what was that just now…?"
Waver's voice trembled.
He was stunned beyond speech.
The invincible army Iskandar had summoned, and the sight of a lone knight refusing to yield even against an enemy he could never defeat—both slammed into the smallness of Waver's heart like a hammer.
"What… what kind of power is that…?"
Waver stared at Bedivere. A thousand thoughts surged, but when he tried to speak, nothing came out.
"It was will," Iskandar said quietly.
"It was glory."
"And it was the most solemn send-off a knight could receive."
His voice carried reverence—respect—and a faint trace of apology.
Not because he had killed a great knight.
But because he had underestimated him.
Because Bedivere was flesh and blood, Iskandar had tried to conserve strength—and in doing so, he had committed the sin of arrogance without even noticing.
He had assumed Gordius Wheel would be enough to break through.
And he had paid for it.
In that clash, the starlight upon the holy sword had shattered the chariot's thunder. The Gordius Wheel—so proud, so domineering—had been broken in that instant of collision with the silver arm, and it could no longer be summoned.
Only then did Iskandar truly understand how arrogant—and how disrespectful—his earlier approach had been.
So he held nothing back now.
Whether for victory, or for honor, this knight deserved the highest rite.
"Ionioi Hetairoi."
Under Waver's stare, Iskandar unleashed his trump card.
Endless yellow sand rose into the night. His Reality Marble—his greatest pride—expanded outward, recreating the battlefield of conquest.
The courtyard and the castle were swallowed whole by that vast, aberrant mana.
War drums thundered.
Behind Iskandar, an army—tens of thousands strong—assembled in rolling waves.
Countless brave warriors crossed a thousand years of time to stand at his side again, gathering for the highest possible send-off to the knight before them.
And yet—
even within that infinite desert, facing an army beyond number, Bedivere—alone—did not move.
He burned what little life he had left, raising the silver arm and releasing the holy sword beyond any sane limit.
A golden river of starlight formed in the Conqueror King's desert—like an impossible wall—trying to hold back the tide of Iskandar's host.
In that moment, facing that magnificent world and that small, dazzling starlight, something inside Waver finally stirred.
He remembered Iskandar's question on the night of their summoning.
"My little Master—do you understand how wide the heavens and earth are? And do you carry a desire of conquest within your heart?"
Back then, Waver hadn't had an answer. He hadn't even cared. He'd dismissed it as Iskandar's nonsense.
He hadn't joined the war by choice—he'd been forced in by Kayneth's pressure.
He didn't know his wish.
He didn't understand what "conquest" even meant.
If he had to name a reason, it was something pitiful: he wanted Kayneth to acknowledge him. He wanted to be seen.
But now, watching this—
watching a world this wide, watching a back this fearless—
how could anyone remain unmoved?
And Waver was no exception.
He saw the breadth of heaven and earth.
He witnessed the edge of the world.
He recorded the collision of will and conquest.
And for the first time in his life, something inside him surged—
his blood ran hot.
"So this… is the world the Conqueror King sees…"
Waver murmured.
He watched.
He carved it into himself forever.
The chains around his heart—built from birth, temperament, and shame—seemed to loosen without sound.
For the first time, he felt light.
And Iskandar, sensing it, smiled.
Not only had he witnessed a knight's will to protect, he had seen his little Master begin to transform.
That alone was worth more than any spoils of war.
Iskandar looked at the silver knight quietly fading away, then at Waver—newly awakened—and asked, solemnly:
"My little Master. Did you feel my pursuit just now? What did you see?"
"I…"
Waver's heartbeat sped up.
"I saw… the sea at the world's end. And the boundless sky and earth beyond it."
"Yes," Iskandar laughed, voice booming with joy. "The sea at the end of the world—the farthest border. That is conquest. That is what I seek!"
"Well done, my little Master."
"If you can feel it, then your heart has understood my desire."
"So tell me—your wish won't be something as small as pleasing others, or proving yourself for their approval… will it?"
Waver didn't answer immediately—but the firmness in his eyes was answer enough.
"Rider… I think I have… a wish of my own."
"It's still blurry, but… something inside me has moved."
"Good," Iskandar said, satisfied. "That is the moment I've been waiting for!"
"Men should have ambition. Men should be selfish. Men should have ideals!"
"To live for yourself—that is right! Whatever the ending, live so you don't regret it!"
"Now then—what is your wish?!"
This time Waver didn't hesitate.
He clenched his fist and spoke with a steady, defiant certainty.
"I want to win the Grail War. I want to defeat Kayneth—and every magus who looks down on me."
"I don't want to prove myself by being 'recognized' by someone else."
"I want my results to prove me."
Iskandar's smile widened.
"Excellent!"
"To win the Grail War as the first step of our conquest—that's perfect."
"Then we'll have to work harder from here on out. No more child's play."
"Saber, Lancer, Berserker, Caster, Assassin, Archer—every one of them is our enemy."
"Are you prepared, my little Master?"
Iskandar leaned in, eyes locked on Waver's, asking the question he wanted most answered.
"Idiot," Waver said, grabbing that broad hand, tears glittering in his eyes. "Do you even need to ask?"
"Wasn't I supposed to be prepared already?"
Iskandar roared with laughter.
"Of course!"
"Then we fight with that resolve from now on! With my leadership, we'll be the last ones standing!"
"As if I'd let you say otherwise, you idiot Rider."
They stared at each other, then bumped fists.
And the final gap between them closed.
Waver's transformation was complete.
But every victory demands a defeat somewhere else.
Nearby, Bedivere could no longer see anything.
The flame of his soul—already faint—now hovered on the edge of extinction, as if it might sink into darkness at any moment.
Under the endless trampling of thousands upon thousands, his strength had been too small.
His light, too, was crushed within the desert.
His consciousness blurred, and scenes from long ago drifted into view.
A deathbed lantern show.
He heard Merlin's voice—words spoken before he had set out.
"You have something you must say to Artoria, don't you? So don't die. Live."
Yes.
He had something he had to convey.
He had to apologize—out loud—so that fifteen hundred years of regret could finally be answered.
He had to return the holy sword, so that the story between him and his king could end.
Only then could he rest.
In his mind, the first time returned.
The great king—like sunlight—had entered his heart, and shone over a Britain drowning in despair, bringing them something fragile and priceless:
hope.
From that moment, he had decided to devote everything to that king.
And as time passed, he learned the king was not flawless.
Even Arthur had burdens.
And sometimes, the king would cause him endless trouble.
Once, the king had eaten so much their provisions nearly snapped—forcing him to risk everything to secure grain from another territory.
Other times, the king would shove mountains of unfinished statework onto him, and he would work a full day and night without rest.
Why had he done it without complaint?
Perhaps because he had seen hope.
He remembered the king's thanks—so small to the speaker, so vast to the listener.
"Thank you, Bedivere. You've helped me so much. Without you, I could never have governed this land. Those affairs… they truly give me headaches."
"In my eyes, it isn't 'King Arthur' who holds this nation together—it's you, and the other knights."
"I want you to stay at my side. Help me keep going. Protect this Britain."
That single gratitude became the meaning of his life.
And because of that, he had been unable to return the holy sword in the end—
and so the bitter fruit was born.
Even after fifteen hundred years of wind and frost, he had never stopped walking, because the king's words still echoed in his mind.
He was Bedivere.
A knight.
A loyal attendant.
What he truly wanted to protect was not "humanity," but the world in which his king had existed.
The king he had sworn to for life.
And then—
Crack.
The silver blade finally shattered.
The magnificent wall of light dissolved into nothing.
Bedivere stood there, sword planted for support, eyes empty.
No breath.
Iskandar and Waver approached, shock silent on their faces.
"Even though he was already dead… his body still refused to yield?"
Iskandar looked down at him and spoke with grave respect.
"Bedivere—without question, you are a true knight. A warrior I will remember all my life."
"The king you served should be proud to have had you."
"Now… sleep peacefully. Rest in the other world."
He lifted a hand and tapped Bedivere's forehead with one finger.
Finally—
Bedivere fell.
He struck the ground with a crisp sound, like glass breaking.
And his entire body fractured into fragments, the soul drifting who-knew-where.
I'm sorry, my king…
Forgive my weakness. I couldn't say it to you in person.
Bedivere's body scattered like pink petals, carried into the distance, settling somewhere beneath the night.
…
Outside the castle, Saber—racing back toward the battlefield—suddenly clutched his chest, his expression warping as sharp pain stabbed through him.
"Are you all right, King Arthur?" Gilles asked, confused.
"It's nothing," Saber forced out, still pressing a hand to his chest. "I don't know why… but my chest suddenly hurts. It feels… tight."
…
In a sea of pink flowers, a handsome white-haired man opened his eyes.
He looked down at the silver-haired knight sleeping quietly before him, and spoke gently.
"This ended badly… and I'm sorry."
"But, Bedivere… you can't rest yet."
"This world—and Artoria—still need you. Your journey can't end here."
"Still… for now, sleep."
"You did well."
"Stay here and rest."
"And when this world truly needs you again…"
"I will wake you myself."
Join here to read ahead.
In Star Rail, Ultra-Beast Armored — Have I Caught "Equilibrium"? l (Chapter 80)
Uma Musume, But I Only Have Five Years Left to Live (Chapter 120)
Zenless Zone Zero: I'm a Doctor, Not a Bangboo (Chapter 95)
Ben Tennyson Wants to Join the Justice League (Chapter 85)
TYPE-MOON: Redemption Beginning with the Holy Grail War (Chapter85)
Yu-Gi-Oh! — Transmigrated into the White Dragon Girl (Chapter81)
"Is this chat group even serious?" (Chapter60)
I, Lord Ravager, Utterly Loyal! (Chapter66)
Can Playing Games Save the World? 40
Crossover Anime Multiverse: The Demon Hunter of an Unnatural World 50
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