"Our goal is to usurp this world. No matter how pleasant the words may sound, this is an invasion. There is no justice in it at all, and it stands wholly against the spirit of chivalry."
Because the room was too small, Arthur sat cross-legged, cradled in Miss Killer Whale's arms, his finger resting thoughtfully on his cheek. Nestled against him was Miss Artoria, who had just accomplished the feat of "killing her master."
The three of them were pressed close together.
Arthur was caught between them, and as he felt their warmth and breath, Artoria and Skadi set aside their hostility for the moment, neither minding the other's presence.
Perhaps because their expressions were too content, Merry lingered in the corner, biting her thumb, watching with dry, envious eyes.
"My king, stop jesting. No one in Britain cares about so-called justice or chivalry. For us, your will is above everything else." Merry's eyes gleamed as though pleading for Arthur to notice her.
But he did not.
"Ah, yes. I care little for such trivialities. But precisely because of that, I cannot betray the trust of my subjects. To hastily dispatch an army for the sake of world conquest—or even to move the British mainland into this world—would be reckless."
"What does my king mean—?"
"With the dynasty as our foundation, it would be easy to gain a foothold in this world. But in doing so, we would pay a heavy price. Fighting is a soldier's duty, and each one would gladly sacrifice everything to expand our borders for the prosperity of the dynasty. Yet their lives are treasures, precious and irreplaceable." Arthur's tone hardened.
If we were to launch a large-scale attack on this world, it would inevitably provoke a fierce counterattack from all the races.
After all, the struggles among the various races and divine beings are already intense, with the throne reserved only for the victor. In such a situation, the sudden emergence of Britain as a new enemy—a powerful competitor at that—would almost certainly force all factions to set aside their differences and unite to drive us out.
Of course, true unity among fifteen races is impossible.
For the sake of interests, or for the hatred bred by war, none of them would ever abandon their fighting spirit.
I believe that once Britain was destroyed, those races would immediately fall upon one another with even greater ferocity, stabbing each other in the back until every force lay exhausted.
The British Dynasty's territory itself has long been transformed into a fortress of the Age of Gods.
It is both a nation and a vast interstellar battleship.
To use this as bait, to annihilate the combat strength of the fifteen races, is in itself a sound strategy.
But it would also mean Britain loses its foundation and cannot continue exploring the universe in the near future.
"In short, wagering the dynasty's foundation, even if it wins us this world, would leave us the true losers. With the [Gate of Eternal Calamity], we have the time to seek out countless other worlds. One will surely prove suitable. There is no need to overcommit to this one." Arthur's words set the course for their next move.
We usurp worlds for the sake of development, not regression.
We must never put the cart before the horse.
"But how do we conquer this world without Britain's power?" Artoria asked hesitantly. "Arthur, I understand your unwillingness to sacrifice our people, but when the time comes, sacrifice is unavoidable."
Truth be told, Artoria was kinder than Arthur—though kindness is always relative.
Yet above all else, Arthur was dearest to her heart.
She understood what he meant. That was precisely why she spoke so ruthlessly against him.
To face the entire world with only small-scale forces was far too dangerous.
"With me here, there is no problem. Britain will win." Skadi spoke with calm certainty.
But Arthur shook his head. "Stronger isn't always better. Besides, why should we sacrifice ourselves, when we can sacrifice others to achieve the same end?"
"The… humans here?" Artoria's breath caught.
The humans of this world were powerless, weak.
Forcing these already struggling people to fight—and even die—for Britain's sake was rational. For the dynasty, it might even be the best option. But emotionally, it was unbearable.
Arthur had once said that the strong bear responsibility, the weak live their lives, and every soul has its dignity. To burden the weak with duties beyond their capacity is to insult that dignity, and is the gravest irresponsibility for a king.
Artoria had believed him.
Thus, in Britain, the strong protected the weak.
The wise instructed, but never forced ordinary folk to shoulder burdens beyond them.
But now… though the humans of this world were strangers to Britain, this was too—
"Don't worry, I'm not that cruel." Arthur shook his head. "Don't you think fifteen races is too many? And don't they all despise humans? If they scorn us now, they will surely rebel when I rule them in the future."
"Artoria, you're too worked up. Too concerned~☆!" Merry laughed. "Remember the guidelines our king established before the experiments to explore other worlds. Meeting aliens is inevitable, but any intelligent being has the potential to become a citizen of Britain."
To the weak—grant mercy, teach, and rule.
To the strong?
Cull the disobedient, subdue the rest, and retain only the honest.
Since so many races in this world are steeped in pride, each harbors seeds of rebellion. No matter how powerful they are, or how much they might offer Britain, they are ultimately worthless. That which has no value is meaningless, and thus has no reason to exist.
Britain has never tolerated instability of income or loyalty.
Rome… was half British. (The other half, Rome slowly lost its mystery.)
"So next, let's begin selecting suitable pieces from the races we've encountered. At the very least, they will have the luck to be spared—some of them, perhaps, may even be retained." A cold glint flashed in Arthur's eyes.
There was no doubt that any race chosen would inevitably pay dearly for Britain.
"Beasts… no, beastmen. What do you think?" Skadi proposed.
She had already crossed paths with the Werebeasts three times.
Exchanging a glance with Skadi, Merry smiled knowingly, twirling her wand. She drew on Skadi's memories, conjuring a shimmering image of a beastman soldier clad in strange armor.
Though indistinct, its tail and ears, and the fangs jutting from beneath its mask, betrayed its nature. One could easily imagine its combat prowess and—
"Aren't the Werebeasts, in general… rather lacking in intelligence?"
-End Chapter-
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