"I am no longer the Master of Chaldea, Assistant Agravain."
Shiomi responded with a mocking tone to Agravain's reprimanding words.
Regardless of his actual authority, Shiomi was now, without a doubt, the Lion King's "Master." The knights couldn't understand why their king would lower herself in such a way, but they still adhered strictly to their roles and didn't try to overstep by offering persuasion.
After all, they had already pledged their loyalty with blood. It wasn't their place to challenge the king over something so trivial.
Seeing the look of displeasure on Agravain's iron-cast face after being corrected, Shiomi's foul mood over his captivity eased just a little.
They weren't allies to begin with.
...
Passing through the side door of the throne room, Shiomi walked alone down the silent corridor, his light footsteps echoing clearly.
He suddenly remembered how badly damaged his battle outfit had gotten during the clash with the Holy Lance. His chest, arms, legs, and even his back—where he couldn't see—were all torn up to varying degrees, still stained with dried blood.
Better patch it up with Magecraft, quickly.
That thought barely formed before he tried activating his Magic Circuits—and immediately felt a strong suppression on his Mana. It was a basic repair spell, requiring only a trace of energy, but even that small amount was being denied.
Shiomi frowned and tugged at the golden shackle around his neck.
It seemed the Lion King had no intention of allowing him to freely use Magecraft… and yet, his Authority hadn't been sealed.
Or maybe… it couldn't be?
With that thought lingering, Shiomi arrived at the Lion King's bedchamber.
Despite the name, the room was simple and refined. Every piece of ornate courtly furniture looked brand new, as if just placed there.
Given how Camelot had appeared out of nowhere in a region it didn't belong to, it wasn't hard to understand.
Still, the absence of luxury or indulgence suited Shiomi's impression of the King of Knights perfectly.
Glancing around the chamber, he eventually spotted the Lion King standing on the terrace.
From there, one could overlook all of northern Camelot and the lands beyond. A snow-white citadel stood tall amidst a scorched wasteland left behind by war—almost like an idealized utopia.
The Lion King stood there with her immaculate white cloak fluttering slightly in the breeze. Her back was spotless beneath the clear blue sky. No artist's brush, no poet's words could ever capture that untainted stillness.
"You've returned," the Lion King said softly.
"Agravain said you were looking for me, so I came," Shiomi replied, stepping onto the terrace to stand beside her.
"There's nothing important."
Shiomi raised his right eyebrow slightly.
"Nothing? Then could you at least loosen the restraints a bit? Chaldea's Mystic Code was shredded by your Holy Lance, and it's not exactly comfortable. Of course, if you think this suits my status as a prisoner better, I won't argue."
"A reasonable request." The Lion King nodded.
But she didn't release the restriction. Instead, she turned toward him, raised her hand before him, and Mana gathered around his body in a soft glow.
In an instant, the damaged Chaldea battle gear was replaced by a white robe, pants, and shoes.
He didn't look like a combatant anymore—more like a priest.
The Lion King had replaced his uniform with garments woven from her own Mana. As for where the original outfit had gone, Shiomi had no idea.
The only thing he knew was that this new attire was now being sustained by her power.
What an unnecessarily roundabout way of doing things.
"You've already spoken with Mordred and learned about the events leading up to the founding of Camelot," said the Lion King.
Shiomi touched his wrist, turned his back to the Holy City, and half-sat on the terrace railing. He was clearly one misstep away from falling, yet acted as if it didn't matter at all.
"You really are thorough. So that's why you let me speak to Mordred?"
"It was more convenient that way," the Lion King replied neutrally, offering only a factual confirmation. "As one of my knights, explaining the current state of affairs to you is part of her duty."
"You're really all about procedure." Shiomi shook his head. "So then, why send the Knights of the Round Table to attack us, while secretly ordering them to capture me alive? Wouldn't it have been simpler to just kill me then and there?"
"They alone couldn't kill you." The Lion King's expression remained unreadable, her voice distant and cold—utterly unlike Morgan's. It was the voice of a god, looking down from above, detached from all things.
To her, every living being on the earth was just a piece on the board.
"Earlier, I didn't ask you directly in front of the Knights of the Round Table, but now I will—" He fixed his gaze on the Lion King. "Should I call you Artoria Pendragon, or Goddess Rhongomyniad?"
From the moment they met, Shiomi had sensed something strange: every word the Lion King spoke seemed to carry a compulsion—a Geis. It was a sign of her divinity.
"You've realized it, haven't you… my fellow," said the Lion King.
"Fellow?" Shiomi stiffened slightly.
"The power slumbering within you is a symbol of the gods," the Lion King declared.
"…I wouldn't go that far. Can half-baked Authority like this really count as divine?" Shiomi wasn't convinced, nor did he want to accept it.
Even if it was divine power—if it could be used to protect something precious, then it should be used. That alone was enough. As for becoming a god himself, Shiomi had no interest whatsoever.
"No matter how much you resist after touching the forbidden realm of the gods, one day, you will become one."
Without warning, the Lion King extended her armored hand and placed her palm against Shiomi's cheek.
It should have been a gesture of closeness, yet her emotionless expression robbed it of any warmth, leaving only ambiguity.
"This is the inevitable path that opens the moment you touch Authority. Your duty is not to destroy the King of Magecraft, but to stand with me—to protect the souls I have drawn forth through Holy Selection, and preserve them within my spear as immutable existences of value."
"Preserve them… in your spear? What does that mean?! And what about the people living in the Holy City right now?!"
More than her touch, it was her words that unsettled Shiomi.
This was the first time he had truly stood face-to-face with a god. He could feel it now—how profoundly the Lion King's values diverged from those of normal humans, and even from Magi.
In her view, humanity was no longer a collection of individual lives, but mere objects, records, stripped of the meaning of life and death.
To the Lion King, the only being who could stand as her equal in this moment was the "other god" she sought.
Shiomi pressed her for answers, but she offered none. Instead, she said only:
"Words are meaningless. It's better for you to see the Holy Selection with your own eyes. There's no need to be anxious. The next Holy Selection will take place in three days. Just wait until then."
...
(100 Chapters Ahead)
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