Feeling something warm brush against his cheek, Tenkei Shiomi stirred from his sleep and slowly opened his eyes.
In the haze of his still-blurred vision, he thought he saw Morgan's face. Instinctively, he reached up and grasped whatever was near his cheek.
It was a hand—extended toward him.
When did she get here? He should still be trapped in Camelot...
As his mind sharpened, Shiomi's eyes flew open—and met the gaze of the Lion King, her eyes the color of peridot.
Morgan's eyes were often unreadable, holding the cold stillness befitting the Queen of Winter. But whenever she spoke to him—or to Sakura and the others—he could always catch a flicker of gentleness in them, like a spring breeze breaking through the ice.
But the Lion King was different.
Her eyes were like ancient mountains, unmoved for thousands of years—without warmth, without feeling. They simply existed, towering and aloof.
Just like the Tower at the End of the World.
"You're awake. Impressive resilience. So this is what comes after surviving death." The Lion King didn't mind her hand being held. She simply stated the fact with calm indifference.
"Are you here to take this power from me?" Shiomi didn't let go. Instead, he sounded genuinely surprised.
"No. I only came to examine your spirit—to confirm you haven't lost your will after everything you've been through," the Lion King replied.
"...Is that so." Shiomi raised his eyebrows slightly. He had the nagging feeling that she hadn't touched on the real issue—but he couldn't quite put his finger on what was missing.
"Isn't it time you let go of my hand, captive... Master?"
"If you'd shown even a hint of killing intent, we might've had to fight to the death," Shiomi said as he casually released her hand. "But you don't have that in you."
Whether it was killing or judgment, the Lion King always acted with the same unwavering demeanor—an absolute arbiter.
She judged whether a human deserved to reach the Tower at the End, whether the Knights of the Round Table were loyal to their duties.
"So what was the point of all this? Making me relive your key battles?" Shiomi sat up.
Unlike the Lion King, who sat poised at the edge of the bed, Shiomi remained seated cross-legged, hands resting on his knees, and stared directly at her profile.
"It was both a punishment... and a test of your strength," she said. "Had you died along the way, it would've proved you were weak-willed—a mistake in my judgment."
Shiomi nodded along. "And now? Did I pass? Unless you're going to tell me that there were more fights lined up after Vortigern, but I just didn't survive that far."
"There were. But they're no longer necessary," the Lion King said, still not turning to face him. "No matter how much you deny it or resist it, that position will always be waiting for you."
"...Still not giving up, huh." Shiomi exhaled, helpless.
The Lion King possessed a strange kind of fixation—or perhaps, an unshakable will.
Anything she deemed unworthy, she discarded completely. But anything she saw as valuable, she would preserve at all costs.
"I don't get what you're trying to say. As someone who also holds a Divine Spear, you should already understand where I stand," she said.
"Gungnir, huh..."
Shiomi wanted to say it wasn't really his. Odin had simply handed the spear—disguised as a wand—over to him through Cú Chulainn.
Whether it was meant to defeat the mastermind behind the incineration of humanity, or if Odin had some other expectation for him, Shiomi had no idea.
"That's something for you to figure out," the Lion King said, making it clear she had no intention of discussing it further. "What matters now is fulfilling your promise."
"Promise?"
Shiomi didn't recall the Lion King ever making one. He rubbed his chin and lowered his head in thought.
Eventually, he vaguely remembered saying something like "I hope you'll go out and see the world."
"If you want to give up, then give up," the Lion King said. "Before I came to this Singularity and built the Holy City, I had already seen everything here. Your request holds no meaning."
"You say that, but who knows?" Shiomi replied. "After all, I was counting on this to slip away from you."
The way he said it was half teasing, half probing. He wanted to understand why the Lion King would agree to something so trivial—something that, by her logic, should have meant nothing.
"It doesn't matter," she answered plainly.
Shiomi was surprised. But she offered no further explanation.
Still, one thing was certain—the Lion King intended to accept his suggestion.
In that case, continuing to push the issue would only waste time. Shiomi also needed to know what was going on outside. Up to now, he was still in the position of a prisoner—someone who had fought, been shot, and captured.
"Alright then, let's go with that." Shiomi got out of bed and started pacing the chamber. "But if you walk out there just like this, your presence will draw too much attention."
"You can just use your teleportation Magecraft outside the city," said the Lion King. "You're capable of it."
Shiomi shrugged. It was true—so long as the Lion King didn't interfere, he could move freely in and out of Camelot using spatial transfer magic.
"Next is perception."
He lifted his finger and traced Runes into the air. The symbols circled the Lion King, transforming into a glow that enveloped her before fading away.
The spell would interfere with others' perception of her—assuming she didn't resist it.
If she did, it would be easy for someone like her to shatter such a simple enchantment.
"It's easier to see things as a traveler than as a king on a throne," Shiomi said.
The Lion King didn't object. She simply stood from the bed and walked over to him.
"Then let's go," Shiomi said, snapping his fingers.
Petals swirled gently in the breeze, surrounding the two of them. In a flash, they scattered.
The grand bedchamber was left silent and empty—cold and lifeless, as though no one had ever set foot inside. Even the illusion of petals had vanished without a trace.
...
After a long while, the clinking of armored boots echoed from the hall outside, drawing closer.
"King, Sir Lancelot has already led a force to attack the village of the mountain people. Fierce resistance is expected. Shall we send Sir Tristan or Sir Gawain to assist?" Agravain's composed and orderly voice called from outside the chamber.
But no response came.
"Forgive my intrusion."
Agravain opened the door—and froze. The room was empty. No trace of the Lion King, no sign of the Master of Chaldea.
The man known as Iron Agravain, famed for his unshakable composure, finally showed a crack in his expression. From that fissure surged raw disbelief.
"King?"
The Lion King, the ruler of the Tower at the End...
Artoria Pendragon had left the White City—without telling a single knight.
Just what...
...
(100 Chapters Ahead)
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