Die? What a joke.
For a moment, Arthur thought Heber was playing another prank on her.
However, Arthur quickly realized that this was not a childish trick this time.
Two-thirds of the body beneath that Magus of the Court's robe had already turned into clear water, and with the passage of time, it became increasingly difficult to contain.
Yes, how could she defeat her Royal Sister, who possessed an achievement, without paying any price?
Arthur's breathing grew heavy. She suddenly realized what she had just done.
Guilt, sorrow, and pain flooded the monarch's mind like a tide. She almost wanted to faint, but her twilight-level spirit kept her terribly lucid.
—It shouldn't be like this, it shouldn't have come to this point, something must be wrong.
However, Arthur showed nothing. She still maintained the dignity of the King of Albion, looking down at Heber from above.
"I understand."
—Beg me! As long as I use the Stone Sword... everything can still be salvaged. Arthur thought.
But the monarch's expression remained as hard as iron.
Yet, this was exactly the answer Heber wanted. She could finally leave this Lostbelt with peace of mind.
Heber calmly reached out and pushed aside the swaying curtains. This action caused several of her fingers to fall off, dissolving into a puddle of clear water.
She approached Arthur step by step, while the monarch glared at her with wide, angry eyes.
—A little closer, just a little closer, and she could use the Stone Sword to "confer"...
Heber stopped two steps away from Arthur, extended her last finger, and pressed it into the center of her forehead.
Arthur was both startled and enraged.
"Although I don't care at all about the position of Magus of the Court or sage, the establishment and prosperity of Albion ultimately have a part of me in them."
Heber's voice rang in Arthur's ears, with a hint of cheerfulness and a touch of a smile.
"So, this is my revenge on you."
Illusory pansies bloomed profusely, rapidly occupying the walls, the floor, the windowsills, and everything within sight. They replaced the ceiling, which was connected to pipes and fuel lines, layering upon layer, letting in brilliant and dreamlike heavenly light.
Everything seemed to be weightless, constantly ascending.
The pansies finally couldn't maintain their form; they enthusiastically surged towards the higher sky.
A spiraling pure white tower rose from the ground.
The horizon shimmered with the afterglow of twilight, and thousands of flowers, blazing like flames, bloomed and flew towards the sky.
Arthur sat on the iron throne, coldly watching Heber's actions. The upward-floating petals passed through the monarch's body without any effect.
Whether it was the pure white tower, the sea of flowers, or the dreamlike heavenly light, they all existed in another dimension, distinct from reality.
"Illusory, powerless... Can something like this be called an achievement?" Arthur said.
"No, it's a blueprint." Heber smiled slightly, "A key to open future possibilities. With it, all mistakes can be redeemed."
"Next, it will be a long and lonely journey, so please endure."
"But I promise, Altria."
Heber bowed slightly, her right arm gently pressed against her chest.
"At the end of the journey, everything will be fine, everything will be in order."
God save the King.
— — [Avalon].
[Current Chronicle Simulator Progress: 100%].
The [Rose War] ended in 1455, and the [Knower] logged out.
...
She wanted to scream, but no sound came out.
From afar, someone seemed to be calling her name, not Arthur, but the name that had long been abandoned at the end of the pilgrimage, "Altria."
"After pulling out that sword, what do you want to do?"
The golden-purple sunset dyed the sky, and the girl lying on the straw pile turned her head, asking her with a smiling face.
"Of course, I'll drive the invaders out of Albion." She replied at the time.
"Hmm, and after that?" The girl with beautiful green eyes continued to ask, "Will you become the new King who rules Albion?"
"If I must become the new King, I will naturally not shirk!" She replied loudly at the time, but then her voice dropped, "But being King would be very troublesome... I've never learned, and no one has taught me."
The lingering glow of the sun in the sky gradually faded, the clouds turned blue-purple, and a few stars had already appeared in the deep blue sky.
"I see. Then I'll be your Magus of the Court and become your exclusive Sage." The girl, chewing on a straw, said indistinctly, "You just need to sit on the throne, and I'll handle all the troublesome matters."
The girl shook her flaxen hair: "As long as you don't regret it in the future."
"I won't regret it." Altria replied firmly.
...
The King's head drooped slightly; she had turned back into Altria.
The power of [Avalon] finally began to take effect on her, expelling the illness from her body, repairing her damaged physique, and rejuvenating her aging organs.
The tubes that bound her to the Iron Throne silently detached one by one. Altria raised her arms, as if welcoming her new life, and also as if embracing someone.
No one embraced her at all.
"Merlin, you big liar..."
The Pure White Tower had already risen from the ground, beginning to merge with reality. At the top of the tower was a small room, corresponding to the palace where the Iron Throne was located in reality.
At this moment, only this small palace remained unchanged, while the world outside the tower began to undergo earth-shattering changes. The river of time was swift and turbulent, and things faded and deformed within it, yet everything seemed to be getting better.
This was the true effect of [Avalon].
It was essentially just a blueprint revealing future possibilities.
However, at the moment the Chronicle Simulator was about to reach its end, the blueprint could become a light that illuminates and dispels darkness, connecting this segment of history with the ideal future designed by the blueprint's creator.
If there were no accidents, it would deliver Altria completely to the future five hundred years later.
However, the girl sitting on the Iron Throne was indifferent to all of this.
She simply rose from the Iron Throne, then squatted down, looking at the clear, rippling water on the ground, and then placed her right hand on it.
"I bestow upon you, the King of Albiion, as my sole wife, the Queen who shall eternally share in my glory," she whispered.
The water rippled quietly.
...
When Morgan walked into the palace where the Iron Throne was placed, this was the scene she saw.
Perhaps no one had visited this place for too long; when Altria looked up, she had almost forgotten how to speak, yet her eyes were still full of doubt.
"From the Chronicle Simulator to the Fifth History, Merlin's achievements protected us," Morgan replied. "But the old Albion was also destroyed with the past, and it is precisely for this reason that I truly achieved my accomplishments."
The moment the achievements were re-accomplished, Morgan's form naturally reshaped.
"Even so, she still fulfilled her original promise," Morgan said. "What about you? What are you doing? Appointing a puddle of water as your Queen?"
Altria was indifferent; she sat quietly by the puddle of water.
Morgan's hand rose and fell; she watched Altria sadly, shaking her head.
"Al, I hate myself. But your current state is so pathetic that I can't even feel hatred."
She turned and left the temporary palace.
"Heh heh."
A soft laugh came from the empty hall behind her.
Then the laughter became harsh, sharp, and shrill, more like a wail.