Merlin. A half-human, half-incubus hybrid whose mastery over magecraft was so profound she had ascended to the rank of Grand Caster.
In the histories I knew, if King Arthur was Artoria, then Merlin was supposed to be a man.
'Then why is she a woman…?'
Yet, the figure engaging in a childish scuffle with a small animal before my eyes was undeniably the female Merlin—the one from the Prototype world.
The undignified struggle lasted for some time until Merlin finally managed to seize the creature by the scruff of its neck.
"Fou, Fou!"
"Hah! Stay still, Cath Palug! Haha, my apologies. I've made quite the scene, haven't I? My name is Merlin! I am the Magus of Flowers."
"Fou!"
"And this little fellow is Cath Palug. Just think of him as a particularly vile feline."
"Fouuu!"
With a crisp snap of her fingers, the creature known as Cath Palug vanished. Its face was a mask of indignant fury as its form dissolved into a swirl of shimmering flower petals.
"...Now then, since the intruder has been dealt with, shall we have a more... intimate conversation?"
"What...?"
Merlin snapped her fingers once more, and a sudden rigidity seized my limbs. I tried to move in a panic, but my body refused to obey, frozen as if paralyzed by a powerful spell.
Seeing my bewildered expression, Merlin wore a smile that was as beautiful as it was wicked.
"Hmm, you are quite handsome, and your kind nature is rather charming... Furthermore, I cannot peer into your dreams. How fascinating."
She hovered over me as I lay helpless on the ground. I wanted to recoil in horror, but the paralysis held me fast, rendering my resistance futile.
Amused by my mounting dread, Merlin let out a playful giggle.
"Ufufufu, it's no use. I've bound you with my own brand of magecraft."
'I knew it was your doing!'
"But do not worry, I've left your senses intact so you can fully appreciate this. Now, let me show you some affection—"
The heavy door creaked open.
"—Are you awake, Eli—?"
It seemed the gods had not yet forsaken me. Artoria emerged from the forge, her gaze landing squarely upon the scene before her.
"....."
"....."
"....."
A heavy silence hung in the air.
Artoria looked at my terrified face and then at Merlin's compromising position. She nodded slowly, as if she had instantly deciphered the entire situation.
Then, her gaze sharpened into a cold glare directed at the magus.
"That is quite enough, Merlin."
Artoria narrowed her eyes at the woman pinning me down. A chilling aura radiated from her; she was clearly incensed.
However, Merlin remained unfazed, meeting Artoria's frosty reception with an effortless smile.
"Ah, what a pity. Well, there will be plenty of opportunities in the future..."
Only after Merlin rose did the paralysis lift, allowing me to move freely once more.
"Thank you, Artoria."
"It was nothing. More importantly, why have you come, Merlin? If you have no purpose here, then leave at once."
At Artoria's frigid tone, Merlin let out an exaggerated whine of distress.
"Aww, how cold, Artoria! You used to be so fond of me when you were a child—"
"...Merlin?"
Artoria stared her down with an expressionless face. I could have sworn I saw a flash of gold in her eyes—surely that was just a trick of the light?
When the pressure of Artoria's silent gaze became too much, Merlin finally relented with a frantic wave of her hands.
"Alright, alright! I'll tell you. I came to deliver word."
"Then speak quickly."
"King Uther is dead."
"....."
The cause was assassination by poison. The Saxons had tainted the water supply, and the King had succumbed to the toxin.
Artoria listened in stoic silence as Merlin explained that, before his passing, King Uther had designated Artoria as his successor.
"...Tomorrow. We go to draw the Sword of Selection, Artoria. Prepare yourself."
"...I understand. I shall make ready."
"....."
I watched them both without saying a word.
In truth, I had known this day was coming. From the moment I learned Artoria was my age, I knew the hourglass was nearly empty.
In the proper flow of history, I should remain silent and allow her to take up the blade. She had to pull Caliburn from the stone. She had to become the King.
That was why I had never spoken of it, even though I knew the cruel destiny that awaited her.
Instead, I had focused on creating memories with her—moments that could be called happy. I hoped that such memories might provide her some small comfort, a fragment of warmth to cling to in the bleak, blood-stained future ahead.
I told myself that when the day finally arrived, I would let her go without a word of protest. I believed that was my own way of being kind.
But the time I spent with Artoria had shaken my resolve.
She was so pure, like a child who knew nothing of the world's malice. She was too kind, unable to even voice her anger at others. She swallowed her own pain in secret, fearing she might cause worry to those around her.
She lived for the sake of others, yet she never once considered her own happiness.
Whenever she showed me her genuine, innocent smile, guilt would gnaw at my heart. Was it truly right to simply stand by? Was her sacrifice truly the only path forward?
Was this... truly just?
I had pondered these questions a hundred times over, yet no answer came. I watched Artoria as she walked back toward Ector's forge.
There was something about her retreating figure that felt unbearably sorrowful.