New Queen's Calendar: Returning to a point after Beryl attacked the Fifth Lostbelt.
Having completed his ambush on Kirschtaria Wodime, Beryl returned idly to the Fairy Britain Lostbelt, wandering between cities.
His cruelty made him popular among some fairies. As a werewolf inheriting the witch's blood, Beryl was considered kin by the Fang Clan fairies.
Unlike the original timeline, Beryl did not become Morgan's Master due to inheriting Proper Human History Morgan's memories. Instead, because of Round Table Knight Arthur, he was surveilled and somewhat ostracized.
Still, Morgan accepted his suggestion to attack the Fifth Lostbelt, knowing that if they didn't, the Fifth would defeat the others and Proper Human History, becoming the new norm. Thus, the Fifth was destroyed by Chaldea and Morgan together; Kirschtaria died.
After that, Beryl had nothing to do. Without Baobhan Sith to plague him in this timeline, he simply wandered the cities, outwitting the greedy and free-spirited fairies—who usually couldn't match his complex social skills.
What Beryl loved most, though, was the arenas of Oxford and New Darlington, where fairies and humans fought to the death. Blood, violence, and pain ruled everything. For this witch's descendant, hurting others, bringing them pain, was his way of showing love.
The first time he saw Mash lying in Chaldea's infirmary, he fell in love and immediately broke one of her fingers—to express his love through pain.
Though Dr. Romani Archaman punched him afterward, Beryl didn't mind. Ordinary people like Romani couldn't understand his love.
Perhaps due to worldline inertia, New Darlington's arena was still called the National Slaughter Theater, even without Fairy Knight Tristan's influence. Though a bit less brutal than the original, many fairies and humans still came to hone their skills.
Beryl sat in the VIP section, holding a drink, grinning with sharp teeth at the fighting below.
He had his eye on a particular fairy girl—short tomboyish hair, a young yet determined face, plain knight armor, spear and shield.
A plain fairy dressed as a knight, not a fairy knight. She wasn't strong in power or magic, let alone domain. Beryl was sure of it.
Yet this look reminded him of Mash—the artificial, fragile girl he obsessed over.
Even though Chaldea had somehow changed Mash's constitution to make her stronger and avoid her early demise, it didn't change Beryl's feelings.
He drank a sip of red liquid, watching the girl with interest. He was sure she'd be killed by the Fang Clan fairies, and he wanted to enjoy the scene—after all, VIP tickets hadn't come easy.
However, the VIP audience was unusually thin—just himself and a hooded, cloaked stranger. Beryl didn't think much of it.
He'd heard the current Fang Clan leader ruled Manchester; if he could get that fairy's Saint Graph, combined with his witch's blood, he'd be unbeatable—and Mash would be his for the taking.
As long as it wasn't Fairy Knight Bedivere, who for some reason seemed unusually hostile to him.
Oh! The girl was in dire straits—surrounded and badly injured by three Fang Clan fairies.
Beryl stood up, almost dancing in excitement. He was about to watch her get ripped apart—a scene filled with love!
Worth the ticket price!
Just as he was engrossed in the match, the hooded figure silently stood up and crept behind him.
The decisive moment: the fairy girl, beset by three Fang Clan fairies, was about to fall.
But suddenly, she dropped her shield, gripped her spear with both hands and with a flawless move, dodged their attacks and countered, severely wounding one—her spear piercing his chest.
Her skill was completely different from before—was she hiding her true strength?
Beryl's mood plummeted as if doused in cold water at the peak of excitement.
His usual smug face couldn't hold; his eyes reddened, and he bit his lip until it bled.
No ordinary technique could do this—she must have a power… perhaps to foresee the future.
As the Clock Tower's werewolf grew more frustrated, plotting to personally kill the girl, he suddenly felt a sharp pain in his chest.
"Huh?" Beryl looked down—a beautiful golden knight's sword had pierced his chest, its tip jutting out.
Coughing blood, Beryl struggled to look back. The killer was the hooded spectator.
I should have known… Beryl thought wryly—who would show up at a match dressed like that?
The mysterious figure confirmed Beryl's death, withdrew the sword, flicked off the blood, and sheathed it.
She moved to the edge of the VIP section, looking down with emerald eyes. The fairy girl below had survived, killing another Fairy Clan foe—only one left.
A breeze blew, and the hood fell away, revealing golden hair neatly done up and a beautiful, cold, determined face.
Fairy Knight Arthur gazed thoughtfully at her mission's target.