"This sentiment is indeed commendable, but I do not wish to see my tragedy repeated."
Faced with such words from Lancelot, Galahad, though pleased, did not relent in his assault.
"In my world, my story was a tragedy. King Lot's story was a tragedy. Queen Morgan's story was a tragedy. King Arthur's story was a tragedy. Even your story it, too, was a tragedy."
Blow after blow left Lancelot somewhat flustered.
And then, he heard Galahad's final words.
"So, perhaps in your eyes, restoring history to its 'true' form is for the best. But this history it is one we have forged step by step. I will absolutely not allow anyone to destroy it. If it is 'wrong,' then I will make it 'right.'"
With that, Galahad forcefully knocked aside Lancelot's sword and pressed his own blade against Lancelot's neck.
The victor of this battle was Galahad.
However, rather than attributing his victory to sheer strength, it would be more accurate to say Galahad triumphed through the sheer force of his conviction.
His resolve was far firmer than Lancelot's.
Because, for this world, his attachment ran far deeper than Lancelot's.
This nation built from nothing by His Majesty Lot, Her Majesty Morgan, and myself how could I allow it to falter?
As for it being "wrong"...
So long as he protected this world, it would transform from "wrong" to "right."
"I will protect this world."
With those words, Galahad turned and left.
This time, even if a Holy Grail were placed before him, he would not repeat the choice of his past self to ascend to paradise upon obtaining it.
Because now, he had found his own desire.
To protect this kingdom.
To protect this land of dreams.
Here, the people lived in peace and prosperity. Everyone had clothing and food. A fair examination system ensured that no talent went unrecognized due to status or birth.
And this world bore none of the tragedies of the past.
Compared to the Camelot of his previous life, this was far more like a kingdom from a fairy tale.
And this kingdom it was one he had built alongside his two sovereigns, brick by brick.
He would never allow it to be destroyed.
"I hope you won't remain so foolish."
As he spoke, his back turned, a faint smile tugged at his lips.
Not bad.
Though not particularly clever, at least I've felt the sincerity in his heart.
Perhaps this isn't so bad after all.
Watching Galahad walk away, Lancelot remained frozen in shock.
I… lost?
I failed against Galahad yet again?
Was my conviction so insignificant in the face of his?
Is this Camelot truly so much better?
Compared to the Camelot of the original timeline, is it really that superior?
He had only heard rumors the specifics eluded him.
But if Galahad, someone who had witnessed both Camelots, was willing to devote himself so wholeheartedly to this one…
Then it must indeed be far better.
And not just for him personally.
Galahad was not the type to be satisfied with his own happiness alone.
He wanted everyone to prosper.
This realization shook Lancelot to his core.
If I've lost… then perhaps I, too, should consider how to join Camelot.
The thought crossed his mind.
But then, a moment later, he nearly laughed aloud.
He realized
No matter what he did, he would always end up as a vassal of Camelot.
If he were defeated, as he just had been, curiosity would drive him to seek out this world's Camelot, to pledge himself to King Lot and Queen Morgan.
And if, on the other hand, he and Fujimaru Ritsuka succeeded in correcting this Singularity…
Then his fascination with King Arthur would lead him to Camelot all the same.
"So my fate is to serve Camelot, no matter what?"
Shaking his head, he turned and left the arena.
This battle
He had lost.
Now, all he could do was watch what unfolded next.
Rest Area
"Father, I have fulfilled my duty I defeated that Lancelot."
Returning to the rest area, Galahad reported excitedly to Lot.
"Congratulations."
Lot smiled and patted Galahad's shoulder.
But his joy was not due to Galahad's victory.
This duel had been orchestrated by him the outcome held little significance.
What truly pleased Lot was that Galahad had found his own path.
And during the battle with Lancelot, Lot had sensed Galahad's emotions the weight he had carried was finally lifting.
That was what mattered.
"Your Majesty, Camelot is wonderful. I will protect it always."
Galahad spoke with unwavering resolve.
"Yes. I feel the same."
Lot nodded solemnly.
Then, he gave Galahad's shoulder a light squeeze.
"Rest here awhile longer. I must attend to the next match."
"Who's next?"
Galahad's curiosity was piqued.
"The next combatant is Artoria."
Artoria vs. Mordred.
Another parent-child showdown!
Reviewing the match-up, Lot couldn't help but sigh.
Who arranged these fights?
Such tasteless humor!
…Oh.
I did.
Never mind.
Meanwhile, Galahad shot Lot a skeptical look.
"You arranged this, didn't you?"
"Hah! What a joke."
Lot laughed it off.
His expression, however, betrayed not a shred of sincerity.
Galahad rolled his eyes.
His adoptive father, for all his benevolence toward the people, had a notorious penchant for mischief in personal interactions.
The kind that left you torn between laughter and exasperation.
Seeing Galahad about to press further, Lot quickly interjected:
"I'm off! You're exhausted get some rest."
I'm not tired at all.
As Lot hurried out, Galahad shook his head in amusement.
"Fine. I'll rest, then."
With a sigh, he stretched out on the sofa in the rest area.
Modern furniture, long since developed and mass-produced by Lot, was ubiquitous even here in Scotland, the rest area was fully furnished.
Elsewhere
Lot sought out Artoria.
At the moment, she was preparing for her upcoming battle.
Her method of preparation?
Steamed pork buns. Barbecue pork buns. Custard buns.
"I don't even want to comment."
Lot suppressed a sigh.
Artoria was the one who worried him the least.
She had no emotional baggage to resolve.
The one who needed guidance here was Mordred.
Mordred is Morgan's child.
Which makes her mine as well.
I can't just ignore her.
With that thought, he reached for a bun.
But whether it was her knightly instincts or simple animalistic possessiveness over food, Artoria's hand clamped down on his the instant he moved.
When Lot looked up, her eyes had turned red.
Fortunately, the moment passed as quickly as it came.
She recognized him.
"Your Majesty Lot! I didn't realize it was you."
She hurriedly released his hand.
"It's fine. I'm used to it."
Lot couldn't even muster the energy to complain.
Then, he addressed her:
"You know your next opponent, yes?"
"Yes. Mordred, correct? She's our enemy I will defeat her."
At the mention of battle, Artoria's expression sharpened.
She nodded firmly.
"What if I told you Mordred is connected to you?"
Lot's words gave her pause.
Mordred's true identity was a closely guarded secret known only to Lot and Morgan.
Artoria remained unaware.
"Mordred is connected to me?"
Artoria frowned.
"Isn't she a Servant from another timeline's future?"
"How could she be tied to me?"
"In her timeline, in a few years, Mordred would have been born."
Lot chose his words carefully.
"…Huh?"
Artoria's confusion deepened.
After a moment's thought, she ventured:
"You mean… her parents are closely tied to me?"
"Why not think bigger?"
Lot prodded.
"Bigger…"
Artoria murmured then her face paled.
"Brother-in-law, you can't possibly mean… Mordred is my child?!"
In her understanding, she lacked the ability to impregnate a woman.
So
Did that mean she had given birth?
But Mordred was such a brat.
What happened in her upbringing?!
"Correct."
Lot met her gaze squarely.
Even with her earlier suspicion, Artoria's face went ashen.
In a small voice, she asked:
"Your Majesty… who is the mother?"
I need to know so I can stay far, far away.
"You."
Lot's reply was casual.
"Me wait. ME?!"
Artoria's voice cracked.
She pointed at herself, her shock eclipsing even her earlier reaction.
Thinking Lot had misheard, she clarified urgently:
"Brother-in-law, I asked about the mother!"
Lot nodded again.
"Yes. And I didn't say 'father.'"
"But how?! That defies all logic!"
Artoria stared at him, bewildered.
"Indeed. It defies logic but it's very much magecraft."
Lot chuckled.
"Incidentally, in her timeline, Mordred was the one who died with you."
"She did WHAT?!"
Artoria reeled.
"That's what happens when brats aren't disciplined properly."
"…That would explain it."
Artoria nodded gravely.
Her trust in Lot was absolute if he or Morgan said something, she accepted it without question.
Now, hearing this, she took it to heart.
"The match begins soon. Focus on teaching that brat a lesson first!"
Lot struggled to keep a straight face.
Mordred didn't fear pain what she feared was being ignored.
And now, her "father" would give her the attention she craved.
Just… not the kind she expected.
"Understood. I won't fail."
Artoria's determination was unwavering.
"Your Majesty, the match is about to start. I'll head there now."
"Go. Good luck."
Lot nodded approvingly.
Artoria turned to leave
then paused.
"Ah, Your Majesty… one more thing."
She glanced back.
"Who is Mordred's mother?"
If she was the father, there had to be a mother, right?
"I'll tell you after the fight."
Lot waved her off.
"Oh."
With that, Artoria departed for the arena.
Arena
Mordred stood ready, waiting.
When Artoria emerged, Mordred's gaze flicked to the holy lance on her back and old wounds ached.
Gritting her teeth, she raised her sword.
You stabbed me with that lance.
But I cut you down too.
Yet when she brandished her blade, Artoria showed no reaction.
In her timeline, being impaled by Rhongomyniad was inevitable.
But in this history, Artoria had never been struck down.
The significance was lost on her.
Mordred might as well have been waving hello.
"Let the battle begin!"
Artoria declared
and in the next instant, Excalibur and Caliburn flashed as she charged.