Time rewinds to a few dozen minutes ago.
On the road from Chaldea's shores to Manchester, a certain fairy fought desperately.
Britannia teetered on the brink of collapse; endless Morse swept across the land, drawn by the fairies' aura, surging forward in ceaseless waves.
Yet still, they could not stop that one fairy.
Swing the sword, advance—swing the sword, advance.
The spear's tip, transformed into a colossal blade, shredded Morse zombies ahead; unparalleled violence sent the undead hordes flying.
Dragging a body already pushed to its limit, carving a path of blood, the fairy knight Gawain—or rather, the "Black Hound" Bagster—still fought on.
"Huff… huff… huff…"
"Manchester… must… hurry back to Manchester…"
She gritted her teeth, tightened her grip on the sword.
Even though her blade was battered and broken, even though her armor was riddled with cracks, even though her vision blurred with blood, she continued to swing with every ounce of strength she had left.
She had been utterly defeated—an unprecedented rout, a humiliation beyond measure.
Whether as commander or as knight, such a crushing loss merited death by honor.
But she fled.
She abandoned her soldiers, her honor, her pride, and fled in disgrace.
And at the moment when Britannia she was sworn to protect collapsed, she shamelessly sought out the outsider Chaldea. With her still formidable body as the bargaining chip, she begged Chaldea to shelter her and the inhabitants of her domain.
She had betrayed her queen, betrayed her convictions, betrayed the dignity of knighthood—but she would do anything to keep him alive.
For she had someone she could not leave unprotected, someone she would guard at any cost.
"I must… return, bring Manchester's fairies to Chaldea—for him…"
"For Adonis… buy a little more time."
—That was the sole reason she had fought until now.
Bagster, the Black Hound, was born under a curse.
No matter what she tried, she could not suppress her hunger.
The more she loved someone, the more ravenous she became—an appetite she could not contain.
Even though each time she fed, a fierce self-loathing forced her to vomit again and again, the ecstasy coursing through her mouth, throat, and esophagus as she devoured exquisite flesh was irresistible.
Each time she thought it would be the last—each time she believed, by sheer will, she could conquer her beast—each time she swore she would overcome her primal instinct…
—but each time, she ended at the same tragic end.
Each time she lost someone she loved, she attempted suicide—then stopped herself.
Not out of fear of death; such fear was meaningless to her. She simply could not let herself die.
Because if she did, all she had ever done would be reduced to mere gluttony.
Her first prey had been the fortress lord Fort Wether.
She devoured him purely to protect Britannia. Because of her gift—the ability to transform consumed flesh into power—she alone had held back that catastrophe.
Believing in the strong by nature, consuming them to gain their strength was survival.
"Survival of the fittest" was the golden rule: she lived by devouring what she loved. She could not die simply because she "wanted to."
She owed a duty to the hunt: born a potent being, nurtured as a daughter of the clan, trusted despite being the "Child of Calamity," she had to demonstrate justice more than anyone.
That dignity was the only salve for her ravaged soul.
Yet even so, as despair over herself mounted again and again, she reached her limit. A cursed fairy like her had no right to live.
When she wept and tore out her horns, ready to end her tainted existence, a young boy's voice pierced her mind:
"Excuse me? Are you the one crying over there?"
—In the year 2000 of the Queen's Calendar, she encountered a fragile human child.
What followed was a time of happiness.
Peaceful and content—emotions she had never felt before.
Though it defied the rule that she only loved the strong, it filled her with wonder. At the same time, she felt joy.
For he was plainly weak— for a predator who grew by devouring the mighty, this love proved she was more than a beast… and healed her scarred heart.
So she vowed: no matter the cost, she would protect him. She would fight to safeguard that beautiful soul.
She championed coexistence between humans and fairies as equals—impossible across all Britannia, perhaps, but achievable in her domain.
The fairies of Manchester agreed—and were eager to relocate to Pan-Human History.
That was why she had to return, no matter what.
Even as Britannia crumbled and Morse swarmed everywhere, if she could bring Manchester's fairies to Chaldea's coast before they were annihilated, they could be saved—and so could Adonis.
Though as a Britannian knight she had resolved to fight to her last breath, she swore that at least this task would be done before her death.
[You repel the horde of Morse and cross the forest.]
[You arrive in Manchester.]
But there, the sight she beheld… was nothing like she had imagined.
—The fairies butchered humans and laughed uproariously.
Why?
Then she heard their words:
"Eat up! Eat up! Finish them before Bagster returns—don't let her find out!"
"If she learns we've been locking humans in the warehouse all this time, she'll be furious!"
"If she knows we've been torturing them every day, Bagster will blow up in rage!"
"Gluttonous Bagster! Passionate Bagster!"
"She'll beat us black and blue and scold us, 'Why didn't you invite me?'"
What was happening?
What on earth were they saying?
She could not understand—her mind scrambled.
Confusion swiftly gave way to rage. She roared at the fairies:
"What is this? Why? What are you doing?!"
But they did not flinch; they merely grinned and laughed:
"What do you mean, 'what we're doing?' We're imitating our lord!"
"We all know! We saw it deep within the manor!"
"We saw what you usually hide!"
"The joyful, idyllic romance you share—how happy it looked every day—so we imitated it!"
What did this mean?
If they were imitating her, why slaughter humans?
—Ah.
In that moment, her mind suddenly pieced it together.
Though her will to survive screamed otherwise, the fairies' words unlocked buried memories.
"So gentle before… so cherished!"
Unaware of Bagster's transformation, the fairies still laughed:
"But Bagster ate him—she devoured him deep in the manor!"
"So fascinating, so fascinating! We had to try it ourselves!"
"It's so much more fun in action than just watching! Devouring humans is unbelievably thrilling!"
Yes—she remembered.
That day, she dreamed of a past act, and woke weeping.
Adonis, frail and bedbound, comforted her:
"You're crying again, Bagster."
"Come here; it's okay to cry. Tell me what happened today."
"Don't worry—no matter how embarrassing, I'll never hate you."
"Come on; when you're sad, let's talk about something happy—like your favorite Knight of the Round Table."
"Because on the 'Swapped' Relic you found, the stories of those brave knights you've always admired are recorded."
"Look at the garden—you planted such lovely flowers."
"Today, you brought me another blossom, even though I cannot walk."
Then, gazing at that ever-smiling boy, hearing his gentle words, she could no longer hold back her love—and her hunger.
Then she opened her mouth.
By the time she regained her senses, everything was over.
Then a voice echoed in her ears:
"Thinking of ending your life to atone? I understand the feeling—but stay calm first."
"For someone of your purity among the fairies, to take your own life would be too tragic."
"Make a contract, Bagster—now is too soon to accept the curse."
"I will help you seal away this memory, let him live forever in your heart."
"It's alright—when you suffer, you can return to this chamber, and your last day with him will replay like a dream."
But now, that beautiful dream lay shattered.
"Hurry—go now! Run to the outside world full of humans!"
Meanwhile, the fairies beside her clamored:
"So delightful, so delightful—surely it will be tens of times more fun there!"
"Play around, have fun—use humans for entertainment! I read about it on the Relic!"
"Beings like us are called demons!"
In that moment, she had but one thought:
They must be killed.
She had been utterly mistaken—she had protected the wrong ones.
From the beginning, there had been no justice on this isle.
She had to take responsibility; she could not allow them to reach the outside world.
"Look, everyone! Bagster is smiling! Her joyous play is about to begin again!"
"Crying Bagster! Tears of joy, Bagster!"
"What prey this time? Don't be stingy—let us feast too!"
Her heart held only one resolve:
All these evil creatures must be slain without exception.
What came after, she no longer knew.
For she had wholly abandoned thought and reason, unleashing every primal instinct within her.
All she felt was the rush of destruction, violence, and unbridled hunger as it surged through her.
None of it mattered anymore.
—After all, she was nothing but a vile beast that desired to devour the one she loved.
Until one moment—somehow—her reason flickered back briefly.
In that instant, in the crimson glow of the giant's eyes, she saw the image of a one-armed man.
At the edge of the burning city, a battered man stood before her, sword in hand, gaze unwavering.
From the look on his face, she sensed a solemn determination.
"Please… stop," the man said,
"For the one I love, I must stand against you here."