[In the darkness, you feel yourself passing through some kind of portal.]
[On the other side of the portal, it is pitch-black; you cannot see your hand before your face, nor feel solid ground beneath your feet.]
"Underground? No, that's not right. This isn't simply beneath the earth—feels like we've arrived in some strange dimension... Is this the inside of the world itself?"
Guinevere holds Artoria's hand tightly as they walk, murmuring to himself.
"Oh, astute as always, Lord Guinevere. Simply put, this is like an extra-dimensional realm; you are now roughly 80 km beneath the surface."
A voice suddenly echoes along the pitch-black passage:
"Only because of Albion's influence does a path appear beneath the surface. You will go deeper still. Although Albion in the normal human-history timeline perished at around 80 km depth, this Albion of the singularity opened a tangible route to Paradise."
"Alas, this passage is so narrow that Albion itself cannot traverse it, so it perished at the surface level."
"That voice sounds familiar... Who are you?" Guinevere calls out.
"Please, don't say my voice sounds familiar—sounds creepy. I don't at all want you to recognize me." The voice continues:
"However, there's no harm in revealing my identity: I am Merlin, the Flower Magician. I've just escaped from my prison because a certain terrifying big sister apparently wandered off... How about it—is this name known to you?"
"Merlin?" Artoria's voice suddenly speaks from beside Guinevere, then shifts: "No... indeed, the voice isn't quite the same."
"?" Guinevere is momentarily puzzled by Artoria's remark. Then he says, "Of course I know the name Merlin—from the legends of human history, teacher of King Arthur. So you're here to assist us?"
"Mm, a reassuring answer. Yes, I am here to assist the Paradise faeries. Please continue forward: your destination is the Starry Inner Sea, 2,700 km deeper. But rest assured, I will continuously use 'distance-shortening' magic to bring you swiftly to the end. Still, even so the journey is tedious—let me light the way for you."
As he speaks, a light suddenly appears, dispelling the profound darkness and revealing a dreamlike cavern strewn with glittering crystals in all directions.
"Come, let's depart—now it feels more like an adventure, yes?"
A small white creature, cute in appearance, hops before Guinevere and Artoria as it speaks.
"Ah? That is... Merlin?" Artoria is stunned by this creature, which seems neither clearly feline nor canine, but combines the appeal of both.
"Fufu?" Even Guinevere is taken aback.
"You know its original form?" Merlin, in this small-beast guise, is surprised.
"Ah... no," Guinevere realizes his slip and corrects himself: "It's just that seeing it, I instinctively feel it's calling 'fufu fufu'... if you know what I mean?"
"Hm... that remark is somewhat disconcerting. Could it be residues of erroneous history that should have been corrected?" Merlin bounces lightly. "Never mind; such matters can be pondered later. For now, let us proceed."
"Ah, there are Lentinien murals here too?" Artoria notices patterns on the cavern walls and exclaims.
"Oh my, seems a priestess's memories are manifesting? Quite normal—after all, this is the Earth's memory... or rather, an information-space-like place. Seeing some past records here is expected." Merlin taps his little head:
"Perfect. During the next hour en route to the Starry Inner Sea, I'll tell you the creation story of Faerie Britain and the specifics of the Paradise faeries' mission."
[While traveling toward the Starry Inner Sea, you and Artoria listen to Merlin recount Faerie Britain's creation myth.]
[As a bona fide time-traveler, you must rely on the locals to fill in background knowledge—this situation is poignant indeed.]
"Damn, sorry to be a skip-party that just cloud-plays the plot." Guinevere glances at the subtitles in his mind, feeling mildly offended.
Nevertheless, Merlin's explanation completes the background of the 2.6 singularity. In the Fate world's history, there have been multiple instances of alien life arriving on Earth: spiders from South America (ORT), a fleet from the Atlantic that became the Olympian gods, and another 14,000 years ago—the White Giant Cephalus—whose sole aim was to feed on, harvest, and destroy all civilizations on Earth.
You recall the White Giant Cephalus from other Fate settings; in human-history lore, it was defeated by some Holy Sword wielder. But in Faerie Britain, because six faeries responsible for forging the Holy Sword shirked their duty in the Starry Inner Sea, the sword was never forged. Consequently, humans in this timeline had no means to confront Cephalus.
Thus, all life on the surface was utterly annihilated by extraterrestrial scouts—land destroyed, animals, gods, humans wiped out, leaving only a void-like sea of aquatic remnants.
Then, the six faeries at fault were exiled by Paradise, cast onto the boundless ocean. Even so, they refused to admit the world's destruction was their fault.
To oversee their repentance, the Starry Inner Sea dispatched, with the priestess's aid, a deity who had taken refuge in Paradise—Cernunnos from Celtic myth—to supervise those six faeries.
Because Cernunnos's body was immense—large enough for the six faeries to live upon—he sheltered them, shielding against waves. Initially, the faeries were joyful, befriending Cernunnos.
But they were not satisfied; they yearned for solid land. Yet no land appeared, so the faeries blamed Cernunnos's supposed insufficiency and resented the priestess who urged repentance.
Hence, the six primordial faeries killed Cernunnos. Due to the vast power disparity, they tricked him—claiming to honor him as their patron deity, they held a banquet and offered him wine. Benevolent Cernunnos, believing they had repented, attended despite the priestess's warnings—and was murdered by their poisoned wine. His enormous corpse drifted and formed new land.
As for the priestess, the faeries carefully used her: they dismembered her and cast a perpetual-undying spell upon her remains, then used her as "material" to endlessly spawn new humans as playthings...
This explains why humans in Britain lack reproductive capacity, live only to age thirty, and are bred in human "farms"—because they are all clones of that human priestess.
Afterward, the six faeries, as descendants of Aeling, continually birthed Stone Children and Forest Children as their clans.
Yet after a hundred years, a strong curse began seeping from Cernunnos's remains; horrified, the faeries realized Cernunnos had not wholly died: though his soul was extinguished, his body remained alive, and its lingering rage cursed them.
—Thus arises the century-long Calamity in Britain.
Terrified, the faeries fled Cernunnos's remains. Fortunately, the bodies of the descendants (the Children) had gradually become new land upon death—since faeries born of the planet naturally return as planetary substrate. Dead wood became soil and rock, and over millennia, they used their own corpses to fill the seas, forming a new landmass—this is the new Britain.
Moreover, because faeries generate next generations upon death, their numbers never diminish, and with endless human clones, their civilization rose.
Still, Cernunnos's submerged remains refused to be buried by faerie earth—waters above that remnant sea remained unfilled, as an undeniable testament to the faeries' sin.
After tens of thousands of years, that inland sea dried, revealing Cernunnos's remains—this is the great hollow at the center of Faerie Britain, beside Camelot.
Thus, land formed by exiled sinners' descendants, built upon victims' remains, with civilization of cloned victims imitating another victim—this is Faerie Britain.
Hearing this, Guinevere nearly vomits. Nauseated by the thought that he'd lived so long on such a land of sin.
"Oh, to make a great villain like you feel sick enough to vomit—that's quite an achievement of these faeries." Merlin remarks.
"Huh? What are you saying? Why am I a great villain?" Guinevere is puzzled.
"Oh..." The white beast's face shows a human-like mischievous expression. "You just slaughtered a city—doesn't that stem from your nature?"
"What bullshit are you talking? They deserved death, right?" Guinevere retorts.
"Precisely," Merlin bounces around. "A more conventional leader, in your position, might handle things differently for various reasons, but you simply smash through, then cut down all dissenters. Such a brash ruler would be overthrown—makes sense, right?"
"But I never desired kingship," Guinevere says. "Don't you find power struggles trivial?"
"That's the wonder of fate: those who crave kingship may not achieve it, while those indifferent get pushed into it by circumstances. Human obsessions sometimes unleash power beyond foresight or wisdom—only another obsession can overcome such force... It's for this reason I find humanity remarkable—Hey, hey, what are you doing?!"
Before Merlin can finish his cryptic remark, now in Fufu form, Guinevere grabs him by one paw and flicks his head forcefully.
"...Do you think tossing out nonsensical riddles makes you look cool?" Guinevere snarls as he flicks Merlin's head. Although Merlin aided him greatly later, Guinevere never liked him from the first encounter.
"All right, all right, sorry, sorry. I was wrong. From now on I'll explain properly without digressing—please forgive me." Merlin clasps his little paws together and apologizes at lightning speed.
"In summary, it all began because the Holy Sword was never forged. To correct this, the Starry Inner Sea again sent new faeries to the surface."
"The first-generation Paradise faerie was Vivian, the second was Caster. Their mission: make the six clans admit their fault and inherit the mystery of forging the Holy Sword."
"Tolling a Pilgrimage Bell signifies a clan chief acknowledging their sin; the faerie who rings all the bells becomes..."
Here Merlin glances at Guinevere, then at Artoria's expression, then calmly says:
"The sole candidate to forge the Holy Sword."
"Vivian resisted this mission because once the sword is forged, this singularity's premise would collapse... No—given that terrifying big sister is still scheming, maybe she's found a way to reverse that?" Merlin's voice suddenly lowers:
"After all, she wouldn't gladly let a similar calamity occur again."
"Hm? What did you say? I didn't catch that." Guinevere arches an eyebrow.
"I mean, be prepared for battle." Merlin shifts tone:
"We have arrived at Paradise's gatekeeper. Awaiting you ahead is the final dragon's conviction that will question your worthiness—after all, the Land of Hope opens only to those proven strong and reliable."
"So, Savior, step forward."
[Soon you see the so-called gatekeeper of Paradise ahead.]
[As you know, the Final Dragon is the true form of Faerie Lancelot—Albion—so her combat style closely mirrors Lancelot's.]
[Since speed advantages cannot manifest fully in the cavern, with Artoria's assistance your attributes rise near A-rank, and familiar with Lancelot's style, after invoking Endless Trials as insurance, you defeat her without excessive effort.]
[Having passed the gatekeeper's challenge, you see light.]
"Then, everyone, welcome to the Land of Paradise."
"Evergreen land, eternal spring, the dreamed answer sought by many lives."
"—Welcome to Avalon."
[Before you unfolds a scene matching your vision of Paradise: a secluded haven of birdsong and blossoms.]
As far as the eye can see lies boundless gardens.
The breeze is so gentle, the air so mild and serene—as if the sum of humanity's fantasies of all things beautiful.
"Here is the Land of Paradise, where 'evil' cannot exist. No matter how the apocalypse rages on the surface, this place remains untouched."
Though Merlin's voice is unchanged, his form has returned to that of a handsome white-haired mage:
"However, this is only Avalon's vestige—a projection of human-history Avalon within the Faerie Britain singularity. There is no Mana Tower where I'm imprisoned, Mana here is thin, and there is none of the lakes where faeries gather."
"Of course, if you had interdimensional Noble Phantasms or abilities to traverse space, perhaps you could kill me through the link between me and this projection... What do you think, Guinevere? Any ideas?" Merlin smiles at Guinevere.
"?" Guinevere slowly scratches his head: "Are you mad? I bear you no grudge—why would I kill you? And where would I get interdimensional artifacts? If I had them, I'd just toss them at Bagster to finish it off, right?"
"Oh, no reason? That's splendid." Merlin thinks to himself how convenient it is that memories tied to the singularity reset. He buries the thought and continues:
"In any case, though this is just a projection, it still serves as the forging site for the six faeries to create the Holy Sword... or rather, the Chosen Place."
"Chosen Place... You mean like in human-history where I pulled the chosen sword?" Artoria suddenly asks.
"Yes, in essence. Look: on the hill opposite is an altar—your destination. Though close, there are many trials along the way. All records of Paradise faeries to date will be manifested as obstacles—a reckoning with the past."
Hearing this, Artoria's pace suddenly falters.
"Then let us begin," Merlin notes Artoria's change but pretends not to see it, leading onward. "From the harsh cold of Winter through to the joyful warmth of Spring's close—a brief journey."
"Your words are odd..." Guinevere suddenly stops, brow furrowed, turning to Artoria:
"Artoria, this forging of the Holy Sword... will it affect you somehow?"
"..." Artoria also halts. Recalling Noknarei's remark about her transparent fake smiles, Artoria decides on a different pretense:
"Ah? What do you mean? What kind of effect?" She tilts her head innocently, her large eyes showing some confusion.
"I mean, will you suffer damage from it? For example, memory loss, or being trapped here forever, or exchange your soul, or sacrifice yourself to forge the sword... Surely not?" Guinevere seriously gazes into Artoria's eyes and slowly asks:
"Tell me, will such things occur?"
"..." Artoria's expression freezes for half a second, then she looks utterly astonished:
"Ah? What?! Is forging a sword so terrifying?!" She then nervously looks at Merlin:
"Is what Guinevere says true? Merlin-san?"
"...Ah," Merlin realizes Artoria's genuine worry. At their eye contact, he fully understands her concern.
Then easily, he adopts a flawless reassuring smile:
"Of course not. Guinevere, do you think we use some Eastern Mo Xie-type method? In Britain we don't forge swords by sacrificing blood or souls; that's too barbaric. Rest assured, we won't do that."
"...So after forging the sword, Artoria and I can both return intact?" Guinevere, still uneasy, asks: "Really? You're not lying? Artoria truly won't die from forging?"
At this point, Guinevere cannot voice the darkest possibility out loud, rejecting it in his heart, so he rephrases:
"She can indeed leave Paradise with me in one piece, without having to stay here forever, right?"
"Of course. You can leave together. I swear upon Paradise itself: if I lie... well, let me be damned without burial!" Merlin smiles at Artoria and Guinevere:
"So, are you both reassured now?"
"Phew, you startled me..." Artoria pats her chest with relief, then playfully taps Guinevere's shoulder: "Don't make such serious jokes at a time like this, Guinevere!"
"Uh... sorry." Guinevere scratches his head awkwardly; though he wishes to ask more, Artoria's response leads him to bury further doubts.
"In that case, let us depart." Artoria eagerly dashes forward:
"Now I leave it to Guinevere!"
Then, as if diving into a ripple, Artoria leaps and vanishes midair.
At the same moment, the shadow of a dark monster appears before Guinevere.
"All right, this is the so-called trial. I leave it to you, attendant of the Chosen One... Hah, what a strange experience—rare to fight alongside you. I will assist fully, Lord Guinevere."
Merlin joins Guinevere, holding staff and sword, smiling:
"Let me once more witness the strength of Britain's greatest sword, a power even Sir Lancelot cannot reach."