Once more stepping into Scotland Yard, Guinevere passed through the ravaged main hall without hesitation and headed straight for the workshop where Adonis had once forged weapons and equipment.
Arriving at the door again, he narrowed his eyes slightly as he listened to the occasional clang of metal from within.
That sound—having once simulated the life of a blacksmith—was intimately familiar to him. It was the unmistakable sound of hammering red-hot iron.
He pushed open the door.
And there, behind it, stood the familiar figure of Prince Adonis, raising a heavy hammer high as he pounded the glowing iron on the anvil before him.
The moment Mordred saw Adonis, she instinctively gripped her sword, ready to charge, but Guinevere held out a hand, signaling her to stay put with a slight shake of his head.
"I thought that whether as a scientist or as a prince, you would've long abandoned the practice of personally hammering iron like a common blacksmith… Dr. Babbage?"
So saying, Guinevere casually found a place to sit down, his tone calm and indifferent. Mordred and Bavanzi didn't quite understand his meaning—they exchanged a glance and then stood silently behind him, like two bodyguards.
"Oh?" Adonis's hammering paused for a moment. "So you know my true name."
"I didn't recognize you at first," Guinevere replied evenly, "but thinking back now, I'm pretty sure I've seen your photo in some scientific journal."
"Ah, is that so."
Adonis—perhaps we should now call him Babbage—nodded slightly and resumed striking the metal, which was gradually taking shape.
"Forging iron is also a way of tempering the soul," he said, wiping the sweat from his brow.
"The finest steel is born only through thousands of hammer strikes. A resilient spirit, the same."
"But if you use a machine press," Guinevere countered, "it's not only faster, but produces cleaner results. The impurities in the iron are removed more efficiently."
"You a blacksmith too?" Babbage asked.
"I've dabbled a bit while working on some inventions," Guinevere nodded, "though of course, compared to your Difference Engine, mine were nothing more than childish toys."
"Mmm," Babbage acknowledged. "The press is indeed useful. I use it myself, naturally. If we pursue efficiency, primitive handcrafting must give way. However…"
His tone suddenly shifted.
"There are still some components that must be forged by one's own hand to truly reflect the heart's intent. The process itself… is a form of self-reflection."
"Is that so?" Guinevere nodded. "Then, Dr. Babbage, is the result of your self-reflection to aid the King of Mages in burning away human history—adding fuel to the inferno that will consume everything, including your own life's work?"
"…You have quite the sharp tongue."
Adonis sighed heavily at that.
"I'm not mocking you," Guinevere said coolly. "Just stating facts. But if you wish to stop all this—even now—it's not too late."
"Oh?" Babbage shook his head. "So that's what this is about. You're trying to recruit me to your side. But hasn't Ella—no, Fran—already joined you? Isn't that enough?"
"Thwarting Solomon's plan to burn humanity's future is itself a monumental undertaking," said Guinevere. "Many great heroes have already given their lives for this cause. And because of their sacrifices, I'm certain—we will win."
"But even so, if someone directly involved in this singularity's creation joins us, then we might not have to lose so many more."
He looked Babbage square in the eye.
"Dr. Babbage, this is your chance to make amends. Only by saving humanity can your life's work avoid being reduced to nothing but ash."
"Is that so…" Babbage smiled bitterly, shaking his head.
"But from what Marjory showed me of the future, neither my Difference Engine nor my Analytical Engine were ever completed. The splendid 'civilization of ash' I envisioned never came to be… Tell me, what worth does my life's work have for humanity?"
"Oh?" Guinevere raised an eyebrow. "Then what is this future world you imagine?"
"I don't know," Babbage replied. "But I do remember Marjory's face when she saw it—pure despair. I imagine it was just as bleak and terrible as this dreamworld."
Still hammering the red-hot metal, Babbage continued slowly:
"People are like that—greedy and arrogant. Always seeking to control everything, always believing they can."
"And because of that, the day will come when we are consumed by the very knowledge and ambition we chased… Just like this city swallowed by endless fog."
"I once thought I could do something for humanity—for the world. That I could help shape a better future."
His hammer strikes never stopped. That steady, sharp clang echoed between each sentence.
But as he reached the end, his motions grew slightly slower.
"…But now, I see that I failed."
The hammer came down once more.
Ah, so that's it.
It all became clear to Guinevere.
Because of his simulation experience as Jekyll, he now truly understood Babbage's fears.
—In the Victorian era, during the First and Second Industrial Revolutions, society was gripped by a peculiar fear of science.
It sounded contradictory. After all, that era marked humanity's first great leap in technology. And yet, it was also a time of overwhelming dread.
Because knowledge was expanding at unprecedented speeds, and science enabled once unimaginable feats, people began to fear what lay ahead.
They feared that this rapid development would one day consume them.
The monsters haunting London today were born of that very fear.
The Chaos Mech Soldiers were the nightmare vision of a robot uprising, blades turned against humanity.
Automatons—their uncanny appearances triggering the uncanny valley—were born of mankind's instinctive terror of near-human creations.
That same uncanny valley—a psychological phenomenon—explains why people feel close to objects that seem slightly human, but frightened when something looks too human yet subtly wrong. That's why dolls and puppets often appear in horror films.
And it wasn't just monsters.
Servant Frankenstein's source—the novel Frankenstein—was born of fear over human experimentation. Guinevere's current identity, Dr. Jekyll, came from The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, which reflected fears around chemistry and drugs.
All of it—every single myth and monster—was a reflection of that era's fear. Fear of the future. Fear of the unknown.
Fear that humanity might one day fall to its own creations.
The more one knew, the deeper the fear became.
"I see," Guinevere nodded slowly. "Even someone as brilliant as Dr. Babbage walked the razor's edge—leading humanity forward while always fearing the abyss beneath."
"Bavanzi," he suddenly turned around. "Could I trouble you to fetch Ritsuka Fujimaru?"
"Huh?" Bavanzi blinked. "Why?"
"Because she's from the future," Guinevere said seriously. "From the 21st century. From the final days of human history before Solomon tried to burn it away."
He turned again to Babbage.
"Let someone from the future tell you—what humanity became."
"…I understand."
Bavanzi nodded and ran from Scotland Yard without another word.
"…So I was wrong then, huh?"
Watching her leave, Babbage was silent for a long moment before sighing.
"But even so… I still won't switch sides."
He tossed his hammer aside, slumped into a chair, and sighed deeply.
"I am a member of PBM. I have already aided evil, committed unspeakable crimes. Even if I wanted to turn back now—it's far too late."
"Unlike those with strong resistance to magecraft, I was only a scientist in life. Even as a Servant, granted magical power and a Noble Phantasm, I still cannot disobey my Master."
"And besides…"
Babbage continued:
"Even if you stop Marjory's plan, it won't matter. I've calculated it—Solomon will descend himself if this singularity is destroyed. He'll come to crush those who dared stand against his will."
"You may fight with all your might, but you'll still face utter defeat."
"Moreover…"
He paused, and pulled a small crystal from his pocket, holding it up to the light.
"That's…"
Guinevere narrowed his eyes—recognizing it instantly.
It was the Philosopher's Stone that had fallen from Hohenheim's shattered core and been retrieved by Babbage.
Staring at the glowing crystal for a long while, Babbage finally let out a long sigh:
"We of PBM were once true comrades. I only chose not to appear in reality because I didn't wish to stand against humanity. I refused to serve Solomon's goals."
"So Marjory and Hohenheim agreed—I would only play a 'just' prince in this dream, while Hohenheim played the villainous Nautoba."
"It was child's play—good versus evil. But now, Nautoba is gone. And the prince who dreamed of saving Itty… should wake up."
"Hohenheim is dead. Yet even in death, he tried to awaken me with his sacrifice… If I were to switch sides now, that would be a betrayal of my dearest friend."
Turning around, his gaze dimmed.
"I've long since lost the right to turn back… so forgive me, but I must decline your kind offer."
"…So that's how it is."
Guinevere didn't seem surprised. He simply shook his head.
"No matter. A sage like you doesn't deserve to perish in despair, clinging to hopelessness about humanity's future."
"If you refuse to stand with us… then we'll defeat you. And if Solomon dares descend—I'll ensure his utter defeat."
"If we can't overcome this battle, then we have no right to speak of saving humanity."
His final words rang with steely conviction.
"…Hahahahaha!"
Babbage stared at him for a moment—then burst into laughter.
"Arrogant! Are you confident—or just foolish? You're the one trying to save humanity?"
His laughter faded slightly.
"But perhaps… perhaps it is precisely someone like you who should be saving it."
"Yes. Yes, indeed. Even if Solomon wipes you out… better that than letting Marjory's plan hand humanity over to those eldritch gods."
He stood up suddenly—and raised the Philosopher's Stone high, slamming it into the red-hot metal he had been forging.
"In that case—come, then!"
He seized the glowing metal, heedless of his melting hand, and pressed it into his chest—where a red Nightmare Core pulsed like a second heart.
"Come and face me—O believer in humanity's future!"
"Show me your resolve—your strength!"
Guinevere raised his right hand, revealing the brilliant glow of a Command Spell.
"Mordred—we're up."
"Been waiting for you to say that!"
Before the words had even fully left her mouth, blazing crimson lightning erupted from behind him—racing straight toward Babbage.