"My King, I am a sinner. Despite receiving your command, I disobeyed three times, ultimately leading to your disappearance."
Bedivere held the Holy Sword, which glowed with brilliant golden light, tears welling in his eyes.
"But today, after 1500 long years, I finally have the chance to atone for my mistakes."
Bedivere smiled joyfully. 1500 years of searching, of torment, had forged an unyielding willpower within him.
"This sword feels so familiar."
Black Lancer Alter instinctively reached out. The moment her pale white fingers touched the hilt, a flood of information rushed into her mind. The scenery in her eyes shifted, and she found her perspective had lowered. Before her was a young knight, crying uncontrollably, his eyes swollen from tears.
Seeing this knight, Black Lancer Alter smiled.
"Bedivere, my most loyal knight, take this sword. Cross this forest, traverse that blood-soaked hill, and finally, you will see a deep lake. Return the sword there."
Distant memories resurfaced. Black Lancer Alter "saw" a knight attempting to return the Holy Sword three times, failing each time, which ultimately led to her own birth.
Following that was a long period during which Bedivere relentlessly searched for his King across the world. Even as his body decayed and turned to stiff stone, he did not give up. Finally, he received a silver arm from a certain flower special effects artist, allowing his journey to continue.
Black Lancer Alter finished observing everything, her expression gradually settling. Finally, she looked at Bedivere and smiled.
"You have done well, Sir Bedivere, my last and most loyal knight. I have indeed received this sword; you have indeed returned it. It has not been an easy journey over these millennia, has it? I, your King, declare that you may now rest."
Black Lancer Alter reached out, grasped the hilt, and expertly plunged the Sword of Promised Victory into the ground before her, resting her hands on it.
"My King…"
Bedivere looked up, his eyes blurred with tears. Over a thousand years of the torment of fearing death had not broken Bedivere's spirit, but today, a single sentence, a single action from Black Lancer Alter, brought him to tears.
*"Crack!"*
A crisp sound rang out. Black Lancer Alter frowned, but she said nothing.
She simply watched as Bedivere turned to stone before her, then crumbled into dust and scattered.
1500 years of travel had completely ravaged Bedivere's body. The only reason he had maintained his form was due to the Sword of Promised Victory.
Legend had it that King Arthur, after obtaining this sword, stopped aging and remained in the state of a young girl.
Without the Sword of Promised Victory, only dissipation awaited Bedivere.
"…Rest in peace, my violet knight. Your conviction, I have truly felt it."
Black Lancer Alter raised her head, the Holy Sword in her hand glowing, and a suit of dark armor materialized on her.
*"Hum~"*
Black Lancer Alter gripped the sword in her right hand and raised it above her head. A black Holy Lance appeared in her left hand.
The light from the Sword of Promised Victory enveloped Black Lancer Alter's entire body, changing the color of her armor and the Holy Lance in her hand!
"What is this?"
Mo Shuying was stunned. Was Black Lancer Alter going to turn good?
Indeed, a few minutes later, Black Lancer Alter appeared before everyone, clad in white and gold armor, wielding a golden Holy Sword and Holy Lance.
Clearly, she could no longer be called Black Lancer Alter, as she was not at all "black." The subtle, chilling aura she previously possessed was gone. Now, Mo Shuying felt she was more like the one from the Emiya Residence!
"My name is Artoria Pendragon. Not the King with the Sword, not the King with the Lance, but the original King Arthur, wielding both the Holy Sword and the Holy Lance."
With the lance and sword in hand, Artoria gave Mo Shuying a slight smile.
Mo Shuying, who was familiar with Black Lancer Alter, immediately felt that his King was different.
This was King Arthur who had regained her original memories, without stubborn obsessions in her heart—the original, most ideal King.
Of course, because she had lost the Holy Sword, the King's body, which had previously stopped growing, had now developed into a top-tier physique. This was something the original King Arthur had never possessed.
Another point was that even now, King Arthur still had no scabbard.
"Little Bedivere has found peace, spared the pain of confronting his former comrades and his former King. My King has also regained her memories and even gained new power. This is truly cause for celebration, cause for celebration."
Artoria now could not be described by a single class. She was no longer a Lancer, nor a Saber, much less a Knight.
If one had to assign her a class, it would be closer to a Ruler, but she lacked the exclusive skills of a Ruler.
"Did you know he was Bedivere all along?"
Artoria looked at Mo Shuying, asking curiously. This was not the first time she had witnessed Mo Shuying's premonitions.
"Well, if I were to say that Merlin told me everything before he left, letting me know about Bedivere, would you believe me?"
Mo Shuying looked at Artoria. He wasn't entirely lying; Merlin had indeed given him some spoilers.
"Hmph, I believe you. You are my knight, and naturally, you wouldn't deceive me. In any case, you did well."
Artoria nodded in praise. She didn't continue to ask, as there was nothing more to learn anyway.
And so.
"Just now, I integrated some memories, including those of Sir Bedivere. The Knights of the Round Table exist in this world. They are protecting the Holy City under the leadership of another version of myself. However, these Knights of the Round Table seem to have lost the meaning of being knights and have done many things that greatly angered Bedivere. Without further ado, let us depart soon and set these corrupted knights straight!"
When she was still Black Lancer Alter, she hadn't felt anything particular. But now that she had returned to her original self, the people once again became those she was sworn to protect.
"Yes, my King!"
Mo Shuying nodded. He quite liked this straightforward way of acting.
"But which way is the Holy City?"
Mo Shuying looked troubled. In a place like this, he couldn't tell directions at all.
Just then,
"Lion King!"
A cry of surprise rang out. Mo Shuying turned his head and saw Nitocris had followed him. She had cried out upon seeing Artoria, though the next second she clapped a hand over her mouth and ran. But then, she ran right into Mo Shuying's arms!
*Thump!*
"Ow! My nose!"
Nitocris sat down on the sand, clutching her nose with tears in her eyes. Mo Shuying looked at this guide who had practically delivered herself to him, and with what he thought was a harmless smile, he said,
"Don't be scared, we won't do anything to you. We just have a question for you: which way is the Holy City? Oh, and one more thing."
Mo Shuying suddenly remembered something else. His smile grew even brighter as he said,
"Who's your boss? Is it that talkative Rameses II?"
"???! ! !"
Nitocris was bewildered for a moment, then her face flashed with horror and anger!
"How dare you call the great Pharaoh a chatterbox! You're finished! You're finished, do you hear me! You will surely face the Pharaoh's most severe punishment!"
Mo Shuying's smile remained unchanged as he waited for Nitocris to finish.
"Done talking? Then lead the way. The Holy Grail is still with him; it's time to get it back."
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