The so-called Rhine Gold—
In theory, it is a treasure so vast that even if divided evenly among all people on Earth, it would never run out. A massive golden lump that draws in hosts to claim it, thereby continually amplifying its own brilliance.
Though it possesses a physical form that must be carried, it is simultaneously a conceptual artifact—one that wraps itself around its host like a curse, compelling them to accumulate wealth through something akin to the Golden Rule.
In essence, it is similar to a crystallized form of super energy, partially bearing the traits of an inorganic, sentient lifeform.
But the most troublesome part is the curse embedded in its conceptual nature.
In legend, while Siegfried's tragic end is partly attributable to his own character, those flaws were never fatal on their own.
Even with overwhelming power at his disposal, he would never act selfishly. He would only move in accordance with the wishes of others.
Siegfried was that kind of person.
Without question, he was worthy of the name "Hero."
That was precisely why Avia didn't want someone like him to live as a mere wish-granting machine.
What he hoped for was for Siegfried to live by his own will, and to determine for himself what justice meant to him.
Just like Attila, he hoped Siegfried wouldn't exist solely for the purpose of fighting.
"No, Avia. Please… let me be the one to carry this."
Siegfried looked at Avia with an intensity he had never shown before.
Under that gaze, Avia was reminded of a moment in the first century AD, just before reaching Rome—when he had once returned Lucius' stare with the same sentiment.
Now Siegfried was mirroring that same look: wishing for someone else to live their life fully, not to suffer in vain misfortune.
"Siegfried, let me ask you—when you fought Fafnir, who contributed the most?"
Here in this place, where all light should've been consumed by darkness—only a few faint bioluminescent creatures flickered.
The current moved slowly around them, carrying with it a salty breeze that felt like the breath of the sea itself.
And yet, under the glow of the Rhine Gold, the boy's hair blazed like a golden torch.
"It was you, Avia."
Without Avia's assistance, there was no way he could have fought atop the evil dragon's back and secured victory.
Siegfried was acutely aware of that fact.
"Then isn't the answer obvious?"
Avia's tone was calm, but brooked no argument.
"The one who contributed the most deserves the right to choose. I took the most valuable treasure. Is there anything wrong with that?"
Faced with such irrefutable logic, Siegfried nodded awkwardly.
"But… the curse—"
"Is that really something to be concerned about?"
Avia clapped Siegfried on the shoulder, his voice full of mirth.
"It's just a legend. Who knows if it's even real? Maybe someone just made it up out of envy for this treasure. Right, it's nothing. Nothing at all. Since I took the treasure, I'll spend it however I like. Live it up. Even if misfortune follows, it's a fair trade."
As he spoke, Avia tapped the Rhine Gold with his spear, producing red sparks that traced a parabolic arc before fizzling out at the riverbed.
"Besides, I'm a Hun born with evil intent in my heart. Even if I slay a dragon, to the world, I'll still be what I am."
In that deep, silent sea, the crushing pressure made everything unnaturally still.
Only the occasional sound of marine life echoed through the water—
Now, it was Avia's voice that reverberated gently through the deep.
Even though the topic was a cursed treasure, the silver-haired boy spoke as if it were some trivial matter, completely unconcerned.
In the end, Siegfried could only nod silently.
Though his expression and words seemed unchanged, there was a faint tension, as if he were enduring something unseen.
"Well then, I'll take my leave here, Siegfried."
"...Yeah. Until next time, Avia."
Siegfried quietly watched Avia walk away with the Rhine Gold, until his figure vanished completely from view.
Between them, they had shared an adventure worthy of the history books—
But it also left behind deep regrets.
So… what was left to do now, besides return?
Caught in confusion, Siegfried thought hard.
If he had a wish, it was this:
To keep the Rhine Gold's cursed misfortune to himself—never letting it pass to others.
He couldn't quite understand it yet, but—
As he watched his "friend" of just fifteen days disappear, the dragon-slaying hero's face was filled with warmth.
---
As for Avia, slaying Fafnir and claiming the Rhine Gold—cursed though it was—had brought him little else in return.
Still, regardless, it was now time to go to Britain.
Over the years, Avia had familiarized himself somewhat with the current state of the world.
Though the Holy Church was increasingly corrupt, its power was still formidable.
Having been established centuries ahead of time as the state religion of Rome, it had nearly driven the Dead Apostles to extinction.
In the original history, the Clock Tower at least had its own independent magic cities to resist the Church.
But now, they had struck a deal, retreating under the Church's protection and cowering on the island of Britain.
Perhaps it had something to do with Avia returning the body of the Dragon of Albion to them in the first century—
Whatever the reason, the Clock Tower was now in dire straits.
But if it meant getting the Church back on the right path, Avia had no choice.
After all, even the long-serving Church loyalist Koubac, who had faithfully toiled within its ranks since its inception, had been ruthlessly hunted down—simply for being a Dead Apostle.
Avia pondered: Have I ever committed a "use-and-discard" act like this?
Yet somehow, ever since the joint killing of Crimson Moon in the 300s, the Church had only grown more rotten.
Still, these changes were his doing—
And he was prepared to take responsibility.
Now then, what awaited him in the enigma-laden Britain?
Besides the remains of the strongest dragon on Earth?
Naturally—it was this:
Thirteen thousand years ago, to fight the world-ending Sefar,
The planet had forged from humanity's collective prayers the ultimate fantasy—
The Sword of the Stars.
Later gifted by the Lady of the Lake to the King of Knights during the Age of Arthur,
In the world of Type-Moon, that Lady of the Lake—Vivian—was Morgan, and also Morgause, a trinity of identities.
Though in 418 AD, she had yet to be born.
And so, Avia had a bold idea—
Was the Sword of the Stars now lying beneath Lake Avalon, the counterpart of the Inner Sea of the Planet?
Whatever the truth, that possibility alone made Britain a destination worth the journey.
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