63 [63] The Dark Sun of Britain
Flames.
The fire in the hearth crackled and burned.
Alvin's gaze flickered.
He found himself sitting in a chair.
Sitting in his incredibly familiar bedroom.
He faced the window of the castle tower.
Before him stretched the vast expanse of Britannia.
Birds sang joyfully.
Flowers smiled.
The sun hung high, nurturing all life.
Everything in the world seemed to thrive.
Just like this cloudless, bright sky, the heart of the young man couldn't be bound by anything.
The bright sunlight streamed through the window grille, warmly embracing him.
Like... his father's warm embrace.
Flames.
The fire in the hearth crackled and burned.
Alvin lowered his eyelids slightly, gazing at his palm.
The hand of a young boy, fair and tender.
On that smooth and delicate skin, there was no trace of blood.
Blood.
No... blood.
Was it... a dream?
So... was it a dream?
Alvin vaguely recalled dreaming of... a very fierce battle.
So fierce.
He was about to die.
But it was... a dream.
Too surreal, just a dream...
Flames.
The fire in the hearth crackled and burned.
Alvin raised his gaze to the window in front of him.
Bathed in the clear and pure sunlight, the land under the towering castle tower was radiant.
Looking at this beautiful scene.
The expression on the silver-haired youth's face was slightly dazed.
"Alvin, you seem distracted?"
Accompanied by the familiar, mellow voice of the old man from behind.
A rough hand, covered in scars and calluses, gently pressed on the boy's shoulder.
Alvin turned his head suddenly.
What met his eyes was the gentle smile on Vortigern's face.
"Father..."
He called out softly, somewhat too lightly.
Lightly, as if afraid of scaring something away.
However...
...There was no response.
The smiling silver-haired old man fell into a strange and silent silence.
Like a clockwork doll running out of gears, the expression on his face quickly melted away, becoming as cold as ice.
In Alvin's field of vision.
Blood slowly oozed from Vortigern's seven orifices.
The figure of the silver-haired old man collapsed like a pile of ashes, leaving no trace behind, like sand washed away by the tide.
"Father?!"
Alvin stood up suddenly.
Suddenly.
The light dimmed.
The clouds darkened, the sunlight waned.
As if, in an instant, noon turned into dusk.
Outside the window, the bright and clear sunlight in the sky was obscured by a layer of gloomy clouds, casting a misty and sickly light into the bedroom.
Flames.
The fire in the hearth crackled and burned.
Alvin turned his head slightly in confusion.
Looking at the dim sunlight behind him.
However, he did not see the sun.
Because, dusk had already turned into night.
Under the deep night sky.
The figure of the tall silver-haired old man, holding a wooden sword in his hand, stood in front of him with a stagnant expression, seeming somewhat compassionate.
Alvin stood dumbfounded in the training ground.
In front of him lay a broken wooden sword.
His sword broke.
But, he won.
Because, at just eight years old, he had defended himself against his father's ten rounds of attacks with superb swordsmanship... proving his determination to protect himself.
Standing in the vast night.
The silver-haired old man remained silent for a long time, finally letting out a faint sigh.
"Alvin, as far as swordsmanship is concerned, there is nothing more your father can teach you. You will have to explore the path ahead on your own."
"Father..."
The silver-haired youth stepped forward.
His pace quickened.
He started to run.
He stumbled and fell to the ground, but despite the dust on his face, he immediately got up and began to run forward.
"Father!"
However...
No matter how he ran.
No matter how he exerted himself, trying to catch up.
Vortigern's figure gradually moved away, and the desolate twilight of the night did not make the old man's figure appear lonely.
Flames.
The fire in the hearth crackled and burned.
The sound of the wind faded away.
Everything around seemed to dim.
Alvin's steps also gradually slowed down.
By his side, faint flickers of what seemed like fireflies began to shimmer.
The boy's figure also began to grow.
As he walked.
The boy grew into a young man who could stand alone.
Alvin seemed to... remember something.
Vaguely remembered... he guarded Londinium...
"Alvin..."
Surrounded by dim flickering light, the silver-haired old man stood in front of him, his back to him.
The old man's voice was like a flickering ember.
"Alvin, this world demands that we offer ourselves up, demands our deaths."
"Death."
The silver-haired youth muttered the word.
In front of him, the silver-haired old man, who had turned his back, began to change shape.
He grew sharp wings.
He grew sharp fangs.
Around Vortigern, dark figures emerged, painted with angry expressions, wielding various weapons and shouting angrily.
Those twisted, resentful faces.
Like graffiti, painted with blood-red paint on people's faces.
Tick...
Tick... tick... tick...
Alvin raised his face.
A drop of rain fell on his face.
He stood at the top of the castle, and the pouring rain began to fall, but it was thick and red like blood.
As if... the whole world was bleeding.
Clang.
The White Dragon of Britain let out its final roar, flapping its wings and soaring high, its majestic dragon body heading straight for the sky.
"Father!!!"
The silver-haired youth shouted subconsciously, reaching out his hand.
The next moment...
Whether it was the sound of rain or the angry shouts.
The noisy sounds suddenly stopped abruptly.
The falling blood rain suddenly stopped.
More accurately, the whole world... stopped.
As if a movie suddenly had its pause button pressed.
For a moment, all was silent, all noise ceased.
The silver-haired youth stood dumbfounded at the top of the castle, as if he had suddenly been thrown into a paused silent film, unable to see any signs of life.
Those angry figures, like erased hard drive data, became blurry, distorted, chaotic.
The images from all directions began to fold and shrink, as if a child were manipulating paper doll models...
In the glaring firelight.
Alvin lowered his gaze in a daze.
In the gradually clear vision, he saw...
Flames.
The fire in the hearth crackled and burned.
No longer a boy.
The silver-haired young man stood silently in the bedroom.
He was draped in that pitch-black, lightless armor.
However, the grievous wounds that had engulfed half of his chest had all disappeared.
As if sensing something.
Alvin raised his hand and gently wiped his cheek.
Looking at his fingertips, where there was a slightly moist trace.
He couldn't help but feel a little stunned.
...Tears.
Why am I crying?
...Why am I shedding tears?
Sorrow...
A surge of sorrow, like the surging tide, seemed to wash over his heart.
"Father..."
He murmured.
Raising his eyes, he looked forward with blurred vision.
The silver-haired old man sat quietly by the fireplace.
The flames of the hearth flickered onto the old man's face incessantly.
Vortigern gazed at the flames in the hearth, sitting there quietly, his back to this side.
The crackling of the firewood.
Everything seemed so peaceful and serene.
As if...
Everything that had happened before was just a fleeting dream.
Father and son, in fact, had been in the bedroom all along.
Peacefully, enjoying the quiet and simple moments together.
Vortigern Pendragon.
As if hearing his son's call, the silver-haired old man slightly turned back and looked at the silver-haired young man.
"Alvin, you're here."
"I have a request..."
The old man smiled.
"Burn yourself and pierce the inner sea of the planet."
Looking at his father.
The silver-haired youth remained silent.
He stayed silent for a long time, a very long time.
As if trying to imprint the other's face into his eyes.
"I can't do it, Dad..."
Alvin cried, shaking his head, forcing a smile on his face.
"Didn't you want me to... to live well?"
"Alvin, don't you want to avenge me?"
The old man smiled and said...
"Gaia still watches you like that."
"It... takes pleasure in your pain."
"I want to, of course, Dad. But... I still have Morgan, I still have my daughter..."
Unable to contain the surging sadness in his heart.
The voice of the silver-haired youth trembled.
"They're both waiting for me, waiting for me to come back and live quietly and happily with them-..."
"But the Counter Force killed me, Alvin."
"...Counter Force?"
"Yes, Counter Force."
The old man smiled and said...
"To survive, they'll do anything."
"Do you forget how you were forced to become BEAST?"
"If they don't feel pain, they won't let you have peace."
"All of this, because they pushed you to such an extent, they are the parasites of this world, not only did they kill me, but they also ruined the peaceful life you wanted."
"Do you really not want to avenge me?"
"But... this isn't what you truly want, Dad..."
The silver-haired youth sobbed, choked up, forcing an incredibly ugly smile on his face.
"This is my dream... you sacrificed yourself to save me, Father, you clearly told me to live on-"
"...Just do it for me, Alvin?"
The old man stood up.
He reached out and ruffled his son's silver hair as usual.
On his face.
The same as always.
That gentle and kind smile.
"...Use the Holy Lance on the Inner Sea of the Planet."
...
No wailing.
No shouting.
The silver-haired youth just stared, dumbfounded, as the figure of his father slowly dissipated before his eyes.
The cold wind howled.
The torrential rain poured.
Unstoppable tears, mixed with rainwater, fell to the muddy ground.
On the ruins of broken walls and debris.
In the almost frozen gazes of everyone.
Click.
The dark knight standing before the throne slowly raised his arm.
He grasped the holy lance plunged into his own heart.
Squelch.
The holy lance, Rhongomyniad, was pulled out.
A large amount of blood splattered out.
However, Alvin didn't even tremble a bit.
Because such pain no longer mattered.
The gruesome wound on his chest quickly healed, shrouded and obscured by shadows, forming a dark and lightless armor.
The silver-haired youth slowly, slowly raised his gaze.
The pouring rain dripped down his face.
Like, mottled tear stains.
In the torrential rain.
Alvin looked at the grand servants in front of him, their expressions incredibly complex.
"Thank you..."
He said softly,
"You've all worked hard."
[Heroes.]
[They shine brightly.]
[They are dazzling.]
[They are true heroes.]
[And you, carrying the blame of thousands, suffering the scorn of millions.]
[You are the antagonist, the infamous villain.]
[But, even if fate never stands by your side.]
[Even if you're a villain...]
[You still need, the savior of a villains...]
The savior of a villains.
Alvin lowered his eyelids and looked at the holy lance in his hand.
It seemed to still retain, his father's warmth.
"Alvin, how do you feel..."
The sound of grand servant's bitter voice rang out, however...
...There was no answer.
Alvin lifted his head, somewhat dazed, and looked at the sky pouring with rain.
In the center of the spiraling gray clouds, the vortex formed, as if an indifferent pupil, overlooking him from above.
The holy lance in his hand hummed.
The spiraling restraints, layer upon layer, were instantly shattered at the tip of the lance.
Having absorbed all of Vortigern's magical energy and life force, his power now surpassed even the peak of the White Dragon of Britain, towering and mighty.
Even if, the will of the world tried its hardest to stop him.
It was not enough to resist... the will of the White Dragon's son at this moment.
The grand servants looked silently at the silver-haired youth bathed in rain.
This damned world, is it going to be destroyed...
They wanted to persuade Alvin to give up.
But how could they even begin?
If any of them were in Alvin's shoes, they would have made the same choice.
The return of the age of gods.
That was Vortigern's will.
The world wants me dead.
So I'll, overturn the world.
"Don't hesitate, Alvin."
The golden-haired man, with only his left hand remaining, wiped his damp hair, his eyes filled with pity.
"I... support you."
In the mixed gazes of the grand servants.
The final spiral of restraint collapsed inch by inch.
Click.
The thirteen restraints of the Holy Lance... fell off.
"The Holy Lance has been lifted..."
The grand servants sighed, smiling with both regret and relief.
Regretful because the irreversible ending was set.
Relieved because such a world was better off predetermined.
They were weary of counter force.
These two parasites... would be dealt with once they returned to the Throne of Heroes.
As for what happens a year from now, we'll talk about it a year from now.
First, they had to settle the score with counter force.
The Holy Lance was the projection of the Anchor of the Planet.
The lifting of the Holy Lance meant the detachment of the Anchor of the Planet.
From now on, the Age of Gods would gradually return to this island and spread throughout the world.
History...
From this moment on, it was declared thoroughly overturned.
However...
After a moment.
The grand servants realized with some confusion.
The Anchor of the Planet did not detach.
...What?
Everyone suddenly looked at the silver-haired youth in the field.
"Alvin, you..."
...Why?
Vortigern sacrificed himself, almost managing to free the Holy Lance from the thirteen restraints.
But Alvin, did not let the Anchor of the Planet of Britain detach, did not choose to let the Age of Gods return.
He gazed at the Holy Lance in his hand.
Then looked at the spiral in the sky.
His expression seemed somewhat confused.
The Age of Gods did not return, so...
"Could it be that he wants to..."
Looking at the posture of the silver-haired youth.
In the grand servants's heart, an incredible thought suddenly emerged.
"To directly pierce through the Inner Sea of Planet..."
Removing the Anchor of the Planet, allowing the return of the Age of Gods... this was equivalent to boarding a train heading towards a cliff, and a year later, the entire world would face a predetermined ending.
However...
"The person I love, is still in this world."
The faint voice of the silver-haired youth echoed.
"The Britannia entrusted to me by my father, is still in this world."
"I have no reason to choose destruction."
"But..."
"To twist off the head of the counter force, to pluck out its spine, I want them to feel pain."
Yes.
The Inner Sea of Planet was the dream of the planet, and also the carrier of counter force.
... Alvin wanted to directly open a bloody hole in counter force's body.
"It's impossible, Alvin..."
As Romulus, the grand lancer, knew better than anyone,
"Even with the fully liberated Holy Lance, it can't do such a thing... even Vortigern only wanted to use the lifting of the Holy Lance to make the Anchor of the Planet detach."
That's right.
How could the Holy Lance Rhongomyniad, forged by the planet, be used to resist the body of the Inner Sea of the Planet?
The Holy Lance was not enough...
So... what about adding the Firelink Greatsword?
The dark knight slowly raised the coiled sword in his right hand, which was already cracked.
The endless spiral on the sword twisted and turned, whining and howling, summoning all the lost souls in the world.
However...
[You attempted to continue burning souls.]
[You failed.]
[Because, you no longer have any souls to burn.]
"No..."
Alvin said softly,
"I still have."
[That's right... you still have.]
[However, that is...]
[...Are you sure you want to do that?]
No answer.
But...
Alvin gripped the coiled sword.
Flames.
The flames quietly spread.
The overwhelming power of shadow surged out, gradually taking on the fiery color like flames from the entire body of the dark knight, and slowly forming a crown of thorns representing the birth of the Lord of Cinder above the silver-haired youth's head.
"What are you doing..."
"...Alvin, no! Stop!"
Sensing the burning of souls.
Tezcatlipoca suddenly raised his only remaining left hand, trying to stop the silver-haired youth.
All the grand servants who could still move rushed up to try to stop Alvin.
Rain poured down in torrents.
The wind roared.
The gloomy sky seemed to collapse.
The cold and merciless pupil in the sky silently watched over itself.
The witch in front reached out her hands, holding the face of the silver-haired youth, tears streaming down her face, realizing what Alvin was about to do.
"Alvin, don't..."
"My dear wife, take care of our daughter."
At such a close distance.
Alvin could see the tears on his face.
As usual.
She cried, and it wasn't a pretty sight.
The witch looked despairingly as the figure in front of her grew farther and farther away.
She was gently pushed away by the shadows.
This was his final tenderness.
"Eternal Night Flame, endless spiral..."
"Please, ignite the First Flame for me."
The crown of the Lord of Cinder formed.
The dark knight, ablaze with brilliant flames all over his body.
Crack.
The Firelink Greatsword in his hand suddenly shattered, all melting into the Holy Lance Rhongomyniad.
Trembling.
Buzzing.
The body of the Holy Lance, all over, grew long and ferocious thorns.
The dazzling light brewing at the spearhead gradually became deep and obscure, full of the demonic nature of annihilation.
The Holy Lance, fallen, tainted.
No longer the divine construct - The Lance That Shines to the End of the World, Rhongomyniad.
But, the demonic lance - The Lance that Brings the End of the World, Rhongomyniad Morgan.
"Counter Force..."
Confronting the gaze from the sky above, without fear.
The newly crowned Lord of Cinder held the spiral demonic lance and said softly.
"Welcome, my second phase."
Boom!
As if endless, infinite, and endless brilliant flames surged out from around the silver-haired youth.
A deep and suffocating aura spread slowly, driving away all the grand servants who approached.
"Alvin..."
The grand servants looked at the silver-haired youth with ugly expressions, clenching their fists.
[That's right.]
[You still have a soul to burn...]
[...That is the evil, pure soul called Alvin Pendragon.]
[The so-called dark will.]
[It is also the will to burn oneself completely.]
[Your temperament, your enlightenment, your soul, you have invested everything into the spiral of Eternal Night Flame.]
[You burned yourself.]
[Turned into... the First Flame.]
[This is the afterglow of the fiercely burning flame under the decline of the Age of Gods, a reflection of the past.]
[And its target of burning is... this entire world, the corrupt and fallen souls!]
[Activate the Reality Marble...]
[The Dark Sun of Britain]
In an instant.
Silence between heaven and earth.
The pouring rain was swept away, the pouring water evaporated, and everything not allowed by the Lord of Cinder was instantly annihilated.
The burning, dark, and intertwining battlefield of darkness and flames, centered on the dark knight, spread rapidly, covering the entire Londinium.
"Replacing reality with the landscape of the mind."
The grand servants almost froze as they watched this scene.
"He burned himself and launched this miraculous... Reality Marble."
In the air, there was a burning heat haze.
In the scorched earth, there was the glow of flowing lava.
This was the declaration of war launched by the newly enthroned Lord of Cinder against the world's will.
The fiery crown of thorns hovered over his head, crazily absorbing all the surrounding light like a black hole.
Compared to the blazing flames all over him, the noble phantasms of the grand servants seemed dim and dull.
It was like a grand debut welcoming the Lord of Cinder to this world.
In the void, there suddenly sounded either deep or majestic music.
As if roaring! As if the tolling of a bell! As if the cheering of a jubilant crowd...
A dazzling dark sun rose slowly behind the Lord of Cinder.
One strike.
Under the blessing of the entire Britain, under the blessing of the Reality Marble, under the blessing of the ultimate life form soul, everything was burned and turned into the First Flame.
This was a strike made with all his strength and piercing through the world.
The so-called Lord of Cinder.
He was also who completely burned himself.
Facing that gaze of counter force.
Aiming at the barrier of the Inner Sea of Planet.
The dark knight raised the demonic lance.
As if sensing the mighty threat.
In an instant.
The earth shook.
The sky tore apart.
Countless flashes of light kept appearing in the clouds, and countless barriers spread and expanded over the dome.
With the power of the planet, with the radiance of human reason.
The Counter Foce suddenly spread the strongest defense in front of the Inner Sea of the Planet.
"It's actually... Anti-Purge Defense."
Grand Caster murmured in amazement.
This is the ultimate defense system, capable of withstanding attacks from the end of the world, driven by the full force of a planet.
The radiant barrier formed by countless layers of magic circles seemed to disdainfully overlook the tiny and ridiculous people below.
So, the dark knight raised his hand.
With all his might.
He threw the demonic lance in his hand...
"Rhongomyniad Morgan!"
In an instant.
It was as if the brilliance of the entire world dimmed for a moment.
All sounds were instantly smoothed out, leaving only the buzzing resonance vibrating in the ears.
Profound shadows, and raging flames.
The two had never been so perfectly harmonized together.
It was the culmination, the explosion, the surge, the outpouring.
It was the First Flame.
Boom!
The torrential rain was swept away, the clouds were cleared.
Countless violent air currents began to surge, countless dark clouds began to dissipate.
The gloomy and crumbling sky over the city, was suddenly torn apart by a majestic force, it was a black spiral so deep that it seemed to be able to devour souls.
The endless, boundless black flames erupted suddenly from the top of Londinium, from the toughest defense barrier of the Inner Sea of Planet.
Like a slowly rising dark sun...
...
The scorched battlefield, inch by inch, faded away.
The dark knight stood before the throne.
...Crack.
This clear cracking sound seemed to resonate throughout all of Britannia, echoing in everyone's hearts.
"Alvin..."
"You.. you..."
Tezcatlipoca muttered to himself.
Whether it was the Knights of the Round Table, the Chaldea team, or the Grand Servants, everyone looked up in astonishment.
They looked up at the sky, where a pitch-black, lightless, fiery-edged... dark sun hung.
The reality marble had faded away.
However, the dark sun still hung high in the sky.
It was just that, fundamentally, it was not a sun.
But... a hole that had opened in the Inner Sea of the Planet.
The Anchor of the Planet had not fallen off.
The Age of Gods had not returned as expected.
Yet, the Inner Sea of the Planet... had been pierced by someone.
This meant that from now on, true ether would slowly pour out from that hole.
This was not the surge and ebb of the tides during the return or decline of the Age of Gods... it was a gentle stream.
A stream called hope.
Pain.
The world seemed to weep.
The clouds in the sky above continued to tremble, and the rain seemed to sway with it.
The Counter Force desperately tried to repair the hole in the Inner Sea of the Planet, but no matter what, it couldn't do it.
Because, on the edge of that dark sun, the eternal... First Flame burned, never to be extinguished.
It would forever burn the soul of the Counter Force.
Causing it to forever wail, forever scream, forever engrave.
Crack.
Artoria looked on in shock as a scabbard floated beside her, suddenly cracking open.
Avalon... this sacred defense had been pierced.
That profound hole seemed to be able to drain one's soul.
"Alvin..."
She murmured.
Everyone finally came to their senses from the shock.
Suddenly, it seemed like they realized something.
Whether they were knights, the chaldea team, the grand servants, they all looked in astonishment at the figure before them.
A bitter expression appeared on Tezcatlipoca's face.
On Alvin's chest, there was a huge cavity, several palms wide, burning on his body.
It was the spiral-burnt structure.
It was as if the dark sun had appeared on him.
Even such a wound through the heart was not fatal to the ultimate life form.
However... Tezcatlipoca could see it.
Alvin's soul had been consumed.
Only ashes remained.
No one could save him.
Crack.
A crack appeared on Alvin's face.
The additional crack on his face was inconspicuous among the many cracks, barely noticeable.
Holding his shattered, lifeless face.
Morgan had a bewildered expression as if she had lost her soul.
As if something had been extracted from her brain.
No desire to think.
Unable to think.
Dizziness.
Intense dizziness, almost making it difficult to stand.
Legs weak, nerves trembling.
"Alvin..."
Morgan's trembling voice uttered his name.
Alvin smiled and raised his hand, gently wiping away the tears welling in her eyes.
Then.
The palm of that hand cracked and shattered, falling to the ground and turning into black dust.
"Don't cry, my dear."
Lost his hand.
Alvin lowered his eyes, gently rubbing Morgan's hand with his face.
A piece of skin cracked open.
At such a moment, he was still in the mood for jokes.
"Your hand... is as cold as ever."
"My hand..."
Tears.
Fell down.
However, he no longer had a hand to wipe them away for her.
"It's warm, you always... touch it..."
He touched it every day.
Held it tightly.
Held each other's hands.
So it became warm.
It wasn't cold anymore.
Alvin smiled bitterly.
Of course, she knew.
"So sorry, it turns out I couldn't feel it anymore..."
Alvin gently pressed against her forehead, gently kissing Morgan's lips.
"Because, I'm going to die, my dear."
No...
You're not allowed to die...
Alvin, Alvin! Alvin Pendragon!
I beg you, I beg you... don't leave me, don't leave me...
Don't leave... me alone...
Morgan didn't say a word.
Although Alvin could see tears in her eyes.
However, she didn't say a word.
Yes...
As always, she looked terrible when she cried.
"I have... a gift for you."
Trembling, he reached into his chest with his cracked left hand.
Alvin pulled out his heart, which had been burned by flames until it was crystal clear and shining.
It was the only intact thing on his body.
He smiled.
Just like ten years ago, on that night when the roses fluttered.
The silver-haired Alvin smiled gently, and a large piece of his jaw shattered.
"I'm very fortunate to have met you... my dear wife. You're so beautiful, yet I've never given you any jewelry."
"The heart of a witch is not to be approached by mere mortals..."
"So, I'm giving you my heart."
Morgan averted her gaze.
She sobbed, trembling all over, and averted her gaze.
Just like that night ten years ago.
She didn't dare to meet his eyes, so she shyly ran away.
Alvin's face collapsed a large piece.
So, he could only use his remaining eye to search in that gray, bleak field for that trembling golden color.
Her conspicuous ahoge was really useful...
"Artoria...?"
"Al... vin."
The golden-haired girl could no longer make any expressions.
Her sorrow, her bitterness, her pain.
Had already completely destroyed her.
It was she... who caused all this.
It was she... who drew out the Excalibur...
It was she who killed Alvin.
The more she thought about it, the more frightened she felt.
Frightened, her body began to tremble.
Wanting... to end her own life.
What's the point...
Feeling lost...
As if souls were being blown away by the wind.
"It's not your fault..."
That person, half of his face struggling to smile, said,
"Artoria, don't blame yourself."
"...Why?"
Artoria trembled slightly... roared out in despair and powerlessness.
"Why!"
"You said I have a desire for sacrifice! Then what about everything you've done?! You could have lived well, so why did you have to burn yourself and pierce through the inner of the planet! Wasn't it for you to live well, Alvin?!"
Faced with such questioning.
Alvin... fell silent for a while.
Indeed, he didn't know how to answer himself, perhaps, he had always been such a stubborn person.
Not listening to his old man's advice.
It's like... he never listened.
If he had to say... if there was a reason.
Perhaps...
"...Do not go gentle into that good night, Artoria."
The silver-haired Alvin smiled weakly.
His hoarse voice, too, was like the elusive wind.
Intermittently, it swept across the ruins.
In the faces of the people, it rippled...
Do not go gentle into that good night...
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though I understand the coming of the eternal night,
The abandonment of the sun makes my words burst like thunder.
Denounce, denounce the fading of this light.
If there were never this fierce noon,
I would still choose to be the burning fuel.
Facing imminent death has rendered my eyes unable to see the flames.
Yet the lost gaze still shines like a joyful shooting star.
Even if it's the dim, decaying, and flickering residual fire,
Still, I will throw my decaying body into it.
Only because I am unwilling,
Unwilling to go gentle,
Into that good night...
The night is coming.
His words, too, flickered and extinguished gradually, like wavering flames.
"Congratulations, Artoria."
Alvin raised his gaze, smiling weakly at Artoria.
"Your sword has defeated me."
Finally, he gently kissed Morgan's lips.
And thus, he dissipated into the wind.
...
[You have died.]
[Simulation terminated.]
[You unlocked the ending: The Rising Dark Sun.]
[Your name remains unknown, but your achievements will endure forever.]
[You have gained the support of villains and the scorn of knights.]
[Even heroes have fallen under your charm as the ultimate antagonist.]
[Among all the fates, you chose the most perfect path, successfully saving the fate of the British Isles.]
[However, your actions will significantly increase the hostility you receive from the Counter Force.]
[Evil Alignment Score: SSS]
[You have received a simulation reward: White Dragon Token]
[White Dragon Token: A scale from a fiery dragon marked with the symbol of the dark sun. Engraved with the will of the Son of White Dragon, Alvin Pendragon. Holding it allows you to inherit some of Alvin Pendragon's characteristics.]
[Current synchronization rate: 1%]
...
Facing the dark sun hanging high in the sky,
Artoria watched as the silver-haired figure before her collapsed under the ethereal winds, scattering into a pile of black ashes.
The age of the gods, too, seemed to converge upon this moment.
He appeared as if he had never existed before...
leaving behind only that one crystal-clear, shining heart.
The knights and grand servants remained silent, standing still in their places.
The expression on the witch's face was bewildered and frozen, as she held his heart in her hands.
She lifted her gaze, looking towards the golden-haired girl.
The witch's faint voice echoed softly...
"The happiness I had gained, you took it away from me... Artoria."
"But... It was his own choice, I don't blame you. But from now on... I don't want to see you ever again."
The witch's figure melted into the shadows, leaving only Artoria, kneeling on the ground.
Amidst the ruins and debris, the grand servants had all dispersed.
She remained there, kneeling in a daze.
Clang.
A menacing, pitch-dark lance descended from the sky, piercing the ground in front of the golden-haired girl.
Artoria stared in astonishment at the lance Alvin had used to pierce the Inner Sea of the Planet.
Unknowingly, her hand slowly grasped the handle of the lance.
He was dead.
But she could still... protect his kingdom.
The golden color faded away.
A slightly demonic gray spread from her hair.
The development bound by her sword was unlocked once again.
Her figure gradually became fuller.
Her gaze gradually became indifferent.
Artoria stood up, holding the lance, clad in her black, lightless armor, and slowly walked towards the army waiting outside the city.
Watching her back growing further and further away.
The lone, one-armed Knight of the Round Table, with a bewildered expression, picked up... the dull, lightless Excalibur from the ruins.
...
Melusine curled up alone in the shadows of the underground.
Just as her daddy had instructed.
She obediently stayed here, waiting for her mommy to come pick her up.
However... how long had passed already...?
In this deep underground.
Melusine had lost track of time some time ago.
She curled up in the corner, lonely.
In a daze.
She seemed to feel... a familiar daddy presence.
Melusine dazed, moved towards the underground cave.
The earth... seemed to tremble.
The petite and cute silver-haired girl, eventually stood somewhat bewildered before the enormous, mountain-like, golden vertical pupils.
She raised her head, locking eyes with the dragon.
Is this... her daddy?
...
In the domain that was as splendid as brocade, with picturesque scenery.
At the end of the land of fairies, stood a stone tower that stretched infinitely into the sky.
The heart pierced by the spiral long lance emitted a painful gasp.
The half-incubus with disheveled hair, foolishly laughed, gazing at the witch before him.
Lost all sight.
As a half-incubus, he was impaled on the tower by Morgan.
His soul and body, enhanced by the immortality of incubus, kept recovering, only to be constantly burned by the spiral lance reproduced by Morgan, tormenting his soul.
Recovery, then burning.
This was an endless punishment.
In the desolate view, there was no need to look.
As if he could also glimpse the overflowing anger on the face of the witch.
"Your daughter can't be found, your husband is dead too, Morgan, you and I are both left alone, hehehe..."
A sharp twist of pain came from the heart.
Causing the expression of the half-incubus to begin distorting.
In a daze...
The mad Merlin chuckled, finding it a very amusing game.
It was also a secret buried deep in his heart, burying many hidden intentions.
"In fact..."
"Alvin Pandragon..."
"Oh Morgan~ Your husband, might still be alive in some era."
...
Decaying and withering fallen leaves, wilting and decaying flowers.
In the pitch-black, completely devoid of light, deep forest.
The cocoons on the ground slowly tearing apart.
A pair of moth wings then unfurled.
Crowned with a crown of thorns in deep blue.
A handsome silver-haired youth emerged in this forest, stacked with the corpses of fairies.
In a daze, as if sensing something.
He raised his hand blankly, wiping his eyes.
Gazing at the moist traces on his fingertips.
He was somewhat bewildered.
"Tears..."
"Why... am I shedding tears?"
"So... sorrowful..."
The silver-haired faerie, born from the corpses of fairies, lifted his gaze blankly, looking at the cloudless night sky.
He shedding tears.
Murmuring the name that surfaced in his heart.
"... Alvin?"
--- Volume One: END
