Type-Moon: The Human Love Simulator [35] (Patreon)

"......"

Morgan was momentarily stunned by Kaelar's blunt response. This was not the slippery, opportunistic Kaelar she knew—the kind who always tried to have it both ways. Now, he was expressing himself with a clarity and conviction she had never seen before.

Morgan couldn't help but chuckle. "You’re quite bold, aren’t you? Aren’t you afraid I might take offense? Even Uther dared not ask me to bow to that little girl Artoria, yet here you are saying it outright."

"It’s not about submission. It’s about coexistence."

"Morgan, you must give it up. Fairies can no longer compete with humanity. Even if faeries were the original rulers of Britain, the island now belongs to mankind."

Kaelar sighed. "It’s not just about my bond with Lily. Even if we set that aside, as a human, it would be impossible for me to side with a faerie queen. It’s not just a matter of political loyalty; it’s about my place in the world as a human."

"The Age of Gods has ended, and so too has the era of the faeries. On the continent, divine authority was handed over to humanity long ago, with the death of the Holy Child. The faeries of Britain must also learn to let go."

"I see... Kael, I suppose I should thank you for being so honest."

To Kaelar’s surprise, Morgan didn’t fly into a rage. Instead, she remained silent for a moment before saying, "If that’s the case, I will no longer involve myself in your human conflicts."

"I’m returning to Avalon. Farewell, Kaelar."

"Farewell, Morgan. Farewell, my Witch Sister."

Kaelar hesitated, then took down the bladeless sword that hung on the wall and handed it to her. "This sword has borne witness to my deeds and teachings. Let it be called 'Sword of Truth,' a symbol of my belief in absolute justice."

"Since you faeries have a habit of collecting legendary weapons, I’ll gift this to you before you go. Consider it a token of our meeting and parting."

As Kaelar finished, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of melancholy. He knew that this was likely a final farewell.

Morgan’s words might have sounded pleasant, but he understood the truth—they signified her choice to fully embrace her identity as a faerie, much like the nine faerie queens who remained in Avalon, never to step foot in the mortal realm again.

Morgan accepted the sword from Kaelar. The legendary status of the blade had already begun to transform it into a genuine Noble Phantasm, and she couldn’t help but admire it. "What a genuine holy sword... It’s no less than the faeries’ star-forged blade."

"When you visit Avalon next, I’ll show you the Star of Victory... though that sword will never belong to you."

The Sword of Promised Victory was destined for King Arthur and no one else. Though others could hold it, only one could truly wield it.

Morgan left. The one who had helped Kaelar the most was now gone.

This was the reality of loyalty and perspective. Every person has their own. If Morgan had abandoned hers so easily, she wouldn’t have been Morgan.

Kaelar had spent years trying to mend the rift between Morgan and Artoria, but life rarely goes as planned. Unfulfilled desires are inevitable, and all he could do was try his best.

---

Elsewhere, inside the witch’s cabin on Maple Leaf Ridge, Morgan reappeared. She was holding the "Sword of Truth" that Kaelar had gifted her. She took a deep breath and pulled out a piece of paper, her hands trembling slightly.

It was a hastily torn page from a book, a remnant of a prophecy Morgan had accidentally triggered in Kaelar’s study.

Morgan’s prophetic ability was called The Law of Accidents. It could activate unpredictably, in any situation, and give her prophecies that were often vague or cryptic, both good and bad.

But this time, the prophecy had been straightforward—a single line.

"Oaths are hard to keep, a saint’s promises fall empty."

It was rare for Morgan to receive a prophecy so clear. Most of the time, the predictions were like riddles, requiring careful interpretation.

The clearer the prophecy, the more accurate it was likely to be, and the greater the chance it would come true.

"Kael, will you betray our promise?" Morgan clutched the holy sword to her chest, stubbornly shaking her head. "I don’t believe it. This prophecy... it must be false."

"Kael, I won’t let it come true."

---

After Morgan left, Kaelar sat in silence for a while before gathering himself. There was still much to be done.

The thunderous sound of ten thousand knights galloping echoed through the land. Even within the castle, Kaelar could hear the rumbling like distant thunder.

He stepped outside, musing on how quickly the knights from the capital had arrived. Had they set out the moment they heard the news?

It made sense. The future king was in Maple Leaf Ridge, and while Kaelar might have been reckless, no one else would dare to be. If he had failed, he would’ve surely faced punishment back in the capital for concealing military information—an offense that carried a heavy price.

But now, the situation was different. In the face of Kaelar’s superhuman achievement, any previous mistakes seemed trivial.

The knights didn’t charge recklessly into the town. Upon seeing the orderly state of Maple Leaf Ridge, with Anglo-Saxons dutifully working, Sir Ector hesitated. It looked like a trap. But before he could give the order, Merlin had already stepped forward to explain everything.

Finally, Merlin added, "Ector, I’d advise you to proceed with caution. At the very least, show Kaelar a little respect in front of others."

Merlin broke into a cold sweat. She couldn’t exactly say outright, If you start slashing Anglo-Saxons here, Kaelar will definitely put you in your place.

"What? What did you say?" Ector’s face turned red with excitement, his body trembling. He shouted so loudly that it seemed as if he wanted the whole world to hear, "My son, Kaelar..."

"HE DEFEATED SEVENTY THOUSAND ANGLO-SAXONS ON HIS OWN!!!!!!"

"Kael... I... you... Merlin..."

Overwhelmed by shock and pride, Ector gestured wildly, struggling to find the right words. His deputy, another duke loyal to Uther, interjected, "Archmage Merlin, you’re not deceiving us, are you? Is this truly the truth?"

"Even the foul White Dragon who devours light has only ever achieved victories on the scale of one against ten thousand..."

The deputy couldn’t hide his skepticism. "Even if our Celtic warriors are generally stronger than those Anglo-Saxon wretches, it’s still far-fetched to believe one man could subdue seventy thousand."

"What do you mean, 'not the truth'?"

Ector wasn’t having it. "He's my son, why couldn’t he defeat seventy thousand Anglo-Saxons? Is Vortigern not a Celt? We Celts have always produced heroes, and my son is destined to be remembered in the sagas!"

He turned proudly to Merlin. "Archmage Merlin, tell me more details. I still don’t know what really happened here."

"......" Merlin spread her hands. "Don’t look at me. I arrived after the battle was over. Art... Artoria was organizing the captives when I got here."

Seeing the Anglo-Saxons diligently at work, Ector’s excitement waned a little. He frowned, muttering to himself, "Why keep so many of those Anglo-Saxon wretches alive? If not all, at least half should’ve been executed."

Ector knew Kaelar well enough. The absence of a single corpse indicated his son’s decision.

Even after witnessing Kaelar's remarkable achievement, Ector still didn’t agree with his son’s philosophy of non-lethal governance.

Sometimes, parents are as stubborn as oxen.