85. I Will Kill You—Again, and Again!

Your Next Target—Is None Other Than the One Who Foretold This Fate—Merlin.]

[All of Artoria's Suffering Began With Him and Uther Pendragon.]

Uther Pendragon was no wise king.

Merlin's prophecy was nothing more than a pre-written script.

To sacrifice one person's happiness—

For the so-called future of Britain.

What a grand and shameless lie!

You cannot accept it.

You refuse to accept it.

You will deny it—by your own hand.

[Obsession of the Forsaken+ Has Activated.]

—Erased from history as "human," you now linger upon the land as a spirit of pure obsession.

[Before Artoria Could Wake—You Had Already Left.]

Because—

[You Knew Seeing You Now Would Only Bring Her More Pain.]

The man named Rei—was gone.

But the world—

Continued to move forward.

Dandelion seeds—

Drifted into the air.

Carried by the cold night wind,

They floated toward the distant horizon.

Artoria's Vision Slowly Returned.

"Where… is this?"

She felt confused.

Hadn't she made a contract with Rhongomyniad?

Hadn't she offered the price?

At the end of that promise—

She was to bring forth the Age of Gods once more.

The land would be covered once again in mystery.

Dreams would take root and bloom into reality.

And in exchange—

It was merely a "small sacrifice."

At least—

That was what the voice had told her.

But—

Why…?

She looked around.

Everything was normal.

She had lost nothing.

Even Rhongomyniad still stood before her,

Gleaming with starlight.

Had the contract been broken?

Impossible.

Who would dare interfere with something powerful enough to shake all of Britain?

If someone had,

Their very existence should have been erased.

Then—

Artoria's gaze fell upon three swords embedded in the ground.

Excalibur.

The sword she had borrowed from the Lady of the Lake.

Arondight.

The sword gifted to Lancelot by the lake spirits who raised him.

Excalibur Galatine.

The final sword.

…Wait.

She had no memory of wielding it.

And yet—

It was here.

Why?

Artoria stared at the sun-blessed blade.

Her expression turned serious.

"Why did I borrow two swords from the lake?"

"Excalibur alone should have been enough to bring me here."

Why did she need another?

"King!"

A rushed voice called out.

Artoria turned.

There—

She saw Gawain, running toward her.

"My deepest apologies for arriving so late!"

"The path here was far more difficult than we anticipated!"

"It is not your fault."

"Do not blame yourself."

After all—

After Rhongomyniad fell,

This place had become more than just a battlefield.

Anything could have happened.

But—

Something still felt wrong.

"..."

"Gawain, why are you looking at me like that?"

Gawain hesitated.

"Did I say something strange?"

"No, my king."

"You have said nothing wrong."

"It is only—"

Gawain hesitated again,

Then spoke.

"My king—"

"You are crying."

"..."

Artoria's pupils dilated.

Her hand trembled as she reached for her face—

And felt wet tears upon her cheeks.

"Why… am I crying?"

[The Final Battle of the Knight-King Ended in a Grand Victory.]

[This Was a Battle That Would Be Remembered in Human History.]

[But It Had Nothing to Do With You Anymore.]

You were no longer human.

You were nothing but a lingering spirit of obsession.

You walked through forests.

Waded across rivers.

Crossed mountains.

Passed through golden fields of wheat.

You returned—

To Camelot.

You arrived at the Moonlit Palace.

You entered—

Morgan's chambers.

Morgan Sat by the Window.

She gazed upon a field of flowers beneath the moonlight.

Her blue eyes filled with sorrow.

She had lost count of how many nights she had suffered sleeplessness.

Worse still—

She did not even know why.

She lifted two letters beside her.

Written by her children—

Gawain and Gareth.

Just ordinary family letters.

And yet—

Tears streamed down her cheeks.

"Why am I like this?"

Morgan—The Proud Princess—Could Not Explain It.

She only felt—

That there was a gaping hole inside her.

Suddenly—

Morgan turned toward the door.

As an expert sorceress—

She sensed something had entered.

But—

"Why…?"

"Why can't I sense what it is?"

Morgan stared at the empty space beyond the door.

She wished—

That something would appear.

That something would give her an answer.

But—

Nothing came.

"Was it just an illusion?"

Just as Morgan began to doubt herself—

She felt it.

A familiar touch—

Brushing against her waist.

Not an illusion.

Something—

Was here.

Morgan—The Fae Princess—Steeled Herself.

As a Master of Magecraft—Morgan Knew Exactly What to Do.

In an instant, a spell of identification unfolded—

But the result made the proud princess tremble.

It was not "human."

It was obsession.

It had come from the distant battlefield.

But Morgan could not fathom how a body in such a wretched state had crossed countless mountains and rivers to arrive here.

Yet what shocked her most—

Was the fact that it still carried the curse she had placed upon it.

Had it come for revenge?

No.

The hands that touched her—

Were gentle.

Familiar.

Morgan could feel no malice in them.

Only an endless longing.

She knew this presence was someone important to her.

Yet—

No matter how hard she tried,

She could not remember the name that should belong to it.

She had no idea how long she remained like this—

Sinking into the feeling of that touch.

Until—

A faint voice whispered against her ear.

"Your Highness... It's time. I must go."

"...Farewell."

Morgan Panicked.

A woman who was always calm and composed—

Was suddenly overwhelmed by fear.

Her instincts screamed at her.

This was a final goodbye.

"No—DON'T GO!"

"Stay with me a little longer!"

"You need a reason?!"

"I HAVE ONE!"

"I ORDER YOU TO PLEASURE ME!"

She blurted out the words without thinking.

Morgan collapsed onto the bed.

There was no one else in the room.

And yet—

She acted as though she were indulging in pleasure with another.

Bathed in Moonlight, The Naked Princess Murmured to Empty Air.

"My body is wonderful, isn't it?"

"You've always longed for a chance to have me as you pleased, haven't you?"

"Then don't leave."

"Stay with me forever—I'll give you plenty of chances."

"Besides…"

"You made a promise to me, didn't you?"

"You wouldn't dare break it."

"You know…"

"The truth is, I've always—"

Gone.

Morgan never finished her sentence.

This Was Their Final Night of Pleasure.

Morgan touched her stomach.

She said nothing.

She had to preserve it.

Even if—

She could no longer remember who he was.

[You Have Said Your Final Farewell to Morgan.]

[Princess's Curse EX Has Activated:]

—What was once a curse is now the foundation that keeps you moving forward. You exist—through pain.

[Obsession of the Forsaken Has Activated:]

—You walk as a being of pure obsession. None can stop you. All who see you avert their gaze.

[You Walk the Silent Streets of Camelot.]

[You Await His Arrival.]

Inside a Tavern.

A drunken Merlin bid farewell to a group of women.

"Alright, see you next time!"

"Don't worry—I'd never forget you, hahaha!"

Merlin, too, had his own secrets.

He was no ordinary human.

He was a mix of human and incubus.

A hybrid born of dreams and reality.

Because of this bloodline,

Merlin possessed magecraft beyond the reach of ordinary magi.

And at the same time—

He was insatiably lustful.

Charming multiple women at once was a daily routine for him.

It should have been a disgraceful behavior—

Yet no one dared condemn him.

Why?

Because he had prophesied the birth of King Arthur.

And he held the title of Court Mage.

Thus, few had the courage to rebuke him.

Merlin often found himself entangled in complicated affairs because of this.

But he never cared.

To him—

Such "dangers" were laughable.

Besides—

That guy Kay always cleaned up his mess.

It was routine.

Leaving the tavern, Merlin stepped onto the streets of Camelot.

And immediately sensed—

Something was wrong.

Normally—

There should have been plenty of people outside at this hour.

Perhaps he'd even charm a few women on his way home.

But now?

There was no one.

Even the shops had closed.

As if the entire city was trying to avoid something… unclean.

Merlin Became Cautious.

His gaze sharpened.

His steps slowed.

He watched for danger.

And then—

It appeared.

As soon as he turned a corner—

A sharp killing intent pierced through the air.

It was not mere hostility.

It was obsession.

A pure, unrelenting will to kill.

Merlin was no fool.

He was no weakling.

He did not stand still and wait for death.

And most importantly—

He could tell.

The body carrying this obsession was already falling apart.

This would be easy.

Flower petals swirled.

Merlin dodged the incoming strike.

He turned—

And what he saw shocked him.

Before him stood—

A humanoid shadow.

Its body was broken.

Its face was unrecognizable.

It radiated magic—

But not from its own power.

Rather—

It was simply overflowing with a curse that had devoured its body.

The only recognizable feature—

Was the sword in its hand.

A blade from the lake.

Arondight?!

No.

It only resembled Arondight.

It was a mere imitation.

"What… is this?"

Even Merlin—a magus of legend—

Had no idea what he was looking at.

But—

It did not matter.

This was not difficult to deal with.

Merlin wove his magecraft.

The shadow fell.

But—

As soon as it collapsed—

Another one appeared.

It was identical.

Except—

This one wielded an imitation of Excalibur Galatine.

"…Ridiculous."

Merlin disposed of it, too.

And as it fell—

He turned instinctively—

And sure enough—

Another stood in its place.

This time—

It carried an imitation of Excalibur.

Merlin Understood Instantly.

After all—

He was the one who led Artoria to the Lake to retrieve that very sword.

There was no doubt.

This thing—

Was connected to her.

And then—

As if sensing Merlin's realization—

The broken husk turned its gaze upon him.

And roared.

"Since the moment she was born—she has borne all of Camelot's burdens!"

"She was forced to hide her name!"

"Forced to abandon her emotions!"

"And in the end—she was forced to sacrifice even her humanity!"

"MERLIN—THIS IS THE FATE YOU AND UTHER PENDRAGON FORCED UPON HER!"

Merlin's breath caught.

"We forced nothing upon her!"

"SHE CHOSE THIS PATH HERSELF!"

"LIES!"

The obsession trembled in rage.

"A sword only she could draw."

"A dragon only she could slay."

"And the weapon that only she could call forth."

"You placed all the responsibility upon her—while abandoning every other possibility."

"What gave you the right to be so arrogant?!"

"…"

For the first time,

Merlin was left speechless.

For the first time,

A feeling called "guilt" was born in his heart.

And yet, the obsession raised its blade toward him.

"So—"

"From now until the end of time—"

"I will kill you over and over again!"

"I will make you understand what it means to live a fate that was forced upon you!"

[The Forsaken's Obsession Has Activated:]

—Fueled by boundless hatred, your power now surpasses all limits. Victory against you is impossible.

[Yet, Merlin Will Not Die.]

—Instead, he will be trapped forever in an endless cycle of slaughter.

[You Have Severed the Chains That Bound Her.]

—Britain is ready to begin a new chapter.