Earth Princess? No, it's Fujimaru Ritsuka!

Page 162

Suddenly, time froze, and the world around her abruptly changed.

...The world spins, the stars shift and the constellations move.

Take a closer look.

Above a swaying field of yellow wheat.

There is a square stone.

A sword was stuck in the stone.

—Whoever draws this sword shall be king of Britain.

"Yoho~~ This is a rebellious knight! Tell me! Do you still have the idea of ​​drawing that sword? Of course, as a knight born from the union of that king and the demoness, you can't possibly not draw that sword."

A powerful and passionate voice rang out from behind, and a gentlemanly and polite man asked her a question.

Shakespeare.

She vaguely felt that the other person looked familiar, and that she must have met him somewhere before.

Perhaps it was during one of the Holy Grail Wars; in any case, she doesn't remember.

"Me? I think I'll pass."

A flicker of longing crossed Mordred's eyes, but she quickly smiled with relief.

"Oh?" Shakespeare exclaimed with interest.

"My goal was never to become a queen. It's just that that queen was too perfect... too tormented... I hoped that I could share some of her burden. To let her smile again, that would be enough."

"I see, I see! So the rebellious knight was actually more loyal than anyone else, and more eager than anyone else to open the king's heart? Well then, did your plan succeed?"

Shakespeare turned the page.

That was a brutal war.

The last rays of the setting sun cast their final glow, mingling with the blood on the ground.

On the raised hill, the king of Lungomminia, holding the holy lance, could not see her face clearly.

Actually, Mordred could see her face clearly.

Until the very end, she never saw Wang genuinely smile.

The king is all alone.

She thought that even if it could incite anger in the other party, making them furious because of her rebellion... then the king also had feelings, and was not simply a machine for ruling the country.

—How about that?! Your country is finished now! ———

—Do you hate me? Do you resent me so much for destroying your country?!—

—This is the consequence of not relinquishing the throne to me!—

The result was, of course, disappointing.

The king never showed any sadness or anger until the very end.

"This is the end of the Knights of the Round Table, and also the end of the Arthurian legend."

"But this is not the end for you!"

Shakespeare said with a smile, "Because of your prayers and hopes, you have become part of human history."

"And now, the girl who bears the weight of human history is fighting... Your story may not have anything to do with a perfect ending or the end, but it will eventually become a pillar in people's hearts."

"Now, do the rebellious knights have the courage to raise the sword of salvation?! This answer will be the answer to this story that will continue..."

The pages of Shakespeare's book kept turning.

"Ah, I understand."

Mordred held his breath, his tone firm: "The ending of this story is for me to decide!"

"Excellent! Very good! Excellent!"

Shakespeare exclaimed excitedly, "Indeed! So let it begin... The final act will be decided by you, young king and rebellious knight! This will be your final fate!"

"This time, we are the recorders!"

"Go forth, knights! You are the true protagonists of this story!"

"Noble Phantasm, unfold! [The performance has begun, let's give a thunderous roar of applause!]"

"Oh hiss!"

Mordred burst into flames.

The same scene.

"Ask again, even if you know you'll regret it in the future, will you still draw that sword and become king, Artoria Pendragon?"

The blue-haired boy flicked his quill pen, and the words flew and soared across the ever-turning pages of the book.

Regarding this issue...

No matter how many times you ask.

“Yes, I will.” Artoria Lily nodded.

In a daze, she seemed to see the blue-clad swordsman opposite her, his sword stained with blood.

How could someone as immature as me possibly be the king people dream of?

—It must be because I didn't do a good enough job.

With this in mind, the girl worked tirelessly and never dared to slack off.

Even so, she was unable to save Britain, or even allow Britain to make a dignified exit.

Such is fate; there is no way to defy it.

"Ask again."

"If you hadn't pulled the sword from the stone, would you have taken responsibility? When people desperately need someone to save them, would you have stepped forward?"

"I do not know."

"Artoria Lily said shyly."

"Oh?" Andersen raised an eyebrow.

"I can't say for sure that I'll be able to step forward. But if someone really needs me, I will definitely do my best..."

"After all, there's nothing wrong with helping others, right?"

Artoria's desire to save Britain was not due to her being the Queen of Britain.

"What a pure idealist. Although he is far from mature, has he already reached that level of awareness? Really... Although as a writer I can't stand people like this, it's really hard to bear seeing such a person suffer a tragedy."

"I will not write the ending of this story."

Hans Christian Andersen gritted his teeth: "Anyway, even if I were to write it, I'd definitely be seen as someone planning to write a tragic ending. That's just the established perception... really. An author who has ever delayed writing a book is considered a delayer, and an author who has written a tragedy is considered a 'warrior of love.' Every time I publish a book, readers subconsciously think, 'This reader is definitely that kind of person'... This concept also backfires on my Noble Phantasm, making me a demon who likes bad endings."

“Miss Artoria. You are a rising star with infinite possibilities and an infinite future. A savior is someone like you.”

So, the story ends...

"I understand, I will write my own final story, right?"

Artoria Lily nodded.

Human ugliness, human fragility, and the despair of humanity.

Knowing this clearly, and being aware that I am not in that ideal state, this hope is all the more precious.

This kind of love is enough to touch people's hearts.

"That's right. The kingly aura within you will eventually make you the ideal king."

"Noble Phantasm [The Story Written for You] Subspecies Transformation..."

"[The story you wrote]. Alright, you've been enhanced, go deliver...go into battle."

Hans Christian Andersen slowly closed the book, his sheep-colored pupils clearly showing some fatigue.

He exhaled slowly, as if he had exerted a great deal of effort and accomplished something important.

Artoria Lily shone with light once more.

"It's no use, it's no use, it's no use at all."

"Hehehe...hehehe...no matter how hard you try, you can't beat me."

"How much time is left? How much longer can 'me' hold on?"

Each cold word pierced Fujimaru Ritsuka's heart. How could she possibly defeat a monster of this magnitude... a monster that was strong, indestructible, and capable of infinite regeneration, much like Majin Buu?

"call"

Fujimaru Ritsuka was at a loss for what to do.

Even a Noble Phantasm against a city couldn't take away Ayaka Sajou [prototype] entirely in an instant.

If it were a regular Holy Grail, there would definitely be no problem.

But after all, the opponent is a beast.

Even if it didn't have the scale of Goetia, it still reached the level of a god.

""

If there is anything that can surpass a city-defending Noble Phantasm in an instant...

That was the only thing Fujimaru Ritsuka could think of.

That attack could destroy even a great temple in an instant.

"What's wrong? You've already run out of ideas for this? But then again, if this child could be defeated at this level, I wouldn't have put him here to be raised."

Sajou Aika [prototype] seems to have really been driven mad by the stimulation.

She wasn't originally supposed to be this kind of effeminate brat with exaggerated facial expressions and trash talk...

Although Fujimaru Ritsuka cannot take responsibility for this matter, she has to clean up the mess.

—Who made the [beast] from a parallel world end up in my world?

"If I ever see Arthur Pendragon again, I'll grab him by the head and beat him up."

Fujimaru Ritsuka's entire body was enveloped in crimson star breath.

Then the energy is compressed, compressed... and compressed again.

Burn...

Keep burning.

Blow everything to smithereens!

Crimson energy surged wildly within Fujimaru Ritsuka, like a burning flame.

Golden hair flowed and crackled amidst the surging flames and shockwaves. Sparks of electricity crackled around him.

"What...are you planning to do?!"

"Wait, your skill wouldn't be... wouldn't it be—!"

Sajou Aika [prototype] paused for a moment, her expression changing slightly.

Fujimaru Ritsuka's pupils contracted to a point in the red light, and the next second, she was like a burning supernova. This was not the flow of star breath, nor a punch, nor a condensed bomb.

Instead, it uses itself as a container to compress the star breath on its body to the extreme.

This is a power that only a Star Spirit, who shares a spiritual core with the environment, can achieve.

It was once used by an elf in the East, but she detonated not the breath of stars, but the power of a curse.

Therefore, in terms of power, [Fujimaru Ritsuka], who is also a humanoid spirit, is stronger.

At the same time, because the physical body of the [True Ancestor] is more robust and durable than that of ordinary elves, it will not completely collapse.

"Let's blow ourselves to the sky, Ayaka Sajou!"

"What...wait a minute..."

Fujimaru Ritsuka, engulfed in flames, resembled a burning, fiery meteor falling from the sky!