Late at night.
"You know—" Artoria peeked her head out from under the covers, looking at Ian on the other bed. "You still haven't told me what your mother is like." "I'm curious."
After all, Ian was already so strange. Just what kind of incredibly tolerant person must his mother be to have allowed him to turn out this way?
"My mother—" At Artoria's prompting, Ian carefully recalled his memories of Tiamat.
"Hmm..." "She is very powerful." "I can tell," Artoria said, nodding thoughtfully. "You're very impressive yourself." "Her taste is also very good." "That's true, her taste and all..." "Hm?" Artoria was about to mindlessly agree with Ian's words when she suddenly realized she had just responded to something extraordinary.
"Taste?" "You mean to say!" "Your mother... was actually the first one to...?" "Yes." "..." Artoria shrank back slightly. "And she doesn't mind that?" "She doesn't." "In fact, she likes it a lot." "..." Sensing no hint of a lie, Artoria relaxed a little. "So, the reason you acted like that before... was because you were used to it?" "Yes."
"I see..." Artoria rubbed the spot where Ian had bitten her. Even though the skin had been broken, after just one day, the wound had already almost completely healed. It seemed he didn't just possess a powerful self-healing ability himself, but he could also transfer that effect to anything—or anyone—he came into contact with.
"So that's how it was." "Then why did you suddenly fall from the sky that day?" The question that had been weighing on the girl's mind was finally asked. All signs pointed to the fact that the boy before her, Ian, was no simple existence.
"I was running away." "Running away?" "Yes." "My mother... didn't want me to see the outside world. She felt... that as long as I stayed by her side, it would be enough." To this day, Ian could still remember the obsessive look on his mother Tiamat's face just before he left. If he had tried to leave while she was awake, she probably would have stopped him in an instant.
"So..." "Does that mean you don't like your mother?" "No."
Ian shook his head. "Of course I love her." "But—" "I don't like the idea of a life spent forever in the sea. So, I escaped."
"..." Although there were still many things that weren't clear—like what the "sea" represented and how that connected to him falling from the sky—Artoria could feel the determination in his words. She pulled her blanket up, stared at the ceiling, and replied.
"I understand. In that case, you should experience more of the life you're seeking. I'll... find a way to help you!"
"Ehh—"
He was asleep. They had just been talking, and in the blink of an eye, he was fast asleep. Artoria suddenly felt as if a bucket of cold water had been dumped on her. However, she quickly accepted the reality of the situation. More accurately, she understood the problem. Ian didn't seem to be well-adapted to the lands and rivers of Britain. It was only natural that he would feel exhausted.
Artoria sighed helplessly and closed her eyes as well.
But— The next moment, what appeared before the girl was a scene of utter misery. The earth was cracked and barren, and seeds sown in the ground had no possibility of growing. The lakes had dried up, and homeless fish lay motionless, eventually turning into skeletons. Emaciated Britons, their faces yellow and gaunt, leaned against collapsed buildings, their hands holding empty bags. Their eyes were filled with endless despair, and even speaking seemed to have become a luxury.
Artoria had never witnessed such a sight. Her legs went weak, and she nearly collapsed to the ground.
"Where is this?" "The future of Britain," a voice replied, echoing across the dead land. "The land without a king is destined only for ruin." "..." Artoria's eyes widened. If she hadn't fully grasped the prophecy about selecting a king before, then this was the moment she understood its importance.
"Is this... our future?" "Yes." The voice in the dream grew clearer. "Terrifying, isn't it? A future where no one has any hope." "..." Artoria felt her heart tighten in her chest. An indelible kindness was woven into the very core of her being.
"Then, all we need is a new king, right?" she asked. "Isn't that what everyone believes?" "Mm—" the voice hummed in agreement. "Then who will become such a king?" "I don't know... but there must be someone who can do it!" Artoria said anxiously. "There must be!"
"Then... what if I told you that person is you—" "What would you do?" "Eh?" Artoria froze. After confirming that she had heard correctly, she finally answered. "I... don't think I could do it." "You can, Artoria."
"You are the most suitable king for Britain."
Countless flower petals drifted down from the sky. The cracks in the earth gradually vanished, and the sown seeds sprouted tender green shoots. The dried-up rivers were once again filled with clear water, and the dead fish regained their flesh and bone, swimming leisurely. The collapsed buildings stood tall once more, even more magnificent than before.
Bells chimed. The empty bags in the people's hands grew heavy and full. They were filled with harvested grain, plump and firm.
"Our great King—" "Our noble King—" "The King who saved Britain—" Cries of praise rose and fell. Joy was written on every face. Hope was woven into the very fabric of this moment.
The mysterious voice spoke slowly. "Look—"
"As long as you become the King of Britain, everything will be alright." "Everyone needs you, Artoria." "Go—" "Go and become the hero who saves everyone. You are willing to do that, aren't you?"
An ethereal, shimmering hand appeared in the air, extended towards Artoria in invitation. "..."
"I... can save everyone?" the girl murmured, her green eyes already tinged with a different color. Slowly, bit by bit, Artoria reached out her own hand towards the one in the air. Hope seemed to be right before her eyes.
But— Just as she was about to touch it. A torrent of fire erupted from behind her, interrupting the ceremony.
"ROOOOAR—"
A terrifying roar shook everything. A massive dragon had appeared behind Artoria!