And so, the long war finally ca to an end. The night was deep, as if even the stars had been swallowed whole.
The golden-haired saint opened her mouth and closed her eyes, her delicate body limp; the glorious holy king leaned against the wall, his lips parched; the pink-haired holy knight scratched his head in frustration, giving up on thinking; the innocent homunculus girl gasped for breath as if drowning; the mysterious assassin closed her eyes, her face serene; the fearso necromancer held his head in his hands, writhing in agony...
On the other side of the magical screen, the sage of the Far East covered his face with a book, lifeless; the black-clad empress massaged her temples, her mind blank.
As for that great literary master, he had already collapsed in agony by the doorway, unable to speak, surrounded by the lody of "Flower of Hope."
By the way, Reika had left the church early to ensure little Jack’s sleep, thus avoiding the tragedy.
—The Fourth Holy Grail War had co to an end.
This battle had no victor.
Yet amidst the strewn corpses, one person refused to give up. In the lifeless atmosphere, her erald eyes shone with the ferocity of a lion, like lightning splitting the night, radiant under the flickering lamplight.
That was the Red Faction’s Saber, Kairi Sisigou’s Servant—Mordred. She had not fallen. She was still fighting!
Even as the pile of test papers on the desk threatened to collapse it, even as the used-up pen refills ford a small mountain, those hands—accustod to wielding a sword—continued to write, recording the miracle of this single night!
With a crisp snap, an unseen switch was flipped. Electricity coursed through every limb, and the puppets in the room were infused with new energy, rising unsteadily with eerie creaks, their eyes gleaming strangely.
Facing this horde of the undead, Mordred couldn’t help but sigh as she raised her workbook. "I’m done!"
"Let see!" Sakatsuki suddenly sat up as if revived from death’s door, snatching the workbook. Behind him, two golden-haired girls who looked strikingly similar appeared like guardian deities, their sweet fragrance filling the air. Yet none of the three paid any mind to the intimate proximity, their eyes frantically scanning every problem in the book, terrified of finding even a single mistake.
The unbearable silence didn’t last long. With a relieved sigh, Sakatsuki tossed the workbook high into the air, where white flowers and doves blood under the orange lamplight.
"P—E—R—F—E—C—T—L—Y—C—O—R—R—E—C—T—!"
An unseen lody began to play. Amid the swirling snowflakes, Artoria covered her mouth, Jeanne’s eyes grew moist, Sieg and Astolfo embraced, Kairi removed his sunglasses to wipe them, Amakusa shot up only to collapse into the suddenly standing empress’s arms.
"Ohhhh, it’s back! My beautiful voice has returned!" Shakespeare wept tears of joy. "As I once said: ’Love can work miracles. Love rebuilt is stronger than before, more beautiful, more indomitable!’"
No one paid attention to the self-indulgent sentintality, but as he said, tonight’s achievent was a miracle. Who could have imagined Mordred managing to learn everything from basic education to high school graduation in just a few short hours?
Even if Servants’ learning abilities far surpass those of humans, compressing over a decade’s worth of knowledge into a single night—without even Teacher Ma’s involvent—was truly unbelievable.
Regardless of whether they were heroes, knights, or emperors in the past, everyone was cheering wholeheartedly at this mont, reveling in the relief of having their frustrations swept away.
Three hours! Do you have any idea what we went through in those three hours?!
Not only did we have to make Mordred study, but we also had to teach Artoria the proper order of instruction, stop Astolfo’s wild ideas... Not to ntion Sakatsuki had to ensure the logistics for the big eater, Kairi had to monitor Mordred’s ntal state, and Jeanne d’Arc and Laeticia had to keep bystanders away to prevent conflicts between the Black and Red factions!
It felt like an eternity. At this mont, everyone looked at Mordred with affection and a sense of accomplishnt.
"That child was raised by my own hands."
"Are you my fathers or what?!" Under the weight of so many gazes, veins bulged on Mordred’s forehead, yet surprisingly, she didn’t explode in anger. "Alright, it’s getting late. Thanks for the help, and now—get lost already! Aren’t you all exhausted?!"
Only after Mordred’s remark did everyone suddenly feel the overwhelming fatigue. Though the nature of Servants ant they didn’t need sleep, human habits weren’t so easily discarded.
Well, the task was done, so... ti to retreat?
"Though we still dropped the ball at the very end... Hmph, we’ll take our leave first." Amakusa muttered before signaling Semiramis to deactivate the magical screen.
"Co to think of it, does anyone even rember what we originally ca here to do?"
"Sohow, we just ended up helping out..."
Sieg and Astolfo whispered to each other as they left the church.
"I’m going to grab a midnight snack. Sakatsuki, is there any food left?"
"Ten portions remain. It should tide you over for now, my king."
Artoria and Sakatsuki walked out together, with Kairi following closely behind, his gaze flickering thoughtfully.
"Then, I shall take my leave as well."
Finally, Jeanne d’Arc, now back in her own body, bowed slightly before closing the church doors.
The orange glow of candlelight painted the night sky, blending light and shadow within the church. As the extravagance faded, the wild, lion-like girl leaned against the confessional booth. At her feet lay snow stained with ink, while stars sang silently in the sky above. The cool night breeze brushed past her burning ears, blurring the flas in her heart.
Her feigned anger lted away, and as she beca aware of a certain emotion, Mordred couldn’t help but feel the urge to laugh out loud.
Since when did she—Mordred, the Knight of Treachery—ever feel lonely?
A knight who emulated the king’s solitude should possess a spirit as unyielding as the king’s. Whether it was a hellscape of corpses, villages she had set ablaze with her own hands, or enemy envoys begging on their knees... she would remain unmoved, walking away in silence.
Mordred had always done exactly that—and done it well.
However—just by letting go of her reservations for a few hours one night and accepting the heroes’ unreserved help out of soft-heartedness, she discovered that the proud solitude she had always cherished was actually as fragile as a porcelain doll displayed in a glass case. A heart that had remained unmoved by pleas, cruelty, or mockery crumbled helplessly in the face of companionship, assistance, and cheers.
No one enjoys dull, rote cramming, even if it is the fastest way to gain knowledge. The hardship along this path is unbearable. Yet, Mordred gritted her teeth and endured.
When Sakatsuki announced the end, she herself breathed a sigh of relief. The sudden cheers around her even startled her. By the ti she realized what was happening, Mordred felt as if an electric current had run through her entire body, enveloped by an unprecedented sense of fulfillnt and emotion.
—In her short life, never had anyone celebrated her existence and her achievents with such joy as they had tonight.
The encounters between people are truly wondrous, like a bonfire on a snowy night, drawing in weary travelers. This was true for the newly born homunculus girl, and equally so for her, the rebellious knight who had weathered wars and destroyed a kingdom.
But if fate had granted her such wonderfully fleeting joy, why must ti cruelly snatch it away?
Even her father, after completing this task, left her behind without a second thought, departing with that young man who seed to be a Knight of the Round Table—without even a farewell.
"...Let’s just treat it as a dream."
Muttering to herself, the girl began gathering the mountain of books. Just as she was considering whether to obliterate these bittersweet mories with a single Noble Phantasm—not even bringing them back to the Throne of Heroes—the church door opened once more. The aroma of pancakes wafted in, making her mouth water.
Mordred turned in surprise, only to see Artoria, who shared her face, walking toward her with a satisfied expression. Though slightly stiff, she held out a bag to Mordred.
"Sakatsuki made these himself. Try them."
Everyone else had already left. Now, only two figures remained in the church—a pair of conflicting father and child. Perhaps in the calm after the storm, both wore expressions of utter serenity. Mordred instinctively opened her mouth, shocked to hear herself blurt out:
"Why... would you do this?"
"Eat first," Artoria replied without answering imdiately. After a pause, she even added stiffly, "They won’t taste as good if they get cold."
Hmph. It’s not genuine concern. I don’t care anyway.
Mordred desperately fought back the urge to smile as she took the bag. Then, she felt a breeze beside her—her father, almost the sa height as her, leaned against the table right next to her.
"You... what...? Father... King Arthur?!"
"Truth be told, you’re more popular than I imagined, Sir Mordred."
Ignoring Mordred’s astonishnt, Artoria gazed blankly ahead, lost in her own mories.
Not only Sakatsuki, who had been striving to assist them both, nor Reika Rikudou who offered guidance—just monts ago, Kairi Sisigou, that necromancer and rcenary, despite being on opposing sides, despite gaining no benefit, and despite the mortal danger, had stubbornly planted himself in her path to the dining hall.
"I don’t know what’s going through your head, King of Knights, but Mordred isn’t so tool for you to assuage your guilt. If you truly want to help her, then lay everything bare—both back then and now!"
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