After the strategy eting concluded, everyone dispersed. Shiomi gave the guests free rein to move about the mansion and make their final preparations.
He returned to his room alone and changed into sothing more suited for battle.
"Hard to believe the Holy Grail War is coming to an end like this," Morgan said, seated neatly at the edge of the bed.
Shiomi no longer questioned the appropriateness of her barging in while he was changing—he'd long since given up on that.
"Where did things go wrong, I wonder…" Shiomi sighed. "Just like the three previous wars, it all ends in failure. Maybe this so-called wish-granting really is beyond what humanity can handle."
Morgan shook her head. "That's hard to say. But with the war nearing its end, you've still never told
what your wish is."
"You haven't, either."
"Because mine's already co true, I'd rather not say it," Morgan replied calmly.
"Then I'm about the sa. Since it's a lost cause either way, I'd rather not speak it aloud and make it feel more real," Shiomi said, zipping up his outfit and turning to face her.
Morgan raised a brow slightly. "If I had to answer, I suppose it's not all that complicated. I just wanted to obtain the ritual frawork of the Third Magic, to study and understand its chanics."
"The materialization of the soul…" Shiomi looked surprised, but didn't press further.
For a Magus, seeking sothing on the level of true Magic wasn't unusual.
And Morgan's strength was far beyond that of any modern Magus. If anyone could decode and replicate the Third Magic, it would be her.
"You're not curious?"
"I don't ask what I don't need to know. That's how I operate," Shiomi said with a bright smile. "It doesn't affect my trust in you. And you can trust , too—I'd never betray you for the sake of the Holy Grail."
Morgan let out a quiet sigh. "I already know."
She understood that better than anyone.
"As for … I don't really have a wish," Shiomi admitted with a faint smile. "I hope that's not too disappointing."
"…Mm." Morgan nodded.
He had been thrust onto this battlefield, left to figure it all out on his own. Whatever lay beyond that, Morgan wouldn't force him to say. Not now.
"Also…" Shiomi stepped closer, sat beside her, and gently took her hand.
Morgan looked at him, visibly surprised.
"I didn't really know how else to use the Command Spells, so I never used them. In fact, I have one extra," Shiomi said as a red glow began to shimr from his hand. "But Command Spells are valuable sources of mana. If you're the one using them, I know they'll be put to better use."
As he finished, the room was bathed in a soft red light before returning to normal.
The four Command Spells had transferred from his hand to Morgan's pale, almost translucent one.
"To hand Command Spells over to a Servant… my husband really is a Magus who breaks all the rules," Morgan said, raising her eyes to et his. "Trust your wife. She won't let you down."
The atmosphere had taken a strange, intimate turn after his gesture, and Shiomi, suddenly flustered, hurried to change the subject.
"I'll go check if Sakura and Caren are asleep. Once they're out, we can head out," Shiomi said, getting up a little stiffly and making his way out of the room.
Morgan didn't stop him. She simply watched as he disappeared beyond the door, then gently touched the Command Spell on her hand—as if stroking sothing far more precious than the spell itself.
After collecting herself, Morgan left the room too, taking a slow walk through the Shiomi residence, almost as if she were going on a leisurely stroll.
Though it had only been a few days, it felt like she'd lived here for over a decade.
Now, with the Holy Grail War nearing its end, the fad witch would have to say goodbye to it all and return to where she belonged.
So she wanted to commit every detail of this mont to mory.
...
As she passed the corridor overlooking the garden, she spotted Artoria standing among the flowers, bathed in moonlight.
"What are you looking at, Artoria?"
Maybe because it might be their last conversation, Morgan took the initiative to speak.
"Nothing much. Just the sky," Artoria replied, turning around and walking a few steps toward her. "Even if the era and the country are different, the sky still looks the sa."
"Even the moonlight shining on you is from the sa moon," Morgan said with a poetic lilt.
"That's true." Artoria nodded, then gave Morgan a gentle smile. "I nearly forgot. I should thank you, Morgan."
"I don't recall doing anything deserving of thanks," Morgan replied.
"But it's because you tried to force my heart to submit that I realized sothing I had been overlooking," Artoria said, turning her gaze back to the starry sky. "I wanted to save Britannia, to undo its destruction—but I forgot that the world is more than just Britannia."
"...It's not too late," Morgan said softly.
"If my wish were granted, maybe the people of Britannia would have a sky like tonight's forever... but the rest of humanity would suffer disaster," Artoria said with a bitter smile. "If that's the price, then it's too high."
Morgan studied her. "The way you talk... it doesn't sound like you think the wish was wrong—just that you've chosen to give it up."
"It's not giving up. It's choosing to protect sothing broader—the world of all humanity," Artoria said, eyes downcast. "There's still regret, and things I can't quite let go of... but I'll let that wish remain a wish. Just a wish."
"I see. Then follow your heart." Morgan added with a faint smirk, "If you ever reach Avalon and et the Magus I locked away there, be sure to rub this outco in his face. After all, that Incubus is probably watching all of this right now with those eyes of his that see through the present—and still chooses to do nothing."
Unusually, Artoria and Morgan saw eye to eye. "Yeah, I plan to."
Then, as if sothing occurred to her, Artoria added, "Also, you're not the Morgan I once knew... are you?"
"...Does that matter?" Morgan answered, neither confirming nor denying.
"You're right. It doesn't." Artoria let out a long sigh. "This Holy Grail War... it's been more unbelievable than I ever imagined—for both Masters and Servants alike."
The night continued to flow in silence.
And with it, the final mont—the march to the battlefield—drew ever closer.
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