[The mysterious wave caused by the magi]
[Indeed spread to all corners of the world, bringing the magical world into an unprecedented prosperous period]
[You maintain a casual attitude towards this matter]
[The interests of these magi are tied to Britain, and they will surely strive to protect this land; after all, the pursuit of mysteries is as essential to magi as breathing is to humans]
[Although the nature of magi is not particularly comndable]
[As long as their interests are tied together, they can achieve their goals on that basis, and they will be extraordinarily useful]
[In the blink of an eye, a hundred years passed swiftly]
[As if the establishnt of the Clock Tower was just yesterday, the magi began to live in Britain like ordinary people]
[In the eyes of the ordinary citizens on the island]
[Most magi are research fanatics, and beyond that, there are not many other thoughts. Most magi also maintain the habit of being mysterious and hidden, basically staying in their workshops]
[You clearly feel the passage of ti]
[Although your lifespan is several tis that of ordinary people, you also begin to show signs of aging]
[Your physical abilities are no longer what they used to be]
[You can't run around like you did a hundred years ago; just running a few steps makes you start to breathe heavily like an ordinary person]
[The ministers who initially followed you have all passed away one by one]
[In the end, they all closed their eyes under your loving gaze, carrying their fervent loyalty to you]
[Believing that death is by no ans an end]
[Even if their souls return to the heavens, it cannot stop them from offering their loyalty; they will surely still rush to the battlefield for you in the future]
[Artoria also stepped down during this ti]
[She handed the throne to Mordred]
[Although you were initially a bit uneasy about this, seeing Mordred's serious and steady deanor in the end]
[At that mont, you realized again]
[Your daughter can soar even if she leaves you; she has long had the ability to stand on her own]
[You feel worried about this]
[This is rely because you have always regarded her as your daughter, subconsciously not wanting Mordred to rely on you too much]
[This is an overly extravagant worry]
[You feel a mix of comfort and a hint of loneliness]
[As ti passes, you no longer walk through the world with the sa vigor as before]
[However, people have not forgotten the first king]
[That brightest light of the Britons]
[Moreover, to commorate your brilliance, people have built statues everywhere to show that they have never forgotten you]
[Although most statues are too ornate and sacred]
[You cannot say much about it]
[In earlier years, it was widely rumored that the first king had not left but chose to retreat, watching over Britain from the shadows. If Britain were to be entangled in darkness again in the future, he would return as the dawn]
[Even now, a hundred years later, there are still tales circulating that the first king walks among the people]
[Since the citizens hold such expectations, you will not dampen their hopes]
[The only thing that makes you chuckle is]
[Every ti you pass by that sacred statue that looks nothing like you, you can only shake your head in amusent]
[Of course, it could also be that you have lost your power]
[Causing your presence to beco too ordinary]
[No one would think that the uncle idling by the roadside would be the perfect king they idolized]
[—Not knowing how much ti has passed]
[It is probably another hundred years]
[It feels like being imrsed in a hazy dream, making the sense of ti quite vague]
[Your consciousness is sowhat fuzzy]
[Your drowsy eyes feel heavy]
[You lie on a spacious and large bed, one that could easily accommodate three people sleeping together]
"...Hmm...?"
Moran lets out a confused groan.
His body is weighed down by a heavy sense of weakness.
However, it is not like an illness.
Unlike the pain during the first simulation, he feels as if he has long been accustod to this sensation.
Incredible, he actually feels no dislike.
There is no anxiety in his chest, only a calm indifference soaked in the tranquility of daily life.
How strange, when did I fall asleep?
Confusion arises in Moran's mind.
But when he thinks more carefully,
He cannot recall what he was originally doing.
Although he cannot rember any mories, looking at the room with a familiar atmosphere... he vaguely rembers this is the room he shares with his wives.
He must have been imrsed in a gentle embrace.
To put it simply, he was once again engaged in acts of love with his wives last night.
Yet his intuition tells him that this is also not right.
It seems that I haven't done this kind of thing for a long ti.
I always feel that my mories are very vague.
"Hmm..."
Moran found that while his head and eyes could move, his body could not.
He felt that even the blanket draped over him was very heavy, and he could only shift his gaze to look outside the bed.
What caught his eye was a beautiful girl.
Her golden hair, shining with a red luster, was very beautiful, giving the impression of so luxurious crown.
His gaze t that of the girl.
Moran sensed a familiar aura once again.
However, he couldn't recall the na he had called out several tis; by the ti he rembered, he saw that she had already run out of the room.
"Mordred..."
Moran murmured in a daze.
He didn't know how he could forget even this.
"Mother! Father is awake!"
While listening to the urgent shouts coming from outside the door, he tried to get up from the bed.
It was heavy, very heavy—
Moran swayed as he tried to pull his hand out from under the blanket, but he didn't even have the strength to lift the blanket.
At that mont, he caught sight of a mirror in the corner of the room.
In the mirror, he saw a figure buried in the bed, resembling an old man who was almost on the verge of death.
White beard, white hair.
Deep wrinkles.
The entire face bore the appearance of soone about to die.
[Your mory feels like it has been pricked by a needle]
[A current flows through your brain]
[You rember that you abdicated nearly two hundred years ago, but you can't recall anything else]
[It's as if your mories are shrouded in mist]
"Moran!?"
Rushing into the room was a silver-haired woman.
With a graceful and stunning appearance.
She exuded a mature charm as a wife, just like the initial Mordred, giving Moran a sense of familiarity.
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