Agravain's chains vanished, replaced by new restraints—gleaming handcuffs, shackles, and a collar around Shiomi's neck.
Each piece radiated golden light, with faint chains of the sa hue extending from them before fading into nothing.
Shiomi flexed his limbs slightly. These bindings were light, yet far more effective than Agravain's Magecraft chains.
"This is a fragnt of the Holy Lance. I know you're no ordinary man—conventional Magecraft can't hold you," said Artoria, golden light bathing Shiomi. "A soul untouched by filth, undisturbed by the world's evil, a soul that has never lost its purity since birth. As I thought, you are most fitting."
"What?" Shiomi frowned, confused.
"Therefore, I will grant you additional freedom. So long as you remain within the Holy Capital, you may go wherever you please," Artoria said. "But the mont you take a single step beyond its borders, the Holy Lance will bind you—you will have nowhere to run."
Shiomi raised an eyebrow in surprise and touched the collar around his neck.
He hadn't expected Artoria to resort to sothing like this. He wondered what Morgan would think of it.
At the very least, he couldn't dispel it with Primordial Runes.
"So what exactly are you planning, King of Knights?" Shiomi asked, standing tall among the Knights of the Round Table, the only one not kneeling.
"I am no longer the King of Knights," Artoria replied. "I am the king who follows the Way of the Lion and performs the Holy Selection upon these people. You may call
the Lion King."
Holy Selection...
Another bizarre term—it sounded like so kind of divine election or sacred choosing.
But more than that, the Artoria who now called herself the Lion King radiated a divinity even stronger than Karna, the son of the Sun God, in the Fifth Singularity.
Recalling Morgan's explanation of Rhongomyniad, the Holy Lance, Shiomi suspected that the Lion King had already been corrupted by it—transford into a divine being.
Yet according to what they knew from the Fourth Singularity, in the version where Artoria wielded the Holy Lance, she had died before the weapon could fully remake her.
So what had twisted this Singularity?
Shiomi had no answers. Maybe it was better to remain here, as Artoria's prisoner, and uncover the truth from within Calot.
"Then tell , Lion King—why capture
alive? You had every chance to kill
in the desert. Don't think Morgan and the others will hold back just because I'm a hostage," Shiomi said.
"You cannot be killed," the Lion King said flatly. "And for the sake of my plan, I require soone like you."
"Require? For what, exactly?" Shiomi pressed.
"When the ti cos, you'll understand."
Artoria rose and stepped down from her throne, approaching him.
Though she was slightly shorter, standing two steps above, she now lood over Shiomi.
She reached out her hand—and Shiomi's right hand moved involuntarily toward hers, the Command Spell on his skin beginning to glow.
"Abandon your role as Chaldea's Master. From this mont on, you are my captive—my Master. You shall offer
your power—your authority."
Shiomi felt her begin to take the Command Spell from him. He activated his Magic Circuits to resist, but his body was still too weak. He couldn't stand against the power of a divine being.
The Command Spell flared on his hand—and then vanished.
In its place, the sa markings appeared on the back of the Lion King's hand, glowing through the tal of her gauntlet.
Shiomi could feel it clearly—the mana link connecting him to Morgan and his teacher had been severed.
In its place was a new connection.
The one drawing mana from him now... was the Lion King, standing right before him.
To invade a contract and seize a Command Spell—she could do even that now?
Shiomi felt a wave of shock crash over him.
"I hold the Command Spell. You're rely my captive—my Master in na only. There's no need for you to issue any orders," said the Lion King.
"Not exactly sothing to laugh at, Artoria Pendragon."
Shiomi didn't know how many tricks the Lion King still had up her sleeve, but for now, there was no doubt—he was her prisoner.
And the reason he had been chosen likely had sothing to do with the Authority he had yet to fully awaken.
He never thought he'd beco soone walking through a city with gold in hand, naive and exposed.
"You must not speak our king's na so lightly," Agravain snapped.
"It's fine. This man has earned that right."
With that, the Lion King turned and walked back toward the throne—but she didn't sit.
"With the urgent matters concluded, next..." Her gaze shifted to Mordred. "Mordred, raise your head—but do not stand. There's no need to stand."
The unexpected words sent a jolt through Mordred.
"In the battle against Chaldea, you were swayed by personal ties and failed to give your all. For that, you must be punished."
She raised her hand and aid it at Mordred.
Mordred had only enough ti to take a sharp breath before golden light shot from the Lion King's palm.
It struck her chest plate directly. She spat blood and was blasted from the hall, crashing onto the distant streets of Calot.
Shiomi instinctively turned toward the sound—only to see Mordred lying there, barely conscious. Whether her Spirit Core had withstood the attack remained uncertain.
With a quiet sigh, he turned and walked out.
Behind him, Agravain's voice rang out in protest.
"My king, this man is far too insolent."
"It matters not," the Lion King replied curtly.
Shiomi dragged his still-heavy body down the seemingly endless stairs and found Mordred collapsed in the middle of the main road.
The Enforcent Knights passing by didn't even glance her way, as if she didn't exist.
"You bastard..." Mordred struggled to lift her eyes and saw Shiomi crouching beside her.
"Don't talk." Shiomi placed a hand on her head. "Your Spirit Core's intact. I'm surprised you survived."
That blast had been a controlled release of the Holy Lance's power—enough to kill an ordinary Servant. Even a strong one could fall if caught off guard.
"My father's punishnt... I deserved it." Mordred gave a bitter laugh. "Why'd you co out here... eh?"
As if waking from a dream, Mordred suddenly felt her near-fatal wounds healing rapidly. Half a minute later, she sat up, stunned, staring down at herself.
"My wounds... they're gone?"
"You probably didn't know—healing Magecraft is my specialty," Shiomi said, offering a harmless lie.
Mordred blinked, confused. "Why? You're still seriously injured yourself."
"I don't have a choice. I've got a lot of questions—and among the Knights of the Round Table, you're probably the only one who'll answer them."
"Tch... so that's what this is about."
She grumbled in annoyance, but a grin still spread across her face.
...
(100 Chapters Ahead)
p@treon com / PinkSnake
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