Type-Moon: My Destiny Guide

He laughed so hard he almost fell over, unable to control himself. Beside him, however, his brows furrowed, and an unusual displeasure on his face was evident as he watched.

"Wait a minute—King of Knights, wait a minute! Do you really want to deny everything you've said and done in history?"

She had never doubted her ideals, and of course, she never expected that someone would question her like this.

“Exactly! What’s so surprising? What’s so funny? The country for which I drew my sword and gave my life has perished, so what’s wrong with feeling sad about it?”

Her response was another burst of laughter.

"Hey, did you hear what she said? This little girl who calls herself the King of Knights... she actually said something like 'dedicating herself to the country'!"

He remained silent, ignoring the incessant laughter, his melancholy expression growing increasingly heavy. To him, the silence was no different from the mockery; both were forms of humiliation.

"What's so funny? As the ruler of a country, one should wholeheartedly hope that the country one governs will always prosper and flourish!"

“No, you’re wrong.” He refuted the statement firmly and seriously, “It’s not the king who sacrifices himself, but the nation and its people who must sacrifice their lives and fortunes for the king. It’s absolutely not the other way around.”

"What did you say—!" His voice was hoarse from excessive anger.

"That's nothing but tyrannical rule! You villains have no right to be kings!"

“That’s right. It is precisely because we are tyrants that we are great heroes.” He replied calmly, without changing his expression. “However, if any king regrets his rule and the consequences of his actions, then he is merely a mediocre and incompetent ruler, worse than a tyrant.”

Unlike simply mocking, she continued to refute in a question-and-answer format. When she realized this, she also toned down her tone and decided to respond with theory.

"Iskandar, aren't you the same... Your heir was killed, and the empire you painstakingly built ultimately split into three parts. Don't you feel any regret about this outcome? If you had another chance, don't you think there are other ways to save your homeland?"

"will not."

The answer was straightforward. The Conqueror King puffed out his chest proudly, met the Knight King's serious gaze head-on, and retorted, "If the decisions I make, and the lives of my subjects, ultimately lead to such an end, then destruction is inevitable. I will mourn and weep, but I will never regret it."

"how come……"

"Not to mention overthrowing all of this! Such a foolish act is an insult to all those who co-created this era with me."

He denied the arrogant declaration, saying, "Only soldiers would consider death an honor; the people don't think that way. What they need is salvation."

"You mean they want the king's salvation?" He shrugged and chuckled. "I don't understand! What's the point of this?"

“That is the true desire of a king!” This time, he spoke with great emotion. “To rule in accordance with the principles of Heaven, to govern the world according to the righteous path. Isn’t this what all his subjects earnestly yearn for?”

"So, does that mean you, this king, are a slave to the 'righteous path'?"

“That’s right, that’s exactly it. To die for one’s ideals is the mark of a true king.” The young knight king nodded and said, without a trace of hesitation in his voice.

"The people learn about the rule of law and order through the king's words and deeds. What the sovereign conveys to the people is not a phantom that will vanish with the king, but something more sublime and eternal."

Seeing the resolute attitude in his voice, and even a hint of pity in his expression, he let out a long sigh.

"That's not a 'human' way of life at all."

"Of course not. If one is to become the king of a country, how can one expect to live the same life as an ordinary person?"

To become a flawless monarch, to become an idealist, the body relinquishes mortality for immortality, and the soul relinquishes personal feelings to become a perfect being. The life of the young girl Artoria was effectively over the moment she pulled the Sword of the King from the rock; thereafter, she became a legend of invincibility, a hymn of praise, and also a fleeting illusion.

She had experienced pain and trouble, but her pride far outweighed that. Her unwavering belief continues to empower her, supporting her sword-wielding hands.

"Conqueror King, someone as self-centered as you would never understand. You became a tyrant to satisfy your endless desires!"

He shouted loudly, as if he had struck a fatal blow on the enemy.

Upon hearing this, his eyes snapped open.

"A king who has no desires is not even worth a piece of jewelry!"

He roared. The ferocity in his words made his already massive body appear twice as large.

You said, 'A king must die for his ideals.' I see. In life, you must have been a pure and flawless saint; your image must have been both noble and inviolable. But who would yearn for or dream of a life filled with suffering like martyrdom?

Among kings, the unparalleled overlord mercilessly berated the holy king sitting opposite him:

"A sage can comfort the people, but he can never lead them. A true king must demonstrate clear desires and revere the ultimate in wealth and glory in order to guide the people and lead the nation!"

"A true king is someone who is more greedy than anyone else, laughs more heartily than anyone else, and is more ferocious than anyone else when angry. He is someone who has exhausted the good and evil of human nature. That is why subjects admire kings and are attracted to them. It is in this way that the desire to 'be above all others' is ignited in the hearts of every person."

"What justice is there in this kind of rule?"

"Without justice, the way of the king has no need for justice at all. That is why there is no resentment left."

His words were so arbitrary that they made him tremble with anger.

What truly constitutes happiness for the people? On this fundamental principle, the two men are worlds apart.

On one side, there is a prayer for peace; on the other, a yearning for prosperity. The ideals of a ruler who hopes to quell chaos and one who themselves instigate chaos are naturally incompatible.

He revealed a fearless smile and continued speaking.

"King of Knights, perhaps the banner of justice and ideals you raised once saved your country and your people. That must have been a great deed that would have earned you a place in legend. But you should also know very well what kind of fate awaits those who 'only know how to be saved'?"

"You...what did you say?"

At dusk, the hills were stained with blood.

That image flashed through my mind again.

“You always ‘save’ your subjects, but you don’t ‘guide’ them. You never show ‘the desires of a king,’ abandoning your lost subjects. You are just a person in a sacred posture, eager to realize those small and beautiful ideals. So you are not a true king, but just a little girl bound by the image of a king who lives not for himself, but for others.”

"I……"

She had a thousand words to say in rebuttal, but every time she opened her mouth, the view she had seen from the hills of Kamran would reappear before her eyes.

A continuous mountain of corpses and a river of blood. The lives that ended there were once her subjects, friends, and relatives.

Upon reflection, she realized she had heard a prophecy when she pulled the sword from the stone. The prophecy foretold impending destruction, and she should have been mentally prepared for it long ago.

But even though she had already come to her senses, when she witnessed that scene with her own eyes, she couldn't help but think about it and couldn't help but have the thought of praying.

A completely different possibility, one that could even overturn the magician's prophecy. She thought to herself, if such a possibility existed…

A dangerous thought seemed to seep into the void within his heart: what if he weren't protecting Britain as a savior, but instead ravaging it as a hegemon…

But between the tragic end created by this tyrannical path and the Camlann Hill, which is the true tragedy...?

Just then, a voice rang out from the side:

"No, you don't understand. If you had pursued your tyranny in Britain at that time, it would have only hastened Britain's demise."

The one who spoke was the white-haired youth who had remained silent until now.

Meeting her glare, Shuoyue returned a gentle, breezy smile, her wine glass already empty.

"The tyranny you praise is nothing compared to the kingly way of King Arthur."

The young man said this.

Because it is almost the original text, but it is the original text that I had to write, I am posting it in the chapter notes. Please be aware of this.

Chapter 125 So, let's tell a story about a king.

……

He frowned slightly, somewhat displeased by Shuoyue's abrupt interruption.

"Master Sakuyue, before you speak, consider your position and identity—are you, as a modern human from thousands of years in the future, pointing fingers at the achievements of these two kings?"

Before Shuoyue could speak, the golden spirit on the other side of the seat suddenly stopped laughing, tapped his wine glass on the edge of the table, and uttered a warning:

"Listen up, Conqueror King. The people before you are not simple humans. If you continue to use those twisted and heretical arguments to fool people, even I, the king, cannot save you."

"?" Iskandar was surprised that it was this most arrogant king who spoke up to defend him. After a brief silence, he let out a long breath, and the oppressive feeling on his magnificent body gradually dissipated.

"Let's hear your opinion, Brother Shuoyue."

"Oh? Should I thank the Hero King?" Shuoyue smiled, then took the wine pot, filled her cup, and drank it all in one gulp, her tone leisurely:

"Then, let me tell you a story about a king..."

The overly familiar tone made his ahoge (a type of hair stick up) stand up, and also made He unable to help but listen quietly.

That is an epic that is still being passed down to this day.

In the 5th century AD, the bloodline of the British king, the ideology of Britain as a red dragon, and the female bloodline used to perfectly blend the two were mixed to create a womb. Thus, the legendary King Arthur—Artoria Pendragon—was born quietly.

At the age of 15, Uther Pendragon died, and Artoria Pendragon pulled the sword from the stone—the indestructible golden sword—that symbolized the new king's right to rule. From that moment on, time froze for the king; his body and face ceased to grow and age, forever frozen at the age of 15.

After defeating Vortigern, King Arthur began to rebuild the destroyed fortified city. With the return of the sword wielder, the city regained its original mystique and was reborn as Camelot, the city of chalk.

The reign of King Arthur over all of Britain refers to the ten years between the Battle of Camelot and the Battle of Camlann. That can be considered the last romantic era on this planet. The island still retains its mystique, magic, fairies, and sanctuaries—a twilight period.

A mysterious twilight.

Planets alter the laws of physics according to the life forms that inhabit their surfaces. The era once brimming with mystery and magic came to an end as humanity became the dominant force on Earth, and gradually declined. Nature, which once possessed a personhood, became merely a natural phenomenon, and the ether in the atmosphere dissipated.

After the death of Solomon, the King of Magic, the rate at which mystery diminished accelerated.

Five hundred years ago, the mythological era came to a complete end, and this planet became independent from nature, becoming a world detached from the natural cycle.

But this island is different.

The island still retains the atmosphere and mystery of the mythical era; after all, the more isolated a place is from the mainland, the more likely it is to retain its mysteries.

Britannia is particularly important, after all, it's like the navel of a planet.

This is the last relic of the mythical era, and also the fulcrum that could overturn the world.

—But another way to put it is: the island is a mysterious remnant, an anomaly on this planet.

Such a shadowy existence, clinging to life, is not allowed in humanity's glorious future.

The era of mystery is long gone.

Next came the age of civilization, the age of humankind.

King Arthur's fundamental power is incompatible with humanity; as long as the king lives, Britain has no future.

This is why, during King Arthur's reign, the island was always plagued by calamities—not because of the king's misconduct, but simply because the world, the way of heaven, was suppressing this last mysterious place.

Britain will be destroyed.

And King Arthur, that radiant and idealistic king, delayed this inevitable destruction for a full ten years.

After the young man, slightly drunk, finished recounting this distant tale, a suffocating silence descended upon this hall of kings.

Whether it was the most naive android, the magician still learning the mysteries, or the conquering overlord and the even more ancient hero king, they all sat motionless.

Only the protagonist of the story, the queen who is still a young girl, silently poured herself a drink, sipped it slowly, her holy blue eyes vacant, lost in thought.