"My king, when do you plan to leave?" Artoria asked.
"Once all the necessary handovers have been completed, and every crucial detail has been explained, I will leave."
A brief pause followed, and then Shirou's smile returned, "I have even prepared my own coffin," he confessed. "When the time comes, I will claim that I succumbed to grave injuries sustained in the great war."
Artoria's frown deepened, her concern growing more palpable. "My king, how can you speak of such things? You mustn't curse yourself in such a manner," she protested, her voice filled with heartfelt worry. "You... You haven't been injured! And you won't die!"
His laughter broke through the seriousness of the moment, carrying a sense of unwavering confidence. "What is there to fear?" he chuckled. "No curse in this world can touch me." Silently, within the depths of his heart, he added, 'because my "evil" is the deadliest curse in the world.'
"But you shouldn't speak of such things," she gently whispered.
"Artie, can you believe it's been eight years since we first met?" he asked, his voice tinged with nostalgia.
She nodded, "Yes, my king. Eight years have passed since that fateful day."
He let out a sigh, "Eight years... It's incredible how time flies."
Curiosity flickered in her eyes as she asked, "What's troubling you, my king?"
Shirou hesitated for a moment before speaking his worries aloud. "It's nothing major, really... It's just that, all of a sudden, I realized I've spent the last eight years here. And now, the thought of returning home fills me with a strange mix of anticipation and apprehension. I can't help but wonder if I'll be able to readjust to my old life. Honestly, it's a bit overwhelming... Sorry, I didn't mean to burden you with my thoughts. I suppose having some free time on my hands after being so busy feels a bit unsettling."
"You will definitely be able to fit back in," she said earnestly.
His smile widened, "I appreciate your confidence, Artie. On another note, something interesting occurred to me in the past. It seems I've met you before, in my hometown."
Her brow furrowed in confusion. "Really? That's quite puzzling, my king. I don't recall anything of the sort."
Shirou chuckled, amused by the memory. "Perhaps I mistook someone else for you. You see, in that moment, you were swinging your sword at me."
"That wasn't me, I swear," she said solemnly. "I would never lay a hand on you, my king."
"I understand. Maybe it wasn't you," he replied with a smile.
Agravain and Bedivere hurriedly approached from a distance, prompting Shirou to curse under his breath. "I got caught."
As the two of them reached the scene, Bedivere expressed his concern anxiously. "My king, tomorrow is your ceremony. How can you be wandering around like this?"
"Alright, alright," Shirou chuckled, getting up from his seat. He then turned his head and whispered to Artoria, "I only shared those things with you. Please don't tell anyone else, or I'll be so embarrassed."
Artoria was taken aback as she watched Shirou and the other two leave. A question began to arise in her mind.
;Why did you say that to me, my king?' she pondered. "No, to be precise, he revealed his most genuine and vulnerable side only to me. Why? Could it be because of the trust we share?"
As for me...
No.
As long as you are safe, that's all that matters to me.
Seated in the lush meadow, Artoria gazed upward. The sunlight streamed through the leaves, creating a mesmerizing golden mosaic on the ground.
...
The following morning, the Tower of Light radiated its brilliance, casting a luminous glow across the entire land.
Amidst the splendor, the grand coronation ceremony commenced.
The royal palace brimmed with kings hailing from various corners of the continent, assembled on either side.
Morgan, the rightful heir, took her place beside the resplendent white jade throne.
Lords occupied their seats in two orderly rows.
Flanking the throne, silver-armored knights wielded their holy swords, emanating intense aura.
Maintaining order amidst the vibrant gathering, three thousand royal soldiers stood tall in their sturdy armor.
Outside the opulent palace, a throng of people crowded together, their voices united in joyous jubilation as they echoed the name of "King Arthur."
Amidst the resounding cheers, Guinevere, fulfilling her role as the Governor, stepped forward with determination. Her voice projected with a sense of purpose as she addressed the crowd, "Seven years ago, right here, a successor to our kingdom voiced a profound wish. He envisioned a future where our very name, 'Camelot,' would strike fear into the hearts of any would-be invaders, deterring them from harboring even the faintest thoughts of conquest! He dreamt of a day when every single one of us would have access to abundant sustenance and live lives filled with happiness and contentment!"
"He dreamt of a future where valleys would rise, mountains would descend, and the treacherous, winding path would transform into a smooth passage. A divine light would bathe the world, illuminating all in its radiant glow. And lo and behold, his dream has become reality. He—our beloved king!"
A crescendo of voices erupted from the crowd, as people fervently called out the name "King Arthur," their unified shouts surging like mighty waves crashing upon the shore.
Stretching along the crimson carpet that led to the majestic statue of the king, Shirou, adorned in a pristine white ceremonial attire, took measured steps toward the throne. An entourage of knights solemnly accompanied him.
"King Arthur! King Arthur!"
"King Arthur! King Arthur!"
As Shirou progressed along the steps, the knights lining the path dutifully dropped to one knee, their gestures of reverence resonating throughout the scene.
However, it was not solely the knights who paid homage. Soldiers, officials, lords, and even commoners, all willingly embraced the humble act, genuflecting on one knee to express their unwavering respect and unwavering loyalty to the king.
Advancing steadily towards the throne, Shirou reached Merlin. Pausing for a moment, he turned to face his trusted advisor and spoke with a mixture of confidence and warmth, "Seven years ago, I spoke of the power an individual has to shape their own destiny. At that time, you harbored doubts. What are your thoughts now?"
Merlin, his expression reflecting both wisdom and humility, gently placed his staff aside and gracefully sank to one knee. "I yield myself to you, my king."
Acknowledging Merlin's pledge, Shirou nodded appreciatively and resumed his measured stride towards the awaiting throne.
As the heir to the throne, Morgan humbly joined the others, gracefully lowering herself to one knee, her gaze filled with admiration as she looked upon Shirou.
Approaching the king, the Pope held a radiant golden crown in his hands, symbolizing the culmination of this momentous occasion. Shirou directed his gaze downward, meeting the Pope's eyes. After a few moments of silence, the Pope himself descended to one knee, offering the golden crown to the new king.
Shirou's steady hands took hold of the gleaming crown, and with deliberate motions, he placed it upon his own head. As he settled onto the white throne, a surge of satisfaction coursed through him, and he proclaimed with resounding fervor, "I am the Eternal King!"
The people, caught in a tidal wave of excitement, erupted into joyous uproar.
"Eternal King! Eternal King!"
"Eternal King! Eternal King!"
The heartfelt shouts rumbled with an intensity that seemed to transcend mortal bounds, as if the very essence of love and admiration poured forth from the depths of their souls.
Their voices soared high into the sky, carrying with them an overwhelming sense of happiness and devotion.
The Tower of Light, a majestic presence that loomed above the royal palace, shimmered with ethereal brilliance. Its luminous radiance cascaded down like a cascade of starlight, enveloping the entire expanse of the land.
This was the Kingdom of Light, forged by the guiding hand of the Eternal King!
"My king, when do you plan to leave?" Artoria asked.
"Once all the necessary handovers have been completed, and every crucial detail has been explained, I will leave."
A brief pause followed, and then Shirou's smile returned, "I have even prepared my own coffin," he confessed. "When the time comes, I will claim that I succumbed to grave injuries sustained in the great war."
Artoria's frown deepened, her concern growing more palpable. "My king, how can you speak of such things? You mustn't curse yourself in such a manner," she protested, her voice filled with heartfelt worry. "You... You haven't been injured! And you won't die!"
His laughter broke through the seriousness of the moment, carrying a sense of unwavering confidence. "What is there to fear?" he chuckled. "No curse in this world can touch me." Silently, within the depths of his heart, he added, 'because my "evil" is the deadliest curse in the world.'
"But you shouldn't speak of such things," she gently whispered.
"Artie, can you believe it's been eight years since we first met?" he asked, his voice tinged with nostalgia.
She nodded, "Yes, my king. Eight years have passed since that fateful day."
He let out a sigh, "Eight years... It's incredible how time flies."
Curiosity flickered in her eyes as she asked, "What's troubling you, my king?"
Shirou hesitated for a moment before speaking his worries aloud. "It's nothing major, really... It's just that, all of a sudden, I realized I've spent the last eight years here. And now, the thought of returning home fills me with a strange mix of anticipation and apprehension. I can't help but wonder if I'll be able to readjust to my old life. Honestly, it's a bit overwhelming... Sorry, I didn't mean to burden you with my thoughts. I suppose having some free time on my hands after being so busy feels a bit unsettling."
"You will definitely be able to fit back in," she said earnestly.
His smile widened, "I appreciate your confidence, Artie. On another note, something interesting occurred to me in the past. It seems I've met you before, in my hometown."
Her brow furrowed in confusion. "Really? That's quite puzzling, my king. I don't recall anything of the sort."
Shirou chuckled, amused by the memory. "Perhaps I mistook someone else for you. You see, in that moment, you were swinging your sword at me."
"That wasn't me, I swear," she said solemnly. "I would never lay a hand on you, my king."
"I understand. Maybe it wasn't you," he replied with a smile.
Agravain and Bedivere hurriedly approached from a distance, prompting Shirou to curse under his breath. "I got caught."
As the two of them reached the scene, Bedivere expressed his concern anxiously. "My king, tomorrow is your ceremony. How can you be wandering around like this?"
"Alright, alright," Shirou chuckled, getting up from his seat. He then turned his head and whispered to Artoria, "I only shared those things with you. Please don't tell anyone else, or I'll be so embarrassed."
Artoria was taken aback as she watched Shirou and the other two leave. A question began to arise in her mind.
;Why did you say that to me, my king?' she pondered. "No, to be precise, he revealed his most genuine and vulnerable side only to me. Why? Could it be because of the trust we share?"
As for me...
No.
As long as you are safe, that's all that matters to me.
Seated in the lush meadow, Artoria gazed upward. The sunlight streamed through the leaves, creating a mesmerizing golden mosaic on the ground.
...
The following morning, the Tower of Light radiated its brilliance, casting a luminous glow across the entire land.
Amidst the splendor, the grand coronation ceremony commenced.
The royal palace brimmed with kings hailing from various corners of the continent, assembled on either side.
Morgan, the rightful heir, took her place beside the resplendent white jade throne.
Lords occupied their seats in two orderly rows.
Flanking the throne, silver-armored knights wielded their holy swords, emanating intense aura.
Maintaining order amidst the vibrant gathering, three thousand royal soldiers stood tall in their sturdy armor.
Outside the opulent palace, a throng of people crowded together, their voices united in joyous jubilation as they echoed the name of "King Arthur."
Amidst the resounding cheers, Guinevere, fulfilling her role as the Governor, stepped forward with determination. Her voice projected with a sense of purpose as she addressed the crowd, "Seven years ago, right here, a successor to our kingdom voiced a profound wish. He envisioned a future where our very name, 'Camelot,' would strike fear into the hearts of any would-be invaders, deterring them from harboring even the faintest thoughts of conquest! He dreamt of a day when every single one of us would have access to abundant sustenance and live lives filled with happiness and contentment!"
"He dreamt of a future where valleys would rise, mountains would descend, and the treacherous, winding path would transform into a smooth passage. A divine light would bathe the world, illuminating all in its radiant glow. And lo and behold, his dream has become reality. He—our beloved king!"
A crescendo of voices erupted from the crowd, as people fervently called out the name "King Arthur," their unified shouts surging like mighty waves crashing upon the shore.
Stretching along the crimson carpet that led to the majestic statue of the king, Shirou, adorned in a pristine white ceremonial attire, took measured steps toward the throne. An entourage of knights solemnly accompanied him.
"King Arthur! King Arthur!"
"King Arthur! King Arthur!"
As Shirou progressed along the steps, the knights lining the path dutifully dropped to one knee, their gestures of reverence resonating throughout the scene.
However, it was not solely the knights who paid homage. Soldiers, officials, lords, and even commoners, all willingly embraced the humble act, genuflecting on one knee to express their unwavering respect and unwavering loyalty to the king.
Advancing steadily towards the throne, Shirou reached Merlin. Pausing for a moment, he turned to face his trusted advisor and spoke with a mixture of confidence and warmth, "Seven years ago, I spoke of the power an individual has to shape their own destiny. At that time, you harbored doubts. What are your thoughts now?"
Merlin, his expression reflecting both wisdom and humility, gently placed his staff aside and gracefully sank to one knee. "I yield myself to you, my king."
Acknowledging Merlin's pledge, Shirou nodded appreciatively and resumed his measured stride towards the awaiting throne.
As the heir to the throne, Morgan humbly joined the others, gracefully lowering herself to one knee, her gaze filled with admiration as she looked upon Shirou.
Approaching the king, the Pope held a radiant golden crown in his hands, symbolizing the culmination of this momentous occasion. Shirou directed his gaze downward, meeting the Pope's eyes. After a few moments of silence, the Pope himself descended to one knee, offering the golden crown to the new king.
Shirou's steady hands took hold of the gleaming crown, and with deliberate motions, he placed it upon his own head. As he settled onto the white throne, a surge of satisfaction coursed through him, and he proclaimed with resounding fervor, "I am the Eternal King!"
The people, caught in a tidal wave of excitement, erupted into joyous uproar.
"Eternal King! Eternal King!"
"Eternal King! Eternal King!"
The heartfelt shouts rumbled with an intensity that seemed to transcend mortal bounds, as if the very essence of love and admiration poured forth from the depths of their souls.
Their voices soared high into the sky, carrying with them an overwhelming sense of happiness and devotion.
The Tower of Light, a majestic presence that loomed above the royal palace, shimmered with ethereal brilliance. Its luminous radiance cascaded down like a cascade of starlight, enveloping the entire expanse of the land.
This was the Kingdom of Light, forged by the guiding hand of the Eternal King!
