Pain—so much pain.
Why? Why why why—
"Aaaahhh—"
A suppressed cry tore from Guinevere's lips as he clutched the Holy Sword, issuing a hysterical wail, tears unstoppable as they streamed down his face.
"Why? Why?! Why must this be? Those damned beasts of fairies—what could they possibly be worth compared to her? Why must this cursed world's survival be bought at her expense?!"
Raging fury and overwhelming sorrow surged through him, driving him to shout, to smash something at random—but in his hands was only the sword she had forged with all she had.
So at last he pressed his head against the blade and wept.
He cried until his voice was hoarse and silent; he could no longer sob out loud. He sat there, holding the sword, staring emptily into the distance, when Merlin's figure reappeared at his side.
But this time Guinevere had not the strength even to lift his head to look at him; it was as if his soul had been drawn away along with Altria's departure.
"Though I cannot fully understand your feelings now, I can guess that you may deeply hate this world, even wish to destroy this Britain… after all, you have always been such an extreme person."
"But at least remember one thing."
"No matter what, she never hated this world; simply because you existed, she came to love this world that includes you."
"She must have truly enjoyed the journey traveling with you all—those shining memories, in her eyes, perhaps outweighed the sum of her tragic childhood."
"Along the way, many people reached out to help her; the hopes and goodwill you carried all the way here have accumulated greatly."
"I believe you would not want to betray all that—especially not on the grounds of her sacrifice, right?"
"For if that were so, then her giving her life to forge the sword would be a complete joke; all her sacrifices would have been meaningless. If by chance she were summoned again to this world and learned that, her kind heart would likely be shattered into self-destruction."
"After all, you are someone who might go mad for the final obsession over a loved one—so I trust you would not want that to happen?"
Having heard Merlin's words in full, Guinevere slowly raised his head, his eyes now utterly void of light, and looked at Merlin:
"Merlin, I said before I had no reason to kill you."
"Hm?"
"Now… I only hate that your true form is not here." Guinevere spoke each word deliberately.
"That is fortunate, indeed—fortunately the Star Holy Sword has no interdimensional properties." Merlin smiled. "By the way, for your return trip I can offer a special service: you can bypass the spirit gate and teleport directly to a landmark. Interested?"
Glancing at him one last time with hatred, Guinevere carefully sheathed the Holy Sword and then rose to his feet.
"Begin."
He took a deep breath and slowly said:
"Just this once, to fulfill her wish, I will protect this Britain that is not worth protecting."
..............
[With Merlin's magic assistance, you swiftly returned to the surface.]
[Yet beside Albion's corpse, you find only Redra Bitt.]
[It says that because the Beast Calamity Bagster is approaching Norwich, the Round Table army has decided on a desperate stand: to battle Bagster outside Norwich to defend the city.]
[To aid the Round Table, Nocnare and Grim have already returned; it is said even Bogart of Sheffield and the fairy Tristan of New Darlington have chosen to assist.]
"It's incredible—because of Bagster, all existing lords have united, a spectacle not seen even when the Queen reigned… almost like a final showdown." Redra shook its head in wonder, glancing past Guinevere around.
"But… strangely, where is Altria? Even if her pace is slow, she should have returned by now, right?"
"…"
Hearing this, Guinevere's expression shifted.
"I see… Altria will not return…"
Redra's ears drooped, sensing something wrong:
"What a pity. Without her return, it will be far less interesting."
"No—no, that's wrong."
Guinevere suddenly shook his head:
"Altria will come back."
Then, before Redra's puzzled gaze, Guinevere gently raised the sword upright, touching his forehead to the blade:
"I will save this Britain."
"With her."
.............
Before him unfolded an endless crimson.
Crimson of raging flames, crimson of spilled blood.
In her vision, everything had turned red.
The crackling of burning fires, the crunch of flesh under fangs, the dying wails of fairies and humans alike—all adorned this wash of scarlet.
This was the red of destruction, the red of hell.
Red was devouring the once colorful world, turning every place into a hellscape.
Such a scene involuntarily reminded her of the moment a boy had been bathed in the same hue.
—Enough. That is enough. Please, stop.
This thought arose in her mind, but all was in vain.
Once she had abandoned reason, once she let destructive desire consume everything, the future ceased to matter.
At first, she felt satisfaction: she had slain the demons she had to eradicate, prevented such evil beings from fleeing into the wider world, kept the evidence of sin from leaving this fairy Britain.
But that fleeting pleasure vanished quickly.
Horrified, she realized what followed was not what she had imagined.
The furious slaughter and devouring did not cease with the extinction of those demons; instead, it spread endlessly outward.
After Manchester came Gloucester, Oxford, Salisbury, Edinburgh, Sheffield, Camelot, Norwich… one familiar city after another appeared in her sight, then each, though differing in culture, all turned the same red.
Buildings crushed, lives devoured, then flames engulfed all—destructive red covered every city equally, transforming them into purgatories.
—Stop.
This is not the sight she wished to see.
But having let rage consume her, she had lost any choice.
The crimson Beast Calamity would equally destroy and devour everything.
For this is the curse—the curse of the Fang Clan.
As the Child of Calamity, she was but a beast that devours those she loves; she could never restrain that instinctive hunger, could not control her deeds.
So please—anyone, please—come and stop this out-of-control self.
Yet no hero appeared.
In her flame- and blood-stained vision, she briefly saw the figure of a scarred, one-armed man.
"Please, stop—for the one I love, I must stop you here."
But compared to the fully mad Calamity, he was far too weak.
Without effort, it crushed him, then resumed its instinctive rampage and devouring.
Untenable, utterly untenable—everything was so unbearably fragile.
When all the familiar sights had been utterly destroyed, she sank into despair.
[Detected player in abnormal mental state; to protect the player, will forcibly enter full immersion mode.]
At that moment, she thought she heard a strange noise in her ear.
But thoroughly without reason, she could not grasp its meaning.
She merely stared blankly as what should have been destroyed reappeared before her eyes.
What was this? A chance at repentance granted by heaven? Or some other strange curse?
She could not understand and did not want to think.
For she was only a beast, driven entirely by instinct.
The black giant hound was reborn into the world, then began its endless voracity once more.
Soon, even the scent of her domain was consumed again.
Enough—enough already, this can end here; it need not continue.
Perhaps foreseeing what would follow, looking at the red-stained world, she prayed inwardly.
But the beast paid no heed; it simply tracked the scent of prey and changed direction.
Yes—once she first abandoned reason, all that followed was beyond control.
Stop—please stop, never do this again.
If she could not stop herself, then at least let someone stop her.
She hoped, as in the boy's dreamlike tales, that a righteous, brave hero knight would come to slay the evil beast she had become.
Perhaps the gods heard her plea; this time, heroes came one after another.
First appeared a small-statured hero with a familiar aura—petite yet possessing such power that even she had to acknowledge it.
But that alone was insufficient; she could not halt herself.
Lacking decisive strength and the courage to stake everything, even with bravery, that small hero could not defeat her.
After the dragon fairy in the sky retreated, another fairy hero appeared before her.
When that Fang Clan hero, with absolute might, subdued her, Bagster saw hope.
She thought that their valor could stop her from spreading destruction and misfortune further.
But that hope was quickly dashed.
With the arrival of a hateful presence, the beasts surrounding her, which she loathed, brought the curse upon that hero.
Under the curse, the hero soon fell.
Seeing her beast form strike down the cursed hero, pain filled her heart.
Then, seeing that hero still refusing to give up protecting what lay behind, she felt even deeper anguish.
For that was something she had abandoned, something she failed to uphold; yet now she was striking down someone who could remain steadfast.
How could this be? Why must it be so?
Is there truly no one to stop me? Is this torment of sin irreversible?
Red, red, always red.
[You have slain the fairy hero Woodworth.]
[You have destroyed Gloucester.]
[You have destroyed Oxford.]
[You have destroyed Salisbury.]
Destruction, destruction, destruction.
One after another, familiar sights were shattered by her again.
Then, as the beast moved once more, already tormented, she saw another familiar city.
A city where she had lived long and left many warm memories.
Before that city stood the familiar white lion.
"Stop here, Bagster."
The fairy she had adored in childhood, who once encouraged her, roared:
"Do not destroy any more! Bagster! Weren't you supposed to be the knight who protects Britain?!"
No, no, only here—please do not destroy it again.
Above all, please do not slay him again…
Yet all was now irreversible.
From afar, a hateful voice she had heard before rang out in mocking laughter.
[Queen's Era May 2018: After consecutively destroying Manchester, Gloucester, Oxford, and Salisbury, the Beast Calamity Black Hound Bagster arrives at Norwich.]
[Outside Norwich, all remaining lords of Britain unite to resist Bagster.]
[However, due to the intervention of traitor Beryl of New Darlington, the fairy lords meant to combine forces against Bagster were thrown into disarray.]
[The Lord of Manchester, former Lord of Norwich Bogart, is forced to face Bagster alone.]