Nuclear Sword Immortal Starting from Type-Moon

Also wrapped up was the witch's sensitive and fragile heart.

"Please don't say such things again, Ms. Morgan."

"To me, you are undoubtedly the person I trust most in Britain."

The sudden words left the witch somewhat stunned.

An unprecedented feeling welled up in my heart.

Those words, that voice, seemed to flow through my entire body.

Thump, thump

My heart was pounding so hard that I could hear the echo in the room.

"Gurgle...!"

When Shirou praised her so directly, a blush like that of a young girl appeared on the witch's charming face.

"I...I'm going to take a shower...!"

Unable to withstand Shirou's gaze any longer, she blushed and hurriedly fled the scene.

Why do I have to take a shower every time I come here?

Shirou watched Morgan's departing figure with a somewhat speechless expression.

Her long, golden hair swayed with the witch's hurried steps.

Where the eye falls, a strand of snow-white hair is quietly fluttering among the golden hair.

That said, just how old is this princess...?

Why are you all starting to get gray hair?

With this somewhat impolite question in mind, Shirou walked through the corridor and headed outside.

……

The autumn light shines down, and the world is clear and bright.

The boundless wheat fields resemble a golden sea.

Shirou once again stepped into this familiar wheat field.

I saw a blonde girl with a single ponytail, wielding a wooden sword and sweating profusely.

For the time being, Shirou put those somewhat complicated thoughts aside.

"Senior, you've arrived."

Upon seeing Shirou walking across the paddy field, Artoria's face immediately lit up with bright joy.

"Today is another beautiful day."

Shirou looked up at the clear sky and couldn't help but sigh.

"Yes, it's been warm these past few days."

Artoria picked up where she left off.

However, the next second, her expression suddenly became somewhat awkward.

"Um, senior..."

"what happened?"

Shirou looked at her with a puzzled expression.

The girl seemed to have made up her mind and took out a round object carefully wrapped in a white cloth.

He then presented it to Shirou.

"This is something I made. Would you like to try some, senior?"

After the girl finished speaking, her cheeks slightly flushed, she seemed afraid of being misunderstood and hurriedly added an explanation.

"Well, of course I know this is definitely not as delicious as what you made, senior."

"I...I just wanted my senior to help me find my shortcomings...That's right, that's it!"

Although both the old knight Hector and his sworn brother Kay strongly opposed her wanting to cook.

"Lily, you are destined to be a king... woman!"

"How can a king cook?"

"My dear sister, what kind of bewitching potion did that damned red-haired brat give you?!"

Chapter Seventy-One: Desiring to Wear the Crown

Despite the old knight Hector and his sworn brother Kai's repeated attempts to dissuade him.

But in the end, he couldn't overcome the girl's persistent desire.

Seeing Artoria's adorable, silly expression as she desperately tried to find excuses, Shirou couldn't help but smile.

"Okay, okay, I'll give it a try."

Shirou reached out and lifted the white cloth that the girl had carefully washed.

What came into view was a baked flatbread that didn't look very appealing.

The shape is a somewhat irregular oval.

Presumably, her original intention was to create a perfect circle.

The flat top of the baked flatbread is covered with a layer of conspicuous small air holes and has a slightly spongy texture.

Shirou picked up the pancake, put it in his mouth, and took a small bite.

The initial taste is somewhat firm.

The aroma of flour is mild and delicate, with a hint of burnt smell from overcooking.

"The taste is not bad, but if it were released earlier, the texture would probably be even better."

It should be made from flour or potatoes mixed with yeast.

These palm-sized baked flatbreads, while not complicated to make, require careful attention to the cooking temperature.

If you could spread a layer of jam or honey on it, the flavor would surely be quite good.

"You think it's delicious... right?"

Artoria lowered her eyelids nervously, twisting her hands together, and asked uncertainly.

"Of course it's delicious."

Shirou swallowed the food in his mouth and gazed gently at the girl in front of him.

"Most importantly, I could feel Lily's feelings in it."

Upon hearing this, a blush of embarrassment immediately appeared on the girl's pretty face.

That shy and bashful demeanor was becoming increasingly distant from the majestic King Arthur that Shirou remembered.

But...it's cute.

It feels really good to personally bend the future King Arthur.

No, Artoria is clearly a girl, so this should be considered as straightening her out, right?

To unsuspecting outsiders, it seemed as if they were spending every day in a tender and affectionate relationship with that handsome young man named Artorius.

But this feeling of knowing the truth only to oneself seems pretty good too.

"Lily, did you learn this especially for me?"

With a hint of mischief in his mind, Shirou asked the question knowingly.

“€€€€€€?!”

"I... I just happened to want to try it out!!"

The girl turned her face away, somewhat flustered, not daring to look him in the eye.

"After all, if we go to war in the future, it will be very troublesome if we don't know how to cook while on the march...!"

Her cheeks felt warm, but it was probably just the sun being too intense... Artoria thought.

"Hmm... what you said makes a lot of sense."

Shirou nodded in approval.

This is definitely much better than eating tasteless mashed potatoes every day to fill your stomach.

Just thinking about the future the girl was supposed to experience made Shirou feel a pang of regret.

Right now, both mentally and physically, she's just a young girl in the prime of her life.

Such a petite girl, with a personality as innocent as a blank sheet of paper, is she really going to shoulder the fate of all Britain...?

That's a bit too sad.

Whether it was King Uther, Merlin, or most other people, few cared about her own thoughts.