In Britain, the Noble Phantasm: Divine Key

Hercules awoke with a start, turning to look around. He found himself standing in a vast, snow-covered landscape, surrounded by the carcasses of wolves. Their flowing blood added an eerie touch to the seemingly unchanging white world, and the chilling stench of blood drifted far, far away on the biting wind...

He looked down and saw that he was only wearing a battle dress and holding a stone axe. Then, his gaze was drawn to the little girl standing at his feet.

She was a girl who looked about eleven or twelve years old, with long, snow-white hair and red eyes. She was barefoot and wearing only a thin white nightgown. She stood in the howling cold wind, like a snow fairy.

Memories hidden deep within his consciousness were instantly awakened. Hercules seemed to want to say something, but when he opened his mouth, he realized that he had lost the ability to speak.

However, the girl seemed to understand his meaning. She took the black giant's finger and said softly:

“I understand, Berserker. You are protecting me not out of orders or duty as a Servant, but out of your own will.”

She raised her head, looked directly into the giant's eyes, and smiled, "Then, from this day forward, my life is in your hands, Berserker."

Hercules remained silent for a moment, then slowly knelt down and gently embraced the snow spirit before him.

Leave it to me. This time, I will protect you, Ilya...

Chapter Fifty-Three: Flowers Are Not Flowers, Mist Is Not Mist

On the broad, flat mountainside, the bright sunshine shone down warmly, and a gentle breeze softly caressed the green grass and flowers covering the hillside, bringing intoxicating fragrance.

Under the warm sun, a tall tree stands there, its trunk bearing the marks of time, weathered by years. Its lush canopy spreads out like a giant umbrella, leaving only countless specks of sunlight on the ground.

Beneath this enormous tree, which was larger than anyone could imagine, two figures were busy at work. Although they were dressed in ordinary casual clothes, their extraordinary demeanor was still evident in their words and actions.

"Sorry we're late."

Nidhogg led Yanan forward, glanced at the dazzling array of food laid out on the carpet, and a smile spread across his face: "Not bad, I thought you would start eating before us."

"Do you think everyone is like Al, always looking like a starving ghost reincarnated?" Morgan said irritably as she stood in front of the grill, wearing an apron and grilling meat.

Artoria, whose eyes were fixed on a three-tiered cake, suddenly had her ahoge (a single hair sticking up) stand up. She turned her head and said seriously, "Sister Wang, although you are my own sister, I still have to remind you that I usually eat a lot because of my constitution. In order to meet the needs of the Red Dragon's heart, I need to eat a lot. Moreover, as a knight, I have never stolen food. You are slandering me."

"Then tell me, where did the royal jelly and strawberry pudding I put in the magic ice cellar go?"

Artoria retorted, "That was stolen by Mo!"

"Come on, do you think I don't know it was you who encouraged Little Mo to go?" Morgan said disdainfully. "Your sister is one of the top magicians in Britain, do you think your little tricks can fool me?"

Artoria's ahoge (cowlick) drooped instantly, and she turned around in a huff, continuing to stare at the large cake in front of her.

Anan's gaze was slightly unfocused. Compared to the images in his memory, the Artoria and Morgan in front of him had not changed much in appearance, but their temperament was much more mature than before. However, these changes did not feel out of place at all, as if they were meant to look like this all along.

"What's wrong?" Nidhogg tilted his head, looking at him with a slightly worried expression. "You seem a little off today."

“No, I just feel... that you guys have changed a bit too much…” Yanan rubbed his temples and said with a wry smile.

Nidhogg paused slightly, glanced down, her pretty face flushing a little. She turned her head and spat lightly, "Pervert."

“No, that’s not what I meant…” Yanan quickly explained, “I mean, your demeanor, and some other things I can’t quite put my finger on, seem quite different from before.”

“Isn’t that just nonsense?” Morgan approached us unnoticed, holding a sizzling plate of roasted meat. “From the day you left this world, the entire burden of the country has fallen on the shoulders of just a few of us, especially Al. He’s been working until midnight every day, and sometimes he’s so busy that he doesn’t even have time to eat. It’s only in recent years, with the Knights growing up, that things have become a little easier.”

"So there's a reason why I secretly eat at night..." Artoria muttered to herself.

"Come on, I always prepare plenty of food for you in the kitchen, but you still end up eyeing the stuff in my ice cellar," Morgan rolled her eyes.

Yanan couldn't help but turn to look at Artoria. Compared to when she was in Tyler Bill, Artoria had undergone a complete transformation. The hesitation in her holy blue eyes was gone, and even in this private setting, she still exuded an indescribable majesty, with an aura that was many times stronger than before.

Without a doubt, she is now a true and qualified queen.

However, Yanan felt little joy, only endless guilt. Although Morgan spoke lightly, he could imagine the enormous price Artoria had paid to get to where she was today, and how much effort Nid and Morgan had put in over the years to maintain this vast kingdom.

And all of this should have been borne by him...

"I'm sorry, I..."

"Shhh."

A slender finger suddenly pressed against his lips, silencing him. He blinked, staring blankly at the pair of pale golden eyes before him.

“You don’t need to apologize to us, because all of this was done voluntarily.” Morgan smiled, her pale golden eyes seemingly filled with endless tenderness. “The one who really suffered was you. Compared to what you’ve been through, what we’ve done is nothing more than a trivial matter.”

She turned to the side, pointed to the towering tree in front of her, and smiled, "Do you see this tree? We planted it here with our own hands the year you left. Every year, we carve a mark on the tree to express our longing for you, and it is also our prayer for your safe return."

sough--

A gust of wind blew by, and the lush green leaves on the trees swayed and danced, casting a cool, verdant carpet.

Anan looked up at the lush canopy of trees, then looked down, his gaze sweeping over Morgan, Artoria, and Nidhogg's faces. After a long while, a smile appeared on his face:

"Now, I'm back."

Seeing his smile, Morgan, Artoria, and Nidhogg also smiled back.

"Alright, alright, stop staring at that cake and come help me plate it, or the food will get cold."

"By the way, where are the children?"

"They're probably still playing by the river. Honestly, I told them not to play for too long. Their clothes are probably wet again. Ned, go check on them by the river and bring those two brats back."

Nidhogg nodded, turned and walked towards the riverbank. Not long after, she returned with two children. One was a slightly older girl with bright blonde hair, and the other was a boy with black hair and black eyes. Their delicate features clearly showed traces of Anan and Nidhogg.

The two children's eyes lit up the moment they saw Yanan, and they immediately broke free from Nidhogg's grasp, skipping and hopping towards him.

"Dad!" "Dad!"

Yanan knelt down and hugged the two children. Seeing the happy smiles on their faces, he couldn't help but smile too.

He looked up at the treetops again, a complex expression appearing in his dark eyes.

How wonderful...

Chapter Fifty-Four: A Flower in a Mirror, a Moon in the Water

Warm sunlight streamed through the huge floor-to-ceiling windows, casting shadows on the floor. Clad knights stood silently guarding both sides of the corridor. Mordred suddenly felt that the corridor she had walked through countless times seemed much shorter than before, so much so that before she could even react, she had already reached the end.

Looking at the familiar door before her, she took a deep breath, raised her slightly trembling arm, and solemnly knocked three times. With each knock, her heart skipped a beat, to the point that she could hardly tell whether it was the sound of knocking or the sound of her own heartbeat.

"Come in." A cool voice reached her ears through the door. It was a voice she had heard countless times, but never before had it sounded so pleasant. She wasn't sure if it was just her imagination, but she felt that this time the voice was less serious and more gentle.

Mordred didn't have time to think further, or rather, she was too lazy to think further, because she had waited too long for this moment.

She gently pushed open the door, and the familiar hall came into view. The knights lined up on both sides of the hall immediately turned their gazes to her. She knew every single one of them very well: Lancelot, Lanmarok, Gareth, Gawain... and Agraven standing next to her. All the Knights of the Round Table present had gathered.

Since the King established the Round Table, it has been quite rare for all the Knights of the Round Table to gather together, and when this happens, it means that something big is about to happen.

However, Mordred did not notice this, because from the moment she stepped into the hall, her gaze was firmly drawn to the figure on the throne.

"Lord Mordred."

The girl on the throne stood up. Her silver armor reflected a dazzling light under the magic lamps. Her holy blue eyes were as clear as lake water, and her delicate face revealed an indescribable holiness and solemnity.

Mordred shuddered and instinctively knelt on one knee: "My King."

"This time you led the army to conquer France, making a great contribution to Britain." The Queen's voice was as calm as ever, just like her eyes, which showed no emotion whatsoever. "After discussions at the round table, we have unanimously decided to reward you. If there is anything you desire, please feel free to ask."

"I want your approval..." Mordred opened his mouth, but swallowed the words back in the end, lowered his head respectfully, and said, "To receive your praise is already the greatest reward for me."

Wang Jingjing stared at her for a long time before saying, "Those who have made contributions must be rewarded; that's the rule. Since you're too embarrassed to speak up, then I'll decide."

Mordred's heart pounded. This was the first time the king had bestowed a reward upon her; what could it be...?

The crisp sound of footsteps pulled Mordred back from her reverie. She subconsciously looked up and found that the king was standing in front of her at some point.

Looking at that expressionless face, Mordred felt a slight panic, but she managed to control herself and remained motionless in her original position.

“I’ve thought about it for a long time, and maybe this is the only thing that’s right for you.” Wang looked at Agguiwen. “Take it here.”

Agrave stepped out from behind Mordred and respectfully handed a sword to the king, who looked at it and then handed it back to Mordred.

"I hope you won't let this gift down."

Mordred took the sword blankly. It was a rather ornate two-handed greatsword, with a string of characters engraved with magical runes on its golden blade:

“Clarent”

Mordred swallowed hard, feeling his mouth dry.

If she remembered correctly, this sword should be...

“Choose the King’s Sword, Clarent.” A slight smile curved the corners of the king’s lips. “Well, are you satisfied with this gift, Lord Mordred?”

"This, I..." Mordred's mind was completely a mess. Why would the king bestow this sword upon her? This thing shouldn't be...

"Because you are the only one truly suited to be the master of this sword..." The king's voice was filled with unprecedented tenderness, "My child."

Mordred was terrified, but before she could react, the king's hands were already on her head. With a gentle lift, the helmet that Mordred was almost inseparable from was removed, revealing her true face.

Mordred frantically tried to snatch the helmet back, but looking at the face that was exactly like hers, she dared not overstep her bounds in the slightest.

“From now on, you won’t need this anymore.” Wang casually tossed the helmet aside. “The Pendragons should stand upright in the sunlight, not hide behind dark helmets, not daring to show their true faces.”

"You...did you already know my...true identity?" Mordred asked, sounding slightly uneasy.

"Of course, you have my blood flowing through your veins, how could I not notice?" Wang Yuwen said gently.

“But, after all, I…” Mordred was still somewhat uneasy, because she knew very well how sensitive her identity was.

“That kind of thing is not important.” The king waved his hand. “You have already demonstrated your abilities as a crown prince, and I believe that you will definitely become a qualified king in the future.”

"You... really think so?" Mordred's eyes showed surprise.

"Of course, if you don't believe me, you can ask them." Wang smiled and pointed to the crowd below.

The Knights of the Round Table exchanged glances, then knelt down in unison, bowed their heads, and said in unison, "Greetings, Your Highness the Crown Prince."

Mordred looked at the King's Sword Clarent in her hand, and even now she still couldn't believe it. Everything she had ever dreamed of had actually come true. Was this really not a dream?

but......

She glanced at the king beside her, then at the Knights of the Round Table kneeling below, and a smile gradually appeared on her face.

Even if this is a dream, she is willing to stay here forever and never wake up.

......

"Ah, how foolish! If it weren't for protecting that doll, you might have actually been able to defeat me."

The golden king wore a pleased smile, his scarlet eyes, like those of an ancient dragon or serpent, revealing an unspeakable cruelty and ruthlessness.

Hercules lowered his head, looking at his body pierced by countless high-level Noble Phantasms. Even this body, which could be called immortal, could hardly withstand such a dense attack. Perhaps, as this man said, the treasure trove that contained endless legends was his natural nemesis.

He has used up all twelve trials, and now he has no chance of resurrection. The next one will be the moment that truly determines his life or death.