Fairy Round Table Realm, Poem of Eternal Mist

“Speak.” Morgan’s movements did not stop.

"It's an urgent message from Chief Aurora. She claims it's important and requires your personal visit to Salisbury."

Morgan paused slightly as she combed her hair, a barely perceptible sneer playing on her lips: "Urgent matter? Ha—what real urgent matter could that woman possibly have? It's nothing more than another mess she created that she can't clean up, and she wants me to clean it up for her—just like Nocnarria!"

She intended to ignore it and continue searching for the ancient sealing technique book at hand. However, a sarcastic and cloying voice suddenly came through the communication crystal, abruptly interrupting her thoughts—

"Oh dear? The ruler of a nation is unwilling to condescend to help his subordinates with their affairs? Is this how you govern, Your Majesty Morgan? Heh heh... How laughable. However, the elders of the Council of Hubs have been waiting for quite some time~"

Morgan's fingers tightened abruptly. She had intended to sever the unpleasant communication immediately, but the words "Hyperion" made her hesitate. In the intricate political landscape of the Fairy Kingdom, the Hyperion, composed of human elders, though not holding supreme power, was an indispensable part of her ruling system. Among the many races of Britain, humans were the fewest in number, yet the only group capable of providing her with stable long-term support. The other races—fairies, orcs, demons, elves, halflings—mostly had their political figures coveting her throne, constantly plotting to overthrow her.

She took a deep breath, suppressing the surging anger in her heart: "...Enough. Aurora, I'll remember this. I'll make this trip today for the sake of the Hub Institute."

"Hehehe, that's more like it~ For the sake of your precarious approval rating, you'll eventually have to bow down, won't you?" The laughter on the other end of the communicator grew even more smug. "Alright, if you don't want those old guys to keep waiting, then hurry up and get going~"

Aurora cut off the communication, her cunning smile of triumph seemingly emanating through the lingering glow of the crystal. She turned to face eight burly men who had been waiting in the office for some time, exuding an aura of bloodlust and violence. These men had bulging muscles, fierce eyes, and their exposed skin was covered with crisscrossing scars; they were clearly desperate criminals engaged in shady dealings.

Aurora's gaze swept over the restless mercenaries, her face revealing her usual treacherous smile:

"Hehehe, are you guys already impatient? Alright—the prey has taken the bait—it's time to complete your mission, how about it?"

"Oh! That's what I've been waiting for, Lady Aurora!" A burly man with a face full of scars grinned maliciously.

“That pretentious witch, I’m going to crush her bones with my own hands today!” another voice echoed gruffly.

"Stop talking nonsense! Instead of wasting time rambling on, get to work!"

Having received permission to proceed, the eight burly men were immediately filled with excitement and eager to fight, like hungry wolves that had caught the scent of blood, rushing out of the narrow exit one after another.

Watching their departing figures, Aurora turned around with satisfaction. Inside the room, several elderly people who were truly from the Hub Institute had already been drugged and lay unconscious on the floor. She chuckled softly, as if admiring a perfect work of art:

"Heh, I knew it. The Hub Institute is your weakness, my dear Majesty Morgan... But now, please enjoy the feast I have prepared for you."

Meanwhile, Morgan remained completely unaware of Aurora's meticulously laid trap, walking step by step into her pre-ordained snare. And today, the royal city of Camelot was unusually vulnerable: of the six fairy knights, Gareth and Mordred were ordered to assist the cursed Artoria and her companions; Gawain and Lancelot were on their routine patrol in Edinburgh on the northern border; and Bedivere and her daughter were also absent from the city—in fact, Morgan had originally planned to personally confront Bedivere, who was always causing her trouble. Currently, the city's defenses consisted only of a few righteous knights on routine patrols and her personal royal guards.

A loyal royal soldier stepped forward, his face filled with worry: "Your Majesty, please reconsider! The royal city is currently undefended, many elf knights are not in the city, and even... even Her Highness the Princess is not here. What if the other side has set a trap... Lady Aurora's hostility towards you is already an open secret."

Morgan shook her head, her gaze still resolute: "No need to worry. Even if she plays some trick, I can handle it. The support of the Council of the Pivot is crucial to the foundation of the nation. If we lose their trust now, after the Great Calamity, this country may very well fall into the hands of those villains—an outcome I absolutely cannot tolerate." Her voice lowered, as if she were speaking to herself, "...After all, what that woman least wants to see is Britain descending into such chaos."

Hearing that Her Majesty still cared deeply for the country, the soldier remained silent for a moment, then pleaded even more firmly: "Your Majesty, we understand! Please, at least allow us to accompany you as a guard!"

Salisbury, the Fairy Kingdom, the Clan of Winds Castle

“The conference room,” Morgan said to the control crystal of the elevator.

"Destination confirmed successfully—" a cold, synthesized magical voice announced.

As the aura of the teleportation magic dissipated, Morgan, accompanied only by a few elite charioteers and queen soldiers, arrived at the Wind Clan's territory. According to the traditions of the Elven high command, soldiers and guards were not allowed to enter the castle grounds; they could only wait outside. This made officials entering alone extremely vulnerable to assassination attempts.

Standing inside the magical elevator made of transparent material, Morgan gazed absently at the castle rushing past outside. This elevator was a magical engineering creation made by the residents of the Sixth Lostbelt before the Queen's accession to the throne, modeled after the "elevators" of Pan-Human History, in order to shorten vertical transportation time. Although its appearance and comfort were far inferior to the technological creations of Pan-Human History, it was sufficient to meet daily needs.

Just as she was lost in thought, the elevator suddenly stopped on a certain floor. The door slid open silently, and a young woman with emerald green butterfly wings and short, silky-smooth hair walked in. Upon seeing Morgan, she immediately flashed an impeccable, warm smile:

“Oh my! Isn’t this Her Majesty the Queen? I didn’t expect you to arrive so quickly! The Chieftain has been waiting for you for quite some time—” She turned to the control crystal and said smoothly, “Please proceed to the archives.”

"Command received. Destination: Archives." The synthesized voice sounded again.

Morgan looked at the young woman who shouldn't be there and raised an eyebrow slightly. "Oh? What brings our Chief of Staff here today, Daisy? If I remember correctly, you should usually be patrolling the eastern border at this time. Did the sun rise in the west today?"

Daisy's smile seemed to freeze for a moment, and her antennae trembled slightly unnaturally. "Well, Your Majesty is too kind. Our working hours aren't that rigid. Today, the chieftain specifically instructed that we don't need to handle military affairs, so I came to help organize some files..."

As the girl spoke, she subconsciously turned her body to the side, seemingly unwilling to face Morgan directly. Morgan keenly noticed that the renowned young warrior of the Wind Clan had shifty eyes, always glancing unconsciously towards the corner while speaking; moreover, her right hand remained tightly tucked into the pocket of her military coat, as if holding something.

A hint of doubt arose in Morgan's mind, but he did not act on it immediately. However, shortly after the elevator rose again, it abruptly stopped once more.

This time, eight extremely tall and muscular men entered. They silently squeezed into the already cramped space, bringing with them a stench of rust, sweat, and some indescribable, metallic smell. The deep scars on their faces, the bulging veins on their bare arms, and their fierce eyes all proclaimed that they were no benevolent men. The leader was a one-eyed man who spoke to the control crystal in a rough, sandpaper-like voice:

"Records Room".

"Command received. Destination: Archives." The synthesized voice repeated emotionlessly.

After the door closed again, several burly men began to move closer to Morgan, subtly surrounding her with a well-trained and tacit understanding. The small space was instantly filled with a suffocating sense of oppression.

At that very moment, all of Morgan's intuition was screaming warnings—these people were no ordinary visitors.

From the moment they entered the elevator, there were too many flaws: everyone deliberately avoided her gaze, instead of looking at the Queen with awe or curiosity like ordinary people; like Daisy, their hands were seemingly casual but actually tense in their pockets or at their waists, a posture ready to draw weapons at any moment; although everyone remained silent, their lips and throats trembled almost imperceptibly, clearly communicating in some extremely low voice or magic; and most suspiciously, why was Daisy, the Chief of Staff who should have been patrolling the border, going to the archives room at the same time as this group of menacing, obviously unrelated to clerical work?

A strong sense of crisis prompted Morgan to immediately try to secretly mobilize her magic, preparing to launch a defense or counterattack at any moment. But the next moment, her heart sank—the smooth magic circuits running around her body seemed to be stuck in quagmire, and all the magic she tried to gather collapsed in an instant!

(…What?! Magic has been completely suppressed? This elevator…has long been protected by a magic-suppressing barrier!)

(Ha... You fell for it, Aurora. Exploiting my belief that I would never ignore the Hub's request, you lured me with lies... This certainly sounds like the kind of trick you'd play.)

(However—) Morgan's gaze suddenly turned cold and sharp, like a lioness trapped in a snare but far from giving up. (—You think you can make me your prey just because you've sealed my magic? We'll see.)

Morgan slowly removed the veil covering her face, her long, silvery-white hair cascading down like a waterfall under the moonlight. Her icy blue eyes swept over the burly men surrounding her. She casually tossed the veil to her feet, the metal clasps clicking softly in the silence.

'Before blood is drawn—' her voice was like an ice blade scraping against glass, 'is anyone else considering backing out?'

Daisy's butterfly wings trembled violently: 'Looks like you saw through me all along! Then there's no need to pretend—take action!'

Eight flashes of cold light shot out, the net of death formed by razors suddenly tightening. A thick arm locked Morgan's throat from behind, but the next second a shrill scream rang out—a stiletto heel dug deep into his instep, and taking advantage of his momentary lapse in concentration, her elbow struck his nose like a venomous snake. With a muffled thud of shattering cartilage, the burly man collapsed to the ground like a doll with its joints removed.

'Too slow.' Morgan dodged the razor's thrust, her skirt billowing as she swept three men down. She bent down to grab the fallen weapon, aiming for the one-eyed leader's wrist, but was caught by his iron-like hand.

"Got it!" The one-eyed man grinned, revealing his yellow teeth.

Morgan delivered a powerful knee strike to his opponent's groin, followed by a spinning flying kick with a painful groan. His heel struck the opponent's temple, sending the burly man crashing down like a bowling ball, knocking down the remaining members of his gang. Within thirty seconds, eight bodies lay curled in painful arcs on the ground.

'Impossible...' Daisy's antennae stiffened. 'The intelligence said you only know magic...'

"I suggest your master update the intelligence database next time." Morgan grabbed the fleeing butterfly by the shoulder and slammed her against the ceiling. Amidst the deafening crash of the elevator's casing shattering and the cracking of a broken neck, she sneered at the empty space: "Are the audience satisfied with this 'killing the chicken to scare the monkey' show?"

Aurora, standing before the monitoring crystal, crushed her wine glass: 'All Knights of Purification! She must not be allowed to leave the anti-magic zone!'

When the sound of metal boots reached the elevator shaft, only a twisted metal skeleton and nine mangled bodies remained. Severed cables sparked in the darkness, like flickering candles at a sacrificial site.

Inside the royal palace of Camelot, Morgan gazed at the unconscious Fujimaru Ritsuka. The girl's neck bore purplish-blue finger marks, like a fledgling bird trapped in a downy blanket with broken wings. Morgan's fingertips brushed against the sweat-dampened orange hair on her forehead; the aura of her medical magic had not yet completely dissipated.

'Twice brushed with death…' Morgan tucked the blanket back in, 'As long as Britain stands, not a single brick remains, I will not hand you over to—' She suddenly frowned and covered her nose, 'The smell of rotting flesh?'

Following the source of the stench, she found Ritsuka's shoes and socks stained with dark red and blackish-brown fluids at the foot of the bed. Carefully removing the fabric, Morgan breathed a sigh of relief—the stains weren't from festering wounds, but rather the distinctive blood and tissue fluids of a slaughterhouse. She figured Bedwell must have picked them up while they were being held hostage in those 'collection rooms'.

'This needs to be cleaned up quickly.' She tossed the filth into the fireplace, where it was instantly engulfed by purple flames. 'Kalia and Sylph should also..." Her words trailed off as Morgan abruptly turned to the bay window—

A sparrow with scarlet eyes peered into the room through the glass. By the time she opened the window, its black feathers had already blended into the night, leaving only lingering magical energy that slid like snake scales across the stone steps.

At the edge of the giant pit in the castle's foundation, Gao Yangskaya allowed the demonic sparrow to perch on her fingertips. At the bottom of the pit, a white monster slumbered and writhed in the moonlight, the runes entwined between its antlers flickering like breaths.

'They actually know about the Alien God…' She chuckled softly at the empty abyss. 'Raising such things, are they trying to recreate the Alien Crisis?' Her silk gloves brushed against the frozen earth at the edge of the pit. 'Rasputin is missing, Doman is out of contact, even Senji Muramasa has chosen sides…'

The figure of the NFF president faded in the night wind, only his lingering voice echoing through the pit: 'But for me, getting 'that' is enough, okay?'

The Demise of the Mirror Clan - Fairy Round Table Domain, Poem of Eternal Mist

The River of Tears in the Fairy Kingdom (three days ago)

Qianzicun was panting as he caught up with the two who had suddenly run away. They were far from the River of Tears, surrounded by dense trees, in a dimly lit environment, with strange rustling noises and an unsettling atmosphere.

'Hey! Sei Shonagon, Gareth, where are you going? What's wrong? How am I supposed to know what's happening if you just keep running away like this?'

Sei Shonagon, panting, said, "It's already... Lord Senko Muramasa, you really didn't need to..."

Gareth stopped in his tracks: 'Hey, Muramasa, what are you doing all of a sudden? Why did you flick me so hard?'

Qianzicun walked up to them, flicked their foreheads twice with his fingers, and wiped the sweat from his brow: 'Two silly girls! Don't you know how dangerous it is to run around like this? I'm considered an elder in this group, how can I let you act so recklessly?'

Sei Shonagon and Gareth lowered their heads in shame: 'I'm sorry...'

Senjimura relaxed and asked, "What exactly happened? What happened between you and that fairy knight Mordred? And who is this Adimhead? Although I feel it's not good to ask, I still need to know."

Sei Shonagon explained, "Actually... the thing is... that woman was indeed the culprit behind the destruction of this Lostbelt Mirror Clan."

'Thirty years ago in the Strange Chronicles, the Fairy Kingdom was jointly governed by six major clans: Wind, Earth, Fang, Wing, King, and Mirror. The more clans there were, the greater the conflicts. In the Fairy Kingdom, clans served as a form of feudalism, similar to those in human history, with the aim of surrendering the land resources and profits under their jurisdiction to Camelot in exchange for the Queen's rewards and promotions.'

"Possessing the Twelve Bonds in the Fairy Kingdom symbolizes a status of respect and admiration, granting lifelong political, economic, and cultural privileges, with even one's children benefiting immensely. This immense allure has led to fierce competition among the clans since the time of the 'Eternal King,' causing even the most upright and honest clans to gradually become corrupt and tainted. The Mirror Clan, of course, is an exception."

The Mirror Clan isn't named for any ability related to mirrors, but because mirrors can see through everything, reflecting the ugliness, beauty, and ignorance of the world. They are the hope of the Fairy Kingdom, illuminating the path forward and reflecting the future of the Fairy Kingdom. The clan is typically composed of humans, elves, black-feathered race members, halflings, and sometimes demons. The clan members possess diverse abilities; spirit mediums, magicians, alchemists, mages, and puppeteers are commonplace.

The Mirror Clan was one of the few clans in the Fairy Kingdom that remained consistently loyal to the Queen and utterly incorruptible. However, it was precisely this integrity that became the root cause of its extermination six years ago. In the long-standing clan rivalry, this clan had long been a thorn in the side of other clans. Tragically, the Mirror Clan remained unaware of their impending annihilation; Chief Ensel and his wife, Adimheid Losviel, continued their daily clan activities as usual.

Seven years ago, in the territory of the Mirror Clan, in London during the Old Testament.

Morgan closed the report book with its gold-embossed cover, and an approving voice came from behind her black veil: "Well done, Ensel. The Mirror Clan remains the most efficient department this year." She tapped her fingertips on the mountain of documents piled on the table. "It seems entrusting the Twelfth Restraint to you was the right decision."

Ensel and his wife Adimheid exchanged a glance, then lowered their heads nervously: 'It's our duty.'

'The items Your Majesty mentioned earlier that need to be delivered...' Adimheid asked tentatively.

Morgan opened his palm, and two strange objects appeared where a blue light flashed: a bronze fragment etched with cuneiform script, and a bunch of dried blue hydrangeas that would never wither. Ensel keenly sensed the unusual magic flowing within them.

'Relics of pan-human history.' Morgan lightly scratched the rust on the bronze plates with her fingernail. 'Through them, one can summon the souls of heroes from the Throne of Heroes.'

Adimheid held up the hydrangea: 'But the rules of the Lostbelts are different from those of Pan-Human History...'

'The Mirror Clan needs reinforcements.' Morgan rose and walked to the window, gazing at her clansmen practicing magic in the training ground. 'When disaster strikes, the summoned Servants will become the seeds of the clan's continued hope.'

Ensel suddenly stood up straight: 'Are the other clans going to attack us?'

'Moths always prey on the fullest ears of wheat.' Morgan turned, the hem of his robes brushing against the Mirror Clan emblem embedded in the floor. 'Perform the ritual of incarnation, let the heroic spirits descend in true flesh and blood.'

When Morgan returned to Camelot, Belial Gath was leaning against a pillar beside the throne. He tilted his head, eyeing the travel-worn queen, a slurred laugh escaping his throat: 'Using the holy relics I painstakingly collected to feed those worthless fools?'

"Get out!" Morgan grabbed him by the collar and threw him out the window. With a heavy thud, she sneered at the view outside: "The next time you dare set foot in the throne room, I'll use your spine as a bolt."

The fairy knight Tristan emerged from behind a pillar, bent down to pick up Belial's dropped pipe: 'You've made Mother angry again.'

'Crazy woman…' Belial muttered, rubbing his bruised elbow, but softened his tone when the girl handed him a handkerchief, 'My Traum is so sensible.'

Inside the Mirror Clan's underground sanctuary, Ensel slashed his palm, blood flowing down the grooves of the magic circle. As the incantation reached its end, the bronze plate and hydrangea suddenly floated into the air, and two figures emerged from the burst of light.

The blonde girl's armor reflected the sanctuary's crystal lights; as she knelt on one knee, her spear and shield clashed with a clear ring: 'Gareth, the seventh Knight of the Round Table, answers the call.'

On the other side, a girl holding an oil-paper umbrella twirled it, her three-colored braids fluttering in the wind: 'I am Sei Shonagon. Although I have retired from writing, knowledge is still the best weapon!'

Gareth's eyes suddenly widened: 'Your Majesty Morgan? Could this be...?'

"Welcome to the distorted history of humankind." Morgan raised a hand to stop further questioning. "We'll discuss the details after the incarnation ritual is complete." She turned to the young literary girl who was fiddling with her hair. "And then, Miss Sei Shonagon..."

"Just call me Nuozi!" the girl exclaimed, bouncing around in a circle. "These academic titles are too troublesome!"

Morgan gazed at the two Servants peering curiously into the sanctuary, a slight smile playing on her lips beneath her veil. She recalled Beryl's questioning that morning, her fingertips gently caressing the precognitive crystal hidden in her sleeve. The countdown to the Mirror Clan's demise was silently flashing within the crystal.

The arrival of the Pan-Human History Followers brought a glimmer of warmth and hope to the Mirror Clan, which was in dire straits. Although the clan needed time to accept these two strangers, Ensel and Adimheid were able to catch their breath from the anxiety of their mana shortage. However, Morgan knew that Sei Shonagon and Gareth's existence might not be able to last until 'that moment' arrived. Just in case, she brought the two back to the royal city of Camelot.