Time passed at a mercilessly swift pace.
Kay had, before he knew it, become a strapping young man of twenty. The hellish regimen of raising children and hunting monsters since he was five had honed his body into a lean frame covered in steel-like muscle.
Perhaps thanks to his maternal bloodline, he never grew into a burly, dwarf-like figure like Ector, despite his short stature.
And the eight girls he’d raised had turned fifteen. They were no longer children—they had grown into the most beautiful and most deadly knights in Britain’s history.
That day was the one on which Britain’s fate would be decided.
The day to choose the king.
Merlin pointed to Caliburn, the sword embedded in a rock in the village square, and declared,
"Whoever pulls this sword shall be the true king of Britain."
Countless knights had challenged and failed, so they decided in the end to settle the matter by joust. But that was mere show—the true master had already been decided.
Disguised as a page, Artoria and her seven sisters set out with determined expressions.
But Kay did not follow.
He could not bear to watch.
The very sisters he’d fed with his own hands, changed their diapers, and nursed through sleepless nights—the sisters he loved more than anything—were heading off to bear the heavy burden of kingship.
He knew this was no path of glory, but a declaration that they would forsake human happiness to walk a road of blood and iron.
"...Damn. Bloody Britain."
The cabin was empty.
Kay sat alone at the table, gulping down cheap ale.
The house was eerily quiet without the eight boisterous voices, and that silence dug deep into his chest.
He could not go against Merlin’s will, and above all, his sisters themselves were resolved—there was no ground left to stop them.
"Could I even keep up with you... to where you’re going...?"
Merlin still judged him a common talent. His growth had plateaued recently, while his sisters grew stronger by the day. Their power had long since surpassed his own.
The reason he was deemed a common talent was simple.
Among ordinary folk, he was a monster, but measured against the standard of heroes, he was average. For a hero, mere strength wasn’t enough—one needed a level of skill that transcended brute force.
Heracles did not become a great hero simply because he was strong. He possessed the wisdom and technique befitting his stature.
Heroes each possessed exceptional traits—innate senses, unique constitutions, or specialized talents.
A frail girl from the Far East created a sword art that unleashed conceptual conflagrations; a nameless country farmer developed swordsmanship that caused multi-dimensional refraction; a high school boy forged an infinite world of swords.
Such was talent—geniuses born or made by nature or nurture.
Kay lacked that spark. That was why Merlin called him a common talent and deemed him an unfitting squire for the Artorias.
His strength was remarkable, but his ceiling was low. Merlin could clearly see the limit of his growth, and thus remained skeptical.
No matter how strong he was, before Gawain, who was blessed by the sun, he was a mere mortal; no matter how much he trained his skill, he could not compare to the Knight of the Lake; even his archery was pitiful compared to the Child of Sorrow.
Of course, they were the world’s premier geniuses and hardest workers. Yet Merlin was so harsh on Kay because...
"He keeps shouting that I'm an obstacle, and it's driving me crazy."
Kay’s presence hindered the growth of the Artorias.
He had played the roles of brother and parent so perfectly that his sisters could grow up in absolute comfort.
No trial, no hardship—everything was provided perfectly.
Because of this, Kay had become too important to them.
And that was the problem.
A true king—a perfect, ideal king—can have no friends or family.
The pillar they leaned on—Kay—was a hindrance. Furthermore, his skill was insufficient to serve as their right hand.
If they needed such a role, Merlin himself, Gawain, or other titans of the age would be more appropriate.
That was the conclusion of a non-human.
Consequently, Merlin told Kay to be excluded from the knightly training journey to escort the Artorias. He argued that while Kay might be impressive in Tintagel, Britain was teeming with monsters who would outclass him.
Beyond his skill as a knight, his position as someone precious to them would only soften their hearts and become a burden.
Merlin sought to systematically remove Kay, the anchor of their humanity, from their lives.
Kay knew his place well—he was still weaker than the retired, aging Ector.
Faced with this reality, he drowned his weary spirit in drink.
The eight sisters had grown; they were no longer the infants of the past.
When he thought of the path they would now walk, his heart grew heavy.
Knock, knock.
At that moment, there came a knock at the door.
Could the children have returned already? Did the sword-pulling end that quickly? Kay tilted his head in confusion.
No. The presence was different.
A cold, sharp, noble, yet slightly metallic aura of magical energy.
"Who is it?"
Kay opened the door to find a woman standing there.
Her skin was pale to the point of whiteness, her lips the color of blood, and though she resembled Artoria, she exuded a far more seductive and dangerous air.
The Witch of Britain, daughter of King Uther, and the half-sister to the Artorias.
Morgan le Fay.
"You must be Kay—the one who raised those girls."
"...Morgan?"
He recognized her in an instant. Her face alone was enough—there could only be one such woman in the world.
Instinctively, Kay adopted a defensive stance and stepped back. But Morgan, with a disdainful smile, strode in as if the cabin were her own home.
"Hmph. Disappointing. To think such an ordinary man raised those monsters. Your magical energy is minuscule, and your physical conditioning is far inferior to that of Gawain or Agravain. Did Merlin speak nonsense?"
She scanned him up and down, clicking her tongue—a look of incomprehension rather than mere scorn.
Kay felt a surge of irritation. Hearing such words from the Artorias' own biological sister made his blood boil.
"So, did you come here as the big sister to be jealous of them? Afraid they'll steal your spotlight?"
At Kay’s retort, Morgan let out a short laugh—a sound as cold as ice.
"Don’t delude yourself. I don’t regard those dolls as sisters. I was merely curious. They were born without the Pendragon mystique, yet they inherited the factors of the Red Dragon, the descendants of Albion. I wondered how a mere common talent like you managed to raise them to be human, even under Merlin’s tutelage."
Morgan brushed a piece of leftover meat on the table with her finger.
"But I will admit this—your vessel may be small, but your nurturing ability is indeed remarkable. Not in terms of magical talent, but in the art of survival and care."
"I'll take that as a compliment. So, what's your business? You didn't come all this way just for tea."
"Hmph. You are perceptive."
From within her robes, Morgan produced something and placed it on the table: a small bundle wrapped in cloth.
A baby, fast asleep, with a few tufts of blonde hair peeking out.
"…What is this?"
Kay rubbed his eyes in disbelief.
"Your niece."
"What?"
"To be precise, the niece of the Artorias and my youngest daughter. Her name is Gareth."
Kay’s jaw dropped. He nearly lost his chin.
Another one? Another baby?
The nightmare from fifteen years ago, when Merlin dumped eight infants in a basket and vanished, came rushing back.
"This child has the makings of a fine knight, just like her siblings. But I was curious—if you could grow them even beyond Merlin’s expectations, I wonder how you would raise my child."
"Hey! You crazy witch! Am I the director of an orphanage? A daycare center manager?! I'm twenty years old! I'm at the age where I should be dating and getting married!"
Kay bellowed, but Morgan ignored him entirely as she traced a magic circle in the air.
"Try raising her. I've decided I want to test just how much of a master of childcare you truly are. As for the expenses... I'll repay you with a kingdom later. Good luck, nanny."
Poof!
In a swirl of black mist, Morgan vanished.
Only the slumbering baby, Gareth, remained alone on the table.
"…Waaaaaah!!"
Kay tore at his hair and screamed in agony.
"Is being a cuckoo a family trait for the Pendragons?! Why the hell are you laying eggs in someone else's nest!! Repay me with a kingdom?! What kind of crazy talk is that! Since you're the Queen of Orkney, are you giving me Orkney or something?! I don't need a country! Give me money! Give me actual money!!!"
His shouting echoed throughout the cabin.
However, as baby Gareth began to whimper and fuss, Kay abruptly fell silent.
He let out a long sigh and, with the practiced, familiar movements of a veteran, carefully scooped up the baby.
"…Right. What sin could you possibly have committed? The only one with all the sins is your mother."
Kay gently patted Gareth’s back to soothe her.
The real problem started now.
What would his sisters say when they returned and saw this baby?
"Brother, did you have a hidden daughter?"
What if they misunderstood like that?
"I mean, there's a reason my platinum-blonde hair turned silver-white. Who knew my grey hairs would grow into something this big? Dammit."
Kay already felt a sharp pain in his stomach from the stress.
Meanwhile, in the village square of Tintagel.
A heavy tension hung before the sword-selection rock.
The onlookers and other knights had all stepped back, leaving only the chosen few.
Artoria stood before the rock. Behind her, Artoria Alter, Lily, Artoria Lancer, Artoria Lancer Alter, Artoria Caster, Artoria X, and Artoria X Alter stood in formation.
Their gazes were unwavering.
Merlin appeared, leaning on his staff. His expression was solemn, devoid of his usual playfulness.
"I won't sugarcoat it, so it would be better if you stopped now, Artoria."
Merlin’s warning was both a prophecy and a curse.
"The moment you pull that sword, you will cease to be an ordinary human. You must abandon the happiness of a girl, a peaceful life, love... all of it. You must become a device that performs the function of a king."
Merlin looked at her with sad eyes.
"That is not all. The path of a king is lonely. One day, you will be resented by all humans, betrayed, and eventually meet a miserable death. Even so, will you still pull it?"
At those heavy words, a dead silence fell over the square.
It felt as if even the wind had stopped blowing.
But Artoria simply let out a short laugh.
Fear? Hesitation? She felt none of it.
"You were the one who wanted this from the start, so why the hypocrisy now, Merlin?"
She boldly grasped the hilt of Caliburn.
"Saving this country is not my only purpose."
The face of a man flashed through her mind.
The brother who shared no blood with her.
The foolish man who, even as a child, fought beasts every night for their sake.
The sight of his back, covered in blood, yet smiling as he promised to make them something delicious.
"Because there is someone I want to protect... I must become strong. I must become king."
She gripped the sword solely to create a peaceful country where that man, Kay, could live without worry.
Swoosh~
A brilliant light erupted.
The sword in the rock, which had not budged for hundreds of strongmen, slid out smoothly as if it had been waiting for its master.
A golden radiance enveloped Artoria. She had now become the King of Knights.
"...Splendid."
Merlin wore a bittersweet yet proud smile. He nodded and flourished his staff.
"Then I shall do my utmost to assist you. Now, here is a gift for you all, as the journey ahead will be arduous."
Merlin summoned weapons from the void.
He briefly reclaimed the sword of selection from Artoria and instead handed her the strongest holy sword received from the Lady of the Lake.
"This is Excalibur. The Holy Sword of the Planet. The sword that promises victory."
To Artoria Alter, he gave a holy sword tinged with an ominous black light.
"This is Excalibur Morgan. A sister blade to Excalibur, created by the fairies on the day you were born. Its raw power is lower than Excalibur's, but its efficiency is relatively better."
To Lily, he returned the Caliburn she had just pulled.
"You are still too inexperienced to handle a true holy sword, so train with this token of kingship. It is ornate, but it breaks easily, so be careful."
To Artoria Lancer, he gave a massive, spiral holy lance.
"This is Rhongomyniad. The tower that anchors the end of the world. It possesses divine power, so do not use it recklessly."
To Artoria Lancer Alter, he gave a blackened holy lance.
"This is the second Rhongomyniad I created. It took an immense amount of time to forge."
To Artoria Caster, he gave the staff of selection.
"I wonder if you can become a mage who surpasses me. I'm curious if you can reach the level of Morgan."
To Artoria X, he gave a pair of twin swords—lesser versions of Excalibur and Excalibur Morgan—for dual-wielding.
"Their power is far below the originals, but they are perfect for someone like you who specializes in rapid dual-strikes."
To Artoria X Alter, he gave a red beam sword befitting her presence.
"...This blade was created based on your unique 'Force' mana. When you infuse it with energy, it generates a beam of light. Its name is Necro Caliber."
The eight girls each took up their weapons.
The sight was magnificent. It was a military force capable of conquering not just Britain, but the entire world.
"Now, the journey of knightly trials to become a true king begins. You will travel across Britain, observe the will of the people, repel foreign invaders, and be reborn as a true monarch."
Merlin's declaration marked a grand moment—the beginning of a new legend.
However, Artoria Alter asked a question that felt like a bucket of cold water over the mood.
"What about Kay?"
"...Huh?"
"Kay is coming too, right? We need someone to cook the meals. And someone to carry the luggage."
Merlin looked troubled, cold sweat breaking out on his brow.
"Now, now, you're all grown up. You can take care of yourselves, so there's really no need to bring him... he can just stay at home..."
From Merlin's perspective, Kay was a thorn in his side.
Kay was the anchor that held onto their humanity. A king must be lonely and ruthless, but if Kay were by their side, they would continue to want to remain spoiled girls.
He was the greatest obstacle to creating the ideal, cold-hearted king.
"A common talent should live the life of a common talent. Your paths are different from his."
But as soon as those words left his mouth...
Rumble...
The atmosphere vibrated.
Eight murderous intents slammed into Merlin simultaneously.
The light of Excalibur flashed, the tip of Rhongomyniad pointed directly at Merlin's Adam's apple, and Artoria X Alter's beam sword hummed with menacing energy.
"...If you do not take him, I will cut you down where you stand."
Artoria was already channeling mana into Excalibur, as if eager to test its performance on Merlin.
"A journey without our brother? What's the point of that? Who's going to cook? You? If it tastes bad, I'll kill you."
Artoria X issued her warning while twirling her twin swords.
"I find your continued dismissal of our brother quite distasteful. Especially since you barely contributed to our upbringing, Merlin."
Artoria Lancer leveled her lance, radiating mana.
"If our brother isn't there, I'm quitting this whole 'king' thing."
The chilling warning of Artoria Lancer Alter.
Merlin recoiled in terror.
This was no joke. They were genuinely prepared to kill him. The murderous intent was a hundred times stronger than when he had been beaten in the cabin ten years ago.
"A-Alright! I get it! I get it! He can come! He'll come along! I'll go fetch him right now! Oh, what a miserable life I lead!"
Merlin surrendered completely, throwing up his hands in defeat.
Damn it, Kay is too big of a weakness. He's their reverse scale. If I touch that, the whole country will collapse. In other words, one man can hold the fate of the nation in his hands. This is a dangerously volatile weakness.
And so, the king, the girls of kingly stature, and Kay—who was currently having a mental breakdown while holding a cuckoo's chick—began their strange journey, with a terrified Merlin caught in the middle.
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