บท 217: C217
Shirou's proposal to establish contact with the Dead Apostles in the central region was met with opposition from everyone. This was not surprising, as Dead Apostles, like magical beasts, are considered enemies of humanity.
While magical beasts feed on human flesh, Dead Apostles survive by consuming human blood. Ultimately, both are predators who view humans as nothing more than a source of food, and thus they pose a threat to humanity.
"How can we recruit inhuman monsters?" Merlin sighed before continuing, "My King, I understand your point, but we must also face the reality. Dead Apostles are considered enemies of humanity. Furthermore, we must not forget that the vessel of the Crimson Moon is among them. Are you not afraid of the Crimson Moon?"
"Crimson Moon is nothing."
Merlin was taken aback by his response.
He scrutinized Shirou's face, which was no longer childish but had developed strong, sharp lines. His eyes were bright and firm, completely different from the boy who had a soft personality and just wanted to go home two years ago.
Merlin let out a sigh. The soft, sunny boy from his memories had completely disappeared, replaced by a determined and dignified king. He couldn't help but wonder what had caused this transformation.
The answer was clear. It was through suffering that the boy's softness had been erased, but it also forged the strength and resilience of a true king.
"Brother...no, Arthur...Ahhh! Anyway, my King, you cannot go to the central region. It is the territory of the Dead Apostles, and if you fall into their hands, Camelot will be doomed!" Morgan warned.
Shirou interrupted her and asked, "Have you completed all your tasks for today?"
"Well..." she hesitated for a moment.
"Come here," he gestured with his hand, beckoning her to approach him.
She hesitated for a moment before leaning in closer to him.
He then reached out and gently flicked her forehead before saying, "Go ahead and do your own thing."
Morgan: "..."
She covered her forehead and shot him an angry glare. "How dare you treat me like a child? How dare you treat Morgan like a child!" she gritted her teeth and continued, "I don't care about you anymore!"
She stomped her foot heavily and left the room in a fit of anger.
After a while, she returned and threw a defensive Mystic Code at Shirou, looking embarrassed. "Do whatever you want!" she said before quickly leaving again.
Despite the others' attempts to persuade him, Shirou merely glanced at them before saying, "Just do your own thing."
The others let out a sigh and fell silent, realizing that they can't change the King's decision.
While this was admirable in some ways, it also had its downsides. On one hand, nothing could break the King's resolve. On the other hand, once the King had set his sights on a goal, he would not be influenced by the opinions of others.
Before departing, Shirou made sure that all necessary preparations were in place.
He helped Guinevere to secure the position of governor, which was his way of nurturing her. Despite her exceptional intelligence, she was often plagued by weakness and timidity, often trembling in fear at even the slightest hint of trouble. This was completely at odds with her intellect, and he hoped that the responsibility of the governorship would help her to grow and develop her confidence.
He felt that the only way to help Guinevere develop her confidence was to push her forward, even if it meant holding a metaphorical knife to her back.
Regardless of her thoughts or feelings towards him, whether she resented or hated him, he was willing to take that risk and push her forward, knowing that it was ultimately for her own good.
He couldn't help but wonder if he was repeating the same actions that Gilgamesh had taken with him in the past, but he knew that the situation was different.
Compared to Gilgamesh, his methods were much gentler, and compared to Guinevere, he had been stronger and more assertive in the past. However, these comparisons didn't matter anymore. In life, there were always trade-offs, and he believed that helping Guinevere to become governor was a worthwhile one.
He hoped that this would give her the opportunity to grow and develop her skills, even if it meant pushing her out of her comfort zone.
Guinevere was a bundle of nerves, her voice shaky as she begged him to find someone else for the task.
He didn't grab her hair or brandish a knife threateningly. Instead, he simply watched her in silence.
This steady, composed manner of the King only heightened Guinevere's fear. In that moment, a part of her almost wished for him to lose his temper and yank her hair, anything but this eerie calm and silence.
Overwhelmed by the unknown, she was consumed by fear.
Shirou let out a familiar sneer, causing her to breathe a sigh of relief. However, in that moment, she came to the sad realization that her thoughts and actions were completely under the King's control.
He presented Guinevere with two options, saying, "You can either stay here and become the governor, or come with me to the central region. It's your choice."
With a mournful expression, she chose to stay and become the governor.
Although the King grabbed her hair and even held a knife to her neck, she could tell that he was merely trying to scare her. Despite her fear and trembling, she knew that her life was not in danger. The central region, where he was headed, was the stronghold of the Dead Apostles, a truly dangerous place!
She couldn't help but wonder why Shirou, as the King of Camelot, was willing to put himself in such great danger.
Her father, King Leodegrance, had never put himself in harm's way, so she found it difficult to understand why he would take such risks.
Merlin frowned, "Why risk yourself just to persuade the Dead Apostle?"
"We have to play every card we have to combat our foes, be they human or otherwise. We owe it to ourselves to try everything, to use every bit of wit we have, to bring them around."
Merlin raised an eyebrow. "Is this insight from the future, or just your own?"
"Does it really matter?" came the reply. "We humans stand on the shoulders of giants, inheriting their wisdom and knowledge. The brightest minds of history have shaped our culture and knowledge, leaving behind lessons for us. We build on their experiences to carve out new paths. It's as simple as that."
He then sneered, "That's why I have always despised Vortigern's ambition. Throughout history, how many villains and self-proclaimed righteous people have clung to the past out of fear of the future? They may arm themselves with various ideologies, but in the end, they are nothing more than weaklings."
"I'm leaving! I'll leave Cornwall in your hands for now!" Shirou declared as he waved his cloak and mounted his Dun Stallion, setting off towards the central region.
His expression soured as soon as he crossed the threshold into the territory of the Dead Apostles. He immediately noticed a Bounded Field enveloping the Kingdom, casting a strange, eerie aura over the land.
Though the sky outside was clear, a blood-red moon hung high within the Kingdom's borders, casting a crimson glow over everything in sight. It felt as if he had entered a forest of blood, and the atmosphere was deeply unsettling.
What made it even more unnerving was that he suddenly began to absorb the evil energy.
"Eat, eat, eat! Humans, food, eat, eat, eat!" The bloody evil, which had previously been sealed away by Merlin, suddenly became active, and thick blood gushed out from his body, staining the earth red.
Simultaneously, the evil thoughts produced by the black mud also entered his body along with the crimson liquid, and through the "Evil Flower," they were transformed into magical energy.
He was taken aback by the sudden realization.
It dawned on him that the crimson liquid he had obtained from Cath Palug was actually the "Vampiric Evil," which had this kind of effect.
He had never expected that he would be able to absorb magical energy from the pure malice of the Dead Apostles!
He realized that it was difficult to gauge malice since some Dead Apostles lacked their own thoughts, while others were solely controlled by their hunting instincts.
As a result, his evil couldn't absorb malice from these Dead Apostles that operated solely on instinct. However, those Dead Apostles that had their own thoughts and values could generate malice, which was then absorbed by the "Vampiric Evil" and transformed into magical energy.
Despite the benefits of the magical energy generated by the "Vampiric Evil," it was also a potential disaster on the level of the human soul.
When he first obtained the "Vampiric Evil" from Cath Palug, he was overwhelmed by an intense urge to suck Artoria's blood. However, he managed to suppress the impulse with his willpower, and the evil was later sealed away by Merlin.
Upon entering the Kingdom of the Dead Apostles, the "Vampiric Evil" within Shirou became active once again, just as it had been when he received it from Cath Palug.
"Eat, eat, eat! Humans, food, eat, eat, eat!" The urging voice incessantly echoed within his mind, calling out like a siren from the abyss, threatening to overwhelm his soul. A single misstep could cause him to be consumed by the vortex of malice and transform into a vampire in human form.
However, he was not easily swayed by the "Vampiric Evil."
Without any special defense measures, he relied solely on his strong will and spirit as a king to withstand the urging of this inhuman malice.
His soul had been tempered by years of suffering, making it as hard as a rock. How could he be swayed by mere temptation?
He sneered.
As he pressed forward deeper into the Kingdom, cracks began to form on the crimson earth with a "crack, crack, crack" sound, and one by one, grotesque-faced creatures crawled out.
But to call them Dead Apostles would not be entirely accurate. These were ghouls in the process of transformation, lacking their own will.
Even with the ghouls closing in, Dun Stallion stood still, white breath billowing from its nostrils. Likewise, Shirou's expression didn't waver.
His voice boomed across the crimson plain as he shouted, "Listen up! I am Arthur, the King of Men. I have come to discuss important matters!"
But his words were met only with silence, broken by the sound of ghouls clawing their way out of the earth.
"It appears you wish to gauge whether this king is a man of mediocrity."
With a mere thought, his body became engulfed in a swirl of black and crimson malice. His expression, once firm and resolute, was now veiled in an aura of contradiction, defying all comprehension.
As the crimson "Vampiric Evil" entwined itself around the inky black mud, it morphed into six ominous crimson hands that bore an uncanny resemblance to the demons of hell itself. And in one swift, fluid motion, they ripped through the horde of surrounding ghouls, leaving behind nothing but a trail of grisly carnage in their wake.
...
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