IBHJ 1303

"How did you get into the core room?" Agravain demanded.

"This is a Machine God I designed, after all," Bedivere replied calmly. "Of course I'd know where the entrance is and how to find the core room."

"That's impossible!" Agravain shot back. "That was a hundred million years ago. How could you possibly remember without an enhanced brain?"

"The human brain can't store memories from that far back, true," Bedivere acknowledged. "But that doesn't mean the memory isn't there, just waiting to be accessed. I pushed myself to remember, and eventually, it came back to me."

"You've never been good at lying, Bedivere. What you're describing simply isn't possible."

"Can't hide anything from you, can I?" Bedivere's face broke into a sad smile. He reached into his pocket and pulled out an old, weathered diary. "You're right. I learned about this Machine God's entrance and the location of its core room from this."

"That is..."

"Morgan's travel diary," Bedivere explained. "While you chose mechanization, Morgan decided to document everything. The events from a hundred million years ago, the smallest details of her monotonous existence across all these eons—she recorded it all in this diary. Countless ages, immeasurable experiences, all condensed into these pages. When I found it hidden in Camelot's royal palace, I knew exactly how to find you."

"Morgan definitely knew about what happened a hundred million years ago. But that doesn't matter anymore. Since you've found your way in here..." Agravain paused. "Bedivere, knowing everything you now know, you still stand against me? Against the Empire? Just because we eliminated one obstacle that threatened the Empire's existence? Or do you actually believe that risking the survival of our entire Empire for someone who's already gone is somehow justice?"

"Justice, evil... I don't understand those concepts anymore, and I don't care to," Bedivere replied quietly. "I'm not standing here as Hope, or as a traitor, or as an Apostle. I'm not even here to avenge the late Emperor. I'm here for my friend, Agravain."

"For me? That's absurd!"

"Not you—my friend Agravain!" Bedivere insisted. "I used to think Princess Guinevere was the only person in the entire Empire who hadn't received [eternity]. But now I see the truth. The real exception, the only one in the Empire who truly never received [eternity], was you!"

He pointed at Agravain. "When faced with the choice between [Empire] and [eternity], you chose the Empire and turned yourself into a machine. The real Agravain died in that moment. What stands before me is just an artificial intelligence that Agravain created to replace himself. You have no eternity—you've just been swapping out mechanical bodies for a hundred million years."

"So what?" Agravain drew his sword with a metallic hiss. "It's too late to beg for mercy now, Hope. You're a criminal of the Empire—an eternal criminal! And I will kill you, so the Empire can continue forever!"

"His Imperial Majesty, Agravain, Ector... none of them are even here anymore. So what Empire are we protecting?" Bedivere asked with a sad smile as he drew his own sword.

After reading Morgan's travel diary, everything had become clear. From the moment Agravain created the Apostle, this confrontation was inevitable.

Because—

"The Empire was supposed to be our home—a place that protected us from barbarian attacks and kept us warm together. But a hundred million years ago, you destroyed the Empire, Apostle Agravain!" Bedivere shouted.

...

The story goes back to ancient times. There was once a traveler who lived for freedom, moving like the wind, wandering just to see the beautiful landscapes of the world. Along the way, almost by accident, this traveler saved many people from barbarian raids.

That's when everything changed. More and more people started following the traveler. More and more people began hoping the traveler would drive away the barbarians and save their world. No—not save the world itself, because the world wasn't what needed saving. It was the people.

They wanted the traveler to protect them forever. The traveler had no interest in any of this, only wanting a life as free as the wind. But when looking back at the growing crowd of followers, the traveler realized that choosing a selfish path was no longer an option.

Too many people had joined the journey. Too many people had placed their hopes, their dreams of a better future on the traveler's shoulders.

And so, what began as a simple journey to appreciate nature's beauty became, in the eyes of the people, a "journey to sainthood."

The traveler never wanted to become a saint. All he wanted was a carefree journey—to be like a bird or the wind. But the weight of people's hopes for a savior had fallen on his shoulders. And the more time he spent with these people, the more he understood them... and that's when friendship and connection became the strongest chains binding him.

Finally, he decided to fulfill everyone's expectations. Once that was done, he could go back to pursuing his own dreams. And so began what others called the "journey to sainthood."

Just as everyone had hoped, the traveler established a country that protected people from barbarian invasions and eventually wiped out all the barbarians.

The traveler truly believed he could now retire, his mission accomplished, and finally live the life he'd always wanted.

But he was too naive.

When a country no longer has external enemies, the threats begin to come from within.

The traveler became a ruler—like a golden canary trapped in a cage, forever confined to the palace, unable to leave.

He grew depressed and helpless. And his oldest, closest, most trusted friend and minister saw this happening.

One day, that friend approached the traveler and said, "Please, go live your own life. Be free."

"But what about the people?" the traveler asked.

"Leave them to me," the friend assured. "Your kindness created a home for all of us when you were willing to give up your own dreams. I'll protect this home well. I'll handle everything properly, just like before."

"But—"

"Trust me with this," the friend insisted. "I promise I won't make any mistakes. I'll always protect this country—this home we fought so hard to build."

The traveler reluctantly went out, but worried about problems arising in his absence, he would hurry back. Yet each time, he found his friend managing everything perfectly—a thousand times more efficiently than he ever had.

Eventually, the traveler completely let go of his worries. He handed everything over to his friend and shed all responsibilities, finally free to go wherever he pleased and do whatever he wanted.

But the traveler didn’t know.

The secret behind why that friend, that minister, never made a single mistake.

He had killed his own humanity.

Transformed himself into a supercomputer that could never err.

And that was where all the tragedy began—

For the sake of national stability, the minister burned every book, eliminating the very source of ideological disagreements. Meanwhile, he deliberately created factions among the other ministers and powerful friends, forcing them to become rivals to achieve a balance of power. Eventually, he gathered all authority into his own hands.

In the end, the minister controlled everything, becoming the central brain that kept the empire running, while the people lost any will to resist.

The country achieved perfect, eternal stability.

But the home they had built together disappeared forever.

The traveler, the friends who had journeyed alongside him, all those shared laughs, romantic poems, and blooming flowers—everything that made life worth living—disappeared.

All that remained was an eternal ghost empire and the Twelve Apostles.