IBHJ 1230

Before she could even finish forming the question in her mind, something extraordinary happened. With her Buddha nature now fully unlocked, Xuanzang could finally see the Emperor's face clearly for the first time.

What she saw left her completely stunned—surprised, shocked, and utterly incredulous.

"Leave now, Master Xuanzang," Agravain said coldly. "The universe is vast, and the empire needs friends, not enemies. The same goes for your Pure Land."

Xuanzang knew there was no point in staying. She looked at the figure on the throne with a mixture of emotions she could barely process. If she hadn't seen it with her own eyes, she never would have believed something so bizarre could exist in this world.

She let out a deep sigh. "I overestimated myself. Now I understand why the true Holy Spirits and even my master avoided meeting you. No one can answer your question." She paused briefly. "If anyone could... it would only be the Eternal King."

"No one is better suited to be emperor than you, but..." her voice softened, "this is just too sad."

As she spoke these final words, her body began to fade away, gradually dissolving into nothingness. All that remained behind was a single lotus petal.

She had returned to the Pure Land, knowing she had no choice but to leave this place.

But she deliberately left her weapon behind.

In Buddhism, they teach that all things arise and cease according to cause and effect. Her weapon's karma—its purpose in this world—wasn't finished yet.

Agravain watched Xuanzang disappear, his stern expression gradually becoming complex.

He had never realized the Emperor had such deep uncertainties, nor had he known about his journeys to Pan-Human History in search of answers for the empire's future. After all, that Emperor had been more symbol than substance—a figurehead who barely seemed to take the empire seriously, appearing and disappearing mysteriously while Agravain himself handled all the actual governing.

Hearing this from Xuanzang had caught him off guard.

Perhaps Xuanzang's answer had been exactly what the Emperor once sought. But it didn't matter anymore. Everything was too late.

Because that Emperor was gone.

In its place stood an absolute ruler wielding tremendous power.

—Agravain.

"Yes, Your Majesty!" Agravain bowed deeply toward the throne, his image flickering on the screen.

—Gather our forces at Camelot. Destroy Pan-Human History.

Agravain hesitated briefly. "Should we also pull troops from Londinium?"

—Yes.

"But if we do that, what about the foreign enemies across the sea? They might—"

—You need not concern yourself with them.

"Your Majesty, could it be that you..." Agravain's eyes widened slightly. "I understand."

—And do not worry about Mordred either.

"Understood. With your permission, I'll take my leave to carry out your orders."

Agravain's image disappeared from the screen, leaving the palace in an eerie, unsettling silence once more.

…

"Here, drink this water," Shirou said, carefully offering the boiled distilled water to Mordred.

After she drank, he gently laid her back on the blanket and tucked the quilt around her. He placed his hand on her forehead to check her temperature, then soaked a fresh towel and placed it over her burning skin. The old towel went straight into the bucket beside him.

The witch noticed that despite being unconscious, Mordred still clutched her sword tightly. When she reached out to remove it, Mordred's fingers suddenly clamped down on the hilt. Her eyes snapped open, giving the witch a piercing stare.

Startled, the witch jumped back. Mordred's eyes fluttered closed again.

"Maybe don't mess with her right now," he cautioned.

"I wasn't messing with her," the witch protested. "If anything, your daughter was messing with me. And what's with her and that sword anyway? Does she always sleep holding it like that?"

"I honestly don't know," he replied with a shrug.

She gave him a puzzled look. "How can you not know something like that about your own daughter?"

When he leaned over to untie the sword from Mordred's grip, her eyes suddenly flew open, giving him an intense stare.

"It's okay," he said softly. "Dad's right here. You can let go of the sword now and get some rest."

The hardness in Mordred's eyes melted away. She slowly released her grip on the weapon and closed her eyes with a sigh of relief.

He picked up the sword and turned to the witch. "My daughter and I... we have a complicated history."

As he held the blade, something about it caught his attention. He stared at it, his expression shifting to one of disbelief.

It was Caliburn! The legendary [Sword in the Stone] that he had pulled out years ago before becoming the Eternal King!

But that meant...

If the sword was physically here, it couldn't be a Noble Phantasm anymore. Shirou glanced from the surprising weapon in his hand to Mordred's peaceful sleeping form. This had to be another effect of her Grail, he thought.

He picked up the damp cloth and began wiping down the royal sword, cleaning away the strange patterns that obscured its true appearance. The silver-white blade gleamed, reflecting Shirou's face and briefly transporting him back to those glorious days when he first established his kingdom.

"Wait a minute," the witch said, settling down beside him. "Didn't Mordred mention that my parallel world counterpart is her mother?" She studied his profile with curious eyes. "So does that mean the parallel version of me is your wife?"

"No," he said, shaking his head.

The witch's eyes widened. "You had a baby without getting married? So Mordred is... an illegitimate child?"

Shirou set down the sword with a sigh, giving the witch a helpless look as her gossip radar went into overdrive.

"Seriously? That's actually what happened?" The witch looked even more shocked now. She whipped out a notebook and pen, eyes practically sparkling with interest. "You've got to tell me everything."

"You really want to know that badly?"

The witch nodded eagerly, looking exactly like a tabloid reporter who'd just stumbled onto the scoop of the century.

Shirou had to admit it was pretty weird to be this interested in gossip about your parallel self.

"Come a little closer and I'll tell you," he said with a mischievous smile, motioning for the witch to come closer.

The witch eagerly scooted toward him, and he reached out, grabbed her golden braided hair, and gave it a sharp tug.

"Ow!" The witch yelped, rubbing her head with tears pricking her eyes. She shot him an angry glare. "What the hell was that for?"

"That pretty much sums up the relationship between me and her," he said with a smirk. "You can figure out the rest on your own."

The witch stared daggers at him, teeth clenched in frustration.

"You're not plotting revenge now, are you?" he taunted, deliberately running his fingers through his hair. "Good luck with that. This magnificent black forest on my head is completely impenetrable."

"Don’t underestimate me!" the witch snapped, lunging toward him in annoyance.

"Wait, you're actually coming at me?" he looked genuinely surprised. If it had been Saber or Artoria, they wouldn't have gotten worked up over a little teasing like this.

As the witch came charging at him, Shirou simply extended his arm, placed his palm against her forehead, and pushed her back with minimal effort. She landed on the ground with a startled "Oof!" After sitting up, she shot him a look, snatched up her pen, and furiously scribbled something in her notebook.

"This one is going in the revenge journal!" she muttered under her breath.

Shirou rubbed his hands together with satisfaction. There was something undeniably enjoyable about teasing someone weaker than him.

Absolutely delightful!

Just then, Mordred's eyes snapped open and she bolted upright in bed.

"Take it easy," he said, hurrying to her side and trying to guide her back down. "Your body needs more rest."

But she resisted. "Father, there's danger approaching! I need to eliminate the threat!"