Type-Moon: The Human Love Simulator

"…"

Silence fell. No one dared to claim that Kaelar's "teachings" were useless.

Even King Vortigern, for all his ruthless control over the Saxons, could not command such loyalty. It might have seemed like fear that made the Saxons lay down their weapons, but even if Kaelar ordered them to jump into a pit of fire, they would do so without hesitation.

Artoria watched Kaelar's back with a quiet pride. She had witnessed his feats step by step, seen him impose his will upon the world. No one understood Kaelar better than she did.

At this moment, what terrified the unconverted Celts struck Artoria as the pinnacle of masculine achievement—This is what a true hero should be.

To conquer someone's loyalty and use them was no great feat.

But to change their hearts, to transform their very way of thinking—that was the true work of a saint.

"Lily, do you know what the two hardest things in this world are?" Kaelar smiled, asking and answering his own question. "One, to take money from another person's pocket and put it into your own. And two, to plant your thoughts into someone else's mind."

"...The latter is far harder than the former," he continued with a serene smile. "If you can do the former, you're a king, a ruler, a conqueror."

"But if you can achieve the latter, then you are beyond human—you are a sage, a saint, revered by all."

Hearing this, Merlin's expression grew uncharacteristically serious. Ignoring Sir Ector's presence beside her, she asked directly, "Kaelar, what is your true ambition? Will you remain loyal to the future King of Celtica?"

Merlin was worried.

The carefree mage, who usually watched the world with amused detachment, was suddenly alarmed.

She believed in destiny, but she had to admit that Kaelar had transcended all expectations. His very existence had begun to warp the threads of fate.

If Kaelar chose not to serve Artoria, but instead to crown himself king…

Oh dear, another Vortigern—this one with no glaring moral weaknesses.

"What does it matter to you what I desire?" Kaelar replied coolly. "Merlin, you may be pretty, and I'm in a good mood today, so I won't hit you. But don't mistake my courtesy for permission to be impertinent."

"What would you, a mere illusionist, know of my will?"

Kaelar's goal was simple.

He wished for no one to be hurt, for no one to be killed.

Life was precious—why must humanity hurt each other?

But humans would never truly understand each other. No one could grasp Kaelar's reverence for life, not in this age, nor in a thousand, two thousand years…

Even if humanity teetered on the brink of extinction, they would not accept Kaelar's principle of "non-killing."

They would call it "foolish," "naive," "childish"…

But Kaelar would continue to follow his own path, no matter what.

How many people were molded by their environments? If the environment could shape a person, then Kaelar believed that by changing the environment, he could reshape humanity.

In his eyes, it wasn't he who was wrong—it was the world.

No matter how many millennia passed, even if the destruction of humanity became inevitable, Kaelar would insist it was the world that needed to be changed, not him.

Ever since he learned that human history ended in 2016 and gained access to a simulator, he had entertained a thought he couldn't suppress:

If humanity's mindset could be altered at its root, if they could learn to love and understand one another, could the inevitable catastrophe be averted?

Merlin, unaware of the depths of Kaelar's thoughts, spoke earnestly. "Kaelar, you are the most brilliant talent I've ever seen. In the entire history of Celtica, few can match—no, none can surpass you."

"You are still so young, your future limitless."

"But you are mistaken," she said, her enchanting pink eyes clouded with worry. "Your ideals may be noble, but your methods are flawed. You are too extreme, too hasty. Why can't you give humanity some time?"

Let me finish my work and return to the Reverse Side of the World first! Then you can mess around all you want!

"It's too late, too late!" Kaelar's handsome face twisted slightly with frustration. "If the roots aren't corrected, then no matter how strong the branches, they'll be crooked... Humanity's choices are wrong! A humanity like this has no future!"

Humanity's decisions were certainly flawed!

This was a truth Kaelar had witnessed firsthand, from a future where humanity teetered on the edge of extinction.

Since humanity's choices were already mistaken, why shouldn't he make the decisions for them?

"How can you be certain that humanity is wrong?" Merlin countered. "What makes you think your choices—those of a single person—are better than those of all mankind?"

"..."

Kaelar paused, his expression easing into a strange calm. "Indeed, why should I try to explain it to you? A summer insect cannot understand ice… So much for a 'wise' sage of Celtica."

"Imbecile, you're not worth consulting!"

Was he right?

Even Kaelar wasn't entirely certain. After all, what was the worst outcome—humanity's demise? It couldn't get any worse than that.

Was he necessarily wrong?

Not really. Kaelar was aware of another figure who sought to incinerate human history, to transform it into a magical singularity. This man intended to rewrite all of history, replacing the Earth with his own version of the future.

If he succeeded, history would be rewritten, and whoever prevailed would be the arbiter of truth.

"History is written by the victors... No, I will be right!" Kaelar vowed silently. "So, I must not fail!"

He waved a hand dismissively, looking bored. "Merlin, I have no interest in arguing with you. And as for my loyalty—that is not for you to question, nor is it your place."

"Lily, remember this: matters of loyalty and leadership cannot be delegated," he said calmly, regaining his usual poise. "Only a king may determine loyalty, and no king should rely on another's counsel to judge their followers."

Kaelar's tranquility dispelled the previous tension. He now appeared as a wise and scholarly figure, his refined demeanor erasing the twisted, unnerving presence from moments before.

"…"

Artoria, who had been quietly watching, nodded seriously, while Merlin offered a rueful smile. Kaelar was truly a formidable opponent—always finding a way to put her in a difficult position.

This third king of Celtica… Was he planting seeds of doubt already?

So be it. If this was the course of destiny, she had no choice but to follow it.

"You may all return to your labors now. Atone for your sins until they are absolved," Kaelar ordered with a casual wave. Instantly, the previously chaotic Saxons moved with mechanical precision, resuming their tasks with disciplined focus.

The saint had said they were all "sinners."

The saint demanded they atone.

Only once their sins were cleansed would they be recognized as good people by Saint Kaelar.

After settling the matter, Kaelar gestured dismissively and began heading back to his chambers, showing no intention of engaging in further discussion. He had only taken a few steps when he felt a small tug on his cloak.

He turned to find the young Red Dragon, Artoria, gently gripping his cloak. Her emerald eyes shone brightly as she looked at him. "Kael, I'll always support you. Always."

The small, future king of Celtica's gaze was soft yet resolute.

"So... Kael, please, don't give up on Celtica."

"...Alright."

Kaelar nodded, promising a pact that would last forever.

I will never give up on Celtica because it is home to the one who will always stand by me—the King.

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T/N: I am unsure if I should change Celtica to Britian.