Miss Hebe Is Charging Through the Lostbelts! [4]

The lenses used to read the heavens shattered, and the candle burning in the command tent flickered low.

The heart of the bonfire had turned an ominous black, and its smoke sagged and drifted like a hanging curtain.

Armor and weapons fell into the mud. Warm bodies collapsed in heaps. In an instant, the battlefield fell into deathly silence, with only the banners snapping in the north wind.

A phenomenon on this scale could no longer be ignored.

But in the face of a collapse spreading like falling dominos, even heroes could do little more than save themselves. There was no reversing a defeat that was already inevitable.

“What… happened?” Prince Edward roared in disbelief. Drawing his sword, he slashed wildly through the air. “Who was it? Who did this?!”

Blind rage burned through the mind of the young duke who styled himself the Red Dragon as he let out a furious howl.

On the other side, Alistair’s face had gone dark. He was older than Edward, and more seasoned as well, so what filled his chest was not rage, but fear.

Until now, their armies had been unstoppable. Wherever they advanced, nobles surrendered at the mere rumor of their coming. Even the Knights of the Round Table had chosen to swear loyalty to them.

It had almost given the two kings a kind of confidence—Arthur was nothing special after all.

Especially after Morgan had come over to their side of her own accord, the pride in their hearts had swelled to its peak.

But when their armies were destroyed by a method they could not even comprehend, that confidence immediately turned to fear.

Because they knew perfectly well that a [Daylight]-rank Hero could never have achieved such a result.

“[Dusk]…”

As the north wind howled, Prince Edward’s rage suddenly guttered out.

Grinding his teeth, he spat, “What a vile, despicable, utterly shameless way to fight! Don’t you have any pride at all as a [Dusk]?!”

Tap. Tap.

At the center of a battlefield where tens of thousands lay sprawled, footsteps suddenly rang out.

The Illusion dispersed, and Hebe’s figure appeared.

Prince Edward’s words caught in his throat, and a look of bewilderment—so naked it was almost absurd—spread across his face.

How could it be someone like this—a girl younger than his own daughter?

And she had destroyed the army he had been so proud of?

In stark contrast to Prince Edward, Alistair II had been deathly pale from the moment he saw Hebe.

“Put away that idiotic line of thinking…” Alistair said in a low voice. “Do you even know who she is? You fool—you actually dared to look down on Merlin!”

“What does Merlin matter—what did you say? Merlin?”

Prince Edward’s breath hitched. His face held anger, shame, and above all disbelief.

In the end, a thousand emotions fused into a single venomous sentence.

“Why is she still alive?!”

Hebe merely walked toward them in silence, a sword she had picked up from the ground hanging at her side.

She knew that both kings were [Daylight]-rank walkers of the Path of Authority, a Path that belonged to the Principle of Blade.

The Path of Authority excelled in conquest, rule, war, and order. It valued hierarchy and kingly majesty above all else. When they carried out conquests against foes with no power to resist, their authority and strength would continue to grow.

But once their armies were defeated, once they began to doubt themselves, or once they encountered someone higher than themselves within the same system… their collapse would be just as obvious.

At heart, whether it was the Red Dragon Duke or the Lionheart King, both were climbing the very Path Arthur had once walked: to build a mighty Albion, and make their kingship and laws all but eternal.

But the one who had once helped Arthur establish Albion with her own hands now stood right before them.

In both power and standing, they were utterly suppressed by Merlin Ambrosius.

That utterly ordinary blade drew closer and closer, until it became almost painful to look at.

But in the end, it advanced no farther.

The black tower that had stood quietly in the distance all this time suddenly seemed to grow impossibly tall. A sense of cold, gloom, and destruction abruptly flooded the center of the battlefield, thick as tar, making it hard for the two kings to breathe.

Hebe took a step back.

At some point, an enormous black lance steeped in ill omen had come to rest across the space before her.

If she took two more steps forward, she would strike its tip.

The black lance lifted slightly. Only then did the others see that someone else was standing in the middle of the battlefield—a veiled woman.

She had a tall, voluptuous body. Her neck and lower abdomen were exposed to the air, her long legs slightly parted, silver-white hair falling smoothly down her back. Every other part of her body was tightly wrapped in black silk of some unknown material, while bleak white wind and snow formed a pure-white outer mantle around her.

The tall woman’s face was strikingly similar to Arthur’s, yet those pale-colored eyes were filled with mockery and bitter grievance.

The veil that had covered her delicate face was already gone, and hovering above her head was a dark crown.

It was a crown that proclaimed a Great Deed.

She was Morgan le Fay, the Enchantress.

The other [Dusk] of the Path of Calamity.

They stood facing each other in silence, and even the air seemed to thicken.

“And at a time like this, you’re still going to give your life for Arthur?” Morgan’s voice was hoarse. “Why have you never once been willing to stand on my side?”

Hebe did not answer at once. She remembered the very beginning, when she had first started clearing this Lostbelt.

…

Back then, Artoria was always being bullied by the villagers, and the one who stepped in to stand up for her was Morgan.

After Hebe had tricked Artoria into drawing the Sword in the Stone, she had worried Morgan would grow jealous, fall into darkness, and destroy Albion… but she had not. As always, Morgan had continued to support Artoria with gentle steadfastness as she set out on the pilgrimage to become king.

To keep Morgan from going down that dark path, Hebe had half-forcibly pulled her along.

They faced powerful enemies together, overcame hardships together, and when night fell, they huddled close and shared each other’s warmth… all the way to the end of the pilgrimage, when Arthur became the king who ruled Albion, and Hebe became the sage who aided that king.

Morgan had always been that gentle yet resolute elder sister.

Until Arthur, almost tentatively, confessed to her that she intended to make “Merlin” her queen.

A [Dusk] was already a being capable of remaining in the mortal world for a long time, and with “Merlin’s” Great Deeds complementing Arthur’s, there was no question she would become the best retainer, the best right hand, and the best partner.

“You… said what?” Morgan had been sitting by the window then, the afterglow of the setting sun spilling across her face.

The smile that had always rested there vanished.

After Arthur repeated herself a second time, Buckingham Palace collapsed.

Hebe had not been logged into Secret Histories Simulator at the time, so she had no idea what exactly happened in that battle. By the time she logged in again, the era had already advanced by several decades.

The irony was almost cruel. Morgan had clearly completed the pilgrimage alongside them, yet all that time she had remained nothing more than an apprentice of the [Dawn] Rank. And after that one battle, Morgan became a Hero of the [Daylight] Rank.

Or rather… an Anti-Hero.

The elder sister she had once known changed beyond recognition, and the title of Morgan the Enchantress became known far and wide.

When Arthur spoke of it to Hebe, her eyes had been full of weariness and disappointment. As for the matter of making Merlin her queen, everyone set it aside almost unconsciously, and no one ever brought it up again.

After that, everything unfolded as though it were only natural, except that Morgan never appeared before them again.

As for Hebe, in the eyes of others she only became harder and harder to fathom, though her methods remained as sharp and precise as ever.

Morgan the Enchantress’s schemes were seen through one by one by Hebe, and her methods were steadily unraveled.

Driven into a corner by Hebe, Mordred killed herself in rage and shame. Arthur, meanwhile, defeated Morgan the Enchantress at Camlann and imprisoned her in the Tower of London… and so the Enchantress’s design to destroy Albion came to ruin.

Until now.

…

“You were the one behind the two kings as well, weren’t you, Sister?” Hebe asked. “You used this rebellion to push Albion to the brink of destruction, and through that Great Deed, you advanced to [Dusk].”

That familiar form of address made the corner of Morgan’s eye twitch.

She looked at Hebe seriously, carefully, gazing into those emerald-like eyes.

“So what?” she said. “It was all mine by right.”

Arthur’s throne. And you.

T/N: YURI????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMED YURI??????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? PEAK????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????

This is a fan translation of 赫柏小姐正在杀出异闻带！ by 青散人 Rights to the original work belong to the creator. Please support them by exploring their original work or sharing it with others if you can. Thank you for reading and supporting my efforts to bring this story to a wider audience!