The boundless earth, the dry wind, the formidable army, the peerless King; a clear sky ablaze with glory. Upon this very ground, beneath this same expanse of heaven, two Kings who once battled with forgotten selves now faced each other once more in a final confrontation.

Whether Conqueror or the White Knight King, they both knew this would be their last stand. After this battle, at least one of them would depart this world. Yet, in their hearts, there was no fear—only an unyielding pursuit of victory and absolute confidence.

“Knights!” Raising the Sword in Stone high, the Pure White Knight sat astride his dragon-horse, his gaze fixed upon the formidable enemy before him. His voice rang out with metallic clarity, “Are you prepared to bring victory to your King?”

“Victory, Victory, Victory!” Over a hundred knights roared in unison, responding to their King with absolute conviction.

Similarly, on the other side.

The Conqueror, also mounted upon his spirit steed, brandished the treasured sword in his hand, a look of excited fervor on his face. A mighty battle intent radiated from him. “This battle will have only one victor. Tell me, who will it be?”

“Our King conquers all! Our King conquers all! Our King conquers all!” A sound like a surging tide erupted. The sheer momentum generated by the thousands of warriors waving their Noble Phantasms was enough to shake the heavens and earth.

“Conqueror King…”

“White Knight King…”

The two peerless Kings uttered each other’s names, their expressions grave. Then, almost simultaneously, their sword tips pointed forward… “Begin!”

“ROAR! ROAR! ROAR!”

The colossal roar completely drowned out everything else. Between heaven and earth, there was only the cry of heroes. Their indomitable martial spirits seemed to clash against the cosmos, and in every heart beat a single thought… Victory, Victory, Victory.

“Kill!”

In the next instant, countless Noble Phantasms burst forth in dazzling light. Hopes soared, men willingly sacrificed their heads and spilled their blood for their respective Kings. The battlefield billowed dust, and the clash of iron bones resonated fiercely.

Even if their bodies were pierced by a Noble Phantasm, as long as breath remained, they swung their weapons, vowing not to yield an inch. Even as their forms began to dissolve, as long as they could still shout, they howled, “Our King shall prevail!” Vowing to leave this conviction upon the field.

No one feared. No one wavered. No one retreated. … This was a magnificent war that could not be witnessed in any age, a war destined to remain unknown, a war fought not out of hatred, but solely for the sake of victory.

The sole witness to this conflict stood on the periphery of the battle: a young mage.

Watching this monumental battle, the young mage clenched his fists. Something felt like it was about to erupt from within him… What was it? He didn't know. No, he did know what that feeling was. It was called—passion.

“Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!”

Listening to the earth-shattering sounds of slaughter, the young mage released his throat, which had been nearly choked with tension, and shouted words with a voice he had never used before. Who was he cheering for?

That detail was utterly unimportant. He only knew that, in this moment… passion burned bright.

“Hahahahaha! White Knight King, fight with everything you have!” As his warriors swung their weapons and fought fiercely, the Conqueror trembled with exhilaration and roared, charging forward with his beloved horse beside him… At the far end before him was the enemy closest to him. What could be more delightful than this?

“As you wish, Conqueror King! Let us settle this with our swords!” The Pure White Knight sang out while riding. Although he was a celestial steed capable of flight, he chose to gallop across the earth.

On the path where the two advanced, no one blocked their way, no attack hindered them. Only as they drew near did their two swords finally meet. An irresistible force hammered against their bodies, yet both stood as steady as mountains.

“White Knight King, I thought I just saw a very familiar fellow. Was I mistaken?” The Conqueror laughed loudly, brandishing his sword as he shouted.

“You were not mistaken, Conqueror King. Diarmuid Ua Duibhne is indeed my 151st Knight of the Round Table,” the Pure White Knight replied readily. His Sword in Stone carved golden streaks across the void, parrying the enemy’s attacks.

“Hahaha, you sly dog! I was too careless. The one I intended to recruit has been taken by you. White Knight King, why don’t you switch sides and join my ranks? How about it?”

“Conqueror King, speaking of such things at a time like this? You are too presumptuous!” Lily called out, though there was no anger on her face, only a smile. “However, if you can defeat me here, I might actually consider it.”

“Oh.” The Conqueror let out a sound of mild surprise, but his attack did not slow in the slightest. “So you’re saying you are willing to serve under my banner?”

“No.” Lily continued to smile, her movements like a butterfly weaving through flowers. Not a single one of the Conqueror’s ferocious attacks managed to land on her. “Because I believe… I will win.”

Even amid such a decisive battle, the two conversed and laughed as if they were old friends meeting after many years. The smiles on their faces spoke of their excitement and joy in this moment. If fearing no war is fearless courage, then this very bearing was the aura of kings.

The battle between the two monarchs raged for an immeasurable time. As far as Waver looked, the figures on the battlefield were thinning, dwindling steadily. Both the Conqueror’s warriors and the Knight King’s knights vanished one by one until, when he finally came to his senses, the entire world had fallen silent. Standing before his eyes, apart from the Conqueror King and the Knight King, there was no one left.

They had fought until death.

All sound had ceased—even the shouts and clashes of the two Kings, the impact of their swords, had stopped. They stood facing each other, their swords embedded in the other’s body, passing clean through.

Blood dripped down the blades.

For a long moment, neither moved. Finally, the Pure White Knight let out a soft sigh, his tone filled with regret. “It ends like this, then.”

“Hahaha, victory and defeat are common occurrences in warfare. Even an undefeated force will eventually face defeat. There is no need to sigh, White Knight King,” the Conqueror roared towards the sky. His laughter held neither the joy of victory nor the despair of loss; to him, nothing had truly changed.

“A fine sentiment about victory and defeat, Conqueror King. Up to this moment, I must admit, you are indeed a great King.”

“It is not easy to hear those words from the White Knight King,” the Conqueror laughed. Then, his expression suddenly grew solemn. “That means there is one important question I have yet to ask you.”

The Pure White Knight offered no reply, for he knew this question was not directed at him.

In the next moment, the Conqueror turned his gaze toward the young mage observing from nearby. “Waver Velvet, are you willing to serve me as my retainer?”

“Ugh…” Hearing this, Waver trembled violently with emotion. He understood. Because he had once been the other’s… he already knew the outcome of this war. Clamping his lips shut, he struggled fiercely to keep the tears from falling.

Although he knew it was now impossible, this question required no deliberation. Suppressing the grief deep in his heart, he straightened his chest and replied without hesitation, “You, and only you, are my King. I swear to be used for you, to end for you. I beg you, guide my path, and let me witness the same dream.”

“Mmm, very well.” Hearing this oath, the imperious King smiled slightly—a smile that, for a retainer, was the highest praise and reward. He continued, “It is the King’s duty to show the path of the dream, and the retainer’s duty to witness the dream’s end and pass it on for eternity.”

Though his body was pierced by a sword, the King’s voice held no decline. He laughed robustly, issuing a resolute command to his subject: “Live on, Waver. Witness all of this, and pass down the way a King lives, and the glorious image of Iskandar charging forward.”

Waver bowed low, never lifting his head again.

In the Conqueror’s eyes, this was the sign of acceptance, needing no further words. From this day until the end of time, the King’s glorious image would guide his retainer, and the retainer would remain loyal to this memory. Before such an oath, parting became meaningless. Under Iskandar, the bond between King and retainer had already transcended time and space, becoming eternal.

“Glory lies beyond. Because it is infinitely distant, it holds the value of challenge. To praise the domineering way, to display the domineering way—this is the path of my kingship as the Conqueror!” Suddenly, the Conqueror’s hand left his own sword, and he spread both arms wide as if to embrace the heavens and earth.

“White Knight King, you who block my way of might! Have you seen that distant dream? Have you seen the beauty at the edge of the sky? Conquest is merely a byproduct of pursuing a dream. My dream is to pursue the sea at the edge of the world, to witness this vast world with my own eyes!”

“I have indeed seen it, Conqueror King, your boundless dream,” the Pure White Knight nodded. This was not perfunctory; in that moment, he truly saw the dream that belonged only to the Conqueror.

He was a tyrant. He was a King who led his subjects toward prosperity. He simply explored this unknown world, step by step, toward his own dream, chasing the sea at the dream’s end. His subjects yearned for it, following their King in pursuit. No one had ever seen that sea at the edge, perhaps not even the King himself, but they believed without doubt, because… that was what they called a dream.

Gazing into the infinite, discarding distractions, advancing, conquering, moving toward one's dream… This was the Conqueror, Iskandar.

Even Lily, up to this very moment, respected the Conqueror’s path as a King. This was indeed a perfect King worthy of anyone’s reverence. However…

“It’s a pity,” Lily sighed softly. “You couldn’t see the edge of that sea.”

“Hahaha, it’s nothing,” the Conqueror laughed dismissively. “Though this time the attempt failed, and this unfinished dream ends with regret, it was a dream worth staking a life on—a dream that comes only once. Since the same dream can be repeated twice, repeating it again is not inconceivable.”

“Yes, I sincerely hope you reach the end of that dream.”

“Hahaha, White Knight King, if there is a next time, let us fight again!”

“I accept your challenge anytime, Conqueror King.”

“That is excellent!” The Conqueror Iskandar squinted his increasingly blurred eyes and murmured with contentment, “This expedition has truly thrilled my heart.”

Having said that, this supreme King closed his eyes. Then, his body, along with his sword, dissolved into a shower of light and vanished.

In that final moment, Lily’s Sword in Stone had pierced the Conqueror’s heart, but the Conqueror’s sword had stopped just a single centimeter short of piercing her own heart.

Thus, the victor was decided.

The sword vanished from her body, and blood instantly gushed forth. The Pure White Knight’s form swayed slightly but quickly stabilized, and the wound began to mend at a visible rate.

Although the injury was severe, for an Heroic Spirit, anything less than a fatal wound was not a major issue. Furthermore, as a King… pain was not feared.

Wiping the blood from the Sword in Stone, the Pure White Knight turned and walked toward the young mage observing nearby, stopping before him.

The young mage was instantly filled with a sense of oppression, unrelated to fear—it was the pure instinct of life.

“Retainer of the Conqueror King,” Lily stated heavily, meeting his gaze. “Loyalty is the foundation of righteousness. Do not bring shame upon his Kingly Way.”

“You… won’t kill me?” The words escaped almost subconsciously.

“Hahahaha,” Lily laughed but offered no answer. She turned away; the spectacular battlefield had vanished, and they were back at the foot of Mount Cernunnos. As she walked toward the entrance of Ryūdō Temple, Lily spoke, “Leave this place. The battles ahead are beyond the scope of your power. Inherit the Conqueror King’s Way.”

“Thank you, White Knight King.” The young mage nodded solemnly, bowing slightly toward the retreating figure of the Pure White Knight, then quickly ran back the way he came.

Live on, pass down the way the King lived and the glory of his charge across the battlefield—this was the responsibility of the retainer.

Though the fighting was over, Waver knew it could never be forgotten. No matter how much he tried to deceive himself, he would absolutely never forget that scene. What had just occurred before his eyes had become a part of his soul, permanently inseparable.

This heavy, long period rivaled an entire lifetime.

For the Conqueror King and Waver, their struggle was over. But for the Pure White Knight, her battle had just begun. Greater enemies awaited her above.

Though grievously wounded, her steps were firm. The golden Sword in Stone had not yet been sheathed, still shimmering with brilliant light.

“Ah, it is not over yet, my war. Wouldn’t you agree?” A.