NOVEL WEB Chapter 146: “A Gentleman Judges Deeds, Not Hearts”
"Dong—dong—dong—"
The Bone Bell tolled slowly, its ethereal chimes ringing out across all of Britain.
[As a reward for ringing the third Pilgrimage Bell, all your attributes except Luck have increased.]
[Strength B → A]
[Endurance C → C]
[Agility C → B]
[Magic C → B]
The radiant glow around Artoria faded, and a fresh surge of power welled up within her. She gently clenched the Staff of Selection in her hand, then turned and gazed into the distance.
"Have you made up your mind?"
A familiar voice came from behind. Artoria looked back to see her friend Nocnarei standing there.
"We're about to face him as true enemies," Nocnarei said quietly. "Are you truly prepared for this?"
"…Yes." Artoria nodded slowly and resolutely. "I am."
"But it still feels strange to me," Nocnarei continued. "I distinctly remember when we first met in Gloucester years ago, you exuded an aura of 'May all fairies die.' Yet now you intend to overthrow Gawain for the sake of fairies?"
"…What are you talking about?" Artoria sighed, rolling her eyes at Nocnarei.
"I only occasionally think, 'If all the fairies just ceased to exist, that would be fine.' Such thoughts are no different from fleeting wishes like 'If this awful world were destroyed' or 'Life is meaningless—might as well end it.' At most, they're passing impulses in the mind. But entertaining a thought and actually acting on it are two completely different things."
She paused, tilting her head as memories—either of her past self or versions of herself in other worlds—surfaced briefly.
"I've known many fairies whose natures are ugly; their hidden thoughts can be unbearable to imagine. Yet not every fairy is like that, and having a disturbing impulse doesn't make one inherently evil."
Artoria recalled those who had helped her:
"Long ago, when I was most alone and helpless, there was a gruff old man who helped me in countless ways… He brought warmth to my childhood. When I traveled to Gloucester before, I met a group of low-ranking fairies who wanted to support the Prophecy Child. They gave all they had, hoping to help—even though they didn't know I was the Prophecy Child. And in Lentinian, the people and fairies celebrated me, offering smiles and bouquets that brightened my despairing heart."
"Hmph," Nocnarei folded her arms, sounding exasperated. "I doubt they approached you out of pure goodwill."
"…Pfft." Artoria blinked at Nocnarei's remark, then suddenly laughed.
"What are you laughing at?" Nocnarei snapped, embarrassed.
"Nothing—I just find it hilarious that you'd say that," Artoria shook her head with a small smile. "Gawain once told me something I like: 'A gentleman judges deeds, not hearts; no one's heart is flawless.'"
"Is that so?" Nocnarei raised an eyebrow.
Artoria gazed up at the sky. "Whether fairy or human, no one's heart is perfect. In all my wanderings across Britain, I've never met a flawless soul. Gawain once… well, he even confessed he'd been tempted by me. Everyone harbors fleeting dark thoughts—'It'd be better if you vanished,' 'If only this world were gone.' But letting such impulses define us would leave no good people in the world. Ultimately, what matters is one's actions."
She shook her head, recalling even darker impulses she'd felt:
"I once thought, 'I wish that radiant you would just disappear.'"
At this, Nocnarei's eyes widened in surprise, staring at Artoria. After half a second, she smiled wryly and crossed her arms again.
"Well, I forgive you. After all, I am so outstanding that envy is inevitable…"
"But you must have breathed a sigh of relief just now?" Artoria teased. "You ever thought that as the Prophecy Child I was an obstacle?"
Nocnarei fell silent, then looked away, annoyed.
"But you're proud," Artoria continued, "so you'd be disgusted by such a thought and then… out of some odd need to compensate, you'd treat me to something delicious, even though I'd done you no wrong."
"Hah," Nocnarei murmured, "Fairy insight is such a nuisance."
Artoria offered a gentle smile: "After enduring all those chaotic inner voices, one must reconcile with them. Even if we've had ugly thoughts, as long as we suppress them with our conscience or feel ashamed of them, that shows we remain good people—or good fairies. Right?"
"…That's a rather gentle view," Nocnarei sighed. "You're so soft-hearted, you'll get hurt again, won't you?"
"No, that was only half the reason," Artoria shook her head. "I'm not fighting Gawain solely for the fairies."
She hesitated briefly, then pointed toward a distant town.
"When I was in Salisbury, a fairy named Mike helped me—his tavern was my refuge. Oberon said Mike was something like his friend. I only knew Mike briefly; I don't know if he was truly good or bad. Both are possible. But when I looked there just now, Mike was gone… I saw traces of Mores magic."
Her expression darkened.
"So you're championing Mike?" Nocnarei asked.
"Not exactly. I barely knew him; I don't know if he was good. Yet he might have been." Artoria paused. "Gawain… he used to be gentle, respectful of all life. If he realized he'd mistakenly killed someone potentially good, he would have been deeply upset. So the current Gawain can't be entirely himself—he wouldn't indiscriminately wage genocide."
Nocnarei nodded, having guessed part of it.
"Perhaps he was forced by Tristan?" she suggested.
"…Yes, perhaps. Otherwise, why? If you or Bagast suddenly enacted a massacre, I might understand it as retribution for crimes. But Tristan…" Artoria shook her head. By her limited encounters, Tristan was a strange, bloodthirsty fairy. When Artoria first met him, she sensed no hatred or hostility in him—yet he resolved to kill her at the drop of a hat. That kind of kill-on-a-whim impulse is incomprehensible. If he manipulated Gawain with some mind-altering curse, it would explain Gawain's brutality. After all, though Gawain is formidable, he's not the most adept at magic; he could be influenced by arcane trickery. And Artoria herself, though often treated like baggage, still obtained from the system a "Forbidden Forge" skill to craft absurd, powerful artifacts. What might Tristan or others have been granted by Morgan? Artoria dared not imagine. Morgan, lauded by Merlin as among the top five magical talents in all humanity, surely taught Tristan more than just mirror magic.
"So I must rescue Gawain from Bawanshi's influence, even if it means defeating him," Artoria concluded.
"Reasonable," Nocnarei folded her arms again. "But are you sure? If you defeat him but he dies… can you bear that? Do you truly fight with the resolve to kill him?"
"That's not even the question," Artoria shook her head firmly. "He's not someone you challenge with halfhearted resolve. To beat him, you must be fully prepared—even willing to kill him. If, in battle, you hesitate out of fear of harming him, he will exploit that and crush you. He's teased me before, mocking my reluctance."
She frowned at the memory of their fights. "Frankly, with my modest skills, I cannot kill Gawain now—he's simply too strong. Even if I gave everything, I could only hope for a narrow chance, never a guaranteed kill. Even if he were gravely wounded… I still have many wondrous tools at my disposal." She patted the pouch at her side.
"Hmph… your preparations are thorough," Nocnarei said, shaking her head. "Does that reassure you? Will you now drop your hesitation about going to the front?"
"Fairy insight again, I bet," Artoria smiled. "Yes, you were worried I'd hold back. But since I've come this far, I will go."
Nocnarei turned and began descending the stairs of the Bell House:
"Now that the Bell is rung, this signals New Darlington. Gawain will move soon. You should depart as planned; we'll follow our original strategy."
"Are you sure? We only just secured these gains," Artoria hesitated.
Nocnarei looked northward toward Oxford with a faint smile tinged by seriousness.
"You said it yourself: he's not someone you fight halfheartedly. To defeat him, one must outthink him. You have such fitting tools at your disposal—failing to use them would be foolish."
Artoria took a steady breath and followed Nocnarei down the steps. The tolling of the third Pilgrimage Bell echoed behind them, heralding the new phase of war—and the fateful confrontation with Gawain.
In that moment, Artoria's resolve crystallized: though once indifferent or even hostile toward all fairies, she now fought because even amidst countless cruelty, there existed kindness and justice worth defending. And though Gawain had been her comrade, he had changed into something she could not accept. Only by fully committing to this battle—prepared even to slay him—could she hope to save him and Britain alike.