Crazy Britain:They’re All Raising Me

To be honest, even before now, Guinevere never truly appreciated how powerful Artoria's little gadgets were. In his eyes, her so‑called "Fifty‑Fifty Sword" and that device that could seal entire categories of magic were mildly interesting—but that was all. Whenever he launched an attack, one kick would end everything. Because he was almost invincible.

Yet once he became Artoria's teammate—once he found himself on the weaker side—he discovered... that lady's new abilities are truly astounding. Even Sir Lancelot was immobilized by her hard crowd‑control, helplessly forced to watch them escape the dungeon.

But it wasn't over yet.

"Ffwanxi, where did you put our equipment?"

No sooner had they fled the dungeon than Artoria turned on Ffwanxi and demanded,

"Hurry—show me where!"

"I—I left it in my bedroom..." Ffwanxi stammered, still in shock.

"Take me there! Return my Chosen Staff to me!" Artoria pressed. Then, as if afraid Ffwanxi would refuse, she added,

"After all, I just saved your life. You owe your savior this much, don't you?"

Ffwanxi hesitated, then looked to Guinevere:

"Guinevere, should I give it back?"

"Huh?" Guinevere was utterly baffled.

"I mean, I'm here collecting my debt—why are you asking me?" he spluttered.

"Oh!" Ffwanxi slapped her forehead. "Right. So, Guinevere, you do want me to hand it over?"

Guinevere's expression slowly hardened into that of a metro‑riding senior fiddling with a touchscreen phone. He knew that after ingesting the simulated memories, Ffwanxi's attitude toward him would shift—but he'd only expected that she'd no longer see him as a disposable prisoner, not this complete devotion!

"Of course I want it back—who wouldn't?" he sighed.

"Good! I knew it," Ffwanxi chirped, her head bobbing like a pecking chick. "I'll take you to the Chosen Staff... Oh, wait, should we really be doing this now? Though Lancelot is trapped for the moment, once she recovers, at her speed we'll still struggle to escape..."

Guinevere's brow eased in relief that Ffwanxi finally recognized the danger. But she was worrying needlessly.

"Oh, worry not," Artoria said, raising a hand. "When I slapped her earlier as we passed, I branded her with a talisman that causes anyone who wears it to lose their way."

"So until she discovers that talisman and removes it, the moment she steps out of the dungeon, she'll be hopelessly lost."

As Artoria glanced to see Guinevere silently giving her a thumbs‑up, he felt a surge of pride. Between Artoria's gadgets, Ffwanxi's crucial healing in earlier simulations, and their steady progress after six runs, his teammates were finally shouldering some of the burden—he might not have to carry everything alone forever. Perhaps one day he could simply lean on them and coast to victory! The thought filled him with excitement.

Alas, he was premature in his joy.

Once Ffwanxi led Artoria to reclaim the Chosen Staff, a new conflict erupted instantly.

"You can have your Staff—and you two can go, but Guinevere stays!"

Ffwanxi clutched one of Guinevere's arms hard. "He belongs to me—I won't let you take him!"

"Enough of this shamelessness!" Artoria snarled, gripping his other arm. "I just saved your life—how do you repay your savior?!"

"If you want, take my life—but even that won't separate Guinevere from me!" Ffwanxi retorted stoutly. "And I ran so many simulations with you—I never once demanded anything!"

Artoria shot Guinevere a helpless glance, then suddenly released him and lunged at Ffwanxi, dragging her aside. In a low hiss, she scolded,

"Don't mention the simulations in front of Guinevere! The system censors simulation‑related words—you'll just make us look like fools. And—"

Her tone turned fierce,

"Simulations aren't reality! They're just possible futures! They didn't really happen—stop twisting them to your advantage!"

Ffwanxi's eyes flared.

"Oh, so I'm twisting things? You're just mad because in that last simulation you got kicked and ended up the loser, aren't you?!"

She paused, then added proudly,

"And since you know the simulations are possible futures, that proves they weren't random fantasies—they could really occur! Meaning Guinevere really could become the Blood Demon King!"

At that, Ffwanxi puffed up with triumph:

"Exactly! If Guinevere stays with me, the future where he naturally becomes king—and beats every opposition in Britain—will come true!"

"Tch! I don't know what you're proud of!"

The mention of the Blood Demon King dredged up terrible memories for Artoria; she began to stamp her feet in frustration.

"As if staying with you would stop him from being king! Look at the Savior Swordsman—she's the legitimate ruler of Britain!"

"Hmph, you have some nerve," Ffwanxi sniffed.

"You only got a legendary ending after four runs with Guinevere, while I needed just two! According to that 'Kongliang Weaving Method' Guinevere mentioned—who's less useful is obvious!"

"Enough! You can't judge by run counts!" Artoria argued.

"Both are legendary, but the Savior Swordsman scored ninety points on the system's evaluation—five points higher than the Demon King!"

"Hmph! That five‑point gap is only because the Blood Demon King slaughtered so many faeries!" Ffwanxi countered without hesitation. "The system docked most of those points there. If not for that, the Demon King's score would match the Swordsman's. Let's compare combat prowess! The Demon King single‑handedly took down the allied Beril Calamity—can the Swordsman do that?"

"I don't know what you think you're bragging about!" Artoria retorted.

"If the Demon King hadn't killed most of the faeries, Britain wouldn't have recovered so slowly!"

"But under the Savior Swordsman, Britain prospered more! The system's comprehensive power metric under her rule was twice that under the Demon King—twice!"

"Comprehensive power? So what does that prove?" Ffwanxi argued, hands on hips. "And so what if he killed faeries? He did it on his own accord—are you saying Guinevere was wrong?"

She paused, a sly grin crossing her face:

"So in your eyes, national power matters more than Guinevere's wishes?"

Artoria's eyes went wide in outrage.

—Damn, this clueless oaf is only so clear‑sighted when it's inconvenient!

But then she had an idea and snapped:

"You think you're acting for his good? Have you even checked the system's data? If you look at his status screen, you'll see the Blood Demon King's Morale was always negative in later stages—whereas the Swordsman's Morale stayed high the whole way! In other words, the Swordsman lived far happier than the Demon King!"

"Ah?" Ffwanxi blinked. "The system tracks Morale?"

"Of course!" Artoria frowned. "On your stats page—there's an option to view other metrics..."

"What's Morale?" Ffwanxi asked.

"...You don't know what Morale is?! What were you simulating?!"

Artoria exploded:

"No wonder Guinevere acted so oddly in the last run—always looking world‑weary... You never cared about his Morale, did you?!"

Ffwanxi's confidence faltered, stepping back, face paling. Artoria sensed she'd gone too far and softened her tone:

"In any case... it's clear Guinevere would be happier with me, so—"

"No way! Don't even think it!"

Ffwanxi spat out, her earlier doubt gone.

"If I failed in the last simulation, I'll make up for it! In the next run, I'll ensure Guinevere is joyful every day—even in reality!"

"You're hopeless!" Artoria was truly exasperated.

"Your Guinevere? He's my companion—mine! He pledged to join my journey first! If you hadn't ambushed him..."

"He pledged to you? But in the last simulation, he stood by me!" Ffwanxi shot back. "Remember what he said yesterday in reality? He said he hardly knows you—you're just some stalker who mysteriously forced him into your party!"

—Oh no.

Though both girls had tried to argue quietly, their voices grew louder as they lost control. Before long, Guinevere heard every heated word. Up until now he'd felt only embarrassed—but Ffwanxi's last barb made him break into a cold sweat.

As Artoria's furious glare swept onto him, it felt as if the battlefield's smoke and flames had engulfed him too.

"Um, excuse me—I seem to need the restroom..." he stammered, turning to flee.

But before he could take a step, two graceful hands clamped onto his shoulders.

Trembling, he looked back to see two pairs of furious eyes, brows drawn like frost, and faces so cold they could freeze fire—two emotional powder kegs about to explode with him at the center.

"Guinevere, you said yesterday that she was just some obsessed fangirl, right?"

"Guinevere, you said that was just a temporary measure to trick her, right?"

They spoke in unison, their voices like twin thunderclaps.

At that moment, beads of sweat tracked down Guinevere's nose.