Reborn in Type-Moon, My Sister is Aoko Aozaki

"I saw him, Mordred. But remember to be more careful next time. It's not yet time for you and him to meet properly."

Stroking the small head of the girl before her, Morgan spoke in a soft, gentle voice, seemingly having changed a great deal compared to a year ago.

If Artoria were to see her royal sister's expression, so full of motherly love, she would surely suspect she was dreaming.

The truth, however, was that the emotions Morgan was showing at this moment were a complete reflection of her innermost thoughts.

After all, the child before her, personally gestated from her own body, had a rather special identity.

"I understand..."

The girl nodded, slightly dejected, but then looked up with some confusion.

"But Mother, why do I have a 'King Father' in addition to Lord Father?"

"Er, that's a bit complicated to explain. You don't need to understand it right now."

The smile on Morgan's face froze for a moment as she thought of a certain unpleasant face. She changed the subject, muttering to herself in a low voice.

"...Of course, it would be even better if you could just forget about your so-called 'King Father'."

Gazing at the girl who was blinking in confusion, her attention soon shifting to King Arthur and the various Knights of the Round Table in the crowd, Morgan couldn't help but recall her experiences over the past year.

To be honest, when Artoria and the boy had left her castle, she had indeed considered using this special child as a "tool of revenge."

But that thought had only lasted for a moment before disappearing, because she didn't want the boy to grow to hate her because of it.

However, what was done was done, and she could only carry this child to term.

Originally, Morgan had planned to raise this child slowly, not "cultivating" her in a workshop with magic and the blessings of some fae like her other children, but wanting to gestate her personally with her own body.

Who would have known that after the girl was born, her growth rate would far exceed that of others, to an almost abnormal degree.

If Morgan hadn't known for a fact that the girl was the result of her own careful, drop-by-drop gestation, she would have truly suspected that she was a homunculus.

But an unusually fast growth rate is not always a good thing. Considering that the girl might have a shortened lifespan due to her rapid growth, like a homunculus, Morgan had been worried for a long time.

It was only after a detailed examination that she discovered it seemed to be just a matter of the girl's constitution.

The girl's body was extremely healthy, her life force even more vibrant than her own. Not only that, but seemingly as a boon from her bloodline, the girl could quickly master most knowledge she learned.

And such talent and ability, Morgan could tell with the certainty of her "traitorous son's" mashed potatoes, was definitely not a gift from her foolish sister's Red Dragon blood, but something far nobler, far more unimaginable.

"...You really do keep giving me one surprise after another, don't you, En."

Morgan murmured softly. Only after seeing the masked boy at the very end of the procession enter the castle did she take the small hand of the girl before her and smile.

"Alright, let's go back to Orkney. Don't be anxious. When you grow up, you'll be able to help your father."

"Mhm!"

The girl nodded vigorously. But as if remembering something, she hesitated for a moment before asking.

"Then when I meet 'King Father' in the future, should I call her... a 'washboard' first?"

"Ahem, wait, who taught you to say that?"

"It was you, Mother. You always call 'King Father' that in your sleep."

"Er... let's just forget about that for now."

The two figures, one large and one small, slowly disappeared into the dim alley amidst their conversation.

[You have returned to the castle of Camelot, but unlike in the past, you do not hold a banquet to celebrate this great victory.]

[Because you understand that now is not the time for such extravagance.]

[And although the war has temporarily subsided, the problem of food shortages has not been resolved.]

[A few months later, during the harvest season, letters requesting food aid from all over the land soon pile up on the workroom desk, causing your sister Artoria to feel sorrowful yet helpless.]

[Unable to think of a strategy for the time being, your sister Artoria has no choice but to ask you and Merlin to go to the nearest territory to inspect the condition of the land, to see if Merlin can use his magic to come up with a way to get through this period.]

[Merlin does not refuse, but he also doesn't say much, as if he had long foreseen this situation.]

[But upon arriving at the nearest territory and inspecting the land used for growing grain, Merlin quickly shakes his head and tells you:]

["Magic cannot change this situation, nor can it save Britain." ]

[You ask him why. Because you can feel that recently, not just Merlin, but even your sister Artoria seems to be moving forward with difficulty, as if with the knowledge of some prior truth.]

[You sense that this might be related to Britain's continuous "disaster years." And under your persistent questioning, Merlin, with a soft sigh, finally tells you the truth about the Age of Gods.]

"So Vortigern wanted to keep the Age of Gods on earth so that the people of Britain wouldn't starve to death. And Sister decided to take the throne to ensure a future where Britain could continue to exist, to bear the weight of this predestined history of destruction?"

Aozaki Rin seemed to find it hard to believe. He didn't understand why such an important matter had been hidden until now, letting the girl bear it all alone.

But he could also understand that if this were truly the reason, his sister would certainly not tell anyone else, not wanting others to feel the same pain she did over a future that was already set in stone.

"Then, no matter what we do, is there no way to change the current situation?"

"...I believe so. Vortigern has indeed failed, but for some reason, the Age of Gods, which should have faded away gently, has begun to resist fiercely in its final moments."

Merlin stared at the boy. Even though he had consciously avoided thinking about this problem in the past, now, he could no longer escape it.

"To be honest, when the harvests were so poor in the past few years, I was already wondering why. Because according to my estimates, although the final stage of the Age of Gods' disappearance would cause this problem, it shouldn't be this severe."

"And recently, I've finally figured it out. If the rules of the dying Age of Gods, under the pull of some force, were to be rekindled and clash with the rules of the present world, wouldn't that lead to the current situation?"

"But with Vortigern long since defeated, even Artoria with the heart of the Red Dragon cannot act as a 'medium' for this pull, and it's even more impossible for others."

"...But unfortunately, in the end, I discovered that there is one person who might be able to cause this unconsciously."

Sensing Merlin's somewhat heavy gaze on him, Aozaki Rin blinked. It was a long while before he came back to his senses and muttered to himself.

"Is it... because of me?"

"No, it's not your fault. You were merely used by Vortigern, En."

Seeing the boy's expression waver, Merlin quickly spoke up. After choosing his words carefully, he continued.

"The reason that man drew the Holy Lance was not just to deal with Artoria at the time, but also to 'un-fix' the rules of reality to allow the rules of the Age of Gods to overwrite them."

"And you may not realize it, but the Mystery contained within your body does not belong to this era. In a sense, you are an existence even more qualified than Vortigern."

Merlin sighed softly. Seeing that the boy's expression was still somewhat dazed, he kicked a pebble at his feet and said softly.

"I didn't want to tell you all this, because I knew you would definitely blame yourself for causing it. But you need to know, En, all the fault lies with Vortigern's plan. You just fell into his trap; in fact, all of us fell into his trap."

"Also, I advise you not to entertain any foolish ideas like 'if I disappeared, would this situation change'—a suggestion that would make Artoria beat me with the Holy Lance ten thousand times."

"After all, even if you did that, you couldn't change anything. The competition between the rules has long since begun. Your mission as the 'trigger' ended the moment the Holy Lance was drawn."

"So I advise you not to overthink it. Although Britain is destined for destruction, if you can stay by Artoria's side, I think she will be much better off in the end."

Speaking at length, which was rare for him, Merlin gazed at the wheat field, which should have been golden and lush but now had only a few withered stalks. Even he, who did not possess emotions in his heart, felt a hint of melancholy at the sight.

"...I understand. I won't let my thoughts run wild. Thank you for comforting me, Merlin."

Hearing the boy's voice finally sound out behind him again, Merlin let out a small sigh of relief. At least this way, although the final destiny might not be changed, a certain girl's ending could become a little happier.

"But, this way, I think I understand now. Why, ever since defeating Vortigern, I would occasionally feel as if the earth beneath my feet was calling out to me. But because the feeling was too strange, I always dismissed it as an illusion..."

Merlin frowned and subconsciously turned back to look at Aozaki Rin, a sense of unease in his voice.

"En?"

However, the boy did not respond to his voice. As if sensing something, or as if having understood something, Aozaki Rin slowly walked forward, his steps stopping at the edge of the wheat field. His unfocused golden eyes "gazed" at the earth. After a long while, he drew Durandal from his waist, made a light cut across his palm, and murmured softly to himself.

"...I hope my guess is not wrong."

Fresh blood instantly flowed from the boy's palm, rolling onto the damp soil.

In the next second, the desolate wheat field seemed to be filled with vitality.

The earth trembled gently, the soil began to turn over, and in the space of a few breaths, countless wheat seedlings broke through the earth. From green shoots, they grew in the wind, and in the blink of an eye, they transformed into mature ears of wheat, bowing low under their own weight.

Under the brilliant setting sun, the golden wheat field rolled in the wind like a tide of gold.

The boy seemed to hear the cheers of a bountiful harvest. He breathed a sigh of relief, a smile appearing on his face.

The corners of his mouth curled up slightly without him realizing it. He turned his head to face the stunned, white-robed magus and made a request.

"Merlin, please don't tell Sister about this."

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