[After Woodworth's army withdrew, Sir Gawain's forces—who had been fighting the Calamity—were surrounded by your troops. Having suffered massive losses against the Calamity, Gawain's strength was greatly diminished.]
[Queen's Calendar 2018 May: Queen Nocnarei's host attempts to finish off Sir Gawain, but Percival argues that Gawain fought to save Norwich's people—a noble act not to be struck while down.]
[You suggest that by sparing Gawain now, you might sow discord within Woodworth's army later, further weakening their power.]
[You agree with Percival.]
[Percival leads troops to halt Nocnarei's advance, while you cover Gawain's retreat. Gawain thanks you and swears never to oppose the Round Table again.]
[As terms of alliance, the Round Table withdraws from Norwich, ceding it to Queen Nocnarei—whose forces are now tied down by the still-raging Calamity.]
[After Norwich, you learn that Nocnarei led her remaining troops north to Edinburgh, recaptured Sheffield from Woodworth's grip, and paid respects at Altria's burial site.]
[You discover Nocnarei was Altria's close friend in life.]
[You and Percival renew the chase against Woodworth's remnant forces. Your superior tactics rout their demoralized ranks. Woodworth retreats to Oxford with only a handful of men.]
[You and Percival surround Woodworth, all alone.]
Guenivere grinned as the holo-screen showed a cornered, disheveled Woodworth:
"Ha! Never been beaten at a paint-by-numbers game!"
["How could this be? How could you drive me to such a state?!"]
Woodworth tore his pristine suit to shreds in a rage, glaring at Guenivere:
["Fine! Fine! Even if you destroy my army, do you think you've won?"]
["Now—I shall face you myself!"]
[Woodworth, overcome with madness, charges your lines alone.]
"Fighting like a trapped beast…" Guenivere muttered, frowning. He pressed a button:
[You activate Endless Trial of the Undying, targeting Lord Woodworth of the Yax Clan.]
As the battle montage began, Guenivere took control—only to be instantly wiped out by a single slap from Woodworth's gauntleted hand.
"…What the hell?"
He retried the Trial, dodging at the first frame—only to be slapped dead again.
"…"
After being one-shotted repeatedly, his trembling hand opened Woodworth's status screen. Staring at the stats, Guenivere was speechless. He closed it, convinced he'd opened it wrong.
He reopened it—and saw:
[Lord of the Yax Clan, Aeling-Hundred-Kinds—Woodworth]
[Rarity: SSR]
[Strength: A]
[Agility: A]
[Magic: A]
[Endurance: A+]
[Luck: C]
[Noble Phantasm: None]
Guenivere tapped out a question mark:
"So this is basically a Musō (one-versus-thousands) game?"
He challenged Woodworth again and again—but the gulf in base stats was too great. After ten more deaths, he gave up.
[Player has forfeited the Trial. The simulator will continue based on your character's psychology and personality.]
[Fueled by hatred, you renew your challenge against Woodworth.]
[Overwhelmed by the disparity, you cannot harm Woodworth. After countless painful deaths, your resolve breaks.]
[After 3,000 failures, Endless Trial of the Undying ends.]
On screen, Woodworth's massive form closed in once more, effortlessly plunging a gauntlet through Guenivere's chest. With a final roar, Guenivere thrust his sword—but it barely grazed Woodworth's skin, and the blade's scant Morass poison had no effect. Woodworth casually snapped the sword in two, flung Guenivere aside, and charged the nearby troops—his bestial roar echoing:
"You understand nothing! No matter how deep the dust, it remains dust!
The battlefield is where a lone fairy's true power is shown!
In Her Majesty's Fairy Kingdom, armies exist only to give you worthless mortals something to do!"
[You have died.]
[After killing you, Woodworth slays Percival and massacres the entire Round Table Army.]
[Simulation over.]
[Summarizing your saga…]
[In the year you spent in Fairy Britain, your active life lasted barely one year. Yet as an unknown squire, your name spread across Britain.]
[As the Prophecy Child's sole companion, your indifference led her to doubt her mission and choose self-destruction—your failure to care is inescapable.]
[After her death, you joined the Round Table. Thanks to your civil talents, Lentenian prospered, and the army grew—earning you great praise.]
[Your martial genius helped crush the Yax clan—humans' first large-scale victory over fairies in centuries, inspiring all of Britain.]
[But your rush for vengeance, underestimating a top-tier fairy, led to near destruction of the Round Table at Oxford—shifting the tide from triumph to decline.]
[Still, your valor shone as a beacon of hope. You and the Round Table became symbols for future rebellions.]
[Simulation rating: Light of the Rebellion]
[Score: 60/100]
[You earn one reward draw opportunity.]
Guenivere didn't hesitate:
[Drawing simulation reward…]
[You gain Intrinsic Skill: Morning Star (C)]
[Your actions more easily inspire allies; when you lead a faction or hold authority, your side's stats gain a small boost.]
"Just a white-tier skill…better than nothing."
He stroked his chin. "Shouldn't there be a memory-carryover feature? Why doesn't my tester include that?"
He sighed. "Well—it's only 0.2 Beta. No point expecting too much."
He resolved to analyze the failure. The summary had blamed him for ignoring Altria's emotions, so he checked their "Mood" stats this run.
His own Mood hovered around 60, dipping 30 points on Altria's death and staying in the mid-30s thereafter. But Altria's Mood had started at 20, briefly spiked by 30 when he joined, then plummeted from constant setbacks—never recovering despite her Quick Recovery passive (which restored 80% of any lost Mood).
Guenivere realized: every time her Mood dropped by 10, she only lost 2 after recovery—yet all her events were negative, so her Mood kept bleeding down. Meanwhile he'd spent every Action Point on training, ignoring her growing despair under lighthearted fairy torment.
He inhaled deeply. So that's why Altria chose self-destruction—not her fault, but his negligence of her feelings. He vowed to pay attention next round.
[With your sole companion Guenivere's death, this simulation ends.]
[Summarizing your saga…]
[As either a fairy sent to the surface or as the Prophecy Child, you have undoubtedly failed.]
[Your reckless actions and death betrayed all who hoped in you.]
[Simulation rating: Accomplishing Nothing]
[Score: 5/100]
Altria winced at the harsh verdict but couldn't refute it.
[Because Guenivere performed well, you earn one reward draw. Draw now?]
She hesitated, then chose Yes:
[Drawing reward…]
[You obtain Common Spiritron Dress: Exiled Knight – Guenivere]
[The dress will be stored in your Spiritron Closet. As a Common-tier dress, it grants no extra stats.]
"Spiritron Dress? Is that like a cosmetic outfit?" Altria clicked for details. A familiar image flickered in the holo-screen—Guenivere, at his final, dying moment after his defeat to Percival.
On a battlefield of corpses and blood, the mortally wounded knight lay in the crimson mire, blood streaming from his chest and lips. As if seeing a vision, he stretched a trembling hand skyward—reaching for…hope?
Then, after whispering his last words, his light faded. His outstretched hand flopped lifelessly into the gore.
[You lost your liege, your comrade, your only refuge—and with them, your reason to go on. All that remained was burning hatred. In pursuit of vengeance, you risked everything. Yet that tiny spark you cherished—vanished without a trace.]
Altria's eyes welled. Now she understood why Guenivere had fallen into such ruin.
[Accept all memories from this simulation?]
Without hesitation, she pressed Yes.
A flood of memories poured in—crisp, vivid like never before. She could recall every day of those six months: the fairies' taunts, the scornful faces, their hostile, malicious gazes, and the crushing despair they inflicted.
Yet in this review she also saw something she'd missed: the one figure always at her side—so quietly striving to help her.
Altria's vision blurred. She seemed to hear his final whisper:
"I'm sorry, Altria… I was too weak. In the end, I couldn't help you at all."
"No—it wasn't like that…" she murmured. "I was the one who never helped you."
As she wept for her own cowardice, the prompt appeared again:
[Begin the next simulation?]
Firmly, she chose Yes. For the first time, her timid eyes gleamed with unwavering resolve:
"This time… I will save you."