CK Simulation, Creating the Style of Tsukino Fumi

Page 42

"Yes, you are my best heir, and I trust all your decisions."

You have made your choice and given your final words to your heirs.

Emperor Quinn Europa of Britannia has died. Will you choose your successor, Mordred Europa, as the next monarch and continue the game?

veto.

Quinn closed his eyes in relief.

[This game has ended. We are now calculating your final outcome...]

[Congratulations, dear player, your scenario settlement is complete. Scenario rating is being generated. The rating for this scenario is: Eternal Empire - Holy Britannia]

Quinn, on his deathbed, sat bolt upright in shock, his eyes wide with horror.

Wait, what do you mean by a perpetual empire? Mordred, what have you done?!

Chapter 82 Father, I will never let you down.

Quinn Europa's funeral was held in the largest church in the new capital, London. Catholic monarchs from all over Europe put aside their affairs to gather there, and the Pope himself came to oversee the funeral arrangements, delivering a eulogy for the most powerful and respected emperor in Catholic history.

The coffin, made of chalk, was surrounded by azure roses, a rare variety cultivated by the emperor himself, capable of blooming even in the dead of winter. It is said that these were flowers of love created by the emperor to win the favor of the empress, symbolizing the affection between the emperor and empress.

As the kings gazed at the blooming roses, they all felt a pang of regret for Quinn Europa's death. Many of them had recently participated in the Holy War, witnessed the emperor's splendor firsthand, and harbored a certain longing for this man.

But now, the emperor is dead, and not even his remains have been left behind.

After the emperor uttered his last words before his death, the body that supported this vast empire turned to ashes in the arms of the empire's heir, drifting with the wind to the ends of the sea. So now, what is placed in the coffin is nothing more than a bunch of blooming roses and a few pieces of clothing.

They couldn't empathize with the deceased's relatives, but they knew they were not feeling well, and couldn't help but look at the Queen and the Heir with pity.

The kings' gazes were undisguised, and Mordred could easily feel their stares. She didn't think these people were good people; she only found them extremely disgusting and repulsive. She knew this from her father's teachings; she understood that anyone who cast a pitying glance at her at this moment was no good person.

In the future, these people will try every means to tear flesh from the country their father left them, and will seize every opportunity to weaken the Britannian Empire. She will not allow anyone to do such a thing.

She, Mordred, had to work together with her mother, doing everything in her power to protect everything her father had left her; that was how it was supposed to be…

But why, Mother, are you behaving this way?

Mordred looked at Morgan, who was standing blankly in front of her father's coffin, at the woman who gave birth to her now looking like a walking corpse, her eyes empty and lifeless, devoid of her former radiance. She felt a mix of emotions. She herself was also heartbroken by her father's departure, but now was not the time to be heartbroken. The empire her father left behind was being eyed by wolves.

She felt she should remind her mother to stand on her side.

So, after the funeral, once everyone in the cathedral had left, Mordred went to her birth mother's side, looked expectantly at Morgan who was still stunned and unwilling to accept reality, and slowly said, "Mother, I need your help."

Her voice roused Morgan to her senses. This woman, who had once found happiness and received support from her lover when she was in dire straits, turned to look at her youngest child. Mordred had expected to see her mother regain her strength, but instead, she was met with a gaze of extreme disgust and hatred.

"It's all your fault..."

Morgan's voice trembled as she looked into her eyes at Mordred's blonde hair, which was just like Artoria's, her face, which resembled her own, and her eyes, which were just like her lover's. The prophecy she had heard from Quinn came flooding back to her in an instant.

'The last son of Pendragon will kill the King of Camelot.'

I shouldn't have come up with that plan to use the blood of the red dragon to create offspring. It was Mordre... I was the one who killed that person...

"I shouldn't have created you..."

Morgan knew perfectly well that Mordred hadn't done anything to harm her father, but... she couldn't control her emotions. She couldn't accept that she was the one who had killed the man who loved her most in the world, that she was the one who had created this last son of Pendragon, that she was the one who had given birth to an offspring that met the conditions of that prophecy...

She should have realized that with the decline of the mysteries of this world, only one person could bear the last mystery of the Age of Gods. The world could no longer tolerate the revival of the Age of Gods. When she tried to go against the tide of the times, she had already become the culprit who would kill her lover. She was the one who personally made the dagger that killed her lover.

"...Mother, what are you saying?"

"I shouldn't have given birth to you. Your father wouldn't have died. It's all my fault...it's all my fault..."

Morgan's almost insane ramblings left Mordred stunned. She couldn't understand why her mother would look at her like that, nor did she understand why Morgan had become like this, but she knew one thing.

Morgan can't be relied on anymore. She has to take care of Morgan. This is a task her father gave her, and she has to do her best. No, she absolutely has to complete it.

Mordred suppressed the myriad thoughts surging in her mind, her gaze gradually hardening. She still had others to rely on; she still had her godmother and her brothers and sisters.

"Mother, please stay here and keep Father company. I will not let him down."

Mordred made up her mind, turned her back to Morgan, walked out of the cathedral, closed the cathedral doors, and then looked at the people still outside.

That was Artoria, her godmother.

“Mordred, my sister…” Artoria’s tone was filled with unprecedented concern. With Quinn’s death, her grudges with Morgan were no longer important. She had already lost the most important man in the world to her, and she could not afford to lose another family member who was most important to her.

"Mother needs quiet."

Mordred breathed a slight sigh of relief; it seemed she still had someone she could rely on.

"That's good. Your mother needs your care. With Gawain and the others here, I feel at ease leaving the country in your hands. This way, I can return to Camelot with peace of mind."

Hearing that Morgan was alright, Artoria's forced composure relaxed, and she exuded a sense of dejection. After Quinn's death, she felt that there was no need for her to stay in London any longer. Perhaps, returning to Camelot, living a quiet life as a reclusive prince, not causing Mordred any trouble, and quietly awaiting death, returning the Holy Sword on time, would be the best ending for her.

However, Artoria's dejected state completely ignited Mordred's grief and anger.

The new emperor clenched his fists, looked at his godmother, and an idea ignited in his mind.

Is Father blind? Why would he trust you so much? Do you even deserve to be Father's knight?

"No, you can't leave yet. I have something I need you to do, King Arthur."

The mention of King Arthur sent a jolt through Artoria. She looked at the child who had been so innocent not long ago, but now Mordred was completely different. She exuded an aura similar to, yet different from, that of Quinn. Mordred was no longer the crown prince, but the true Emperor of Britannia.

"What do you want me to do?"

“Give me back your throne, weapons, and armor, and then go and kill the Dharma King.”

"What?" Artoria

Chapter 95

Staring at Mordred in astonishment, feeling as if he were hallucinating, he exclaimed, "What are you trying to do? Mordred, do you want to ruin all of Quinn's efforts?!"

"No, King Arthur, I am not like you or Mother."

Mordred's face revealed a somewhat ferocious smile. In that instant, Artoria felt that Mordred standing in front of her had become a vicious beast, and something extremely dangerous began to take root and sprout in her shadow, constantly surging.

“Father is right. I am the best heir to this country. He did not misjudge me. You have disappointed him. But I will not. I will not be like you and give up. I will inherit Father’s will and become a true emperor.”

"Mordred..." Artoria was startled by Mordred and took a step back. She reached for her weapon in surprise, but grasped only air. She suddenly remembered that it was a funeral today and she hadn't brought any weapons. "Are you crazy?"

“You and your mother are the ones who are crazy.” Mordred smiled with relief.

Yes, her mother has gone mad; she's unwilling to help her anymore. Artoria has gone mad too. She should have fulfilled her father's dying wish and assisted her in ruling the country, instead of wanting to return to Camelot to retire...

I am the true emperor, Europa II, personally appointed by my father.

I, Mordred Europa, will become the ruler of all Europe, only then will I not have failed my father's expectations.

Yes, Father, please watch over me from heaven. I, Mordred, will never let you down!

……

Inside the clock tower.

Quinn stared at the results screen that popped up on the simulator, trembling all over.

The image shown was not of herself, nor of Artoria, nor of Morgan, but of Mordred, who sat on a pale dragon bone throne, holding a holy lance, with a holy sword and scabbard at her waist, wearing lion armor and a lion skin cloak, standing on a round table, her eyes shining like gold.

Above its head, a title was prominently displayed.

"The Immortal Holy Emperor of Britannia," Europa II, Mordred.

"...What do you mean by 'dying after only two generations'?"

Chapter 83 Teacher, please give your students another hand.

Quinn slumped on the sofa, staring blankly at the basement ceiling, exuding a melancholy air, like a salted fish whose dreams had been shattered.

In other simulator novels, the protagonist is still immersed in the aftereffects of the simulation after it ends, unable to distinguish between simulation and reality. This did not happen to Quinn. He was simply slacking off because of the thick and heavy book on his lap at this moment.

Complete History of England

Although the results of the simulation made Quinn's scalp tingle and his heart tremble, the matter was already settled, and he no longer cared about the outcome of the simulation. The worst-case scenario was that he would be blacklisted by the Restraint Force and included in the list of illegal immigrants under surveillance.

Looking at so many cases of time travelers, how many of them didn't have to go through this ordeal?

As long as I let myself go, no one can affect my mindset. That was Quinn's original thought, but when he picked up the history books to properly evaluate the historians' assessments of his great achievements, Quinn was dumbfounded.

No, system, what happened to the promised simulation coming to life? Why isn't my name in the history books?

Looking back, Quinn realized that his name and family name were never mentioned in the entire history of England. He felt like he had been cheated. The thought of all the hard work he put into the simulation, and the possibility of being blacklisted by the Counter Force, turned out to be... System, you betrayed me!

After the initial melancholy came extreme anger. Quinn grabbed the history book from his lap and slammed it hard on the table in front of him.

Peng!

The marble round table, bearing the unbearable weight, disintegrated on the spot, leaving only the paper history book embedded in the floor like a cannonball, testifying to the immense power of Quinn's attack. Quinn, who had done all this, was stunned for a few seconds before looking at his hands.

He didn't use any magic enhancements, nor did he mobilize any other energy to strengthen his body, and he didn't even use his full strength.

Suddenly understanding something, Quinn stood up and walked to a mirror in the room. He lifted his shirt and what was revealed before him was the beautiful body of the "Holy Britannian Emperor," a crystallization of beauty that transcended the boundaries of male and female, reaching the pinnacle of human artistic aesthetics.

At the same time, he exhaled into the empty space of the room, and energy that should not exist in this era—true ether—overflowed from Quinn's mouth, creating a noticeable ripple in the air.

A surge of intense excitement welled up inside him. Although he didn't understand why his simulation hadn't directly altered the historical records, there was no doubt that Quinn himself had been affected by the simulation. There were no traces of magic circuits left on his body; instead, he possessed a "natural physique" enhanced by the [Robust] trait. Moreover, upon realizing the difference in his body, Quinn suddenly discovered that he felt no discomfort whatsoever.

Logically speaking, as a Type-Moon God, appearing in the modern world where the ecological environment has changed drastically and the air lacks the true ether necessary for Gods, he should have quickly experienced physical discomfort and eventually died. However, in reality, he showed no signs of discomfort.

Quinn simply stripped to the waist and started moving around the room. As he moved, he discovered that his physical condition was almost exactly the same as in the simulation. He could easily do everything he could do in the simulation. If it weren't for the fact that he didn't have his old weapons and was still wearing the modern clothes he wore before the simulation, Quinn would have thought he was still in the simulation.

"Tongzi, I was wrong just now, please don't mind."

Without the slightest hesitation, Quinn took it upon himself to apologize to his system. Although things didn't go as he originally expected, he had perfectly realized the results of his simulation. You know, other simulators are all about being stingy when it comes to settlement. Being able to realize even half of the simulation results of the novel's protagonists is considered excellent.

But my own is different. Although the system is mechanical and inhumane, and doesn't offer the option of dating, it's really generous.

Although Quinn's apology, as always, did not elicit any response from the simulator, Quinn was already used to it. He didn't care whether this belated cheat code was humane or not; he only cared about one thing now.

What exactly happened to me?

Although the historical records were not directly altered because of the simulation, the changes in my body are real. This means that my previous guess about the simulation coming to life was definitely correct, but for some reason, the way the simulation came to life was a little different.

As for the reason...

"Inhibiting force?"

Quinn recalled the pop-up window that appeared during his battle with Lucius. He felt that the current situation must be due to the intervention of the Counter Force. However, it was clear that even if the Counter Force intervened, it could not completely clear the results of his simulation. Otherwise, he would probably have been sent out of bounds by now.

Since the suppressor didn't completely eliminate the effects it caused in one fell swoop, it has most likely already sent assassins to try and get rid of this "abnormal person".

No, I need to quickly find something to protect myself.