I Don’t Want to Be a Heroic Spirit

The atmosphere in the room suddenly grew heavy.

It was as if storm clouds had gathered over a vast ocean, the oppressive weight pressing down so hard it would make anyone struggle to breathe.

Watching the silent Avicebron, Artoria broke the silence.

"Apologies for bringing up such strange matters."

Her words were like a ray of sunlight piercing through the clouds—faint but enough to ease the suffocating tension.

Artoria opened the door, her gaze meeting that of a small boy standing outside.

She seemed to recall something and turned back to the room briefly. "Thank you for the hospitality. The tea was excellent."

With that, she passed the boy and walked down the long corridor, her footsteps echoing as she disappeared into the distance.

The boy, Roche, stared after Artoria for a moment before redirecting his attention. He was more curious about his teacher and the automata than the visitor.

When he turned back, he found Avicebron stepping out of the room.

"Ah! Teacher! You're finally out!" Roche exclaimed, running up to him with unbridled enthusiasm.

"Teacher, I have some questions about the automata. Can you teach me?" he asked eagerly.

"Of course," Avicebron replied, his tone calm and measured as though unaffected by his earlier conversation with Artoria.

His mask made it impossible to discern his emotions, hiding any turmoil that might have lingered.

Roche had already heard from the others that the person who had left was none other than Ruler, the divine King Arthur.

But what did that matter to him?

To Roche, the greatest person in the world was undoubtedly his teacher. The one who could craft such incredible automata was unmatched in his eyes.

If anyone praised Avicebron, Roche would be even happier than if the praise had been for himself.

Roche's love for automata reminded Avicebron of his younger self.

Patiently, Avicebron answered Roche's endless stream of questions. Though many of them were naive in nature, he responded with unwavering kindness.

As they spoke, Avicebron's gaze drifted toward the hallway, as though he could still see Artoria's faintly glowing figure retreating into the distance.

"Ah… a divine spirit…" he murmured. "Did you come to me because you heard my future self's confession?"

His voice was so soft that even Roche, standing beside him, couldn't hear it.

"Teacher, did you say something?" Roche asked.

"…No, it's nothing," Avicebron replied.

Something had indeed changed. Even with Avicebron's mask concealing his face, Roche could sense a subtle shift in his teacher's demeanor.

For some reason, he felt that his teacher had grown… gentler.

Their compatibility was remarkable. Even without seeing Avicebron's face, Roche could instinctively perceive his transformation.

---

After leaving Avicebron, Artoria returned to her own room.

As she reached for the door handle, she paused, holding the position for several seconds as though sensing something.

"…Sigh."

She let out a soft sigh before pushing the door open.

"Whoa!"

A startled yelp greeted her from inside.

Astolfo stood with his arms raised as if a gun were pointed at him, his entire body tense. But upon realizing the intruder was Artoria, he let out a relieved breath.

"Oh, it's just you, Ruler. Geez, you scared me barging in like that!" he exclaimed.

"I feel compelled to remind you that this is my room—or at least, the one arranged for me," Artoria replied dryly.

She closed the door behind her and glanced toward the bed.

There, a boy—no, more like a young man—lay sprawled out, seemingly asleep. His breathing was uneven, and his complexion looked unhealthy.

Thin as a skeleton, his frail body gave the impression he had never engaged in physical activity since birth. His physique suggested a complete lack of vitality, though his body was laced with numerous magical circuits.

This was unsurprising, as the boy was one of the many homunculi created as magical batteries.

The Yggdmillennia family excelled at homunculus production, with their creations serving three primary purposes: defense and combat on the castle's periphery, domestic tasks within the castle, or providing magical energy for Masters and Servants.

The last function—serving as magical batteries—was particularly crucial. For example, Karna, whom Artoria had previously fought, had to restrain himself in battle. If he fought at full strength, his Master's reserves would deplete within minutes.

The Black Faction's advantage in this war stemmed from their ability to use homunculi as magical batteries, allowing their Servants to fight without constraint.

Seeing Artoria's gaze on the boy, Astolfo perked up excitedly.

"What do you think? Intriguing, right? You're curious, aren't you? Let me tell you, he—"

"I'm not curious," Artoria interrupted. "Neither about his identity nor your motives."

The boy's identity was obvious to her—it was Sieg, the protagonist of this war.

However, at this point, he hadn't yet received the name Sieg. He was merely a homunculus who had awakened to a will to survive.

So, he must have escaped during her conversation with Avicebron and been picked up by Astolfo along the way.

"Eh?"

Astolfo seemed stunned by Artoria's "heartless" words. After a brief pause, he fumbled to respond.

"No, no! Listen! This kid, he's… uh…"

Opening his mouth, Astolfo suddenly found himself at a loss for words.

"You don't even know who he is, yet you brought him back here?" Artoria asked with a sigh.

Astolfo was infamous for his reckless and often inexplicable actions, attributed to legends of him losing his sanity. Knowing this didn't make dealing with him any less exasperating.

"That's not true! I know the basics!" Astolfo retorted, hands on his hips in defiance. "When I found him, he was lying there naked and begging for help. So I know at least one thing—he's someone who needs saving!"

---

I forgot this chapter so you guys get an extra chapter!