Fate/Ultimate Antagonist

[67] Chaldea and Reinhard

"When she died, she was waiting for someone..."

Gazing at the pristine, luminous moon outside the window.

Waver's voice drifted as if carried by the winds of a distant past, fifteen hundred years ago.

"...She was waiting... for Alvin Pendragon."

The king of knights had an ending like this.

Sighs, making one crave for a smoke.

Because only nicotine could numb the nerves tingling with such pain.

Waver gazed at his disciple.

Gazed at him, once again sitting bewilderedly on the sickbed, staring blankly out the window.

His dark hair fell over his forehead, slightly obscuring his eyes, making it difficult to discern what ripples were stirring within the profound abyss.

To witness such an epic life of the Son of the White Dragon, it's only natural for one to immerse oneself in it, isn't it?

But...

Waver felt that things weren't that simple.

... Could it be described as a dream instead?

After all...

If one could dimensional travel the first time, could they not also dimensional travel the second?

Although it seemed a bit far-fetched to have such an event as piercing through the Inner Sea of the Planet.

But, the existence of the black-haired youth in front of him itself was an incredible miracle.

As for how his disciple's mind and talents were, Waver knew best.

Experiencing such a separation and reunion, feeling dazed was inevitable.

Ugh... it's giving him a headache...

Waver made a pained expression as if having a stomach ache.

Forget being a disciple, as a mentor, Waver himself, just thinking about that kind of ending, would inevitably start to have stomach pains.

Good grief, is he giving himself a headache?

Tsk.

But in the end...

If his disciple had something on his mind, as a mentor, he shouldn't add to his troubles.

Waver flicked his cigar with his fingers, quietly waiting for Reinhard to calm his emotions.

Such is life, seeing through but not saying it.

Be content with where you are and enjoy yourself.

The black-haired youth stared blankly at the London night.

So silent, it seemed as if even the sound of the wind had been erased from the night.

No stars could be seen.

So the moon appeared even more sparse and lonely.

Standing under the dark and lonely night sky.

What was Artoria thinking before her death?

Regret?

Pain?

Resentment?

No... none of those, right?

Reinhard could actually guess her thoughts.

Because he might be the one in this world who understands her the most.