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"—South America, the last Lostbelt!"

Full speed ahead!

The Nautilus pierced the last gloom hanging over the ruins of Britain, like a silver meteor, resolutely heading towards the other side of the horizon, towards the final battlefield that would determine the ultimate fate of humankind...

-

The Nautilus transformed into a silver speck of light in the sky, eventually disappearing completely behind the leaden-gray clouds.

The salty sea breeze whipped up sand and pebbles, lashing against the three children of paradise who stood silently, blowing their different styles of dresses and long hair, all stained with dust and blood. Behind them lay a shattered kingdom, utterly silent and lifeless; before them stretched an endless, inky ocean that seemed capable of swallowing everything.

After a long, seemingly frozen silence, Liliana was the first to let out a soft sigh. The sound was soft, yet it was as if some invisible shackle that had lasted for thousands of years had been broken.

"...They've left." She said softly, her tone devoid of the sadness of parting, but rather carrying a strange, relieved lightness.

Morgan nodded slightly, her taut shoulders seeming to relax a little. She lowered her head, opening her palm, the tactile sensation of handing over the Holy Grail crystal still lingering in her hand, as well as the even older, heavy burden of gripping the scepter, manipulating magic, and issuing commands. Now, that heaviness was slowly slipping away from her fingertips with the complete demise of Britain.

“Ah, they’re gone,” Morgan replied calmly. “They’ve returned to where they belonged, carrying the ‘correct’ answer to history.”

Caster remained silent, gazing in the direction the spaceship had disappeared, her emerald eyes reflecting the empty sky and the crashing waves. She gripped the staff that was now one with the holy sword, feeling the immense power flowing within it—the power of the "Chosen Sword"—and recalled the feeling of using it in battle and to protect. Then, she made a move that surprised both Morgan and Liliana—with a flick of her wrist, she gently planted the staff in the soft sand beside her, leaving only a small section of the hilt protruding, as if it were merely a casually stuck twig.

“Cast?” Morgan raised an eyebrow slightly.

“I’m a little…tired.” Caster turned around and gave his two seniors a slightly embarrassed but exceptionally clean smile. “I don’t want to keep carrying such ‘formal’ things.”

This simple action is like a silent declaration.

Liliana stared at the staff half-buried in the sand, momentarily stunned, then a genuinely relieved, even slightly mischievous, smile slowly spread across her ancient and beautiful face. She raised her hand, her fingertips gently brushing against the intricate hair ornament at the back of her head, a symbol of royalty and power. She hesitated for a second, then—unfastened it.

The ornate and elaborate hair ornament fell, which she caught casually, tossed behind her without even glancing at it. The ornament arced through the air before landing with a "plop" in the murky sea nearby, splashing up a small wave before disappearing completely. Freed from its restraint, her long, silvery-white hair instantly cascaded down, flying freely in the sea breeze. She lost some of her queenly majesty, but gained a long-lost vibrancy and untamed spirit belonging to the individual "Liliana."

Morgan watched their movements silently, something melting quietly deep within her purple eyes. She didn't untangle her braids, nor did she discard any symbols; she simply raised her hand and gently brushed away a speck of ash from her cheek. Then, she walked to Caster's side, standing beside her as they gazed at the sea, before glancing sideways at Liliana's disheveled hair.

“Finally…” Morgan’s voice was very soft, almost drowned out by the sound of the waves, but it reached the ears of the other two clearly, “I can… no longer be the ‘Queen,’ no longer the ‘Savior’ or the ‘Child of Prophecy’.”

“Yes.” Liliana walked to their other side, stretched, her movements as relaxed as a cat just waking up. “No more balancing acts, no more suppressing rebellions, no more worrying about the fate of the nation, and no more burdened by any mission of ‘salvation’ or ‘atonement’.” She tilted her head, her silver hair falling over her shoulders, and looked at Morgan and Castor. “How do you feel, Vivian, and our little Castor?”

Caster blinked, a thoughtful look on his face, and then answered seriously, "It feels... like I've taken off a huge box that I've carried for a very long time, so heavy that I almost forgot it existed. Now, my shoulders and my heart are empty, but... it's a relaxed emptiness, not a lonely emptiness."

“Well described.” Morgan rarely gave a word of praise. She looked at the ruins and ocean that had swallowed her two thousand years of hard work but had also given her liberation. Her eyes were complicated, but they eventually turned into a calm and serene expression. “Although the process was tragic and the price was huge… at least, the ending was written by our own hands and witnessed by our own eyes.”

"Do you regret it?" Liliana suddenly asked, her gaze sweeping over the two younger women. "For such an ending, you paid so much and lost so much."

A brief silence.

The sea breeze howled.

“No regrets.” Caster was the first to shake his head, his tone firm. “I saw a vast world, met important people, understood my own heart, and accomplished what I was supposed to do. I got… an answer more important than ‘mission’.”

Morgan paused for a moment, then slowly said, “I have ruled, struggled, and failed. I once thought that power and an iron fist could turn the tide of fate, but I later realized that some things are rooted in the blood and cannot be eradicated. But... I have also protected some things, guided a child to grow up, and finally, together with you, brought it all to an end. This answer... though imperfect, is real enough, and I have no regrets.”

Liliana smiled, a smile devoid of all queenly demeanor, leaving only a warmth that was purely "Liliana's," tinged with a touch of vicissitude and boundless relief.

“I’ve lived too long and seen too much. I’ve tried gentle guidance and experienced ruthless suppression. I once thought my era could bring eternity, but it only left behind shattered dreams. But in the end, I saw continuation, I saw struggle, and I also saw… the possibility of ending and rebirth. To be able to stand with you in the very end, watching this long drama come to a close… I’m satisfied with this answer. I have no regrets.”

The three children of Paradise looked at each other and smiled. In their smiles, there was weariness after the tribulations, and loneliness after losing everything, but more than anything, there was a pure ease and relief that belonged to "themselves" after breaking free from the shackles of all identities and responsibilities.

They are no longer queens, no longer saviors, no longer children of prophecy.

They were just three "ordinary" girls standing at the edge of the world, on the verge of ruins—Liliana, Vivian (Morgan), and Artoria (Castle). The storms of history had subsided, and the future remained uncertain, but at least for this moment, they possessed unprecedented freedom, and a clear answer to their own existence, earned through long years and immense sacrifice.

The waves continued to relentlessly pound the crumbling shore, as if playing a monotonous yet eternal melody for the final chapter of an ancient epic. The three former "protagonists" simply stood there quietly, savoring the brief but genuine tranquility that followed the storm.