I, Guinevere, am going to crush you, you curry stick, today!

The Sword of Light spoke in the same flat tone: "An outsider's plan is ultimately just a plan." It seemed like a random sentence, but the girl understood its meaning and couldn't help but smile: "Are you trying to comfort me?"

Clausolas remained silent.

But she felt inexplicably much lighter.

A plan is just a plan. Regardless of merits or demerits, she has come this far step by step on her own.

The girl closed her eyes.

She seemed to see a tiny ray of light, coming from who-knows-where, gently merging into her body.

She opened her eyes again.

The black dragon and Fennaville overhead had vanished without a trace, as if they had never existed at all.

Something welled up from the bottom of my heart.

The girl took a step forward, her clothes swaying, and in the next moment they transformed into a dark red cloak. Her eyes also turned into dragon-like vertical pupils, with a golden hue emanating from their depths. With another step, the jet-black armor materialized from the void, covering her petite body and adding a touch of awe-inspiring power.

"You are me—"

A lively voice rang in my ears.

She answered softly, "—I am you."

From beginning to end, the dragon power bestowed by Fafnir had no self-awareness. The half-dragon girl who awakened in the northern forest was originally the owner of this destiny, Fennaville.

Looking back, it was truly a dreamlike journey.

She turned her head and saw a girl with dragon scales covering her body, wings on her back, and horns on her head. She was semi-transparent and walking side by side with her.

"I don't want to die—I don't want to die, I ......"

The snow-white space stretched out infinitely, and several cracks were faintly visible in the surrounding air. The shrill, wailing voice suddenly materialized, and two blood-covered men staggered out of thin air and pounced on her.

"I have elderly relatives at home who can't walk, and my children are so young... I don't want to die here—"

Sadness and anger froze on her wrinkled face. The defeated soldier opened his arms wide, crying and begging to be embraced. Just as the girl was about to raise her sword, a sudden gust of wind howled past her.

It was like a long, bright red line, striking the soldier squarely, who instantly vanished into thin air. Then she saw clearly that it was a red spear, piercing through the soldier's afterimage, its momentum undiminished, continuing its trajectory forward like a dazzling meteor, "Crack!"

Throughout the entire snow-white space, an incredibly crisp cracking sound rang out simultaneously!

What emerged from the crack was a vast sea of ​​clouds and a bright blue moon in the distance.

……

Inside the deep palace, the queen lowered her right hand, which had been throwing the spear, and slowly sat back down in her seat, about to speak.

"……what?"

Scáthach was slightly taken aback when she noticed that her entire arm, starting from her fingertips, had become transparent.

"So... I see. I didn't expect that, like everyone else here, I myself am also a phantom?"

This means that you are very likely to die at some point in the future, and in the moment before you die, you will... have the thought that you don't want to die.

"Really, interesting."

He paused slightly.

Inside the secluded palace, the purple-haired woman sitting on the throne smiled faintly, then vanished like the wind, leaving no trace.

……

"So, what should we do next?"

Standing on the edge of the island, the Magic King was nowhere to be seen. Guinevere seemed to sense something, glanced in a certain direction, then looked away and asked.

The half-dragon girl, Fafnir—or perhaps more accurately, Finnavel—shaked her head. “I don’t know. But my intuition tells me I should go that way.” She pointed to the moon overhead.

In that instant, a touch of scarlet seemed to appear on the dark blue surface.

"That makes sense. But..."

The rest doesn't need to be said; anyone with eyes can see the countless black shadows that appeared out of nowhere in the air.

At a glance, there were enormous dragons, griffins, giant eagles, and all sorts of other strange birds and beasts. Some of them were still majestic, while others were covered in blood and tattered, as if they had just been through a fierce battle.

Perhaps they had just experienced a life-or-death battle in their lives.

But the real life has long since passed away; what remains here is merely a phantom unwilling to perish.

"It seems this road won't be easy." Guinevere tugged at the corners of her mouth, giving a somewhat helpless, bitter smile.

"no way."

Miss Dragon shook her head, looking rather eager: "We can only let these poor wretches die again."

"That's really impressive," she praised sincerely.

Unexpectedly, Finnaville then changed the subject: "Of course, it mainly depends on you." Seemingly noticing Guinevere's incredulous look, she innocently spread her hands: "Do I look like I'm capable of fighting right now?"

The girl looked her up and down.

That is indeed very convincing.

She sighed and looked at the ever-growing, dark clouds in the sky, which had become an obstacle, and the countless ships and crowds that were gradually approaching from all sides. She was alone on the island, with a sword in her hand. In this scene, it was as if the whole world was her enemy.

However, Guinevere felt completely at peace.

She understood that the whole world was no match for illusion.

The best reason I'm standing here is myself.

……

A distant, resounding bugle call echoed from afar. Simultaneously, the clanging of swords being drawn rang out, followed by a command:

"Everyone, listen to my orders--"

The flag was raised high and fluttered in the wind. A tall, slender figure stepped forward, wielding a gun and a sword, and soared into the air, charging straight towards the boundless army of demons in mid-air.

"...Fiona, attack...Diarmuid, come back here!"

I raised my hand halfway down, my beard trembling with anger, but beside me, more warriors were charging forward. Finn chuckled and patted him on the shoulder: "How about it, starting to regret turning into this old man?"

I gave him a disapproving look. This father and son, whose appearances were completely opposite to reality, always had an awkward relationship in the illusion. At this moment, he simply waved his hand in mid-air, and a mysterious and complex magic array immediately appeared.

He spread his five fingers and placed them down.

A ten-meter-long ice cone, formed purely from magic, immediately appeared.

“Father, I used to think that flippant speech was a problem only young people made.”

"That's right, I don't deny that I've always been young. In the past it was my mindset, and now it's also due to this handsome appearance."

Finn raised his chin, smiled smugly, then casually tossed his beloved sword between his fingers a few times before looking up at the vast crowd charging forward. Although there were only a few dozen of them, they charged with an aura no less imposing than a thousand troops.

This was his lifelong pride, the Fiona Warriors.

Even though they were torn apart in reality due to various events, here, for this very moment, both Gore and Diarmuid, along with their son and granddaughter, were still by their side.

This was a scene he often dreamed of in his later years.

Each time he woke up from that dream, he felt a sense of loss. He clearly still had many followers and many familiar faces around him, but they were no longer there.

If this is a dream, without a doubt, it is a beautiful dream that can make one forget everything and become completely immersed in it.

It was for this reason that Finn did not accept the proposal from the Magic King, the Supreme King Commark to whom he served, to retain his memories in each cycle, but instead chose to let the Cauldron reset his memories each time.

“Even if it’s just for a little while, I want to savor this perfect dream. But my king, as long as you come and tell me the truth, this son of the gun will always be your most steadfast sword.”

Just like that promise—although Finn himself doesn't remember it, even in this cycle of reincarnation, he still believes in and chooses to follow the nameless traveler without hesitation.

It wasn't because of some vague reason like loyalty or righteousness.

Simply because, for the leader of the Fiona Warriors, this world was far too perfect. Like a castle in the air, it would shatter at the slightest touch.

"Besides, I haven't been bothered by any troublesome women for so long... something's definitely not right."

"Father, what did you say?"

After giving a vague reply, Finnha chuckled, his gaze lingering only on the figure on the distant island for a moment before shifting away.

"I said!"

"This is the first battle witnessed by the new High King. Remember to perform well and don't disgrace the name of Fiona!"

As soon as he finished speaking, the sword called Son of the Spear spun in his hand, and the surrounding magic gathered, creating an endless stream of water. He raised the sword and swung it horizontally from left to right at the surging demons blocking his way in the air.

A blue curtain then slowly appeared before my eyes.

Wherever it passed, the sky was clear and blue, washing away the gloom.

"—The Undefeated—Purple Grass!"

……

P.S.: Countdown to the completion of Volume 2! Watching the police fights these past few days has been exciting, and Qingbai is in a great mood, making writing incredibly flowy. Remember to vote!

Chapter 299 The Dream Seen by a Young Girl (Part Fourteen)

The sounds of battle and shouts echoed through the sky. The isolated island was separated from the blue moon hanging high in the sky by more than ten thousand miles. The eerie blue light shone down. The girl's gaze swept over the warriors and monsters fighting all around her. With a certain certainty, she took a step towards the edge of the cliff, where there was nothing at all.

Countless tiny points of light, like trickling streams, converged from all directions, and the footsteps landed on a first-level light-forged staircase.

The misty clouds created a scene resembling a fairyland. Looking up, it seemed as if the staircase in the Dirnano illusion had been recreated, with the blue moon at the end and a magnificent golden palace in the center.

The objects are similar, but the people are different.

"The Cauldron of Wishes... or rather, the core of this world, should be the cauldron that Niman touched inside that palace." She murmured, as if talking to herself, yet also as if asking the person beside her. The half-dragon girl's already transparent figure suddenly rippled like the surface of water.

"Maybe."

Finnaville only gave a vague reply.

The distant sound of the horns still seemed to echo in her ears. A mere few dozen people were fighting fiercely against the overwhelming army of demons that blotted out the sky and the moon, and they were not at a disadvantage. The girl understood that the essence of this battle was the struggle for control of the dream world.

Most of the phantoms have not yet awakened, or have willingly indulged in the false dream after learning the truth. But at the same time, some people are unwilling to accept this and have stood up.

Initially, several famous heroes spearheaded this effort, but in countless cycles, there must have been many ordinary people who extended a helping hand for various reasons—they might be farmers who never left their villages, soldiers who died young despite their dreams, young people who died before they grew up, or mediocre old men who accomplished nothing in their lives.

Perhaps in countless reincarnations, with memories and consciousness constantly reset, only once did the soul choose to rebel, but this time, it was enough to make the soul shine with incomparably bright light.

The girl couldn't help but wonder, if she were in that situation, what decision would she make? Would she immerse herself in a dream that she knew was false yet was perfect, or would she resolutely break free of her shell, even if only for a moment, to truly live once?

However, whether it was a good thing or a bad thing, it seemed that Dafu did not give her the right to dream.

This allowed her to avoid this difficult choice.

Thoughts raced as the light-forged staircase stretched out beneath their feet, and the two slowly made their way forward. Monsters attacked from all sides, only to be repelled by Fiona's warriors, who fought valiantly against overwhelming odds, their battle cries deafening. Yet, as far as the eye could see, their numbers were rapidly dwindling.

“The essence of this battle is a struggle between our two sides for dominance over the dream world,” Finnaville said. “So what you see as fighting is merely a tug-of-war between everyone and the phantom souls ruled by the Cauldron of God. And whether it's the enemies standing in our way or our comrades fighting alongside us…”

It was during this conversation that the girl saw the young man, who seemed to be named Gore, swing his giant sword, which was as big as a door panel, and knock away several griffins with a series of clangs. Then, he was pierced through the chest by a wyvern, and blood gushed out. The wyvern's head was also smashed by Oscar's punch.

The body of Goll, whose chest had been pierced, quickly turned to ash. In the blink of an eye, like the other dead people and monsters, it reverted to countless tiny specks of light, which flew and scattered like fireflies in the night sky, disappearing without a trace in an instant.

Further ahead, several monsters suddenly appeared out of nowhere, baring their fangs and claws as they pounced. Finn stepped forward to meet them, his spear-sword fighting against them all, continuing to hold them off.

The half-dragon girl continued, "...After death, they will all return to the Great Cauldron ahead of time, just like 'Alternation,' and become combat power that the Great Cauldron can once again mobilize. So the longer this battle lasts, the more disadvantageous it will be for us. I heard that before this, the Magic King and Maeve... Mother and the others seemed to have come to the outside of the temple several times, but they lost at the last moment each time."

The Fiona Warriors, whose numbers were already small, had lost more than half of their men in less than a minute. Even their leader, Finn, was covered in blood, with several bloody marks on his face. He was no longer as relaxed as before, but his expression remained unchanged. He held his sword horizontally, and the highly condensed water flow was like a sharp blade, cutting straight through the hard dragon scales on the other side.

Blood and flesh flew everywhere, and the light vanished.

In the blink of an eye, they transformed into new demons that blocked their way, numbering in the hundreds and thousands, like a heavy black cloud that completely obscured the blue moon and the palace.

On the other side, only a handful of people remained, barely forming the last, precarious line of defense. Looking at this stark contrast, Finnaville silently calculated the time in her mind: "It should be about time..." Before she could finish speaking...

Beyond the sea of ​​clouds, a new bugle call sounded.

The horn sounded three times in a row, deep and long, like a giant standing tall and firm letting out a sigh. Connor's face turned red, and only after the last note was played did he suddenly release his hands, step back, and gasp for breath.

After a moment's pause, her gaze fell once again on the horn before her.

This was a treasure passed down through generations of Ulster, its history dating back to the most glorious period of the Age of Gods—the era belonging to Connor, when people fought with oxen-drawn carts. Several divine oxen, inheriting the bloodline of their ancestors and known for their bravery and fighting prowess, were considered treasures, and several battles, large and small, were fought over them. The most famous of these was, of course, the battle between Maeve and Ulster for the oxen.

Gazing at the horn, Connor was vaguely reminded of that unbearable time. By then, she had grown into a young woman, transformed from the "child prodigy" and "wise young queen" praised by her people into a tyrant reviled by everyone.

In this illusory dream, Connor still retains memories of her past life, but the past is always shrouded in a thin mist, making her feel as if she is watching someone else's story, lacking a sense of reality. Sometimes she thinks that she was undoubtedly wrong, but at what moment, in what matter, did she begin to go wrong? Yet she can't figure it out.

If his mother had kept her promise and handed the throne of Ulster to the hero Fergus, would everything have been different? Back then, his mother, the people, and even Fergus himself had supported him… He didn't know when it started, but everything and everyone around him had changed.

Only Cú Chulainn remained by his side.