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

But in the end, even he died in that battle.

So even though Ulster ultimately won, Connor didn't feel much joy. After all, things were different now…

Can not go back.

"I've always been curious why you chose to become this tiny little thing." The blue-haired lancer holding the horn looked down at the panting child and couldn't help but laugh: "I remember you used to really want to grow taller and always complained that you were too short to do anything."

“Shortly after that complaint, Ku found me a magic potion that could make me grow taller.” Connor looked up, a bright smile on his face.

Cú Chulainn curled his lip: "Just passing by."

"understand!"

"I don't think you understand at all."

She had known Cú Chulainn for many years, and they had countless memories together. Although they had drifted apart due to differences of opinion in the end, it was as if they had rediscovered their initial pure feelings. Connor casually mentioned a few more heartwarming memories, and suddenly a thought struck her: "That's right, Cú Chulainn."

"what?"

"Where did you get that bottle of elixir?"

“This…” Cú Chulainn seemed to pause for a moment: “I can’t remember right now, what’s wrong?”

Connor was silent for a moment, then shook her head: "It's nothing, I'm just a little curious." She had suffered from a strange illness since childhood, and her appearance remained that of a child even in her teens. It was only because of the elixir that Cú Chulainn found that she was able to grow up and return to a normal appearance. But now she suddenly remembered that those changes that she found somewhat incomprehensible seemed to have gradually occurred after she drank that bottle of elixir.

Is there some connection between the two?

Thinking this, Connor's brows furrowed tightly, only to relax abruptly in the next instant. Well, at this point, whether there was some conspiracy involved or not, it was ultimately irrelevant.

"Ku".

She called out softly.

Cú Chulainn didn't respond, but merely raised his eyebrows in slight impatience.

Connor turned around, took the golden shield from his attendant, looked up at the distant azure full moon, the stairway of light extending into the sky, and the girl who could only be seen as a blurry shadow on this side, along with the overwhelming monsters. With a "bang," the shield slammed heavily to the ground.

"This time, I probably won't regret it."

"what."

The spear flashed through the air, and as Cú Chulainn slung it over his shoulder, he listened to the child's soft laughter beside him, smiled faintly, and turned around.

Spears and halberds stood like a forest, and flags fluttered in the wind.

In the past, all adult males of Ulster were cursed, and he was the only one who survived. For a long time, he fought against Maeve's army all by himself. Now, seeing this scene, he suddenly remembered that this was Ulster's army.

An invincible and ever-victorious army.

He seemed to have once drunk with the bearded man over there, and arm wrestled with the slightly frail young man next door—the latter later died on a hunt, supposedly pierced in the heart by the tusks of a demonic boar—a faded memory gradually became clearer. Cú Chulainn let out a long breath and raised his spear high in the air: "Gentlemen!"

He wasn't good at making grand pronouncements before battle.

Those who can stand here, even if they are just ordinary, nameless soldiers, do not need anyone else to boost their morale.

A silence fell, but within that silence, a fire burned.

“We will all die someday.” So Cú Chulainn simply stated his thoughts: “In fact, the people here, me and you, are already as dead as can be, their bones are cold.”

"So there's only one thing we need to do."

"Accept your own death with equanimity, and then deal with those cowards who refuse to accept this fact..."

"Kick it away!"

With a sudden increase in volume, the crimson demonic spear was thrust forward, its tip flashing with a cold light, just like the man's white teeth when he grinned.

Connor placed his hands on his shield, waiting for Cú Chulainn to finish speaking before finally speaking: "The Ulsters—"

Her voice was not loud.

His voice, still carrying a touch of childish innocence, spoke each word with the unwavering resolve of a stormy night: "Attack!"

……

Ancient trees reached for the sky, and light flowed freely. Occasionally, a strange wind would blow by, causing the man hanging on a branch to sway gently, his cloak billowing to reveal skin charred black by flames.

Only his single exposed eye, under the shadow of his wide-brimmed hat, gleamed with an emotionless, indifferent light.

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Chapter 300 The Dream Seen by a Young Girl (15)

After the Ulsters entered the fray, the tide of battle seemed to be turning in their favor. Although the individual combat strength of this army was far inferior to that of the Fiona Warriors, their numerical superiority was enough to make up for this shortcoming.

Led by Cu Chulainn, the elite troops charged straight into the monster horde like sharp blades. The spellcasters and shield bearers followed, and their orderly formation quickly separated the powerful but disorganized monsters who fought individually. For a time, together with the remaining Finn and his men, they were more than capable of withstanding the enemy's overwhelming onslaught.

But everyone understood that this was just a temporary illusion.

They had limited resources to begin with, and now their first card was almost completely used up. Their past failed attempts had also shown them the limits of the Ulsters – the other side was still the master of this dream, and even without the Cauldron's orders, as long as they felt threatened, most of the phantom souls that had not yet woken up or resisted waking up would spontaneously step forward to block their way.

A magic spear capable of easily piercing an enemy's heart, a golden shield capable of summoning the equivalent of three seas of Ireland—even wielding such incredible treasures, is still far too weak when facing almost the entire world.

As for whether there would be another chance if they failed this time, Cú Chulainn did not know. Unlike the Magic King, Medb, and others, he did not retain the memories of repeated reincarnations, so his desire for success was not as strong. However... even now, he still could not understand why Medb—that woman he loathed so much, who seemed to be the embodiment of desire—would stand on their side this time.

Without any reason, Cú Chulainn firmly believed that what drove Maeve to make this choice was definitely not some so-called righteous cause or any other noble excuse.

What would that be?

"Ku! Don't get distracted..."

The childish shout had barely rang out when the man twisted his wrist, the tip of his spear piercing through a giant eagle swooping down from the side. With a swift pull and sweep, he sent it flying, feathers fluttering. Then, he gave a smug look to the side. Connor stood there with his mouth agape, shaking his head with a smile after a few seconds: "As expected of Ku."

“You…” Noticing the strange light emanating from the girl’s eyes, Cú Chulainn’s teasing remark changed: “What did you see?”

He knew that Connor had the ability to see into the future. The little girl pursed her lips, her expression unusually serious: "I'm watching... to see if we have a victorious future."

"Then?"

"We will win."

"Is this the future you're seeing?"

"Do not."

With her shield held horizontally in front of her, the boundless ocean currents transformed into whirlpools, easily neutralizing the dragon's fiery breath. She then pushed the shield forward, and the whirlpools scattered with a roar, sending countless tiny water droplets flying out. The dragon let out a miserable howl as its flesh was torn apart by these countless sharp, blade-like water droplets. In the blink of an eye, only a crimson mist remained on the spot.

"That's just my hope."

The young king looked up, his eyes reflecting the countless points of light that had scattered after the dragon's death, like a stream flowing into an invisible river. The next moment, a familiar three-headed dragon appeared out of thin air in the distance, spread its wings, and pounced.

"I can't really figure out how to win." Cú Chulainn shrugged, his words lacking in fighting spirit, but his tone was quite relaxed: "But oh well, it's not the first time I've fought a battle I can't win..."

"Unfortunately, there were no stones around."

Connor joked, but seeing the other reach out to pat her head, she quickly recoiled. Missing her chance, Cú Chulainn turned and repelled the attacking monster with a single shot, then chuckled to himself, "Yeah. Too bad there aren't any stones this time, otherwise..."

The griffin that passed him had a head with wide-open eyes in its beak. It was unclear whether it belonged to an Ulster or a Fiona warrior. Blood splattered everywhere as the magic spear pierced its wing from the side. The spear then swept across, sending the griffin flying backward like a dead tree. Cú Chulainn reached out and grasped the bleeding head, staring silently into those lifeless eyes for a few seconds.

"...Otherwise, we could kill a few more."

As soon as he let go, his head vanished like smoke.

Little by little, light converged, and new monsters emerged.

……

The path of light extends out beneath our feet, and two figures, one real and one ethereal, are ascending the steps.

Having traveled a great distance, looking back, the island that had started there had become a tiny black dot, shrouded in thick fog and barely visible. The shouts of battle were also growing weaker. Although the two sides were fighting fiercely right beside them, the people and monsters seemed like a mirage, full of an illusory feeling.

"That horn just now... was from Ulster."

Fennaville closed her eyes briefly and said calmly. The girl thought for a moment: "Ulster...is it Connor and Cú Chulainn?"

"Yes. They will be deployed, which means Fiona's forces are almost wiped out, and we don't have much time left..."

Fennaville paused, and as if following those words, the girl raised her head. The sea of ​​clouds behind her gradually disappeared, but the blue moon hanging high in the sky remained as distant as ever. The palace, nestled in the moonlight, appeared indistinct and shadowy, like a celestial palace from mythology. But the longer one looked, the more it seemed as if the moon was suddenly getting closer and then suddenly moving further away.

"This is not your imagination."

As if sensing the girl's thoughts, or perhaps because their ability to communicate remained intact under these circumstances, Finnaville said, "That is the core of the dream, the location of the Great Cauldron. Logically speaking, it is a place that we phantoms cannot reach. Only you, as an 'outsider,' can go to that palace and push open that door... All we can do is try our best to get you there."

"Until then, we just need to wait."

Whether these words were meant to comfort Guinevere or to herself, Finnavel closed her eyes again, letting the surroundings turn completely dark. Her wings trembled slightly, like the hidden worries in her heart. The dice had been thrown, and for a gambler, the moment of waiting for the result to be revealed was the most agonizing.

They can only wait now.

But... can we really win?

Faintly, new sounds drifted over. Like the war drums and horns that sounded before an army marched into battle—familiar sounds that Finnaville often heard in her memory.

The third sound.

Maeve's army also entered the field.

This is their last card; after this, they have no more backup.

With this final trump card played, the battle situation shifted once more. The horn call continued, and in Fennaville's emerald eyes, the moon palace, which had seemed so far away, suddenly drew much closer. Without hesitation, she gripped Guinevere's hand tightly, her dragon wings unfurled, and she charged forward.

"quick!"

At the same time, Fennaville activated her future vision, and the monotonous scene before her eyes instantly transformed into a kaleidoscope of colors. Various fragmented images flashed past her eyes, but the half-dragon girl was already used to it and easily discerned what was useful from them. She swept her dragon tail, crouched down, clenched her empty left hand into a fist, covered with dragon scales, and her slender, fair arm instantly transformed into a giant claw, slashing out with a whoosh, striking the chest of the suddenly appearing black shadow.

A crisp sound of bones cracking rang out, and the dark shadow shattered, wisps of smoke rising and reforming a few steps away.

"Shadow Spirit?"

“Those monsters are the spontaneous rebellion of most of the phantoms in this world. And these things are the ‘guardians’ of the Great Cauldron itself.”

He released the girl's hand, and Finnaville's other hand transformed into a giant claw, her entire being now awe-inspiring as a half-dragon, half-human figure: "I'll handle them. You hurry over there. Time is limited. If we wait until Maeve... Mother and the others are defeated, there will be no more chances!"

In the time it took to say those few words, more dark figures emerged before the path of light, as if they were the final obstacle before the finish line. Before Fennaville could finish speaking, she had already charged straight at them—her claws whistled, instantly snapping a spear that was thrust at her and also knocking half of the spear's owner's body away. Countless black mists scattered in all directions.

Just as she was about to urge her again, the half-dragon girl saw Guinevere rush through the gap and dash forward.

"That's right... that's how decisive we should be."

She couldn't help but chuckle softly, and swung her claw again, only to have it blocked by a sharp sword. Then, a sharp axe swung from the side, slashing heavily at her wrist. Although the scales provided some protection, it still tore open a sizable gash, and blood flowed freely.

Finnaville frowned.

"I guess I'm still not very good at fighting. Brother, help me!"

A call.

The jet-black scales covering its body suddenly intertwined, and in the blink of an eye, its body grew violently taller, and the degree of its dragonification became more and more obvious. From head to toe, it was almost a complete, small evil dragon standing on two legs.

Ripples spread across his dark golden pupils, a fleeting glimpse of clear consciousness within them, followed by nothing but a frenzied killing intent.

The one standing here is no longer Maeve's daughter.

Swords, spears, axes—countless weapons, each carrying a powerful gust of wind, struck the dragon's body, only producing a series of sparks, unable to penetrate any further. The next moment, the dragon opened its mouth.

A raging fire erupted!

……

time is limited.

Understanding this, Guinevere dashed off, her steps unwavering even as a girl's pained groan echoed behind her. The black mist condensed, and the new Shadow Heroic Spirit, barely appearing, was decapitated by a single sword strike.

If it were now, she would no longer hesitate to kill.

Guinevere even thought so. The stairway of light continued forward, drawing ever closer to the blue moon. The magnificent golden palace within it seemed to be moving towards her as well; this might just be her illusion, or it might be due to the evolving battle outside. In any case, there was only one thing to do at this moment.

Ten steps, nine steps... six steps... four steps... three steps, two steps...

The distance is getting shorter, and the outline of the door is becoming clearer and clearer. Only one last step is needed!

She crossed her sword in her left hand and pushed forward with her right, almost slamming her entire body into the door she had seen several times in Dirnano—for a moment, the girl felt her fingertips touch the cold, massive door, but suddenly, the sensation vanished.

She stumbled and almost fell, her outstretched hand grasping helplessly a few times, but she could only watch as the door, which had once been within reach, flew away again!

"This is……"

Ten steps, a hundred steps, and the palace and the blue moon became impossibly far away once more. Before her and the door, new shadowy figures gradually emerged. These were all burly giants, generally two or three meters tall, some with animal skins around their waists, others wearing robes adorned with luxurious and intricate patterns. Without exception, they all had only one eye on their faces.

Cyclops.

In this world, and in Guinevere's understanding, the identities of these people who appear at this time are self-evident.

Descendants of the Fermoth family.

Even these former enemies were "equally" accepted into the dream by Daifu.