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

"I remember. What's wrong... Ah!"

Past battles flashed through her mind, and in an instant, like a bright lightning bolt striking her brain, her previously chaotic and disorganized thoughts suddenly became clear. Guinevere abruptly looked up: "That's it! The essence of Valhalla..."

"No matter the injury, even if you die, you will immediately revive and become completely healed." Before she could finish speaking, Artoria had already added the second half of the sentence—the exact words she had just said.

Guinevere suddenly realized.

The enemy she encountered deep in the mountains, the gun-wielding figure who felt so familiar—if she wasn't mistaken, wasn't he exactly the definition of a fallen warrior? Even the boar before that, after being defeated by Tristan, rose again in the form of skeletons, and no matter what attacks it suffered, its injuries could be healed in an instant. This was exactly the description in Valhalla that "a wounded warrior will be completely healed."

“What demonic boar…” Royal seemed to be taken aback for a moment, his brows furrowing in confusion before relaxing as if he had figured something out. He slapped his thigh and laughed happily: “So the ‘eldest son’ who suddenly disappeared was taken care of by you two. Haha, if I had known it would be like this, I and my old buddies wouldn’t have had to worry.”

eldest son?

Another strange word popped up. Guinevere retorted, "Uncle, do you know the origin of that demonic boar?"

“Of course. Actually, that was one of Terena’s plans. We originally wanted to stop her, but when we got there, we couldn’t find the eldest son anywhere. Haha, we were wondering what had happened, but it turns out the two of you acted first.” Shaking his head, the middle-aged man laughed heartily, “But if I just say it like that, you definitely won’t understand what the eldest son is. How about this, I’ll repeat what Ms. Gretel said back then here.”

……

"...The ritual Terenas used was an ancient one, hundreds of years old... This ritual originated in Ireland, where a chieftain seeking revenge on his enemies listened to the words of a druid and inadvertently incurred a terrible curse. His seven sons were thus transformed into cruel monsters, and after a long period of slaughter, they were finally defeated by the warriors of the time..."

"However, they did not truly die, but slumber in nightmares and the stories passed down by word of mouth, continuing to this day along with the curse itself. Theoretically, these seven monsters will remain asleep forever, unless... someone wants to awaken them—to awaken their consciousness with endless death and terror, and to give them bodies to move in the mortal world, so that the curse from hundreds of years ago can reappear in the world."

"You ask what the benefits of doing this are? The answer is simple. Because among the original nine, Terena was not the strongest, but what she obtained was the most bizarre power among the nine. It was the power of death. Life and death flow and change each other, and it was because of this that she learned about this ancient ritual by chance, and discovered a very tempting possibility in it."

"First, summon the monsters, then use the power of death to erase their self-awareness, turning them into puppets to be used at your will. Monsters are born from the depths of nightmares; as long as terror and despair spread in people's hearts, they are immortal and invincible, able to regenerate no matter how many times they are defeated. Especially in this era where everything is about to come to an end, there is no better tool than this, Royal, don't you think so?"

"The reason Terenas chose Cornwall and Marco as the target of her plan was because only on this land could she gather all the sacrifices quickly and without hindrance—"

……

"Sacrifice?"

"The seven monsters each symbolize a different meaning. Only by offering the corresponding items can they be freed from the nightmare and truly come into the present world. According to Lady Gretel, Terenas only knows four of them. So all we need to do is stop her from summoning the corresponding four monsters."

The rain stopped.

The first ray of sunlight broke through the clouds, shining obliquely onto the cave entrance. The conversation seemed to have finally come to an end. Royal looked back and forth between the two women. Guinevere bit her lip, remaining silent, while Artoria asked, "Which four?"

"The eldest son, symbolizing 'bravery,' should be the demon boar you defeated before, if nothing unexpected happens. The third son, symbolizing 'swiftness,' should be active in this area. My two old buddies are in charge here, but I don't know what happened, I couldn't find them when I came... They might have been captured by Marco's men, or they might be hiding somewhere."

The middle-aged man paused here, "The other two, one is the sixth child, which symbolizes 'sweet words,' and we don't yet know what Terena chose as the sacrifice. And the last one, the fifth child, symbolizes 'a great person.'"

“A great man, someone who fits that definition and happens to be in Cornwall… Could it be…!” Guinevere's expression changed as she considered a possibility: “Terena’s target is Tristan?”

"Most likely."

Royal replied with a stern face.

……

P.S.: Finally, this part is finished... I hope no one misunderstood it, right? And remember to cast your vote!

Chapter Fifty: Vanishing into the Dark

A breeze blew in from the hallway outside, silent except for a slight rustling of a corner of the curtains. A flash of light appeared in the dim room, then the wind stopped, and the light vanished. The hunched figure on the throne fell silent. She curtsied, backed out of the room, and watched as the door closed silently. The crowned old man in her sight never looked up; he simply stared blankly at the dagger in his hand.

But she believed that no matter how much he hesitated, the other person would eventually do as she said. Because if he didn't, he would die soon... There are indeed many people in this world who are not afraid of death. The wise weigh the gains and losses, and the brave face death without fear. However, there are still many fools who do not understand the preciousness of life.

But this king was by no means a fool.

Driven by his own ambition, he did not hesitate to scheme against his own sister and brother-in-law's family. He first orchestrated the alliance of three kingdoms behind the scenes. After the allied forces conquered Ronua and were severely weakened, he sent troops to the country under the guise of avenging the King of Ronua and his younger sister. He successfully occupied the land and resources of the four kingdoms and subdued the remnants of the army led by Royal. From then on, he became a powerful and famous figure, transforming from a pawn into a player who could make moves on the chessboard.

Subsequently, the lords formed an alliance at the call of King Uther to fight against the Picts in the north. Marco was one of the first kings to agree and was the first to lead his troops to Lentinium to join the alliance. He also made great contributions in the subsequent battles.

When King Uther was defeated by Vortigern and the Saxons launched a major invasion, Cornwall's stance changed. Over the next ten years, Cornwall repeatedly extended goodwill to the King of Britain and sought to establish alliances with the Saxon kingdoms in the east of the island. It was clear that Cornwall was betting on Vortigern, hoping to reap a large share of the benefits once he unified Britain.

Such opportunistic behavior inevitably invites contempt and insults, but on the other hand, such a decisive and clean choice of sides also demonstrates Marco's keen insight and accurate judgment. Regardless of his reputation, over twenty years of management have transformed him from an obscure minor lord, barely mentioned outside the surrounding area, into an entity that no party in Britain can ignore. Such achievements clearly demonstrate his remarkable skill. How could such a person be a mediocre, impulsive, and reckless man who loses his way in the heat of the moment?

He was not only intelligent, but also exceptionally so among intelligent people. However, sometimes, those who are intelligent but lack the corresponding courage are precisely the most useful pawns.

It's too easy to guess what this kind of person is thinking.

Marco has worked so hard for so long, and he certainly doesn't want to die. Now that a solution is right in front of him, of course he will hesitate, be wary, and test the waters again and again. But when he finally realizes that this is the only way forward, such a smart person naturally knows how to choose.

Even though he still cherishes that hypocritical and laughable family affection.

Walking briskly down the corridor, he encountered no one else along the way—since Marco's drastic change in temperament, many servants in the palace had resigned voluntarily or been dismissed and expelled. Some of the "good ones" had even vanished without a trace one day, leaving no trace despite searching almost the entire castle. As a result, rumors spread, and terror and unease permeated the hearts of everyone in this land.

"Soon, soon..."

The obese witch walked briskly forward, muttering to herself somewhat nervously. The burden of her size made her brisk walking quite strenuous; after only a short distance, she was already slightly out of breath, her forehead covered in sweat. She raised her hand to wipe it, and several bracelets clinked together, making a series of chaotic sounds. She stopped, listened carefully for a moment, and then flicked her wrist again.

She happened to be standing near a window, the sunlight dazzling as it streamed in, casting her shadow on the opposite wall. A mural hanging there suddenly darkened—it was a portrait of a man in his forties, with red hair and beard, a dignified appearance, and wearing a crown, bearing a resemblance to Marco and Tristan. If a highly experienced elder were present, they would recognize the man in the painting as Marco's father, the previous King of Cornwall.

As the shadows fell, suddenly, the eyes of the figure in the painting blinked. Then, the red-haired, red-bearded man abruptly spoke: "The third son is dead—"

The voice that came out was exactly the same sweet, cloying female voice as Terenas's, flat and emotionless. The fat witch tilted her head to look at him, a smile on her face: "Who is it? Royal shouldn't be able to spare the time. Is it one of his helpers? There are quite a few people helping Royal, but not many should be able to see the third son... Is it Yot, Miles, or Bedivere?"

"None of them are true—"

"Oh?"

"The one who killed the third son was a blonde girl wielding a holy sword. She had already learned about the Seven Sons from Royal—though faintly, the light of a star already lingers deep within the girl's soul—"

“Blonde girl, starlight… Ha, why did that little princess have to show up at a time like this?” After a slight surprise, Terena shook her head and laughed as if she were extremely pleased: “Perfect… Now that she’s run into Royal, we can make some changes to the plan. Continue to monitor Royal.”

"Yes--"

The shadow on the wall flickered and then returned to normal, but the portrait stopped blinking and speaking. The plump woman shook the bracelet on her wrist and continued walking. The light from the window illuminated her profile, making her smile seem even brighter: "What good luck! I thought all hope was lost... Guinevere, my lovely little princess, you must, you absolutely must cherish the holy sword and scabbard I gave you, and deliver them to me intact, hehe, hehehehehe..."

A cold laugh echoed, and the footsteps gradually faded away in the empty corridor. But then, the footsteps paused, and a muttered voice could be faintly heard: "Third son... Strange, I feel like I've forgotten something... What is it..."

As the person went far away, those whispered words were quickly carried away by the wind, as if they had never existed...

*******

It is bright.

But the impending crisis, like a dark cloud, pressed down on my heart, making it almost impossible to breathe.

Before leaving, there was inevitably another flurry of activity. Guinevere took out a pot—this pot had been used in the cabin before, washed and put away after the meal, thankfully it hadn't disappeared along with the horses and other things—collected rainwater, boiled it, and then took out some wild vegetables and dried meat to cook some soup, which they shared. Afterwards, they extinguished the campfire, took out clean clothes from their "treasure bag," and changed with Artoria. The wet clothes were put in the bag, intending to wash them later.

Although Guinevere proudly called her bags "treasure troves," they ultimately contained no suitable clothes or armor for Royal to change into. He remained shirtless, bandaged, and despite his disheveled appearance, he exuded a fierce and valiant aura. Royal marveled at her ability to enlarge and shrink the bags, and his opinion of Guinevere and the Nine Witches of the Lake rose even higher. Soon after, as they became more familiar with each other, he asked, "Miss, what's in those bags of yours? Could you show them all to me?"

To everyone's surprise, Guinevere flatly refused, and the reason for her refusal left Royal completely baffled: "Of course not. If we show everything now, we won't be able to just make up our minds and write whatever is convenient for us later!"

After changing into new clothes and warming themselves by the fire, the three of them had been caught in the rain for quite some time. It wouldn't be surprising if they caught a cold, but Royal was a fierce warrior who had fought back and killed several strong men despite being seriously injured and nearly fainting from blood loss, while Artoria's situation was special and could not be judged by ordinary standards.

Even Guinevere, the weakest of the three in terms of physical strength, had been practicing swordsmanship since childhood, getting up early every day to train. While she couldn't compare to those burly men who could kill eight bulls with a single punch, she wouldn't get sick from a light rain, unless she was extremely unlucky. While changing clothes, Royal discreetly went outside. Artoria hesitated about how to start the conversation, but Guinevere, seeing this clearly, took the clothes and slipped behind a large rock, avoiding an awkward situation.

After that, Royal's gaze towards the two of them became somewhat strange. Guinevere noticed but didn't care, while Artoria, though sensing something was amiss, couldn't quite grasp the situation. She directly asked the middle-aged man twice, but was evaded with vague answers each time—of course, she couldn't directly ask what their relationship was or why they were changing clothes together. If it were just Artoria, the only "man," it would be easier to ask, but looking at the girl swaying nearby, Royal felt that asking such a question would be somewhat indecent.

Anyway, what kind of relationship the young people have with each other is none of his business. He had been married and had children for many years, and the couple were very loving. They had three or four children, so naturally he wouldn't have any improper thoughts about this girl who was old enough to be his youngest daughter. However, seeing that the two were so young and had run away together for some reason, perhaps eloping or something, he thought that if they encountered any difficulties, he might be able to help them with his skills and connections.

But as an outsider, I couldn't very well ask them about it. They had been kind to me, and if they were in any trouble, I had to lend a hand to repay their life-saving kindness.

Having made up her mind and having some suspicions about the relationship between the two, she stopped mentioning it. After some time, Artoria finally understood, but it was too late to explain. After struggling with this alone for a long time, she finally told Guinevere, hoping to hear her opinion. Unexpectedly, this led to another hilarious and absurd story.

This is something for later, let’s not mention it for now.

After tidying up, led by Royal, who was familiar with the area, the three searched the vicinity for quite some time. However, both Royal's two companions, Old Maet, the bone bird's remains, and the small wooden house struck by lightning all seemed to have vanished into thin air, leaving no trace whatsoever. In the end, Royal could only console himself, "At least we didn't find the bodies of the man and the horse. And... I've heard some strange tales from the old folks. There was once a person who suddenly disappeared, and then after months, years, or even decades, suddenly reappeared before others, with memories stuck at the time of their disappearance, and no physical changes whatsoever..."

"You mean, your companion and Aite might have also encountered this kind of mysterious disappearance?"

"That's the only thing we can believe now, isn't it?"

Artoria was silent for a moment, then nodded: "I hope they are all safe and sound."

"Definitely."

All three understood that the rumor of her disappearance was more of a self-comforting excuse. However, given the uncertainty surrounding Terena's plan, every second counted. Otherwise—who knew what strange occurrences might arise in Cornwall if Terena's plan succeeded? While the "blood-locking" demonic boar had been troublesome, Guinevere hadn't felt much pressure facing the bone bird, seemingly the third child. The strength and characteristics of the remaining two monsters were unknown, but one thing was certain: if one of Terena's chosen sacrifices was Tristan—

That knight might lose his life here.

Whether it's out of appreciation for talent or simply out of agreement, the reasons for intervening in this matter are more than sufficient.

Moreover, on this side of the scale, there are countless residents of Cornwall.

"The problem is, how should we stop her? Uncle, you said Terena is inside the King's castle, but we can't just storm into the castle, can we?"

"That's really a problem."

"But you don't seem troubled at all."

"Because someone can help us solve this problem."

Royal tapped the spear on the ground, raised an eyebrow, and answered. He had picked up the spear from a corpse—probably one of the unfortunate men he had killed earlier; judging by his equipment, he must have been of high status in life—and with a few casual swings, pierced through a tree as thick as a bowl, then snapped it in two with a snap. The spear was quite sturdy; it hadn't broken after those two blows. The middle-aged man was very satisfied and took it as a temporary weapon.

This was something Guinevere added secretly in her mind for the time being.

Because she felt that given the opponent's simple and brutal fighting style, even if the spear was of high quality, it probably wouldn't last long. She decided to offer a three-second moment of silence for Mr. Spear... one, two, three. She opened her eyes and met Artoria's "You're being silly again" gaze... She probably guessed what she was thinking again, which is why people with such good intuition are so annoying.

He looked away from her and asked, "Are you your companion, sir?"

Royal nodded, a faint smile appearing on his scarred face: "I have a friend named Miles who was knighted three years ago. But before becoming a knight, he did some less-than-honorable work, which is how he learned about a secret passage leading to the inside of the castle."

“We don’t have many people, so we’re mostly operating in pairs. Miles is currently monitoring the area around the King’s Castle with his partner. We can go and meet him there, then sneak into the castle through a secret passage and stop it before things get out of control—”

Chapter 51 Contact (Part 1)

The sky is high and the clouds are light. After a heavy rain, the world always seems exceptionally clean and clear. Under the azure sky, white clouds drift and roll, and tiny black dots fly by. Those are eagles soaring with outstretched wings.

A young man with long silver hair stood on a boulder, looking ahead. In his field of vision was a towering mountain peak, its summit hidden among the clouds, with only half of it visible up to the mountainside. A winding and treacherous mountain road connected the top and bottom of the mountain. At one end of the road was a village at the foot of the mountain, and at the other end was a magnificent castle standing in the mountain.

That's the king's castle.

Even though the distance between them was quite far, the young man could still clearly see the deep and shallow scratches and fire marks on the surface of the castle, as well as the green plants that lingered in the cracks and corners of the stone walls.

The young man could even recount the origin of these scars—more than twenty years ago, an army from France crossed the sea, landed at Pont-de-Ville, and swept through the city, burning, killing, and looting with overwhelming force. Before the king and his knights could react, they had suffered several defeats and were eventually trapped in this castle. The siege lasted for more than two months. The castle ran out of food, and the king, queen, and their two young sons starved to death. The eldest son had no choice but to open the gates and surrender. However, the first thing the enemy army did after entering the castle was to kill the prince, defile his wife and daughter, and then imprison the others in the basement as hostages.

Of the remaining royals, only Marco escaped because he was inspecting other knights' territories at the time. Upon learning the news, he immediately organized an army and returned to fight back. He then used a stratagem to incite infighting among the enemy forces, allowing him to divide and conquer them. Some of the enemy troops fled to North Wales, but the majority remained in the castle, intending to defend it from their stronghold.

Unexpectedly, Marco used the siege as a smokescreen, secretly sending men to infiltrate and set fire to the castle, burning all the enemies and prisoners—including his own family—to the ground.

More than thirty years have passed, but the fire marks on the stone wall are still as clear as they were yesterday.

It seems that from that moment on, the king had already shown his ruthless and cunning side. After that, he seized the lands of four countries, including Ronua, and gradually grew from an unknown minor lord to a player who could now make moves on the chessboard called Britain. In a sense, he was just a continuation of the great fire more than 20 years ago.

Even knowing all this, the young man still couldn't understand the king's thoughts. Perhaps everyone values ​​different things, but wasn't the king's way of life too cold...? The castle gates opened silently, and noticing the figure emerging from within, his gaze sharpened, and he gathered his scattered thoughts.

"Terena? What is she planning to do by leaving at a time like this..."

He put his finger in his mouth and blew hard. A moment later, the sound of flapping wings approached and stopped on the young man's raised arm. He turned his head and tied a red cloth to the white eagle's left leg: "Go back to Betty... or Miles. Old man, I know you can do it."

The eagle cried out in response. The young man smiled, poked its head with his other hand, and waved, "Go on." The white eagle cried out again, flapped its wings a few times, and flew eastward. He watched it leave, then reached out and tugged at the reins of the horse beside him, swung himself up, and mounted. The horse began to gallop…

The young man's name was Lukan.

His father was a highly skilled knight of the Kingdom of Ronua and a close friend of Royal. Because of this relationship, Lucan began serving as the chief knight's squire at the age of twelve. At sixteen, he killed an enemy general on the battlefield and was knighted by King Livaran, becoming a newly promoted knight. Here, it is worth mentioning the rules of this knighting ceremony.

Unless under very special circumstances, a person wishing to become a knight must first serve as a squire to a nobleman or knight. After the age of fourteen, they can become a novice knight, carrying the knight's shield and spear, or bearing the knight's banner into battle. When they have accumulated enough merit and their loyalty is affirmed, they can be knighted by the knight they follow or by the king.

It usually takes at least eight to ten years for an ordinary person to go from being a squire to being free of the title of apprentice. Very few people can obtain a knighthood in just four years like Lucan, which is enough to prove that this young man's strength is not ordinary.

However, in the ensuing battles, the allied forces of the three kingdoms held an absolute advantage in numbers. Even though Ronua had many fierce warriors who could fight ten or even a hundred men each, they were still repeatedly defeated. Lucan's father was killed in battle, and he, along with his mother and then-young brother, fought their way through the enemy lines until Marco's reinforcements arrived. After the war, he joined the service of the King of Cornwall and made many contributions. However, with the arrival of Terenas, Marco's personality changed drastically. Lucan's repeated attempts to dissuade him failed, and disheartened, he left the court.

Soon after, Royal came to him and told him the whole story: the witch's conspiracy, the seven monsters lurking in the nightmare, and so on. Lucan sensed the danger and once again stepped forward, joining Royal's plan alongside his henchman Bedivere. Although he was skilled in martial arts, he wasn't particularly outstanding among the knights, but he had a special talent: he could tame most animals, whether they flew, ran, or swam in the sea.

And the most important of these is the falcon.

Lukan thus earned the nickname "Falconer," which might not sound impressive, but he quite liked it. When greeting people, he would often use this nickname, "Lukan the Falconer." Only scouts who had dealt with the young man understood the weight and difficulty of this title.

The white eagle was released and took flight. Based on past experience, it should reach Bedivere and Miles' village in about an hour. To avoid Terena's attack, they were very well hidden. Even Lucan didn't know their exact location. Only Royal and the eagle knew how to get there.

The young man trailed behind the witch, waiting for the eagle to return and gather its findings, then he could send it on another flight. Unsure if Terena possessed any counter-tracking techniques, Lucan was cautious, steer his horse at a distance, occasionally pulling back the reins to halt the horse and keep her within sight at all times. Not too far, not too close.

Only at this distance is the likelihood of the other person noticing your gaze minimized.

But as he watched the witch's hurried, seemingly flustered figure, something felt off. He couldn't quite pinpoint the source of this feeling, and followed behind at a leisurely pace, his brow slowly furrowing.

The intense sunlight slanted down overhead, and the man and horse swept across a long patch of reeds, casting shadows upon them. Lukan caught a glimpse of this scene out of the corner of his eye and suddenly froze.

He looked ahead again.

The woman walking briskly in the bright sunlight ahead...

There is no shadow.

……

In the field, a wind blew against his face, causing the reeds beside him to sway incessantly. Almost at the same time Lukan noticed that the other person had no shadow, the woman in front of him flattened her body, swayed a few times like a phantom, and disappeared, leaving only her large purple dress, which spun a few times in the wind and then unfurled with a "whoosh."

It was as if a deep purple, almost black cloud had suddenly blocked out the sunlight.