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

Sword imprints flashed, magic surged, and flames and lightning extended, condensing into two sharp longswords that landed in her hands. Terena took a step forward, covering dozens of steps in an instant with a speed unimaginable to her obese body. The two swords crossed and slashed fiercely at the knight on horseback who was still somewhat dazed after being struck by lightning.

But it was precisely at this time.

"retreat--"

A strange voice shouted. Royal was still unconscious, but the voice wasn't meant for him. Most of the lightning bolt had struck Royal, while his horse was unharmed. Hearing the voice, the horse turned sharply and leaped to the side, carrying its rider. Then, an ordinary iron sword appeared where Royal had been.

Bang! Bang!

After a brief, indistinguishable clash of weapons, the newcomer sheathed his sword and stood firmly, while Terena staggered back!

P.S.: First chapter released!

There's more to come, of course, so remember to vote!

Chapter Fifty-Six: War and the Situation (Part Three)

The three swords clashed, and in that split second of attack and defense, Terena staggered backward. When she finally regained her footing, she looked up to see Artoria standing motionless, her sword sheathed.

The strange phenomena caused by the witch hadn't yet dissipated; dark clouds loomed overhead, lightning flashed, and the scene clashed sharply with the surrounding azure sky, as if this small patch of land had been isolated and carved out from the vast expanse of heaven and earth. The horse carrying Royal trotted backward, the rider's body still tense, his unfocused gaze gradually sharpening. Not far away, Guinevere, having settled the unconscious one-armed boy, was approaching, her fingers resting on the hilt of her sword, slightly clenched, as if hesitant. She brushed a few strands of hair behind her ear, raising her head with a hint of worry to look at the figure confronting Terena.

Artoria wore a light-colored top and brown riding breeches. Her figure was somewhat slender, yet her attire resembled the casual wear someone remembered. Her blonde hair, tied in a ponytail, swayed in the wind, and the hem of her clothes fluttered. Artoria held her sword in both hands, assuming a standard starting stance. Her two swordsmanship teachers, Merlin and Hector, were masters of illusion magic, incorporating it into their swordsmanship, making it unpredictable and multifaceted. However, Artoria had studied Hector's style the longest and identified with most.

To win honestly and uprightly, without resorting to unorthodox methods.

She looked at her opponent, who had just regained his footing, took a deep breath, her heart pounding rhythmically as she felt the magic trickling through her body—and then slowly exhaled.

A breath.

The magic had spread throughout his body.

"Oh, you've found a new accomplice?" Terena smiled, finally managing to stop her retreating steps, but her gaze turned cold: "Kid, what's your name?"

"Al—"

The moment she opened her mouth, the witch released her left hand, and the golden longsword instantly transformed into countless arcs of electricity. She then pointed forward, and the leaping lightning coalesced into a bolt of lightning that shot straight out. The speed of the lightning was incredible; the blond sword-wielding youth barely had time to blink before the bright light was already upon him.

Upon seeing this, Terena's eyes flashed with a hint of joy. She thought to herself smugly, "I thought he was something special, but that's all he's got." But the moment that thought crossed her mind, she froze—she watched helplessly as her lightning struck her opponent, but instead of piercing his abdomen and spewing out a spray of blood and charred internal organs as she had expected, it seemed to have struck some kind of barrier, suddenly shattering apart. Not only the boy himself, but even the half of his clothing directly struck by the lightning showed no signs of damage.

"What...what's going on?!" Terena exclaimed in surprise and disbelief.

The boy, however, answered calmly as if nothing had happened, "...Artos." That should be his name, but Artos... Although she tried to recall, Terena couldn't remember ever hearing that name before.

She gritted her teeth: "Very well, I originally thought you were Marco's mole, but that old man probably can't afford someone like you... With this kind of skill, are you a bodyguard sent by the King of Scotland to protect his precious daughter?"

"The King of Scotland?"

Artoria was taken aback by what she heard.

Seeing her expression, Terenas was initially surprised, but then, as if she had thought of something, she smiled and said, "So you didn't know? Hehehe, how pitiful. Your companion, oh, I remember you called her Fina? You can go ask her why she's hiding her identity, whether... she has some ulterior motive. Guess what she'll say?"

Her smile was sweet, her voice cloyingly sweet, so much so that it made one feel slightly dizzy. Seeing that the boy's eyes were also beginning to glaze over, the witch smiled smugly to herself. Just as she was about to continue speaking, the boy blinked hard, and when he opened his eyes again, they were clear once more.

"Is this an illusion, or some other kind of magic?"

"Heh... it was just a well-intentioned reminder."

Suppressing her slight unease, Terena chuckled sweetly. Artoria simply nodded: "After defeating you, I'll ask Fina."

"Defeat me? Don't you know that I've known that girl for almost ten years? Aren't you afraid she'll stab you in the back later? You don't..."

Before she could finish speaking, the boy in front of her suddenly pushed off the ground. With a loud bang, a spiderweb-like pattern appeared where he landed. Through the release of magic, an unimaginable power condensed and compressed in the instant of turning from stillness to motion, and then exploded. With this push, his slender body shot forward like an arrow, his sword raised!

The witch was secretly delighted:

This indicates that the other party is beginning to waver...

In the name of God!

She stepped back, sparks flying from her feet, which then stretched and extended in an instant, transforming into a towering wall of flames. She didn't expect to defeat her opponent with this move; she just wanted to buy herself some time so she could cast other spells that required chanting.

But even that idea fell through.

Artoria faced the suddenly appearing wall of fire without dodging or avoiding it, and simply charged into it. If an ordinary person had done this, they would probably have been severely burned all over their body. But as she charged in, the entire wall collapsed and crumbled, and countless tiny flames scattered like rain, but not a single one splashed on her.

The dragon's heart granted her more than just endless magic.

It also possesses anti-magic power sufficient to nullify most magic.

Merlin once jokingly told her, "If you ever encounter a situation where you have to fight a magician, Artoria, remember, just dodge any attacks that you feel are dangerous. As for magic that you don't feel is dangerous... just take it with your face!"

The magician may have said those words jokingly, but she never expected that Artoria would actually remember them. Not only did she remember them, but she also obediently followed their instructions…

And that's how this scene came about.

Terena retreated rapidly, alternating between her lightning and fire seals. Flames scorched, lightning struck, and occasionally, several hands reached out from the surrounding shadows to try to trip Artoria. But no matter what the attack was, as soon as it touched her body, it vanished without a trace. This was almost enough to make any normal magician lose hope in life and in the world. But whether it was fortunate or unfortunate, her opponent at this moment was not an ordinary magician.

"—In my name!"

With a sharp whistle, the sword mark shone brightly once more. Seeing the distance between the two getting shorter and shorter, Terena could no longer hold back. With a flick of her wrist, flames rose and transformed into a two-handed greatsword once more. She gripped the hilt with her other hand and swung it upwards with force, turning the sword into a whip. A long whip of blazing fire lashed out at the rushing figure.

Artoria frowned slightly. She finally sensed the danger in this attack and no longer followed Merlin's teaching to "take the blow with her face." However, she did not slow down and, facing the fierce attack, returned the favor with her own sword.

With a few swift strokes, the sword sliced ​​the long whip formed of flames into several pieces, scattering the flames in all directions. As Terena released her grip, the greatsword she had been holding shrank rapidly, transforming into a one-handed sword in the blink of an eye. Her free hand drew a dazzling arc of electricity in the air, which then transformed into another longsword. With a flick of her wrist, she actually met Artoria's sword head-on.

Clang, clang, clang—the longswords clashed repeatedly, and the two moved amidst the flames and lightning. But for some reason, Artoria saw a familiar shadow in her opponent's swordsmanship…

boom!

With another crisp clang, the witch used her flaming longsword in her left hand to parry Artoria's thrust. Her right sword swung out immediately. Although it was blocked, her body, following the force of the collision, dodged to the side like a fish, suddenly appearing behind Artoria's left. She raised both swords and slashed down in a cross pattern!

Outside the battle, Guinevere, who was watching the fight while keeping an eye on Royal's condition, suddenly widened her eyes.

A gasp caught in her throat—this was clearly a sword technique she had learned from her father, but… until now, apart from practicing it herself, she had never used this sword technique in its entirety in front of anyone else.

But if that's the case, where did Terenas learn it from?

In that instant, she seemed to understand something, but her heart sank little by little...

P.S.: Chapter Two~

Chapter Fifty-Seven: War and the Situation (Part Four)

"Cough cough cough..."

For someone who had been ill for a long time, the sunlight outside the window was too dazzling at that moment. He squinted his cloudy eyes, cleared his throat, and the dagger, gleaming with a ghostly green light, was silently returned to his sleeve with those two coughs.

The piano music in the room stopped.

"uncle……"

Tristan turned around, looking slightly flustered:

He turned slightly, revealing the girl who had been quietly listening to the music behind him. Isolde, sitting in her chair, blinked her clear, sapphire-like eyes and looked over. "Your Majesty," she said, about to stand up, but Marco smiled and waved his hand. "Sit down. There's more than one chair..."

There was indeed more than one chair in the room. He looked around, remembering that this should be one of the three reception rooms, but he wasn't sure—his memory had been getting worse in recent years, and he had forgotten many people and many things—he randomly picked a chair and sat down, smiling at the red-haired youth: "Tristan, won't you sit?" It was a gentle and kind smile, like the smile an ordinary old man would show when facing his children and nephews, but half of the old man's face was hidden in the darkness, which gave the smile a slight change.

“It’s a beautiful day. I’d like to have a chat with you… Ah, it’s been a long time since we’ve sat down and had a proper conversation. Oh, Isolde, you can stay here. What I have to say is also related to you…” Seeing the girl preparing to get up again, Marco smiled and pressed his hand down, then looked at Tristan.

The latter ultimately did not sit down as instructed, but simply stood by the window, silently watching him.

The old man smiled and said, "If you don't want to sit, this is fine too. I know you've been harboring resentment and dissatisfaction lately, and you've been looking for an opportunity to talk about it... Actually, you've had many opportunities, but you've missed them all. Because you didn't dare to bring it up..." His thin face changed several times, finally settling on a bitter smile.

“In this world, you are my only remaining family. And you, you only have me, your uncle, left… It shouldn’t be like this.” A sigh escaped his lips: “Your mother could have actually survived.”

Marco never forbade people to talk about what happened twenty years ago, but it was not a glorious thing after all. People were wary of this deep-thinking king and dared not speak easily for fear of getting into trouble. In Cornwall, that matter had almost become a taboo subject that no one dared to touch. There were only whispers in private and occasional strange glances at the castle, but that was all.

This is the first time in twenty years that he has mentioned this matter in person.

Tristan's expression changed slightly.

"Everyone is saying that it was my idea to form an alliance between the three kingdoms to attack Ronua. I secretly pulled the strings. I... cough cough cough, I wanted to let them fight each other to the death first, and then I would eat the whole pie myself."

"...Is that you?"

“It was me,” the old man answered calmly. “Without me, how could those three kings who couldn’t stand each other have agreed to join forces so quickly? Without me, they couldn’t have conquered Ronua at such a low cost. Cough, cough cough cough… In that battle twenty years ago, I did play a dishonorable role. I killed Livaran, who was like an older brother to me, and my obedient and innocent little sister…”

He leaned back, slumping most of his body against the chair back: "Everyone thinks I don't want to talk about this because I have a guilty conscience, because I'm afraid of Royal, afraid that you and those former Ronua people will find out the truth and want revenge… Just yesterday, Terena even tried to persuade me about this. She wanted me to kill you. Look, this dagger was given to me by her." With a flick of his wrist, a cold glint flashed, and the old man held up the dagger, showing it to the two of them. Isolde's eyes narrowed: "Your Majesty…"

"I'm afraid you won't die, it's been poisoned. It seems to be snake venom from North Wales... It's not very effective. I once bought a tiny bit of, cough... a tiny bit of Hydra venom from someone, that's real poison... Unfortunately, I used it up a long time ago."

Marco was known throughout his life for his wisdom and intellect. Even his enemies were often only wary of his mind, while they looked down on and disdained the king's military prowess.

But now he slumped in his chair, casually toying with the poisoned dagger. The short blade danced between his fingers, leaving a trail of afterimages, executed with the skill of a seasoned assassin: "Terena wants me to kill you." He smirked, a strange expression on his face: "...She's an idiot!"

With a clang, the old man casually tossed the dagger aside, letting it bounce a few times on the floor before finally landing in the shadows of a corner. "Saying you've been kept in the dark all this time, and now that you know the truth, you want to avenge your parents, kill me, and take my crown... Ha, only a hopeless fool would think that."

“Tristan is my nephew! A man even Vortigern of Londinium praised! Even fools can see that, how could he not? It’s laughable… How could you not see it?” Perhaps he was a little emotional, he said, slightly out of breath, his clenched fist on the armrest of the chair gradually loosening: “You must have seen what happened back then, from when you were very young—” He gestured with his hand: “You saw it when you were this young… That’s why I kept you by my side and watched you grow up.”

“It’s not about being soft-hearted. It’s because I know, better than anyone else, that you can’t kill me. Because you’re smarter than those people, you see more than they do—twenty years ago, Ryans in North Wales had just ascended the throne. That throne wasn’t originally his… because the old king and his three brothers all died mysteriously on the same day, which is why he was able to become king. He used dirty means, and his reputation isn’t exactly clean either. So he needed to do something, something big enough to divert everyone’s attention from his father and brothers.”

"Ryans himself is just a reckless brute. He's not that scary, but his brother Nero is a cunning old fox. The two brothers want to take over this land."

Marco let out a deep breath: "Ronua was the first step. He instigated the three kings to join forces, making them the vanguard. Once their losses were significant, the North Wales army would press in, and those three kings—Levalland and myself—would all die. The three kings didn't understand, so I explained it to them, and that's why they switched sides from Ryans. Levalland… your father was a smart man; he saw through Nero's plans from the beginning… that's why he died."

"He had to die. The location was perfect; whether it was the Ryans brothers or the allied forces of the three kingdoms attacking, Ronua was doomed. Since that was the case, we had to start elsewhere. So, cough cough... that's why I joined forces with him to set up this scheme, using Ronua as a pawn to unify the surrounding areas and prevent the Ryans brothers in the north from attacking."

“Everything was agreed upon.” He shook his head. “Levaran must die. Only after the most intense resistance from the entire kingdom will the allied forces relax their guard, and only then will there be any chance. But I sent men to bring Blanchford back beforehand… Tristan, I sent men to rescue your mother. But… they failed…”

"Blanchef ultimately chose to stay and die alongside Livaran. I still remember the words she had someone relay: 'I know this is the only way. So I won't blame you, but brother... I hope you remember those who died because of this. They could have lived... Remember them as you remember me. In the days to come, when making any decisions, try your best not to cause any more bloodshed...'"

After that sentence.

A long silence filled the room.

The old man closed his eyes and sighed:

"I broke my promise..."

P.S.: I originally planned to write about the main character's side, but I wasn't in the right frame of mind. I wrote and deleted, rewrote and rewrote, and was still not satisfied. But considering it's only recently released, I can't stop updating right away, so I've moved this part of the story forward. It's a bit short, but at least it's enough for a chapter... That's all for today. Please forgive me. Once I get into a better writing rhythm, your diligent emperor who writes 10,000 words a day will be back. Wait and keep hoping!

I'm only 152cm tall and I haven't even started playing yet (sad).

Chapter Fifty-Eight: War and Situation (Part Five)

A broken promise, a sigh—these can evoke completely different feelings in different people.

The sun was high in the sky, and sunlight streamed in through the windows, seemingly sweeping away the decades-old chill that had permeated the castle. A distant gust of wind whistled through the corridor. The old man's eyelids fluttered, and he opened his eyes a crack again: "For many people, there are always many paths to take in this world, and many solutions to every problem. They think that the smarter a person is, the more options they have. Ha..." He smiled wryly, "...the path only gets narrower the more you walk it."

The sound was like a sigh.

“The enemy is coming. If you don’t want to surrender, you have no choice but to fight. If the strength is too disparate and you can’t win, you can only try to find a way… There might be a better way, a better and more perfect way to solve the whole problem, but I can’t think of one… cough cough, I can’t think of one, so I can only do it this way for now. Because the consequences of not doing it will be even worse… Tristan, you’re very smart, so… cough, you can definitely understand these principles.”

Marco looked at his nephew, paused for a moment, and smiled faintly: "I've done a lot of bad things lately, and you haven't killed me yet... If you wanted to, no one in Cornwall could stop you. The reason you haven't acted is partly out of old friendship. More importantly... you understand the consequences of my death. The country will be in chaos. Pelles is an upright person and won't take advantage of this opportunity to act, but Ryans and Nero, who have been keeping an eye on this area, will soon muster their troops and attack... Royal and you can't stop them." He gestured with his chin towards the north: "So you initially chose to advise me, and after becoming disheartened, you went to deal with those incompetent fools. Even if you couldn't protect everyone, you should at least make life easier for people within your capabilities. That's what I taught you back then, do you remember? Cough... Your uncle is very pleased."

"but……"

After a long pause, the red-haired youth, holding a harp—he wasn't using his specially made bow this time, but rather Isolde's own harp—spoke softly, his voice calm yet trembling slightly: "Why? Uncle, why did you do this…" As he spoke, his body trembled.

“Because I don’t want to die,” Marco answered without much hesitation. Tristan looked up abruptly, staring at him with a strange look. The old man looked back at him calmly: “Nobody wants to die. Especially someone like me… It might be a little embarrassing to say, Tristan, do you know how I felt when I found out I had a serious illness and was about to die? Do you know how I felt when Terena came to me and said she had a way to extend my life by ten or twenty years? Like a drowning person, even if there’s only a straw in front of them, they will reach out and grab it without hesitation.”

“However, Terenas isn’t the last straw. She wants to use me to achieve her plan, whatever that plan may be, there’s one thing I’ve known from the beginning. If I do everything she says… I still won’t live much longer. But if I refuse her on the spot, Terenas might immediately turn on me and kill me… Even if I don’t act then, once I’m dead, the North Wales army will arrive, and Terenas can still blend in and carry out her plan. To stop that witch, the only way is to keep her under my nose, even if it causes a lot of misfortune… This is obviously not the best method, but your uncle’s abilities are limited… Cough, cough, cough…” He covered his mouth and coughed violently again. Only after catching his breath did Marco finish his last sentence: “This is the only way.”

Why didn't you tell me and Lord Royal about this?

“The two of you can’t handle those brothers.” The old man shook his head. “And you might not be able to kill Terena either. If she gets alerted and escapes, it will be a huge threat to me, to us, and to all of Cornwall.”

"Then why are you doing this now..."

"The time has come."

From the moment he entered the room until now, a pleasant smile has finally appeared on the old man's face: "You must have heard about the recent appearance of Uther's successor, right?"

"You mean...King Arthur?"

“They have arrived in Cornwall and learned the whole story from Royal. If that Arthur is truly the one who inherits the will of King Uther, he will likely confront Terenas next, attempting to save this land.” The word “save” was emphasized, but there was no hint of sarcasm in it. Instead, there was a subtle emotion within it that the other two could not discern.

Tristan didn't ask where the information came from. He knew the old man before him had managed the territory for many years and likely had spies planted everywhere, keeping track of everyone's every move. The young man nodded: "What does Uncle want me to do?"

Marco didn't answer the question directly. He raised his left hand, rested his elbow on the armrest of the chair, and gently rubbed his temples with his fingertips: "Among those assisting Royal, there is one I planted as a spy to prevent things from spiraling out of control... He knows a secret passage leading into the castle. If things go as expected, Royal will likely want to enter the castle through the secret passage with Arthur and his companions. To subdue Terenas... and this old man, while minimizing the impact."

"Lord Tristan—" It wasn't a nephew, nor was it a familiar way of addressing him by his first name. When he subtly added the title "Lord," a term of address used by a monarch to address a subject, Tristan, who had known the old man for a long time, understood that the main topic was about to begin.

“I will tell you the entrance to that secret passage within the castle. I think Terena’s plan is about to reach a crucial step. Knowing her personality, she will definitely eliminate any unstable factors beforehand. There’s a 70-80% chance she will target Royal and his group, and the battle will likely take place at the other end of the secret passage… I need you to immediately go and ambush them, seize the opportunity to assist Royal and the others, and kill Terena in one fell swoop.” He remained slumped in his seated position, occasionally coughing, but Marco’s words carried an undeniable authority. “After she dies, I will give you, and everyone else, a satisfactory explanation.”

“Uncle…” Tristan frowned slightly, as if he wanted to say something, but couldn’t find the words. But before he could voice his thoughts, the old man gave a somewhat weary smile: “Don’t worry, your uncle has been more than just a puppet these days. Do you think I insisted on marrying Isolde, and why I sent you there?”

"This..." The young man opened his mouth, his expression bitter.

“I’m practically half-buried now. No matter how beautiful someone is, they’re really just like that. You can look at them for a while and enjoy the sight, but as for anything more… ha, I’m too weak to do anything more.” Marco waved his hand self-deprecatingly. “But people only know about Isolde’s beauty, and few know that she was a student of a famous physician in the Empire. Even in all of Britain, you can’t find five people more skilled than her in that regard. To avoid arousing Terena’s suspicion, I brought her back to the country under the guise of marriage. In reality, it was just so that even after Terena died, I could still live a little longer.”

Tristan turned his head and saw the girl clasping her hands together and nodding gently.