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

"Well, don't you think... a future with a little bit of suspense is more interesting?"

"I don't think so," the girl replied immediately.

The female magician's expression remained unchanged, still smiling broadly: "Well, that's what I think anyway. Since both sides have reached a consensus, let's put this matter aside for now—" As she spoke, she made a gesture of lifting something with both hands: "Next, let's get down to business. I already know what happened here. Although it was somewhat different from what we expected, fortunately, the result wasn't bad. Now that the Trident of Poseidon has been successfully restored, we only need one last step to open the Tower of Radiance and complete the mission."

"I also briefly explained the whole matter to Sir Gawain along the way. I believe that this upright and dignified knight will not choose to stand idly by in this matter, right?" Merlin smiled at Gawain, who couldn't help but roll his eyes. Obviously, it was not a pleasant memory, but he did not refute her, which meant he tacitly agreed with her statement.

In a sense, this is only natural.

Even if this matter has nothing to do with Guinevere, Gawain might not know about the conspiracy hidden above Cornwall, the nightmare monsters, and the curse behind them, but once he did, given his personality, he would never be able to stay out of it.

What truly concerned the young girl was that the difficulty of this matter might exceed her imagination. Regardless of Merlin's excuse, it essentially involved "luring" Gawain in some way. This meant that, in the eyes of this seemingly omniscient female magician, activating the Tower of Radiance to eliminate the Nightmare Curse required not only the presence of those present but also Gawain's power—

Although Merlin enjoys playing pranks and taking pleasure in seeing others' embarrassed expressions, he almost never does anything meaningless.

This is a quote from Artoria.

Moreover, this is at such a critical moment.

Sunlight, filtered through the leaves, pierced the air, and a hint of seriousness flashed in the girl's eyes. Merlin, a faint smile playing on his lips, leaned his staff against his side, his expression as relaxed as ever: "But before that, I think it's necessary to explain something to you first, to dispel some unnecessary doubts. While activating the Tower of Radiance can certainly eliminate the nightmare curse on Her Highness the Princess and the Fisherman King, eliminating the curse is not the main reason I've been working so hard on this matter."

"Of course, this can also be an extra favor. Whether the Fisherman King remains in his current mad state or the Scottish princess becomes a dragon that only knows how to kill, it will not benefit me at all. Since I can help, it is only natural to lend a hand and expect possible rewards in the future with a small contribution. You should be able to understand this."

She didn't name anyone, but her gaze fell on Guinevere, the meaning was clear, and the girl nodded. Kai and Gawain exchanged a glance, neither showing any expression, but Lily looked slightly awkward. Although she was used to Merlin's straightforward style, she didn't know why—perhaps because Guinevere was involved—she felt this way of speaking was a bit unpleasant. For a moment, she couldn't find a reason to object, so she could only pout.

He glanced to the side again and saw that Guinevere didn't seem to mind, which made him secretly relieved.

After this page was turned, Lily didn't continue to think about why she cared or why she suddenly felt relieved.

“Well then, let me explain my purpose first.” The female magician interlaced her fingers, resting them on her chin, and looked over the others with a smile. “Some of you may already know that the essence of the Tower of Radiance is a giant anchor that the planet itself dropped to stabilize this ‘real world’.” She pointed to her feet and then said something that Guinevere and Lily had already heard from Royal, Grettor, and others.

But for the other two men, this was something they had never heard of before, nor even considered. Even Gawain, with his composed nature, couldn't help but change his expression after hearing it: "You mean, the reality we're in right now is actually just an incredibly fragile membrane. If the Radiant Tower were to be lost, the entire world would be turned upside down..."

"That's right, thank goodness everyone understands so well." Merlin touched his fingertips lightly and smiled slightly. "Although that's what I said, things aren't actually that bad, so there's no need to worry too much."

"It's just that there's a possibility that if someone has some purpose—whether it's wanting to restore the world to the glory of the Age of Gods, wanting to bring extinct fantasy species back to life, or simply wanting to destroy the world, etc.—and happens to have the ability to target Planetary Anchors, then something... that nobody wants to see might happen."

“Actually, there was a similar tragedy thirty years ago. Although the other side failed in the end, we suffered heavy losses in order to stop that guy. So, in order to avoid repeating the same mistake—after all, unlike thirty years ago, Britain can no longer afford another bloodshed—I want to act early, get the ‘key’ to the Radiant Tower, and have it kept by a trustworthy person.”

"A trustworthy person?" Gao Wen repeated, grasping the key point of the sentence.

"We can discuss the specific candidate after we obtain the 'key.' If Sir Gawain is willing, with your strength, you can indeed safeguard the 'key' from being taken by evil people... But that's a matter for later." Merlin waved his hand. "In short, my goal is to open the Tower of Radiance and obtain the key to prevent others from using its power for troublesome purposes. Moreover, this does not conflict with Your Highness's goal. The Star Sword is still within you, and while I go to retrieve the key, you can use the power of the Tower of Radiance to purify the curse within you."

“If we have the capacity, we can also resolve the curses of the Fisherman King and Princess Elaine at the same time—I know about your agreement with that brother and sister. Since you said you would leave this to me, I will not let you break your promise to others—” Before Guinevere could speak, she quickly added, then smiled again: “Next, if everyone has no objections, let me explain the specific steps.”

……

A small town, an alley, and a dilapidated tavern.

Nimiao moved a small stool to the doorway, rested her chin on her hands, and waited and waited. The sun overhead slowly began to slant, but Guinevere and the other woman still hadn't returned. She couldn't help but feel a little angry. She had only played a joke on her sister Lily, and her father and the others had actually left her behind!

How abominable!

The little girl pouted, momentarily wanting to sneak out of town—she remembered the place written on the hem of her clothes. She had explored the town thoroughly these past few days and shouldn't be lost. But those two people had repeatedly told her not to wander off alone; if she secretly followed them and was discovered, she would definitely get a scolding. Getting scolded wasn't so bad; as long as she acted a little pitiful, faked a couple of tears, and didn't even need to rub her eyes red, her father would soften and comfort her. And if she was willing to be affectionate, she could even get some pocket money and treats.

Lily is harder to fool, but she's a good person. Even if she knows I'm faking my crying, she won't expose me. So, to thank Lily, Nemia would secretly share half of her snacks with her every time she got them.

anyway……

After spending time together and being educated, the little girl understood the meaning of the word "Dad." Guinevere was clearly not her father—putting aside blood relations, she was first and foremost a woman, and should at least be called "Mom."

But for some reason, the moment Nimier saw Guinevere, a strange sense of familiarity welled up inside her, as if they had met a long, long time ago. Without time to think or react, she followed her heart and called out "Dad." Unlike the other uncles, aunts, sisters, and brothers, whose titles were chosen from observing others' reactions to avoid sounding odd, "Dad," for Guinevere, was a spontaneous, inexplicable, and utterly illogical way of addressing her.

Why would she be his father?

Sometimes, when she was alone and had nothing to eat, Nimiao would prop her head up in her hands, furrow her brow, and ponder this question. She always felt that if she could figure this out, she could become a completely different person...

Customers come and go in the shop. The little girl is cute and has a sweet tongue. After spending the last few days with her, she has become quite famous among the regulars. Now, sitting at the door, swinging her little feet back and forth, her frowning and deep in thought is really adorable. Even though the people who come here are all rough and reckless, their gazes toward Nimiao become much gentler as they come and go.

Every now and then someone would come over and give her something. The little girl would come to her senses, hurriedly thank them, and then have her head rubbed twice. She felt a little pain and pouted in protest. After the person laughed and left, she would rest her chin on her hand, looking distressed.

I don't know when, but a person stood there, motionless for a long time, casting a shadow that blocked the sunlight.

Nimiao looked up in confusion.

"Uncle Dream?"

Dreem, whose left hand was tightly bandaged, stood by the door, tilting his head and staring at her with a strange look. The other's gaze and expression made Nimiao feel inexplicably flustered. She first looked away, but then felt that she had lost her momentum, so she turned her head and glared at him angrily again.

Dreem twitched the corners of his mouth, as if trying to force a smile, but the smile was more stiff than usual. His uninjured right hand pressed against the bandage on his left hand, his fingers rubbing against it as he grasped one end of the bandage.

"Dream... Uncle?" Seeing that the other party did not respond, Nimue called out timidly again, while shrinking her neck: "If there's nothing else... I'm going back to my room."

Dreem remained silent.

He held one end of the bandage and gave it a gentle shake. The snow-white bandage immediately loosened, swirling in the air and revealing his previously hidden left hand. It was a pale, bloodless arm, so thin it looked like skin wrapped around a few protruding bones—unlike the tall shopkeeper, anyone could tell at a glance that it belonged to a woman.

Moreover, the owner of this hand should be a noblewoman who rarely sees the light of day and is physically weak.

Before the unwrapped bandages even hit the ground, white fluid flowed between the two figures, one large and one small. The moment Nemia saw the arm, she froze in her chair, her scarlet eyes wide open as if blood were flowing within them, and the sound of rushing water seemed to echo around them. Drem slowly raised the left hand, and with an expression of utmost reverence, gently pressed his lips to the thin, pale back of the hand.

Spit!

Suddenly, accompanied by a chilling sound of flesh tearing apart, three slits appeared in the center of Nimiao's left palm—two small and one large. The two smaller slits opened, and the blood seeping out outlined two patterns resembling eyeballs, while the larger slit was, in fact, a mouth—

A mouth with a bright red tongue and two rows of snow-white teeth!

Blah, blah!

The sound of flowing water grew louder and louder. Apart from Drem standing there deeply kissing his left hand and Nemia sitting stiffly in her chair, the entire alley, including the tavern, gradually lost its color, leaving only monotonous black and white. Everything froze at that moment: birds flying overhead, leaves falling, sounds, smells—everything seemed dead.

"It's been a long time, my dear sister."

The two "eyeballs" on her palm darted around, while her mouth opened and closed, uttering a seductive woman's voice:

"It's been about thirty years since you were killed by Merlin's scheme. Tsk tsk tsk, I never imagined that the goddess who once terrified everyone and dared not approach her would now be reduced to this state. It's truly... I'm almost crying, hahahaha—"

P.S.: The fever has finally subsided, but the cold isn't completely gone yet. My head is spinning, and my throat hurts terribly. I was thinking of writing a little more... well, let's say it's over 4,000 words for now. Just bear with it as it is for now. Also, based on everyone's suggestions, I've revised the (ideal) "big vat" in my head to try and speed up the main plot.

Chapter 115 Hunger

The illusory sound of flowing water continued to ring out, and everything around faded away in an instant, returning to the most primitive black and white. The birds perched overhead, the motionless fallen leaves, and the dust raised on the long street were as if someone had suddenly pressed the pause button on a videotape. In this space, the only things that could be called living beings seemed to be two people, one standing and one sitting.

More accurately.

It is a person, with one hand.

Nemia remained seated on her little stool, staring at the woman's left hand that Dream was kissing. Her face turned deathly pale, and a surge of immense fear welled up in her bloodshot, shimmering crimson eyes.

"You...you...what kind of monster are you? Why are mouths and eyes growing out of your hands...I...I don't know you! Get away, get away from me!"

Perhaps she was so frightened that her mind went blank and she forgot to run away, or perhaps she was so scared that her legs went weak and she couldn't run away. The little girl slumped on the stool, her hands gripping the two ends of the wooden stool, and her small body moved backward.

Dreem remained standing still with his eyes closed, seemingly oblivious to the commotion around him, while devoutly kissing his bloodless left hand.

On the palm of that hand, an eye-like pattern spun wildly, and two rows of teeth chattered in the mouth as it spoke again: "My dear sister, others may not know your methods, but I know them inside and out. It's been so many years since we last met, why don't we have a good chat and catch up?"

Contrary to its horrifying appearance, the mouth growing from its hand speaks in a gentle, polite, slightly hoarse female voice, evoking an image of the following scene:

Under the blue sky and white clouds, an ancient castle bathed in the morning light, a figure was strolling outside the castle—it should be a woman in her thirties, wearing a simple yet stylish long dress, her skin pale and bloodless due to the lack of sunlight, her cheeks thin, and the whites of her eyes making up most of her eyes, so she might give the impression of being mean and petty.

She had long, red hair, like a blazing flame, and wore a deep red cloak, leading a horse. The horse was a deep, fiery red from head to toe, without a single other color.

"you you you……"

The scene flashed before her eyes, just a fleeting moment. The castle and the red-haired woman leading the red horse vanished, and everything returned to the dilapidated alley. Nemia's body trembled, and her teeth chattered with fear. She looked around in near panic at the monotonous world of only black and white, her heart pounding faster and faster, as if it might burst from her chest at any moment.

"I don't know what you're talking about..." She shrank back, and after some thought, she suddenly mustered her courage and stammered, "Besides, you're not my sister at all!"

"Oh?"

The two eyes on his palm darted around a few times, and a mocking smile curled at the corner of his mouth: "So you're still holding a grudge about what happened back then—"

The words have not yet fallen.

Suddenly, the little girl said angrily, "Daddy only has me as his child!" The rest of her sentence was swallowed back down.

Those eyes blinked hard, and although it was just a pattern outlined in blood, an expression of disbelief flashed across them. They stared intently at the little girl for a long time, wanting to say something, but in the end, they only sighed softly.

"It seems you really haven't regained your memory—my good friend would never put on such a pitiful expression."

"Oh, I remember now. The most important power of death for you is currently sealed within King Marco by Merlin, along with Terena. Perhaps it's because this most important power hasn't returned that you're able to maintain this dazed state of mind..."

Then she laughed again: "That's good, at least you're much cuter than before. Whether it's true or not, you must always maintain this harmless appearance, so... Morrigan and I won't have to live in constant fear."

"but--"

The voice suddenly grew louder, and Nimme looked up in astonishment, only to see Dreem still standing there. His pale hand suddenly shot out in front of her, two slits resembling eyes waving wildly, his teeth chattering erratically: "Don't forget, an incomplete life form cannot be self-sufficient. If you don't devour other life forms soon, your body will collapse. Although I eagerly await that moment, the condition is that the collapse of your body won't restore your complete memories..."

"If you want to stay in this state, then go devour! Sacrifice the flesh and blood of the innocent to prolong your current pure and innocent life, hahahaha—"

Laughter echoed, only to abruptly cease in the next instant, as if the tide were rising, and the colors that had been lost suddenly returned, and all sorts of sounds reappeared in the silent world.

A bird flew overhead, leaving a dark brown feather that swayed and tumbled down. Several leaves, caught in the tumble, tumbled towards the alleyway entrance, the dust they stirred up settling again. Inside the tavern, people were talking, and others were laughing and shouting, "Boss—!"

"Dream? Where have you been!" It was the voice of a regular customer, who shouted and banged on the table. Nimiao looked up and saw that Drem's left hand was wrapped in layers of bandages again, completely covered, with not an inch of skin showing, as if it had never been unwrapped. Noticing the little girl's gaze, he lowered his head and looked down at her, their eyes meeting.

"Are you waiting for Miss Guinevere and the others?" He gave her a smile no different from usual, and his tone was as gentle as ever, but Nimiao felt a chill rise from the bottom of her heart.

She was so cold she couldn't speak. After a long while, she nodded blankly. Dreem smiled again and reached out, seemingly wanting to rub her head, but Nemia instinctively dodged. His hand stopped in mid-air, probably not expecting this situation. He paused for a moment, but didn't seem to mind.

"They should be back soon. If you're hungry, come to the kitchen, and I'll prepare your favorite dishes."

Nimue nodded again. Drem turned and walked into the tavern. As his footsteps faded into the distance, the sounds of him chatting with several regular customers drifted out. The little girl's gaze seemed to be fixed on the innkeeper's back until his figure disappeared behind the tavern and could no longer be seen. Only then did she slowly blink.

A wave of bittersweetness washed over me.

But it also relieved her, and only then did doubts arise in her mind.

What exactly happened just now?

Reason told her that the best course of action was to wait for Guinevere and the others to return, and then immediately tell them everything that had happened to Dreem and what had just occurred. Her father was so capable; he would definitely know what was going on and could help her resolve the situation.

But at the same time.

But another voice inside her was stopping her. It was as if telling others the whole story would cause her to lose something important, something irretrievable—but what exactly that was, the little girl couldn't find the answer for a moment. She rested her chin on her hand, looking out of the alley and then into the tavern. Someone waved to her, and she returned a big smile.

Looking away, Nimiao suddenly felt a dampness at the corner of her mouth. She wiped it with the back of her hand and realized that she had actually drooled.

She couldn't help but look over again at the uncle who smiled at her and used to treat her to fried potato wedges. With a gulp, she swallowed a large mouthful of saliva.

Although I don't know what Uncle Dreem's hand meant by those words, or what incomplete life forms meant, I vaguely know the answer deep in my mind, but I don't want to think about it... I dare not think about it.

However, the little girl understood that the hunger that had haunted her ever since she left the forest, tormenting her day and night, was something she couldn't alleviate in the slightest. No matter how much she ate, even when her stomach was so full she could barely move, to the point where the sight of food made her want to vomit, the hunger remained undiminished…

It's getting stronger and stronger.

P.S.: I saw a doctor and got a bunch of medicine and pills, over 300 yuan, ouch... But the fever's gone down, I'm still a little dizzy, but it shouldn't affect my updates. I'm still feeling listless today, this chapter is a bit short, I'll see if I can write more tomorrow~ Remember to vote!

Chapter 116 Prelude

The Holy Lance, Rungominiad, shines in the end. Decades later, when the people of Britain finally ushered in the long-awaited peace, Rungominiad, as the weapon that accompanied King Arthur throughout his life of conquest, frequently appeared in countless legends and anecdotes about its owner. The story of how King Arthur obtained the Holy Lance is known to every household, and even young children in rural villages can tell it with great interest, just as their parents tell them before bedtime.

However, if we shift our focus from the near future back to the present, at this moment when the King still exists and the feudal lords are divided, there are actually not many people who know about the Holy Lance. Moreover, most of those who know are caught up in the situation and their vision is obscured and their thoughts are clouded by various factors. Those who can perceive the storm to come in the first place and notice the slightest clues from the very beginning are even fewer.

Only when the storm truly arrives, sweeping across everyone and everything, leaving no one unscathed, will people look back and see the ripples on the lake that they had initially overlooked—the slightest ripples, yet enough to disrupt the calm surface and destroy everything reflected therein. Like a brand new history book slowly being turned, a pen falls upon it; before the words appear, a meaningless drop of paint lands on the paper, quickly spreading and spreading.

That was a date.

A date that seemed quite ordinary at the time.

April 17th, the transition from spring to summer. In southern Britain, after three days of fine drizzle, the weather finally cleared up again. The sky was a clear, bright blue, as if it had just been washed. Soft white clouds drifted slowly, raindrops swirled on the tips of leaves, birds sang, and a breeze blew.

That morning, Fisher, who had already returned to the castle to handle government affairs, came to Plymouth Town alone without any attendants.

Thirty years ago, the Fisher King went mad, and afterwards, he ostensibly managed all affairs of the territory. However, only a few close confidants knew that Fisher was skilled in martial arts but lacked talent in diplomacy and domestic affairs. He wielded the Scepter of the Sea God, and his apparent power was enough to intimidate any ill-intentioned villains. But behind the scenes, the power struggles and intrigues that required strategic thinking were all planned, orchestrated, and decided by Elaine alone. Neither of them was power-hungry. Elaine, due to her own circumstances, couldn't appear in public, so she attributed all the credit to her brother. Fisher, however, had no intention of using this to seize power.

Ultimately, having witnessed firsthand the tragedy that befell King Peres and this land, the two siblings found it difficult to harbor excessive desires for worldly power. Elaine had already voluntarily relinquished the Pearl of the Illusion and the Ring of Solomon, losing all her senses and severing all communication with the real world. However, she hadn't forgotten to do her utmost to arrange various affairs in the territory for the coming period, ensuring that even if the whole affair ended in the worst possible way, the territory could remain peaceful for about another year under Fisher's military deterrence.

This was the limit of what she could do.

Thanks to this foresight, at least for the time being, neither the knights and nobles in the territory nor outsiders noticed Elaine's disappearance. Fisher, relying on his sister's prior arrangements, eliminated several disloyal and unstable elements and promoted some loyal but incompetent people to their posts. When the aftermath of this personnel change subsided, he left the castle quietly with the Poseidon's Halberd without telling anyone.

Fisher knew perfectly well that news of his disappearance would be discovered by tonight or tomorrow morning at the latest, and would spread like wildfire, appearing on the desks of many people. But if all went well, by the time those people's spies sent back intelligence, the matter should already be resolved.

Whether it succeeds or fails.

Once the dice are rolled and the chips are placed, all you can and should do is wait.

It was still that dilapidated little tavern, on the second floor, in a room in the corner of the corridor. The door was ajar, and conversations could be heard from time to time. But if someone happened to pass by and listened carefully, they would find that they couldn't understand what was being said. Every word and every sentence was crystal clear, but they couldn't piece it together into any meaningful content.

If you have some knowledge of magic, you can probably recognize that this is a simple application of some kind of illusion. However, at this moment, only a few ordinary people are passing by. They are just passing by and think that they did not hear clearly and do not care.

In the room with the door slightly ajar, Merlin sat in one of the only two chairs, leisurely crossing one leg and tapping her cheek with her finger. She had lifted her hood, and her long, silvery-white hair cascaded down, almost touching the floor, partially obscuring the chair and its back. It was a bit hot, and fine beads of sweat trickled down her forehead and down her high, straight nose.