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

The sky was like a dome, covering all directions. Above was a clear blue sky, while hundreds of miles away, the sky was still full of stars. This strange sight was seen by many people at this moment, and they were either surprised or puzzled. But at least at this moment, on the high cliff where the smell of blood had not completely dissipated, the two people who were talking were both clear about the current situation.

After speaking, Nimiao looked once more at the third beam of light that appeared in the town, her expression seemingly nostalgic. When she saw the Tower of Radiance earlier, she suddenly remembered many things. These memories flooded her mind like a torrent, yet she felt no discomfort and easily accepted them.

But ultimately, it's like looking at flowers through a fog; even if you remember them, it's as if you're looking through a thin veil, hazy and indistinct, lacking any real feeling. Perhaps, as Merlin said, knowing and feeling are two different things. As for the person she wanted to talk to, it wasn't the one who personally experienced these memories—the goddess Niman.

but yourself.

A "person" who possesses relevant memories and understands the cause and effect, but is not yet the goddess herself.

Her gaze passed over a few white clouds, over distant mountains, over the dividing line between day and night, and looked further into the distance, towards the west, towards the island of Ireland, in her past memories.

To escape their fate of annihilation, the Danu people pooled their resources to build a great ship, enduring countless hardships before finally landing in Ireland. Then came a series of wars, betrayals, and bloodshed. In the end, some companions abandoned them, others silently departed, and the remaining ones, guided by a certain opportunity, were able to indulge in a dream of everything.

That's why—Nimia remembered a story Lily had told her while putting her to sleep: Go west, further west, beyond a vast sea, there lies a mysterious island shrouded in mist, said to contain countless treasures of gold and silver, and divine weapons; whoever obtains any one of them can dominate all of Britain, and even the whole world.

For centuries, countless people have fled to the sea because of this story, but none have returned alive. So this story is just a story, and now, apart from snotty-nosed children, no one takes it seriously anymore.

But Nimue knew that the treasures mentioned in the stories were not entirely fictional. Both the Danu gods and their adversaries, Felberg and Vermor, possessed several wondrous treasures, and although the war was long over and most of the people who experienced it had perished, the treasures themselves still existed.

Quietly waiting for a new owner who may never come.

Her gaze returned from the horizon, and the girl looked up at the white-robed female magician. Merlin smiled: "If that's the case, then you can try to change your mind now."

"You really believe she would make such an irrational choice?"

"Illogical?" Merlin smiled at first. At this moment when the sky cleared up, it seemed that even the wind blowing in her face was no longer cold. Her silver hair was blown up and down by the wind, and her long robe fluttered.

“If I were to answer according to an old man’s favorite saying, I would say this.” He paused for a moment: “Fate is woven in this way—”

“Fate?” Nimue couldn’t help but scoff. “I thought only druids from Murias would use that word.”

She seemed to dislike Murias intensely, her tone filled with disdain when she mentioned it: "The incompetent blame their failures on fate, while the cunning use fate as a pretext to carry out their schemes. Ah, the threads woven by some invisible hand arrange every move a person makes, everything they will experience and have already experienced, all perfectly. No matter what happens, nothing can be changed, nothing can be defied... What an impeccable excuse for an incompetent insect."

"Is this your, or rather, the goddess Neman's, view of fate?" Merlin asked.

The little girl remained silent, which was tantamount to acknowledging the assumption. The female magician seemed quite satisfied as she thought about it: "I see. This radical view does indeed fit the impression that goddess gives off, but I have a different opinion on this point."

"What is fate? Perhaps it is indeed as you say, a mysterious force that binds a person's past and future to a predetermined trajectory, from beginning to end, without any chance of deviating from this predetermined trajectory. But what is this force?" she asked, and immediately gave her own answer.

"What binds that person is not something else, but himself. From the moment a person is born, opens his eyes, and becomes conscious, he is receiving all kinds of information from his surroundings. This information comes from his parents, his family, and all kinds of people he will meet in the future. Through these, he slowly learns how to think, gradually forms his own set of ideas and style of doing things, and so-called fate also falls on this person."

“When hungry, a devout ascetic would only eat cold water and hard, cold black bread, while a wealthy merchant would go to the best restaurants in town for a meal. Nobles had their own chefs, servants, and a complicated set of dining etiquette, so they spent much more time eating than commoners.”

"Of course, this is just a general statement, a somewhat inaccurate fate. However, if we describe it in more detail—he was a typical nobleman, born into a family that valued etiquette very much. He received an extremely strict education from a young age and never encountered any opportunity for change. Therefore, he was rigid and stubborn, like a living model example from a textbook. Such a person can be easily predicted in terms of what he would say, what he would do, and even what he was thinking."

“The same principle applies.” Merlin slightly raised his chin, allowing the beautiful curve of his chin to emerge from the shadow of the hood and clearly appear before Nemia’s eyes. At the same time, the corners of his mouth curled up, revealing a confident smile. “What is fate? Fate is what a person has received so far, what influences he has been subjected to, and in what form these influences are reflected. Of course, for most people, these things are unknowable, so in their eyes, fate appears so mysterious and unpredictable that it inspires fear and powerlessness.”

"But in my eyes—under Merlin's gaze—fate is like an open book, from the first word to the last line, completely transparent, without a single error or cover-up."

"Is that guy one too?"

Below the cliff, a dark shadow flew past. Nimiao could see clearly that it was the innkeeper—something that used to belong to Drem.

Covered in blood and grime, headless and missing half of its spine, its limbs twisted in strange directions, like a monster from a folk horror story, it staggered but quickly ran over, its left hand tightly gripping a bright blue scepter amidst the swirling dust, and then headed southeast.

She pointed.

Merlin nodded: "You could say that."

……

"Well……"

On the third floor of the inn, several sword fragments, bound together by a mysterious force, transformed back into a complete longsword, hovering in mid-air. A dazzling light flowed along the cracks between the fragments, illuminating the tightly closed room as bright as day, making every detail crystal clear.

In the quiet air, only the occasional soft hum of the sword blade could be heard. Then, at some point, the girl sitting on the bed shuddered and let out a muffled groan.

The change happened in an instant—the black mist spread out and enveloped Guinevere in the blink of an eye, then further filled the entire room. Only the sword blade formed from the fragments in mid-air remained unaffected. As soon as the black mist got close, it was as if it had been burned by flames and suddenly retreated.

But the black mist grew thicker and thicker, eventually transforming into a massive black cloud that pressed down heavily. The longsword, though still gleaming, appeared in stark contrast to the dark mist, like a flickering, dying lamp in the long night.

"Well--"

A low, melancholy groan escaped from the mist, much softer than before, and faintly echoed, layering upon layer, making the originally gentle tone sound heavier.

"—"

The third sound was like a low growl suppressed to the extreme. The black mist that filled the entire room suddenly contracted, briefly revealing the original tables, chairs, and curtains, but then suddenly expanded again in the next instant. From the dark mist, a huge claw suddenly stretched out and pressed down on the longsword in front of it!

Boom—boom boom boom boom!

This giant claw—as thick as a stone pillar—pressed down on the longsword, then its three scaled fingers snapped together, gripping it tightly as if holding a match. However, the claw continued to extend forward, effortlessly smashing through three consecutive walls. Debris flew everywhere, and broken pieces of wood were still in the air before being swallowed up by the surging black mist and disappearing without a trace.

The violent tremor shook the entire inn, and the once dazzling pillar of light dimmed instantly. Gao Wen, who had been observing the situation, felt a chill run down his spine, but before he could act, a deafening roar, like thunder, erupted from the third floor of the inn. Almost half the roof was ripped open, and black mist billowed out. Before his eyes, a nearly five-meter-long, jet-black dragon wing slowly unfurled. A shadow fell over it!

"This is... could it be..."

Having heard Guinevere recount her own experiences and knowing the potential consequences of failure, Gawain felt only slight astonishment upon seeing the enormous dragon wings. Instead, he was overwhelmed by deep sorrow and disbelief.

She failed… Fenna failed? But how could she have failed so easily… Merlin made her stay here because she had foreseen this outcome? As this thought flashed through her mind, the rooftop, which had been tossed high into the air, paused at its highest point before beginning to fall, dust billowing up. Dark dragon wings were half-hidden in the mist, and a roar, faintly audible as a girl's voice, echoed from the large hole in the roof.

"—"

The holy sword in his hand grew increasingly hot, to the point that Gawain wondered if he was holding a red-hot iron rather than a sword. He knew it was because of the presence before him—an evil dragon.

Something must be done...

The wind whipped up by the damaged inn, causing the green cloak to flutter wildly. The oppressive aura continued to rise, and the knight involuntarily took a step back. With a crash, the wall behind him shattered, leaving only a hole the size of an adult.

Take another step back.

Under the clear sky, dark clouds gradually gathered, completely covering this area, yet a few rays of sunlight still shone down. Gao Wen took a breath and exhaled. Although it was late at night, he felt his strength flowing continuously from within him, just as it had during the day.

He is now confident that he will not be defeated by any opponent.

Even if it was a giant dragon.

But his mind was still undecided. The young man, barely twenty years old, raised his head, his eyes still filled with hesitation. Until now, the battlefield had been nothing more than a hunting ground for him to gain glory. Only now, with an incredibly difficult choice placed before him, did Gao Wen begin to vaguely understand its cruelty.

Suddenly, the spinning sword emitted a trembling sound, tinged with inexplicable sorrow. The light on its blade dimmed, and the knight's heart stirred. He abruptly turned his head to look in another direction. Just moments before, an aura that had been interacting with this side had suddenly vanished.

It is the Trident of Poseidon.

Although there was no evidence yet, Gawain was inexplicably certain of this suspicion that had surfaced in his mind. Fisher was in trouble; were the perpetrators other undetected remnants of the Low King's faction, or were there other hidden enemies lurking behind the scenes?

And what should he do...?

For a moment's hesitation, I heard another loud bang. Turning my gaze back, I saw that the remaining half of the roof had also collapsed. Inside the hotel, which was completely exposed, there was a mess, and another wing was slowly unfolding.

It was an enormous black dragon. One of its claws was nearly two or three stories high. Most of its body was obscured by the surrounding mist, with only two wings, a left claw, and a pair of brownish-yellow eyes vaguely visible.

“Fafner…”

As if in response to his whisper, the dragon pressed one claw against the outer wall of the inn, causing gravel and pebbles to tumble down. Its head, mostly hidden in the black mist, slowly lowered and looked in this direction.

Gao Wen looked back without flinching, trying to find a trace of familiar emotion in those eyes.

However, before this idea could be put into practice, as their eyes met across the distance, the black dragon's body suddenly trembled, and the surrounding black mist inexplicably dispersed for a moment, revealing a beam of light shining down from between the dark clouds above.

It landed on the black dragon's giant claw.

"—"

With a terrifying roar, the black dragon suddenly released its front claws, and Gao Wencai then saw that it was pressing down on a sword—a longsword pieced together from several fragments, broken and tattered, yet possessing a strange and undeniable aura.

As the dragon claw moved away, the sword, bathed in the sunlight falling from the sky, slowly floated up. It was no more than half a palm's width wide, with a blue hilt that gradually extended upwards to a bright gold, and the blade shimmered with light, resembling a bright torch.

Despite the extreme difference in size, the sword, when stopped in front of the black dragon, did not lose in terms of imposing presence.

The oppressive aura that had been pressing down suddenly dissipated, perhaps because the dragon was no longer focusing its attention on this area. Although Gawain wasn't afraid, he couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief when he saw that the crisis had temporarily disappeared.

"However, that sword is..."

At first, he thought it was Guinevere's holy sword, but upon closer inspection, he realized that although the two were quite similar, they also had subtle differences. So, what kind of sword was this?

The third ray of light just now was clearly the "masterpiece" of this sword, but the fact that it could resonate with the Sword of Victory and the Trident of the Sea God is enough to prove that this thing is not ordinary.

But no matter how hard Gao Wen racked his brains, he couldn't match the famous swords and divine weapons he remembered with the things in front of him.

As he was wondering, he suddenly saw a burly figure gradually emerge from the light that descended from the sky—from Gawain's angle, he could see the other's profile. It was a figure made of pure light, without facial features, and the clothes on his body were not clearly visible.

All that could be seen was that he appeared to be a male, nearly two meters tall, with a muscular physique, messy hair, and an exceptionally thick right arm, almost a full circle thicker than his left arm. He seemed to be wearing some kind of arm armor, but several chain-like things hung down to his feet.

A figure emerged from the light, but suddenly a pair of black wings unfurled behind him. He paused in mid-air, reached out, and grasped the shattered sword.

"evil--"

A majestic voice echoed from all directions, like rolling thunder, passing above the clouds: "Destroy!"

He raised his right arm, and the chains of light were thrown upwards, binding themselves to the blade. The next moment, a burst of light erupted, and a giant sword over twenty meters long suddenly appeared, as if held in the palm of an invisible giant, raised high and tearing apart the layers of dark clouds overhead!

The dragon also raised its head, its dark yellow eyes reflecting the figure and the giant sword above its head. It spread its wings, blotting out the sky, then opened its mouth, and light gradually began to glow from within.

In an instant, a bright red flame poured out from the dragon's mouth, like a silent roar, directly meeting the giant sword suspended high in the sky. Chains clanged, the man gripped his sword, swung it down, and the giant sword followed closely, colliding heavily with the breath!

……

P.S.: The main text is 5,000 words, not a single word more or less. Caring for those with obsessive-compulsive disorder is everyone's responsibility!

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Chapter 130 The Evil Dragon Spreads Its Wings (Part 2)

Because Guinevere had given prior instructions, Gawain had to some extent anticipated the appearance of the black dragon, but the subsequent encounter with the man and his sword, and the ensuing battle, truly caught him off guard.

In the blink of an eye, he had gone from being the protagonist of the story to a spectator. The young knight raised his head and looked at the giant sword that was more than twenty meters long in the sky. Although Gawain himself might be able to do something similar with the power of the holy sword, from the perspective of an observer, how spectacular and shocking this scene was.

The wind and clouds swirled, and the light was dazzling. In an instant, the giant sword condensed and took shape, and an incomparably powerful aura escalated and spread, like an invisible mountain that suddenly pressed down on everyone's hearts.

The black dragon spread its wings wide, like two dark clouds. Nearly half of its body was hidden in the surrounding black mist, with only a claw or a scale showing. Its huge head was raised high, and it opened its mouth to spew out a pillar of fire.

The pillar of fire, resembling a ferocious fire dragon, rose up to meet the giant sword that was slashing down with immense force, and in the next instant, it crashed heavily into it!

The visual impact, the flickering and changing sky, seemed to slow the flow of time for a moment. At least in the young knight's perception, the world suddenly became incredibly quiet the instant sword clashed with fire; you could hear a pin drop. He watched as a visible shockwave slowly formed from the point of impact, the air vibrating, distorting, and gradually piling up into a surging wave of air that swept outwards—

Then came a loud bang.

boom!

A surge of energy erupted as the giant sword cleaved through the fiery torrents, crashing to the ground and splitting the black dragon and the entire building beneath it in two. The ground shook violently from the impact, as if an earthquake had struck, pebbles bounced, and dust billowed into the air. Gawain reached out to grab the wall beside him, but in the next instant, he lost his balance and crashed headfirst into it, causing the entire wall to collapse.

But given his physical condition, he shouldn't have been injured. Amidst the rising dust, sunlight streamed into the house, which was probably an ordinary dwelling. The owner had retreated in a hurry and hadn't even packed up his belongings yet. He stood up from a pile of broken pieces that had originally been a table and hurriedly rushed out of the large hole he had created. However, the battle outside had already changed.

Black mist filled the air, and the cleaved dragon had vanished without a trace, leaving only a dilapidated inn that was teetering on the brink of collapse. The entire alleyway that had faced the shockwave was now unrecognizable, littered with broken tiles and rubble. But the figure standing in the air spread its wings, and a few jet-black feathers flew up in the wind, like wet raven feathers, shimmering beautifully in the sunlight.

The man released his right hand from the hilt of the sword, and the chains wrapped around the blade simultaneously detached, clattering down again. Not far ahead, wisps of black smoke drifted from various parts of the inn, then, guided by some unseen force, converged at a certain point. The figure simply watched this scene silently, the sword floating before him, its light like water, flowing quietly along the gaps between the fragments.

The air fell silent for a moment, a silence that lasted until the smoke gathered into a thick black cloud. The inn below held on for a few more moments before finally collapsing completely with a crash. At the same time, a pair of enormous dragon wings, even larger than before, unfurled from within the black mist!

The dragon wings reappeared, and the entire dark cloud burst open, revealing a terrifying black dragon. With a flap of its wings, the air currents it stirred up resembled a grand tornado, bringing with them a sound of collapse and destruction in all directions. Yet, the man and his sword remained calm and quiet, not even the hem of their clothes fluttering in the wind.

At one point, he raised his right hand and clenched his fist.

The longsword in front of him instantly split in two, then from two to four, then from four to eight. In just a few breaths, hundreds of lightsabers suddenly appeared between the man and the dragon, looking like a shimmering golden ocean.

This scene was reflected in Gawain's eyes. Feeling the terrifying power contained within, he couldn't help but hold his breath. The black dragon seemed to sense the threat as well, and opened its mouth, intending to spew out another breath.

Its rivals, however, were one step ahead.

No one knew exactly how the figure gave the order, but in an instant, hundreds of white beams of light traversed a distance of tens of meters, piercing through the black dragon's body before it could even react. It stretched its neck and let out a shrill howl, but its body was constantly pushed back by the dense, rain-like attacks. There was no blood where the swords pierced its body, only wisps of black smoke rising from it. However, these wisps of smoke were often shattered and destroyed by the second and third light swords that followed, leaving no trace.

Boom—boom boom boom boom boom boom! Swords rained down, reaching the heavens and piercing the earth, wave after wave, seemingly endless. However, less than 20% of them hit the black dragon itself, while the rest of the attacks missed and struck the empty town.

In an instant, the black dragon's body flew backward involuntarily, affecting the buildings and streets along its path. Dust billowed up, and within a distance of several hundred meters, countless buildings were leveled by the aftershocks.

The figure then took a step forward and disappeared. When it reappeared, it was already hundreds of meters away, landing directly above the struggling and roaring black dragon. It caught a longsword that had been shot off course and raised its arm.

The continuous rain of swords suddenly disappeared, replaced by another giant sword that pierced the sky, stirring up the wind and clouds, and roared down towards the black dragon, crashing heavily to the ground with a loud bang!

From the outbreak of the conflict to this moment, only two or three minutes had passed, but the aftershocks had already engulfed half of the town. As the sounds of battle gradually faded into the distance, Gao Wen stood there, stunned for a few seconds, before he reacted and hurriedly strode towards the inn that had been reduced to ruins.

I wonder if Fina is buried inside... While this is indeed the most logical conclusion, on the other hand, there is also an unfounded intuition that tells him that Guinevere is not in the ruins in front of him.

It's not even in this small town.

But if that's the case, where did she go?

……

Even the girl herself couldn't answer that question.

At this moment, her consciousness was still stuck in that space between reality and the gap—having been entrusted with a task, she had to be loyal to it. Since the condition for Elaine to agree to the deal was to rescue the Fisherman King, Guinevere was faced with the dilemma of choosing between herself and the Fisherman King, and ultimately she still chose the latter.

With a single sword strike, the nightmare monster, in the form of chunks of flesh, instantly dissipated into a cloud of blood mist. But before the girl could respond to the old man's roar—she had almost already come up with what she thought was a very fashionable answer—the power of the evil dragon that had once been banished from behind her suddenly surged back, and amidst the intense pain that coursed through her limbs and bones, she lost consciousness.

When they came to their senses, the Fisherman King and Elaine were gone, and the castle bathed in the red moonlight was no longer there. It was as if someone had pressed the fast-forward button on a videotape, and all sorts of images flashed before their eyes: a brief struggle around the Trident of Poseidon by the lake, the "Dream" fleeing after seizing the scepter, the townspeople retreating northward, three beams of light shooting into the sky, the sky suddenly clearing, and a snow-white giant tower that seemed both real and unreal appearing and disappearing...