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

She turned to Lancelot: "Arondette signifies indestructibility, therefore the domain it forms also symbolizes unbreakable and impenetrable strength. I just asked you to try to break through his defenses within five minutes, because only within those five minutes will you have a chance of victory. Once the domain is fully deployed, Lancelot will be invincible—"

"Merlin, you're exaggerating..."

Lancelot seemed a little embarrassed by the praise—like a proud child being showered with compliments by his parents in front of others, he felt a complex mix of happiness and shyness. But before he could finish his sentence, Merlin chuckled and said, "—That's true, but I'll still pin you to the ground and beat you up."

The young man's face immediately darkened.

Seeing the dramatic change in his expression, Merlin laughed even harder: "I wonder if Guinevere has ever heard of a Reality Marble..."

"Of course I've heard of it," the girl answered in her mind.

"This magic is roughly equivalent to a simplified version of a Reality Marble... Although it's somewhat questionable whether it can be called a simplified version since it still requires at least a divinely crafted weapon or something of the same caliber, the requirements for its use and its effects have been greatly reduced. Of course, if the Great Source Magic Power were to become exhausted in a few hundred or a few thousand years, this magic would become meaningless, but there's no need to worry about that now."

"Well, Guinevere, it's rare that you can combine the power of a goddess, the curse of a dragon, and the invincible sword into one person. Why not try learning this fun and interesting magic trick? Think about it, this is your own ultimate technique! As for the conditions... of course there are conditions. I can't just teach you for free. It's very simple, just call me 'Big Sister' respectfully from now on—"

P.S.: Just a simple upgrade, and in two more chapters we'll be crowned king and going to war—remember to vote!

Chapter 161 The Self-Created Secret Sword (Part 2)

Lancelot stayed at the camp for three days before hastily embarking on his journey home.

Although the alliance between the two sides is still only verbal, as long as the situation does not change drastically, there will be no major changes. For most of the time, he is training in magic with Merlin and Guinevere.

The three did not deliberately hide during their practice, and the location was nearby, so many people witnessed the training. However, most people were just watching for the spectacle, and only a few truly understood what was happening.

To most people, the two were simply standing facing each other a few meters apart, occasionally exchanging swords briefly before separating, but most of the time they did not draw their swords. They just stood there blankly for hours without moving, as if they had become statues.

Only Merlin remained, pacing back and forth, occasionally chiming in with a few words, or finding a place to sit and munching on something. The camp was crowded and noisy; initially, many people came out of curiosity to watch, but later, perhaps finding nothing interesting, they gradually dispersed.

Fisher and his sister Elaine had come once before. Fisher frowned, as if he had noticed something, yet seemed somewhat bewildered. Elaine, on the other hand, came twice more later alone, silent, holding the Pearl of the Illusion, standing quietly to the side as if asleep. Each time, her position was different. The first time, she was only two or three meters away from Guinevere, the one she was confronting; the second time, it was seven or eight meters; and the last time, she stopped more than twenty meters away.

"Congratulations. From now on, even in the Illusionary Sea, I probably won't be able to beat you."

After Lancelot left, Elaine approached Guinevere and spoke softly. The girl readily accepted the praise. Although Elaine's other senses had long since returned after breaking free of the seal, her gouged-out eyes were irreversible. However, this made her far more sensitive to magic than ordinary people. With the aid of the Pearl of the Illusion, besides Merlin and Lancelot, she was probably the only one present who noticed the subtle changes in the airflow.

Guinevere reached out and placed her hand on the hilt of the sword, applying slight pressure to make the illusory sword hum ring in her mind before fading away. She then looked up, and the invisible, transparent ripple from before was no longer visible in her vision.

Over three days, through seventeen exchanges, she finally broke through Lancelot's seemingly omnipresent suppression and mastered Merlin's original domain magic—or more accurately, an improved version of his predecessors' techniques.

Lancelot was quite surprised by this. After inquiring, Guinevere learned that it had taken Guinevere almost half a year to master the skill. Considering this, her learning speed was simply too astonishing. However, the girl herself understood that there was some exaggeration involved.

Unlike Lancelot, she didn't start entirely from scratch.

Although not entirely the same, Krauss's own Arena of Fate is, in a sense, a subspecies of Reality Marble. Because it is based on a weapon created by the gods, the energy and cost required for its creation and maintenance are greatly reduced compared to a regular Reality Marble.

On the other hand, her use of the Wind Mark to communicate with nature and explore her surroundings is similar to Merlin's magic.

At first, Guinevere hadn't quite grasped the concept and was just stuck on the details. But then a flash of inspiration struck, and from then on, progress was rapid. By the last few training sessions, she had begun to suppress the dragon's power—which Merlin later simply referred to as "Dragon's Might"—and was no longer unconsciously interfering with the outside world as before.

Although it was still considered rough by Merlin and Lancelot, it was still impressive that it could be done in such a short time. Even with Merlin's discerning eye, he had to nod and praise it as remarkable. Of course, given the female magician's personality, it was one thing for her to think that way, but she would never actually praise it. She would be lucky if she didn't make a few sarcastic remarks, both overt and covert, and then enjoy Guinevere's disappointed expression.

Unlike before, when the residual power was limited in effectiveness and had no control, ordinary people could not feel the pressure at all. Only Merlin, Elaine, who were extremely sensitive to magic, and Lancelot, who had already learned domain magic, could perceive it.

Now, under Guinevere's conscious release, "Dragon's Might" can at most intimidate creatures within a radius of about twenty or thirty meters. The smaller the range and the closer the distance, the more obvious the intimidating effect.

If the scope is expanded to the extreme, the affected person may only feel a slight tremor and a little unease. However, if the target is right in front of you, even if it is Lancelot, the moment the pressure envelops him, a gap will be exposed.

Although this half-baked intimidation no longer had any effect on Lancelot after he was prepared, in other words, if used properly, this move could even injure or severely damage a strong person like Lancelot if the opponent was not prepared.

No one ever thinks they have too many cards in their hand, especially in a real battle. A momentary lapse in concentration can often determine the outcome of a match, or even life or death.

"La la la, Fina has leveled up! Fina has become a Level 1 Monk and learned the useful Shock Punch..."

She hummed a strange tune that only she understood with a cheerful mood, but what made Guinevere even happier was something else entirely—her long-cherished wish, which she had held since obtaining the Mark of the Wind, had finally come true.

"Wow, that's actually... a pretty useful technique."

At first glance, it seemed to be just an empty space, but with Merlin's words, the air swayed, and the girl's figure gradually became real. She seemed to be holding something in her hand, but it was transparent, indistinct, and unclear, with only a slight breeze swirling around it.

"Using the wind to shift light, achieving an effect similar to invisibility, is a simple yet extremely effective technique. Do you have a name for it yet?"

Guinevere nodded at first, but after thinking for a moment, she shook her head.

Not yet?

Merlin wasn't surprised, as if she had expected it. She looked back and forth between Guinevere and the sword of light in her hand, which was still entangled in the wind and whose specific shape could not be seen. The corners of her mouth curled up slightly: "Then why don't I give it a name?"

"Wind King Barrier—how is it?"

……

Under Merlin's guidance, Guinevere not only successfully recreated the invisible sword she had longed for, but also went a step further, even becoming able to briefly disappear herself. The thought of being able to use this "invisibility" skill to do all sorts of things in the future—both serious and unserious—made her incredibly happy.

For a while afterward, she focused on practicing these newly acquired skills, sometimes even forgetting to eat until she was starving and realized it was already dark. Only then would she sneak into the kitchen to find something to eat.

Looking back on this experience, Guinevere couldn't help but marvel at her good fortune. Merlin hadn't yet devised those outlandish traps, which were almost beyond the limits of human imagination, specifically designed to target a certain habitual thief. Otherwise, she might have become the first victim of "Trap Master" Merlin, one step ahead of that person.

Soon after, Royal, Bedivere, and others arrived from Cornwall with several groups of men. They had already reached an agreement with Merlin, and although they had not yet formally sworn allegiance to King Arthur, they were in fact already subordinates of the young king. After meeting with the Fisherman King and obtaining his consent, they set up tents in a nearby open space and stayed there temporarily.

Considering that Arthur will inevitably have to fight a fierce battle with North Wales after he officially becomes king—which means a series of tedious ceremonies and declarations—Cornwall's position will become a top concern for all parties in the future. After a long separation, Guinevere and Royal asked about this issue, but the latter just shook his head.

"I'm afraid the outlook is not optimistic..."

He was, after all, a former knight banished from the kingdom. Despite his close relationship with Tristan and King Marco's rather ambiguous attitude, he could not participate much in the current Cornish court.

However, intelligence gathered from various sources indicated that Marco seemed to have been in private contact with the North Wales side. Therefore, whether it was Royal, Lucan, the Bedivere brothers, or Pellès who had heard about the relevant intelligence, they all held a relatively pessimistic attitude about whether Cornwall could be persuaded to side with them after the start of the war.

But it wasn't urgent yet. They could still take their time to think and discuss how to act. Time passed day by day, seemingly calm, yet everyone could feel the undercurrents. Finally, one evening in late June, a knight on horseback galloped from the north, still smelling of blood, and delivered a message to the Fisherman King Pelles.

King Arthur has united seven armies that are hostile to Lyons and is moving south.

Meanwhile, Lyons dispatched King Nentris of Gallot with four hundred knights and several times that number of men to pursue and crush this "chaotic army" en route.

The dark clouds of war are sweeping in.

……

Chapter 162 The Neutral Carleon

Unlike the sunny and breezy days of the past few days, dark clouds gradually gathered in the north from the morning onwards, pressing down on this side.

To many, this scene was a clear sign of impending war. Although the territory remained peaceful, the prelude to conflict had been quietly burning in the north for almost half a month—compared to the overt activities of King Lanes and the two last kings who refused to submit to him in North Wales, the clandestine movements seemed to have attracted little attention at the time. Even Lanes himself, upon hearing of the recent unusual activities of the three "King Arthurs" under his nose, merely uttered an "oh."

"Just a bunch of little mice."

Having said that, he entrusted the task of dealing with this group to the newly joined Nian Cuisi, and more importantly, he used it as a test for King Garlot. He didn't pay much attention to the little tricks these people were up to in private.

Once the last obstacle is broken, North Wales, which has been divided for so long, will be completely unified. Then, with King Lothar to the north and the "King of a Hundred Knights" to the east, their defenses will be impregnable. He can then march south and, after conquering all of Cornwall, he will have the strength to fight King Vortigern.

Lyons, a man said to have a thin flow of giant blood, is bold and savage, harboring astonishing ambitions, and in some ways more like a wild beast living in the wilderness.

"Saxons? If they dare to come, I'll kill them all. Anyone who bares their fangs at me, anyone who tries to stop me from advancing, whether it's the lowly king or that Roman brat who calls himself the Sword Emperor, I will use this axe to chop off their heads one by one sooner or later."

"As for those who follow me, you will enjoy endless wine and women. I will give you all the wealth, power, and glory in the world, as well as the right to live."

With these flamboyant, even somewhat insane words, he led his fearless army on a campaign that swept across the east and west, bringing almost the entire territory of North Wales under his control. Although there was still resistance, it was like a lone lamp in a storm, teetering on the brink of collapse, and could be extinguished at any moment.

Looking around, there was no one who could stand up to him. For Lines, this was probably the most triumphant moment of his life. Perhaps that's why he made a small mistake in his judgment.

And it was this mistake that determined many things that followed.

"According to the intelligence relayed back by that venerable knight, our ally, King Arthur, is leading his army south, and an army is hot on their heels. The leader of that army is Nymphalus—"

“King of Garlot.” The old knight with white hair and beard snorted, his expression contemptuous: “A worthless coward.”

"But it cannot be denied that in terms of military strategy and warfare, Nyants has not disappointed his good reputation." The one who spoke now was Fisher, who was holding the Scepter of the Sea God and walking slowly forward. Elaine, who was usually always by his side, was nowhere to be seen. The Fisher King followed beside him in silence, but most people knew that Fisher's words and actions actually represented the king's intentions.

Unlike usual, after receiving the message from the messenger, the subsequent battle meeting was not held in the tent. Instead, the group, led by Fisher and Pelles, left the camp, dismounted on a hillside with a wide view, and pointed and discussed among themselves as they watched the dark clouds gradually gathering in the north.

“Nian Triss alone led four hundred officially knights, and there were at least three thousand other ordinary soldiers. Although King Arthur had united seven groups that were still secretly rebelling, these people were already on the verge of collapse, and their morale and fighting strength could not be expected to be much.”

Baron Uphius—the middle-aged man in a fox fur coat with only a mustache on his upper lip—finished speaking with a frown. Beside him, a slightly younger knight said in a deep voice, "Two thousand men, no, seventeen hundred, is the limit. And how much fighting power they can exert while on the run is still worrying."

"Seventeen hundred people, exhausted, both physically and mentally on the verge of collapse... But on the other hand, it's truly remarkable that King Arthur was able to lead them to evacuate from the heart of North Wales. Let alone ordinary people, even you and I couldn't do such a thing."

“After all, he is the incarnation of the red dragon who will save Britain in the prophecy.” The tone was ambiguous, a mix of sarcasm and admiration, or perhaps both. The old knight, Balestias, shook his head. “Let’s get back to the main point. What are your thoughts on King Arthur’s proposal?”

“That’s too audacious.” Ulfius frowned and immediately replied, “Does he think he’s a god? How dare he divide his forces at a time like this…” Not long ago, the messenger brought not only news of King Arthur leading his army south, but also, according to the messenger, King Arthur seemed to intend to divide his army into two groups, one openly and one covertly. On the surface, the trustworthy Sir Kael would lead the majority of the troops southeast, hoping that they would also send troops to support him, creating an atmosphere that both sides wanted to meet up as soon as possible.

King Arthur himself led a small elite force on a detour to Carlyon—a historic castle in South Wales, ruled by a baron named Nalan. It was a vital passageway connecting Cornwall to the south, Wales to the north, and Ellis to the west.

This castle was thus known as the "throat of Wales," a strategically vital location. However, Sir Nalan recognized this and maintained neutrality for many years, refusing to side with either side, thus preserving peace amidst the chaos. He himself was also a skilled warrior, with many heroic deeds passed down through the ages.

"King Arthur actually thought he could persuade someone like that to support this side? It's simply... wishful thinking!"

Ulfius frowned and shook his head vigorously, clearly not optimistic about the plan. Fisher glanced at him: "But even if we send people over now, considering the travel time, it won't be enough to stop King Arthur."

"Moreover, since this proposal was put forward by the other party, they should have a certain degree of confidence in it."

The tap of Neptune's scepter on the ground seemed to bring the discussion to a close. Fisher looked up at the cloud-shrouded sky to the north: "Let's do as King Arthur wishes. And then... let's wait and see."

……

In Carleon.

Inside the castle, the lord's room was relatively unpretentious. A pair of crossed spears hung on the wall, each with a well-known story behind it. Nalan sat in a chair, looking at the open letter in his hand. After a moment, he gently folded the paper filled with writing.

He was thirty-seven years old, in the prime of his life. Due to his fondness for food, although he exercised every day, his figure was still slightly overweight and out of shape, but this did not prevent him from donning armor and wielding his sword in battle. Because of its adherence to a policy of neutrality, the castle had not experienced any war for several years, but Nalan had never slackened in either his personal martial arts skills or the training of his soldiers.

He understood that the peace they enjoyed at this moment stemmed, to some extent, from his neutral stance, but stance alone meant nothing. Only by demonstrating his strength, making others believe that the cost of attacking this place was disproportionate to the gains, could he defend this castle, this territory inherited from his father.

Lately, however, every time Nalan received news from North Wales—who had been defeated, which king had surrendered—it weighed heavily on his mind. He couldn't help but put himself in the shoes of those kings who had been scattered, defeated, and captured; if he were there, would he have any chance of winning?

But the more he learned about King Ryans's power, the colder his conclusions became. Meanwhile, Nalan was even more worried about another aspect—would someone like Ryans admit to his neutrality?

or.

In Lines' eyes, would the price of attacking Carleon be high enough to make him choose to compromise?

Nalan was not confident about this.

But there was nothing he could do.

He watched helplessly as the war in North Wales progressed, knowing that this dark cloud would eventually fall upon him. When that time came, he would have to make a decision—whether to ensure the continuation of his family or to perish along with his territory in the flames of war.

Nalan unfolded the letter in his hand again. It was a thin sheet of paper, covered in creases, as if it had been folded and unfolded countless times. Yet the writing on it remained clear. He stared at the words, his gaze slightly narrowed.

After a long while, the Baron reached out and tugged at the bell tied to the side. The door was then silently pushed open, and his trusted old butler walked in, standing by his side with his hands at his sides. Nalan, sitting in a chair, turned his head: "Where is the envoy?"

"As you instructed, he has been served wine and food and given enough provisions for his return journey. He has now left the castle."

"That's good... He said he was sent by King Arthur?"

"Exactly."

Which King Arthur?

"'There is only one King Arthur in Britain. That is the king to whom I have sworn allegiance.'" The old butler replied calmly, mimicking the other's tone.

Nalan smiled. "He was a respectable knight, and it's good that he's gone. But according to him, King Arthur will be arriving with two hundred men tomorrow afternoon, hoping we can let them pass. What do you think?"

The old steward paused for a moment, then said, "That young king probably wants us to make a statement through this matter."

"Should we support him or be his enemy? But he only has two thousand troops withdrawn from North Wales at most. Even if they all come, they can't take Carleon. So it seems that if King Arthur really comes with two hundred men as he says, it's partly to hide his tracks and avoid being detected by Lyons, and partly... it's also a last resort."

"Young man, you have quite the courage."

"such a pity……"

Nalan shook his head: "If he can truly slip past everyone and secretly come to see me, I wouldn't mind treating such a brave and resourceful young man to a few cups of my treasured wine. But now..."

He looked at the letter and couldn't help but sigh again. The letter arrived in Carlyon almost immediately after King Arthur's messenger, and at the end, it was simply signed with two names.

Lines.

Nile.

Nalan waved his hand: "Pass down the order to make everyone prepare for battle. Although the enemy probably only has two hundred men, two hundred elites are still a tough nut to crack... Don't be careless."

"Yes."

The old butler turned and left, leaving the castle's owner sitting in a chair, turning to look at the half-open window. The blue sky stretched endlessly, and at the edge of his vision, clouds. Dark clouds.

"...Peace in this territory has come to an end."

Chapter 163 The Beginning of the Poem

"...On June 7th, we arrived in North Wales in the evening. Although we encountered some unexpected events, we were able to meet up with the people Merlin had arranged, and we also learned that they were fighting a group of bandits in the vicinity."

"On June 9th, one person succumbed to their wounds... The second wave of scouts returned, revealing that the bandits numbered approximately fifty to seventy, roughly equal to our own forces. However, their stronghold was heavily fortified, making it difficult to capture without causing a disturbance. Grifulle—the knight who originally called himself King Arthur in this group—had a good chance of success with his proposal, but since it was possible, I wanted to achieve this goal with minimal sacrifice... If Hector knew this idea, he would surely berate himself for being too naive. Thinking about it, it's fortunate he's not here. (A half-finished smiley face that was then crossed out)"

"On June 11th, to prove my ability to lead everyone to victory, I challenged Grifri in a knightly duel in front of everyone. According to Merlin, I must quickly familiarize myself with and master the power of the Holy Lance after it was sealed, and this challenge was a good opportunity... Just as I had heard all the rumors before, Grifri is indeed a highly skilled knight. Without using the Holy Lance and the magic-woven armor, I am not entirely confident that I can defeat him. My left arm is slightly injured, but it doesn't affect my movement, so it's fine to leave it as is. But after I said that, Kai seemed very angry for some reason. My intuition tells me that I'd better stay away from him for the next few days... or things will get very bad."