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

Two months ago, after recalling the memories belonging to Neman, Nimiao had silently made up her mind—of course, she preferred to describe it as "gaining this memory," which made the girl feel that she and the goddess herself were not the same person.

How could it be the same person?

In the past, the Danu were three goddesses who symbolized destiny and war. Morrigan, whose name means "Great Queen," wielded two guns and rode in a chariot drawn by two bright red horses. She was the most powerful and respected of the three goddesses.

Macha's name symbolizes "battle" and "rage." She is not skilled with weapons, but instead wields unparalleled magical power. Her every move shakes the earth, and a single thought can reduce a city to ashes. Niman, however, is different from these two sisters.

In the Celtic lineage, the name Neman means "malicious" and "terrifying." Rather than engaging in direct combat, Neman prefers to weaken her enemies through indirect means such as curses, poisoning, or influencing their fate. At first, it was just a difference in how she did things, but as time went on, in Nemia's memories, this goddess became more and more in line with her name, and began to indulge in all sorts of evil deeds.

Regardless of social status, she killed brave warriors and the weeping, begging old, weak, women, and children in the same way, and used their corpses without any scruples to perform spells or experiment on all sorts of unbelievable new techniques on living people. This behavior made Niman feared, hated, and dreaded by many even among the Danu gods, who avoided her like the plague. Only her husband Nuada, two other goddesses, and the usually magnanimous god Dagda maintained some contact with her. But in the final period, even these closest people began to gradually distance themselves from her.

Therefore, Nimiao was unwilling to have anything to do with Neman from the bottom of her heart, and even less willing to accept the fact that the two were originally the same being. Besides, in a sense, she was not the real Neman either—she had a clumsy biological father and a mother who should have been very gentle. She should have been born in an ordinary rural village, living a life of barely making ends meet, struggling to grow up, grow old, and finally return to the soil to begin another cycle of birth, aging, sickness, and death.

However, Terenas's intervention easily shattered this seemingly insignificant yet desperately desired happiness that many others couldn't attain. She was forcibly made into a vessel capable of withstanding the full power of Neman, gaining power but also being forced to face a life completely different from what she had expected.

Nimiao could even clearly remember the moment she first came into this world: the fat witch with blood-stained hands and a dazed expression, the dilapidated hut, the bloodstains splattered on the surrounding walls, and the disemboweled corpse on the floor. The first thing she saw when she opened her eyes was the woman who must have been her mother, using her last strength to raise her hand, her fingers opening one by one, before falling limply back down.

The flames of revenge burned fiercely in his heart, but who should he seek revenge against? Terena had been sealed within the Mark of Death, and even if left unattended, she would eventually disappear quietly. As for the witch who had committed all sorts of evil deeds under the influence of divine power, although she was undoubtedly the perpetrator, from another perspective, wasn't she also a victim?

If we really need to find a culprit.

That was the goddess Niman who orchestrated all of this and quietly planned it behind the scenes.

"Father……"

Turning back, the small village remained clearly visible even in the fading light of dusk. Nemia smiled slightly, a slight twitch at the corner of her mouth. She had learned from Merlin that Guinevere's Sword of Light could completely destroy Neman's soul fragments, and thus resolved to travel and collect the other fragments. Even if this inevitably led to conflict with the other Nine Witches, and even endangered her life, Nemia had no intention of backing down, nor did she plan to rely on the power of others. This was something she had to accomplish alone—revenge for the death of her own mother.

Fortunately, the matter was not as difficult as the girl had originally thought.

Of the Nine Witches, the Lightning and Sharp Edge, originally wielded by twin sisters, and the Fire Mark held by Gretel, have all fallen into Terena's hands. After Terena's physical body was killed by Marco, these three marks were transferred to Nemia, who was nearby—this was originally the function of Nemia's vessel. As the goddess's power increased, the girl's existence became more real and could finally be recognized by people other than Artoria.

As for why Artoria could see and even touch her back then, even now that she has the memories of the goddess, Nimue still can't find the answer, and can only attribute it to the mystery of the prophesied child.

Besides these three seals, the holder of the Illusion Seal, Nini Anne, was the daughter of the once-renowned prophet, "Prophet" Talisin. She was the second strongest of the Nine Witches after Merlin when she besieged the true form of Neman. If it were the complete goddess, she would naturally be no match for her, but with only one-ninth of the fragment, she should have been more than capable of suppressing it.

In fact, it is said that Nini Annie discovered the secret as soon as she acquired the Phantom Mark, and has lived in the Inner Sea of ​​the Star ever since, never stepping out of Avalon for many years, so there is no need to worry.

As for Vivian's Water Mark, she used a different method. She split off a portion of her divine power to create a clone that roamed freely, while her true body remained in a hidden location, suppressed and bound by layers of barriers. Not long ago, during the battle at the Tower of Radiance, Vivian was no match for Macha and was consumed by her own magic. At the last moment before her clone completely collapsed, she bestowed this portion of divine power upon Lily, who happened to be there. As a result, Lily gained the ability to walk on water without sinking. Her true body was also cut off from the outside world, and only Merlin, who could enter her dreams, could communicate with her.

According to Merlin, neither of these marks needs special attention; in fact, easily altering the current delicate balance would only cause unnecessary trouble. The Wind Mark, in Guinevere's possession, is the easiest to find. However, what puzzles both Guinevere and Merlin is that Guinevere seems completely unaffected by the Nieman soul fragment. When the Arena of Destiny was activated, no other souls besides her and her opponent were found within the domain—whether Guinevere possesses some special quality, or whether Terena did something before giving her the Wind Mark, there is no evidence, and therefore no way to deduce.

The Mark of Death on Marco temporarily prolongs his lifespan, which should have ended long ago; this is something that can be left as a last resort. Therefore, in the past two months, after separating from Guinevere and Lily, Nemia has focused on finding the holders of the last two marks. One of them vaguely sensed something was wrong with his mind, and although he hesitated for a long time, he was finally persuaded by Nemia and made the difficult decision to give her his mark.

The last mark proved exceptionally difficult to obtain. The witch had been completely corrupted by Neman's consciousness, becoming a puppet that the latter could control at will. When Nimue arrived based on Merlin's information, she was nearly ambushed. Fortunately, she already possessed four marks, almost half of Neman's power, and had the memory of how to use them. Although she was still somewhat rusty in actual use, it was enough to deal with the witch who only had one mark. After a fierce battle, she killed the witch and retrieved the last mark that had been scattered outside.

She then rushed back to Cornwall. With time still remaining before her agreed-upon deadline with Merlin, after much hesitation, Nemia still went to this nameless little village and spent some time with her biological father as a stranger. She had hoped to experience the warmth of a family described in stories, but in reality, aside from the occasional feeling of familiarity, everything else exuded an indescribable sense of alienation.

Then I understood.

Some things, once lost, can never be regained.

“I’m sorry… perhaps your daughter died years ago. But rest assured, I still have a place I can return to. It may seem strange, but… I still have family here.”

"Although it's not the best outcome, everyone should... be satisfied, right?"

"...That's enough."

Pulling down her hat brim, Nemia's expression flickered with a moment of dazedness in the setting sun. She herself was a vessel prepared by Neman for his resurrection, and now that she had reclaimed nearly half of her divine power, her mind was inevitably affected. This effect was initially very slight, but it gradually intensified over time. Especially recently, she frequently fell into dazes, the duration varying from a few minutes to several hours when she regained her senses. Nemia couldn't remember what she had done or what had happened during that time.

Her unease grew with each passing day.

If things continued like this, even without reclaiming all the marks, Nimiao felt she would eventually lose herself completely. Before that happened, she had to end it all as soon as possible—she glanced one last time at the distant village, bit her lip, and in the shadow of her hat, wiped her eyes with her finger. She turned and walked away. Her long, long shadow gradually merged with the night, inseparable…

P.S.: Long time no see, back with a long time no update! Originally, I planned to elaborate on the Nimiao collecting marks storyline, including a later part of the plot, and I expected it to be around twenty chapters. However, I think I should speed things up, so the transitions in these chapters might be a bit abrupt and "abrupt." I'll try my best to smooth things over, but I wanted to give you all a heads-up... That's all for now. Remember to vote for me! Goodnight!

Chapter 169 Strange Phenomena

The melodious sound of the harp, like flowing spring water, drifted on the wind, yet because there was no audience to listen and appreciate it, it highlighted a wonderful tranquility.

This is a vast plain, with colorful flowers blooming nearby and the outline of a forest faintly visible in the distance. No matter how you look, all you can see is the equally distributed land and the azure sky that can cleanse the soul.

There are neither fences nor houses built by people, nor things like city walls or castles that divide power and form a country. During the day, this place is full of spring sunshine and summer atmosphere, while at night it is covered by autumn air and winter starry sky.

The ground is covered with flowers and insects, the forest with clear water, trees and wild beasts, and at the water source there are beautiful fairies.

The paradise depicted by the world is merely an imitation of the scenery of this land. This place has been uninhabited since time immemorial, an island at the edge of the world, also known in mythology as the Land of Everlasting Spring or Apple Island, a small world within it.

A paradise that is neither attainable nor reachable by intelligent beasts, a paradise that is forever separated from the endless cycle of decay and destruction of the surface world.

But the one plucking the harp at this moment was not one of those fairies with thin wings on their backs, innocent and cute like children, but a girl draped in a semi-transparent veil with cascading silver hair.

She wasn't exactly beautiful; in fact, she looked rather immature, appearing to be only about ten years old. Yet, her gaze was indifferent and profound, as if it contained a dazzling galaxy.

The girl held a wooden harp in her arms, but the strings were not tied. Her five fingers swept across the strings, and the wind sang, the invisible strings dancing with her fingertips. She tilted her head, seemingly listening intently to something, her expressionless face showing no emotion. The thin veil on her body swayed gently in the wind, revealing glimpses of her skin. After a moment, her eyes, as calm as a still well, suddenly flickered slightly.

At the same time, in the girl's perception, it seemed as if the whole world shook violently. Countless flowers in front of her suddenly withered, as if all their moisture had been drained, turning into countless powders in a short moment, scattering and falling into the air.

She raised her head, and in the depths of each eye appeared a strange pattern, constantly changing color and shape, like the most magnificent kaleidoscope, dazzling and mesmerizing. Her hands stopped playing the piano, the last few notes leaping out, leaving a fleeting echo in the wind, before falling completely silent.

The change in Avalon was not due to itself, but rather to the way it projected the surface world in a more direct way.

"This commotion... comes from the north."

She murmured to herself, her voice clear and cold, yet no less melodious than the crisp tone of a harp.

The strange changes around them continued. One by one, towering trees in the distance crashed down, and countless birds and beasts scattered and fled, among them even a silver dragon.

The sky suddenly turned a blood-red hue, the crimson color hanging low, with a faint red glow reflecting on the girl's cheeks. Flowers withered, and fragments shot into the sky, spinning rapidly in a strange wind that carried a faint, foul stench, like a tornado reaching from the heavens to the earth.

"Wow ah ah-"

"I'm going to die! I'm going to die! I'm going to die!"

"Fool, we fairies never die—"

"But we're about to die! Aa ...

Amidst sharp, shrill screams, two fairies, barely reaching an adult's waist, twirled through the air and flew towards the "tornado" ahead. The girl raised her hand and plucked a string, the music sweeping across the room, freezing them in mid-air for a moment before they floated back to the ground.

"It's Nini!"

The fairy who had been yelling about dying looked up first, her eyes lighting up. She glanced at the horrifying scene behind her and immediately ran over in a panic. The other fairy followed closely behind, muttering, "Idiot, my name is Nini Annie!"

"Thank you for saving our lives, Nini Nini!"

The girl simply nodded without saying a word, letting the two little fairies hide behind her while continuing their noisy chatter. The ever-changing patterns in her eyes became clearer, almost completely filling her originally colorless pupils. Her cold gaze seemed to pierce through the giant tornado, looking towards a more distant direction.

"Speaking of which, this time it's even scarier than the last one!"

"But it's still not as good as the time before last."

"Yes, yes, yes, I already died twice over the time before last!"

"I told you fairies can't die, you idiot."

“You’ll die! Like this, splat—” The little fairy fell to the ground with a thud, blinking her eyes: “I was scared to death.”

The other fairy looked at it, momentarily speechless. Just then, the fairy heard Nini Annie, sitting on the rock, sigh softly, as if talking to herself: "Once fate is woven, is it truly impossible to change it?"

After saying this, she remained silent for a moment. The tornado, with its fierce momentum, could not approach Nini Annie's direction, and could only spin endlessly in place, ravaging the colorful flowers scattered on the ground. After a while, Nini Annie looked down at the harp she was holding, and while plucking the invisible strings, she softly sang: "The mist spreads, and the bird of death will be born from the mist, spreading its wings and singing, traveling with the bones."

"As the mist spreads, even the sublime perish. At the edge of the sea, at the edge of the earth, the traveler's wine is most fragrant. You who cling to life, do not drown in it..."

The earth cracked and blood shot into the sky. The earlier tranquility seemed like the most absurd dream. Until everything calmed down again, the two trembling little fairies just listened silently to the girl's soft singing.

"Only beautiful dreams are fleeting, the last glimmer of light falls into the void..."

……

"Your Majesty, Merlin and her retinue have been brought to the reception room and are awaiting your summons."

The elderly man with graying temples bowed first, then slowly straightened up. He looked at Marco, who was sitting in a chair by the window, sipping a bowl of thick liquid. His lips moved a few times, but he still spoke, "Your Majesty, this is the third bowl."

"Are you worried?"

"……Yes."

“I told you, this medicine is poison to others, but for me, it is the key to my life. Without it, that strange witch could wake up at any moment. Ha…” Marco said, then suddenly shook his head and laughed: “I know what you mean. Indeed, this poison is quite painful, and even now that I can no longer taste food and wine, the pain has not lessened in the slightest.”

"But only this kind of pain can give me the feeling that I am still alive—although it is just an illusion."

"king……"

"Okay, help me up."

"Yes."

He bent down and respectfully helped the haggard-looking king to his feet. Marco was now extremely thin, his body like a mere skeleton, radiating an aura of aging that made one instinctively hold their nose. He led the king out of the bedroom and slowly towards the reception room.

A weary voice rang out: "Alan."

"The minister is here."

"How long have you been serving as the steward of this castle?"

"Your Majesty, I cannot recall."

"Heh... So how many years have you been by my side?"

“Thirty-seven years,” the butler replied.

"If you from thirty-seven years ago saw me now, you would probably spit in my face with disdain and then point your finger at me and yell at me."

"...That should be the case."

“So… you’ve changed too, Allen.” Marco smiled. The butler beside him remained silent, and only the sound of footsteps echoed in the corridor until the two arrived at a tightly closed door, at which point he waved his hand.

"That's enough for now. Go back. Do you remember what I told you before?"

"Keep that in mind."

“Very well. During this time, you’ll probably be quite busy with my nephew and Cornwall… Try to live a little longer, I don’t want to see you over there so soon.”

"……Yes."

“Then…” Marco then placed his hand on the door, feeling the gaze coming from behind him, and a faint smile appeared on his wrinkled face: “Farewell, old friend.”

Done.

He exerted a slight force.

The door to the reception room was slowly pushed open.

……

P.S.: This is a short transitional chapter. I'm getting back into the swing of things. Remember to vote!

Chapter 170 The Source of God

"This should be our first meeting... Your Highness, Princess of Scotland. Long ago, I fought alongside Leod Ogland on the battlefield, when your father was still young, cough cough..."

Marco clenched his fist, covered his mouth, and coughed heavily several times. He straightened up slightly in his chair, a nostalgic expression on his face: "I still remember what he looked like. His features were all squeezed in the center of his face. He was thin, and his eyes were as sharp as an eagle's. He scared children to tears more than once... Ha, you and your daughter are really nothing alike. You are much better looking than him."

“People often say that,” Guinevere shook her head. “They all say that my brother inherited all of my father’s good qualities, while I inherited my mother’s bloodline very well.”

"Heh... then your mother must be a beauty worth looking forward to. What a pity, what a pity, I should have found time to go to Scotland." Marco let out a low laugh, lowered his head, and coughed for a long time, his thin, withered body shaking violently. After finally spitting out the blood that had been stuck in his mouth into his palm and wiping it clean with a handkerchief, he raised his head again and looked over the three people in the room one by one.

Neither that gaze nor the hunched figure in the chair could match Guinevere's initial impression. It was as if the person before her was not the powerful and ambitious Lord of Cornwall, but merely a terminally ill old man in his twilight years. She glanced instinctively at the two people beside her. Merlin had removed his hood, his long silver hair cascading to the ground. The sorceress still wore a faint smile, but her gaze towards the old king was earnest. On the other side, Nemia, wearing the witch's signature pointed hat and a long robe, wore a look of faint pity.

She and Merlin arrived near Truro this morning to meet Nemü. They then went straight to the castle, presented their invitations, and were met with no hindrance before being led directly to the reception room by the butler, Alan. The journey had been arduous, leaving little time for the girl to catch up with Nemü. She would glance at her every now and then, sometimes noticing how thin the girl seemed and feeling a pang of heartache, other times thinking it was just her overthinking, and couldn't help but chuckle. In such a short time, she already acted like a complete father to Nemü…

Looking at the back of Nemia's head, she was momentarily lost in thought, but Marco's words, mixed with coughing, pulled her back to reality: "Ms. Merlin, how confident are you about the war with North Wales?"

"It's hard to say. Anyway... a little more than Lynes and the others."

"Hahahaha..." Marco chuckled softly a few times. "Since that's the case, this time, I'll place my bet on you. You'd better not disappoint me. Alright, although there's still some time before the agreed-upon one-year deadline, there's no joy in living in this body... I've arranged everything." He finished speaking, his eyes narrowing. "Let's do it."

"Nimiao".

"Um……"

Merlin called softly, and the girl nodded and slowly walked forward. Marco looked at her, his expression somewhat like that of a kind old man, motionless, letting Nemia raise her hand and gently place it on his forehead.

"Is there anything else you want to say?"

The girl pursed her lips: "...I'm sorry."

The seemingly random sentence seemed to convey the meaning to the old king, who simply smiled faintly and said, "It's none of your business."

“Hmm.” Nemia nodded, and after a few seconds, she whispered again, “But still… I’m sorry.” This time there was no response. Marco closed his eyes, and her hand paused in mid-air for a final moment before falling down.

Guinevere couldn't help but blink.

A hand patted her shoulder, and the girl swayed slightly. Under her gaze, Marco closed his eyes as if asleep, all his strength suddenly vanished, and he collapsed. Nemia placed her hand on his forehead, from which she could not see the girl's expression, only the back of her furry head.