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

Despite the absence of wind indoors, the high-quality robe floated up on its own, and a wondrous light emanated from her fingertips, initially faint, but instantly becoming radiant.

Nimiao spoke a few words in a low and quick voice. Guinevere heard every word clearly, but could not understand their meaning no matter what. After reciting the spell in an instant, the girl slowly raised her palm, her five fingers slightly closed, as if she was taking something out of the old man's body with this movement. A burning sensation came from the back of her hand. The girl looked down and, unsurprisingly, saw the emerald green leaf pattern.

“Only the last step remains.” Merlin seemed relieved upon seeing this, but then her smile vanished, and she looked intently at Guinevere: “Your Highness, I’ll ask you one last time, are you truly prepared to lose the Wind Mark?”

"If I hadn't obtained the Wind Seal back then, I probably wouldn't be where I am today."

The girl simply smiled at the question. To truly eliminate Niman, the Nine Witch Mark, which was part of his power, could no longer remain in the world. Upon learning this, she initially felt some resistance and reluctance. However, over the past period of time, she had already sorted out her thoughts and arrived at the true answer in her heart.

"But even without the Wind Seal, Guinevere won't stop progressing—"

"very good."

After speaking, Merlin, unlike his usual talkative self, quietly took a few steps back, allowing Nemia in front of him to turn around. Nemia raised her right hand, and deep within her originally scarlet eyes, several magnificent colors shone, intertwining and changing, strange and indescribable.

"A sharp blade."

One of the sharp, silvery colors disappeared first, and in its place, Nimiao's empty palm suddenly lit up with light.

"Fire."

The blazing red quickly dimmed, and the girl's five fingers slightly closed, as if a flame had appeared out of thin air, reflecting the sharp, cold light.

"The earth".

"Lightning."

With each word uttered in her flat voice, the eerie light in Nimiao's eyes diminished, and the thin radiance on her raised right palm gradually grew thicker. Sword light, lightning, mountains, and raging fire—all sorts of auras—seemed to be bound together by something, coexisting subtly.

What was displayed on the outside was a dazzling, multicolored sphere, about one meter in diameter, with ripples on its surface. Nimiao took a deep breath. In her eyes, all the colors had disappeared, leaving only a thick, blood-red color that swayed gently.

"blast."

She pronounced the word in a strange tone, and at the same time, Guinevere felt something suddenly thrust into her body, almost forcefully trying to pull something out. She instinctively resisted for a moment, then emptied her mind, letting the invisible giant hand grasp the flowing wind within her body and slowly pull it out.

This feeling is not pleasant.

The girl felt an emptiness in her heart, as if a huge void had suddenly appeared. The feeling that she had become accustomed to over the years had been severed. The wind around her suddenly became incredibly heavy, and when it brushed against her skin, it no longer brought the incredible comfort it once did, but instead felt sticky and clumsy.

For a fleeting moment, watching the green leaves on the back of her hand rapidly fade, Guinevere felt a genuine sense of conflict and reluctance. She actually considered changing her mind—

Although he spoke of being open-minded.

But this was, after all, the power she was most accustomed to, the one she used like an extension of her own arm, the trump card that allowed her to successfully overcome numerous difficulties.

After losing the ability to manipulate the wind, will she be able to overcome the various hardships that follow?

"...It's not a question of whether or not it's possible."

When she came to her senses, the girl only gave a bitter smile. There is almost nothing perfect in the world. If a solution has been proven to be the best, then even if there are some sacrifices involved, there is nothing that can be done about it.

It can be someone else who has to make the sacrifice.

Of course, it could also be yourself.

She shook her head, suppressing the last vestige of greed in her heart. Just then, Clausolas's neutral voice resounded in her mind: "My lord, I am still here, there is no need to fear."

"Yes, with you and the Dragon Armor, I am undoubtedly stronger than before. There's nothing to be afraid of."

Guinevere's last shred of worry was dispelled by the comfort of her own sword. She smiled inwardly, but then heard the sword of light say, word by word, "My lord, you still have me."

Well, while it's interesting that the sword can talk, this peculiar possessiveness still leaves her feeling somewhat overwhelmed.

The girl smiled bitterly as she watched as wisps of pale blue wind, like silk threads, detached from her body and wrapped around the strange ball of light in Nimiao's palm.

The ball of light grew larger and hovered above Nimiao's palm, slowly rotating.

"This is the source of the gods. Or it can be called the core of the gods—the core at which the gods exist in the world."

Inside the reception room, a sudden gust of wind arose. It seemed that with the return of the Wind Mark, the power of this "orb of light" had suddenly increased several times. The sweeping wind even made it difficult for the girl and Nimue to open their eyes, while only Merlin maintained a leisurely attitude.

She tapped the floor with her wooden cane: "Of the nine forces that were originally separated, some were strong and some were weak. The weakest and easiest to control were the four forces that symbolized nature: earth, water, fire, and wind. Next were all of Ninian's illusions and Mazo's blade... And the strongest was the power that symbolized death. Because death represents the essence of Neman: 'malice' and 'terror'."

"While your Sword of Light is powerful enough to slay gods, it originally belonged to Niman's husband, Nuada the Silver-Armed. Considering the worst-case scenario, it wouldn't be surprising if Niman had some means of countermeasure. That's why I didn't follow Your Highness's suggestion to eliminate the other weaker soul fragments first before targeting this most powerful Mark of Death. We only have one chance—"

"Before Niman can react, destroy most of her power. Once the Mark of Death returns to the Divine Core, its power should surge again. The opportunity is fleeting, Your Highness. Seize the moment to activate the domain of the Sword of Light and slay the hidden soul fragments within. Are you ready?"

After she finished speaking, she paused and looked at the two of them.

Nemia bit her lip and looked at Guinevere as well. The girl's blonde hair fluttered in the wind. She twirled a strand of hair with her fingers and then let it go. Her expression was serious. She didn't say anything and nodded while her right hand was already on the hilt of the sword at her waist.

This is like a signal.

Nimiao's gaze also darkened, and she uttered a strange word that did not belong to any language of the time:

"die--"

The crimson glint in her eyes abruptly stopped.

Within the shimmering, rippling sphere of light, a drop of blood appeared out of nowhere, carrying an indescribable, malevolent aura. At the same time, with a clang, Guinevere drew her sword, its cracked blade gleaming brilliantly.

"Klausolas!"

……

Bang, bang, bang!

The knocking gradually increased in volume, eventually culminating in several forceful bangs. The boy waited outside for a while, but received no response.

"strangeness……"

He muttered to himself, wanting to turn and leave, but after a few steps, he turned back and tried knocking on the door again: "Uncle, Uncle Uru, are you there? My dad needs to talk to you, are you inside?"

"Doug?"

Someone called his name from behind. The boy turned around and saw a thin, middle-aged woman carrying a basket filled with wild vegetables walking towards him with a puzzled look: "What are you doing here?"

“My dad needs to see Uncle Uru, so he asked me to run an errand and bring him this food.” The boy named Doug shook the food he was carrying, wiped his nose, and gave a simple, honest smile. “Uncle has helped us a lot. He lives alone, so he probably doesn’t get to eat anything good…hehe.”

"so."

The woman nodded in realization and smiled. "Of course. I'll wash these vegetables when I get back and bring some over too. It's incredible that our village has produced such a remarkable Druid Master. If my husband were still alive, he would be incredibly proud...hehe."

"And I haven't seen those arrogant knights these past few days. I wonder if they've changed their ways..."

"Shh, don't talk nonsense." Hearing the fearless village chief's son loudly "slandering" those knights again, the woman's face changed, and she hurriedly reminded him.

Doug just pursed his lips: "Okay, okay. Auntie, you can go back now. I'll wait here for Uncle Uru... Strange, he's usually home at this time. Where did he go..."

"Who knows?" The woman smiled, exchanged a few more words, and walked towards her house. Doug circled outside twice, squatted down, drew some random patterns on the ground with pebbles, then stood up and wiped them away with his toes. The aroma of food wafted through the air, and he began to feel hungry, his mood becoming somewhat impatient: "Uncle Uru, Uncle?" He knocked heavily on the door a few times, deciding that if there was no response, he would go home first and come back later.

We can't just keep waiting here... we're starving.

But this time, the tightly closed wooden door finally responded. The knocking had barely begun when the door creaked open, and Doug's raised hand remained suspended in mid-air. He stared ahead, momentarily stunned.

It was dusk.

The blood-red rays of the setting sun fell.

P.S.: I originally planned to post it after about 2,000 words, but I couldn't find a suitable ending point, so I had to post it all at once for 4,000 words. Please don't be stingy with your recommendation votes, considering that I've been staying up all night and updating even while yawning!

Chapter 171 Trap

"die--"

As Nimiao uttered this short and strange word, a drop of dark red blood appeared out of thin air and quietly merged into the sphere of light that she held in her right palm. Ripples spread across the surface of the sphere, as if it might shatter at any moment. At a glance, the flowing wind, raging fire, swift lightning, and the high-hanging sword all transformed into an indescribable sense of oppression that rushed towards her.

"This is the mark of death..."

Merlin stood to the side, seemingly unaffected by the sudden increase in pressure, but her gaze turned serious as she looked at the "orb of light" in the girl's palm, all traces of her former leisurely demeanor gone. Divine power was originally an intangible concept, but when she created the Nine Witch Marks, she imbued this power with a physical form, thus transcending its mere conceptual state and making it truly annihilable.

But in the process, she also came to understand Niman's current situation to some extent. Ultimately, although this goddess had survived to this day through various means, after years of fusion and absorption, the power Niman now possessed might not be inferior in total quantity to what it once was, but its essence was mixed and impure, and its mystique had been greatly weakened. Otherwise, with the remaining mystique of Britain, even Merlin would have no way to interfere, and the Nine Witches' Mark would be nothing but empty talk.

This is why the Nine Seals vary in strength. The powers of earth, water, fire, wind, and thunder are mostly not possessed by Neman herself, but rather acquired by her after devouring numerous souls. The same applies to her ability to weave illusions. However, the one that Merlin finds most troublesome is death.

"As expected, it's Barol's Mystic Eye... I wonder where it came from—wait!"

Merlin's expression suddenly changed.

On the other side, Guinevere, under immense pressure, drew her sword and took a step forward as if walking against the wind. Her golden hair and robes were blown high into the air. She shouted, "Klausolas!" The divine sword in her hand responded with a soft hum, bursting with light, instantly illuminating the entire reception room in white.

As the silvery white light vanished in an instant, what reappeared was the unchanging azure sky with fluffy white clouds. On the four large rocks standing in the open space, a pair of illusory black dragon wings suddenly unfolded behind the girl. After flapping a few times, they transformed into a dark red cloak, descending from the sky and landing on the girl. But before that, Guinevere had already raised her head, sword in hand.

Although Nimue was nowhere to be seen in front of her, the ball of light, composed of several different energies, remained in its original position and was growing larger. In just a few breaths, it had expanded from about one meter in diameter to nearly ten meters. As it spun, the elements contained within it became increasingly violent, with gales sweeping around and the burning flames even causing the surrounding air to distort slightly.

Amidst the chaotic golden lightning, the single drop of blood still clearly visible in the very center of the sphere. Although it appeared minuscule compared to the sphere of light, it exuded an aura that no one could ignore.

She had just turned her gaze to the strange drop of blood when she suddenly felt a daze, as if she were seeing not a drop of blood, but an enormous eye—without any other organs, not even the other eye that should have been there, just a tightly closed giant eye, all alone, suspended in the distant clouds.

It resembled another blazing sun.

Seemingly sensing the girl's probing, Guinevere's closed eyelids trembled slightly, as if she were about to open them. A sharp sense of danger surged through her, but before she could make a move, the voice of the Sword of Light rang out: "My lord, be careful, this is a trap—"

at the same time.

Inside the castle's reception room, the light faded, and Nimue saw that the ball of light in her hand had disappeared, realizing that it had been pulled into the realm of the Sword of Light by Guinevere. But before she could silently pray that the girl was safe, she saw Merlin walk to Guinevere's side with a serious expression, reach out to support her, raise his other hand high, clench his five fingers as if he had grabbed something, and pull hard.

"Merlin, what's wrong?"

Not knowing what had happened, Nimiao's face was filled with surprise. She subconsciously wanted to go closer, but the female magician only glanced at her—with a wary look—and the girl couldn't help but stop in her tracks, frozen in place.

"Fell into a trap."

Merlin spoke calmly, and the girl in her arms trembled at the same time. Before she could even open her eyes, she felt a sweet taste in her throat and blood seeped from the corner of her mouth.

"dad……"

Nemia hesitated, then Guinevere took a few breaths and opened her eyes. Merlin's complexion was also not good; it seemed even paler and bloodless than before. She did not answer the girl's question. Seeing that Guinevere was awake, she released her hand, took two steps back, and gave a deep look at the old man sitting in the chair, who was now lifeless.

"We've fallen into their trap."

Merlin repeated, "The mark of death on Marco is fake, it's a trap... I just forcibly broke through Krausolas's domain and brought her out, otherwise Her Highness would have been unconscious for at least half a month."

"How is that possible—" The girl's eyes widened, the second half of the sentence swirling around in her mouth before she asked, "How did you find out?"

"Terena is not among the Mark of Death you retrieved."

Understanding the meaning of those words, Guinevere and Nemia exchanged a glance, their expressions simultaneously darkening.

Both of them were present during the battle with Terenas, and afterwards they learned the whole story from Merlin and Tristan, who was acting on Marco's orders. They also knew that Terenas's soul was sealed in the Mark of Death to prevent her from being reborn again.

Now, Merlin's simple statement was the most powerful evidence—the girl naturally wouldn't question how she could be so certain. If she couldn't even find something like this, Merlin would have wasted her great reputation.

"But... what good would it do him to scheme against us? Even if Cornwall has secretly sided with North Wales, it would still do more harm than good..."

Guinevere casually wiped the blood from the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand. Although Merlin had intervened in time and the Sword of Light had warned her, allowing her to activate the Dragon Armor at the last moment, the giant eye had only opened a crack. The aftershocks of the impact still made her dizzy and caused minor internal injuries.

If the Sword of Light's warning had come any later, if Merlin hadn't intervened, if she hadn't been protected by the Dragon Armor... the outcome would likely have been many times more tragic than it is now.

Just thinking about it made Guinevere feel a wave of fear wash over her.

Even though she had brushed with death several times before, she still couldn't get used to this feeling.

"If it was Marco's scheme, Merlin wouldn't have been kept in the dark."

"Right."

Upon hearing Nemia's words, Guinevere suddenly remembered that the female magician possessed what she considered an "overpowered" ability—clairvoyance—allowing her to see everything happening in the mortal world. Only a mystery greater than hers could deceive Merlin's eyes.

But when it comes to a specific object...

The three of them already knew the answer in their hearts.

They exchanged a glance, and Nimiao bit her lip: "I didn't do it..."

“It’s not Nemü, otherwise she wouldn’t be with us right now,” Guinevere said quickly.

“That’s true.” Merlin nodded. “But just because it wasn’t Nemue’s will doesn’t mean she didn’t do it—” She paused, looking quietly at the girl.

“I thought I was fast enough, but I still lost to that goddess... I didn’t ask before because I thought it was unnecessary. Nimiao, where have you been, who have you met, and what have you encountered these days? Try to recall and tell me in as much detail as possible.”

She paused, then sighed, "...We probably don't have much time left."

P.S.: I struggled for a long time about how to write this part, but finally decided to quickly skip it. I think it reads fine to me and doesn't feel too rushed, right? Due to time constraints, this chapter is a bit short, so please bear with me~ Remember to vote at the end!

Chapter 172 The Messenger from the North

Although Marco's death was a major event, he had made various preparations beforehand, arranging military, political, and diplomatic affairs in an orderly manner. He also instructed his butler, Allen, to keep the news under wraps, so at least in the near future, it should not cause any further turmoil.

Of course, everyone understood that this was only a temporary measure. Even though Marco himself was extremely skilled at manipulating intelligence, there are no secrets that stay hidden forever. With Nero's methods in North Wales, it was only a matter of time before he found out that Cornwall had lost its king.

This brief time difference was precisely the last move made by the elderly king—in his eyes, human life was never just a bargaining chip in a gamble, and so was his own.

"Since it's a high-stakes gamble, I'll offer my head along with all of Cornwall. If Arthur wins one day, there will be a page in history for Marco."