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

"what……"

The man seemed hesitant, looking down at the child's messy hair, growling repeatedly, but the fierce killing intent he had shown earlier had vanished.

"It seems that, just as Musashi suspected, this strange roar is indeed the language of the Picts..." Guinevere thought. This race is extremely xenophobic and closed off, with its own set of customs and habits completely different from other races. Therefore, over the years, the kings of Britain have tried various methods to understand them, but all have ended in failure. They are stable—even stubbornly resistant—to anything from the outside world, even if it is goodwill extended intentionally.

Many had initially wanted to bring this ancient tribe into the British alliance, but after more than a dozen envoys were killed, the British kings finally abandoned the idea and began a protracted war. They were eventually driven completely into the northernmost forests, isolated from the world, and almost never appeared in people's sight again.

This is why, even now, the Picts remain shrouded in mystery, with scholars possessing only fragmentary knowledge. For Guinevere's generation of young people, the Picts seem more like figures from a story than reality.

In the young girl's vision of the future, she undoubtedly followed King Arthur, facing enemies such as the kings of North Wales, King Vortigern, the Saxons, and possibly even the Roman emperor. Compared to these real, tangible forces, she never even imagined that one day she would encounter the Picts, who had been defeated and disappeared long before she was born.

"what--"

The argument between the two, one big and one small, seemed to have reached a conclusion. The child stomped his foot, yelled, crossed his arms, and turned his head away, looking quite angry. As for the elite soldier from Pickett, he merely gave the two of them a cold "look," his throat bobbing slightly. He reached out and half-forcibly pulled the child behind him, pointed at them, then pointed to the door, the meaning of which was self-evident.

“I will protect this child, and you should leave as soon as possible…?” Guinevere muttered softly, then asked in Scots, “Can you understand me?”

"Ah!" The man nodded.

“That makes things easier. We met this child in the forest ahead; it seems his companions all perished. Were those your people?”

Whether it was the girl's imagination or not, the blue light emanating from beneath the mask seemed to dim slightly after she uttered those words. The man was silent for a moment before nodding again, then pointed even more forcefully towards the door: "Ah—"

"What should we do?" Guinevere couldn't make up her mind, so she tilted her head and asked Musashi.

Musashi observed the child's behavior. Although he was forcibly pulled over, he did not show any unwillingness or resistance. He was somewhat indignant, but it was more like the attitude he would have towards an acquaintance.

"...There's nothing we can do. It's a pity we couldn't get any information, but it seems he won't harm the child. We don't know what happened here, but it's normal for strangers not to trust us... We can't just draw our swords and kill him for that."

"Too."

The two had originally planned to find a safe place to leave the helpless child behind before searching for Niman, who was suspected to be the mastermind. Now that they had found their tribesmen, they figured the other party would take good care of him, so they didn't need to worry about him anymore.

“We don’t have many weapons, but you can keep these torches…” After a few words of discussion, Guinevere gave half of her torch to the two people on the other side, while reminding them, “Remember to take good care of this child. It’s dangerous around here… Don’t let anything happen to him.”

"what."

The Pictish man replied. Musashi slung his backpack over his shoulder, took a few steps toward the door, heard a cry of "Yay!", turned back, and casually waved to the child: "Then see you again sometime, little one." A simple farewell, he pushed open the door and left, quite dashingly.

Guinevere took one last look at the two, then stepped forward, lit a torch, and walked alongside Musashi: "If this is Pictish territory, then to the south... should be Scotland... Let's head south from here."

"I'll listen to you." Musashi smiled and was about to speak when suddenly, he heard hurried footsteps behind him. The two turned around and saw the blue-haired child rushing out of the house and running towards them. Pickett's warriors followed behind, each holding a lit torch. The blue light under their masks flickered, changing dramatically compared to before.

"what happened?"

Musashi frowned, instinctively shielding the child who was running towards her: "What do you want to do?" As if something was on her mind, her gaze became wary.

"Ah—ya ya—ya ya ya—" Seeing that Musashi was about to draw her sword again, the child panicked. Originally being protected behind her, he turned around and stood in front of her, between the two of them, shaking his head vigorously.

What does this mean...? Guinevere looked back and forth between the blue-haired child and the man. The latter stood there silently, his face flashing intensely with blue light, which looked quite eerie. Musashi's hand was on his sword, but he couldn't draw it because of the child's obstruction. After a long while, the elite Pictite warrior suddenly clenched his fist and slammed it heavily against the wall behind him.

With a loud bang, the entire house shook from the punch, showing just how much force he had used. After throwing the punch, he suddenly turned and walked away, but after a few steps, he suddenly stopped, turned his mask towards this side, and remained silent.

"This is..." Before the two could react, the blue-haired child suddenly cheered, ran behind Musashi, and pushed her forward a few steps. Then he ran back and began pushing Guinevere forcefully: "Ah—"

"Should we follow them?"

"It seems so."

It seemed the two, one big and one small, had been arguing about something since earlier, but now they had finally reached a conclusion. It appeared the child had convinced the other man to take them somewhere. In the flickering firelight, the man waited for no more than ten seconds before continuing on his way, the child hopping and skipping beside him urging him on. Guinevere thought for a moment, exchanged a glance with Musashi beside her, and nodded.

Let's go and take a look...

……

P.S.: I'm not feeling well today, and I don't think the quality of this writing is very good... Please bear with it for now, and I'll revise it later when I have time. Remember to vote!

Chapter 182 First Contact (Part 2)

Trekking through the dark forest, the constant flickering of torchlight blurred the sense of time. The girl could only roughly estimate that at least two days and one night had passed since she crossed the portal, and with darkness falling, the second night was clearly approaching.

The rescued Pickett warrior strode forward, the blue-haired child following closely behind. Due to the vast difference in size, the boy practically had to jog to keep up. The man seemed indifferent, but whenever the child slowed down or showed signs of fatigue, he would quietly slow his pace to match.

As for Musashi and Guinevere, they naturally didn't receive such treatment, yet they easily kept up with the man's pace, which surprised him—especially Guinevere, who, at only about 1.5 meters tall, was the second shortest of the four. Although she wore imposing black armor, it didn't give her much of an aura. She was alright when she was alone, but standing next to the tall Musashi, she looked like a brash little girl, lacking any semblance of authority.

People are always deceived by sight and impressions. Although he had witnessed her strength in the Arena of Destiny, the man was more willing to believe that the girl was a witch skilled in magic and had deceived him in some way.

That must be it, otherwise how could a dignified elite of his tribe be so easily beaten to the ground by a weak little girl, with almost no chance of fighting back? How could he ever face anyone again...?

He was deceiving himself, thinking that he wanted to challenge Guinevere again to prove his strength, but he also considered that she was his savior after all. If he turned against her before repaying her kindness, others would easily think that he was an ungrateful bastard.

Moreover, there's currently no effective way for the two sides to communicate, and it wouldn't be good if things accidentally turned into a real killing... Even if he were to fight two against one, he wouldn't lose, but... there's really no need to rush. Since he's taking the two of them to that place, there's plenty of time for him to wash away the "shame" of defeat.

Beneath the mask, the blue light cycled several times, deepening and then returning to its original pale hue, before the man's emotions finally calmed. Noticing the rapid breathing beside him, he deliberately slowed his pace to ensure the two women behind him didn't fall behind. Then, suddenly, light footsteps approached, circling around to face him. The blue-haired child looked up at him, grinning, "Ya ya ya ya—"

"what!"

He reached out and ruffled the fluffy hair, enjoying the novel sensation. The child shrank back and escaped his grasp. The man's throat bobbed, and he chuckled softly.

It had been a while since they'd seen the child, and he seemed much more cheerful. That was probably thanks to those two… After walking for about another hour, the man seemed to notice something, signaled the three behind him to stop, and continued walking alone. Musashi and Guinevere watched curiously as he raised a torch and moved back and forth among several towering trees, as if examining the trunks by the firelight.

A moment later, he walked and stopped, finally standing in front of an exceptionally thick tree, and tapped the trunk a few times with his other hand. The gesture was as if he were knocking on a door… As this thought crossed her mind, Guinevere found herself suddenly disconnected from the surrounding wind. She had experienced this feeling several times before, but she didn't panic much. Instead, following some inexplicable intuition, she turned her head and looked in a certain direction.

The wind rustled through the trees, its sound becoming softer and gentler, like a stream flowing beside her. A beat too slow, Musashi noticed the unusual movement. She looked up, her eyes reflecting a few leaves dancing in the wind, their vibrant green momentarily dazzling her.

More leaves, influenced by some strange force, gathered from all directions, instantly forming a small tornado in the air. The man took a step back, knelt on one knee, and respectfully lowered his head.

The blue-haired child stared at him blankly, blinked, and then realized what was happening. He hurriedly knelt down as well—perhaps because he was too anxious, both of his knees hit the ground hard with a thud. Tears welled up in his eyes, and he grimaced and gasped for breath. He then quickly changed to kneeling on one knee.

Although Guinevere saw what the two were doing, she did not follow suit. In fact, she was feeling an immense, indescribable force suddenly pressing down as the small tornado appeared.

This astonishing pressure was far stronger than what she had experienced before, when Fafnir's true form appeared in the gray mist. Just standing still had exhausted all her strength; she couldn't even move a little finger, let alone make any other moves.

Musashi, standing beside him, also seemed to be in bad shape. His face was pale, and cold sweat was trickling down his forehead, but his right hand was still slowly reaching towards his waist, clearly not intending to give up the fight completely.

But before her fingertips could even touch the hilt of the knife, the tornado in mid-air suddenly dissipated, and amidst the fluttering leaves, the oppressive aura that had descended upon her vanished without a trace, as if it had all been an illusion.

Guinevere suddenly felt light, and she couldn't help but stumble. She barely managed to steady herself before noticing that a strange bird had appeared on a branch of the large tree.

It resembled a falcon but was only the size of a crow. Its eyes were deep and dark, as if they could absorb the surrounding light. Various constellations were clearly displayed on its body, like a night sky shrunk countless times. Each star shone with a radiant glow, making the torches in the hands of the four people much dimmer.

"what--"

"Yeah yeah--"

The man and the child remained kneeling with their heads bowed, each making a sound towards the strange bird. The bird seemed to understand, nodding in a very human-like manner.

"Thank you for your hard work."

Suddenly, a gentle voice resounded in Guinevere's heart. The voice was completely different from any language she knew, yet she could understand its meaning in an incredible way. She couldn't help but be startled. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that Musashi had the same surprised expression. A thought struck her. It seemed that she was not the only one who heard this voice... She looked at the bird that was radiating a glow; "Is that you speaking?" the words blurted out.

But then he thought, although the other party looked like just a strange bird that could glow, judging from the respectful attitude of the other two and the astonishing pressure it had just exerted, it might be some important figure. He should speak to it in a more polite and humble tone...

The bird didn't seem to care. It tilted its head slightly and looked at her with its deep eyes: "Only the weak-willed get angry because of other people's attitudes." This was indeed an answer to her inner thoughts.

Another mind reader! Guinevere was startled and quickly suppressed her thoughts, ceasing her wild imaginings.

The birdsong continued to echo in his mind: "You rescued Jia'er and Twenty, you are honored guests of Pickett, we should have opened the gate immediately and invited you in..."

"But before that, please answer one question for us."

“…Please speak?” Guinevere did not speak directly this time, but tried to respond in her mind.

However, the bird's next words almost made her heart skip a beat.

“We know that you and the swordsmen beside you do not belong to this time and space.”

“But that’s not important.”

"We just want to know, in this world, have you ever had anyone you valued, or anything you cherished?"

When she asked that question, a barely perceptible hint of…killing intent seemed to linger in her gentle, spring-like voice. The young woman had a feeling that if she didn't answer that question well, things could get very serious…

……

P.S.: I'm not feeling well today, and I was even thinking of giving up, but considering how many days I've managed to keep going, I forced myself to write a bit. I feel a little guilty, so I won't be asking for votes today.

Chapter 183 The Survivors (Part 1)

The question of who to value and what to cherish is indeed somewhat perplexing at this moment, but before Guinevere could answer, the gentle voice chuckled again: "We understand."

We will answer your questions one by one later.

"but not now."

"Come with us first."

"Before its claws and teeth arrive."

Each sentence, though its beginning and end are clearly discernible, is seamlessly connected, without any pauses.

After saying that, the bird that was perched on the branch spread its wings and flew down.

At the same time, the star map on its body suddenly became brighter and brighter, and in an instant, its entire body was enveloped in a dazzling rainbow of light.

In Guinevere's mind, at this moment, it was as if a blazing sun was rising before her, its seven-colored radiance illuminating the surrounding landscape, making everything else appear so dim.

The torches in the hands of the four people flickered and went out all at once. Only then did she understand why the two Picts had lowered their heads so early—but it was too late. Caught off guard, she was almost directly confronted by the bright light, and her eyes felt sore and painful. She hurriedly raised her hand to shield them.

But in the transition between light and darkness, in the vision blurred by tears, the light seemed to be peeled away layer by layer, gradually breaking down into countless illusory lines.

Like the threads woven by the goddess of fate in mythology, in just a few blinks of an eye, the towering ancient tree had vanished, replaced by a gigantic, seven-colored gate that looked like flowing clouds, appearing out of thin air before the four of them.

Guinevere could tell that this door was essentially the same as the teleportation spell that Neman had used before, but its scale and grandeur were worlds apart.

Through the slowly opening door, one can vaguely see floating white clouds and peaks half-hidden among them.

It's like a fairyland.

……

"—It's an enemy attack!"

"Wait, what are these things... Ah, my hands, my hands!"

"Too many!"

"Damn monster... Quick, Peden, while I'm still conscious, kill me with your sword—"

"Ah ah ah ah ah--"

In the dim light, amidst the rustling wind, many figures moved about, near and far, someone shouting something. He gritted his teeth and thrust his sword down. Startled horses galloped past him, and as he reached for the reins, he was kicked away.

The excruciating pain that felt like his body was falling apart seemed less real at this moment. He struggled to his feet and heard the drumbeat of hooves again. A deep red cloak fluttered in the air, and a middle-aged man, half-covered in blood, rode on horseback. Two equally bloodstained swords hung from the saddle. With a whistle, he made the horse stop beside him and look down at him.

"It's Peden, thank goodness you're alright. Where's Baird?"

“My king, Baird… he has…”

“He is a remarkable warrior.” More knights gathered around: “There are too many enemies. The army has been scattered, and even with our best efforts, we can only gather less than a hundred men… My lord, we must return to the castle as soon as possible and gather more troops…”

"They're catching up!"

"I'll cover your retreat, Your Majesty! Please leave this place immediately!" Ignoring the others' attempts to stop him, a knight drew his sword, turned around, and resolutely charged into the exceptionally deep darkness ahead.

What happened next...? Endless blood and screams echoed as everything was torn apart and shattered, leaving only the deep-seated fear and despair.

This was a dream, Peden suddenly realized. And this seemed to be a signal; his consciousness slowly awoke from a void and gradually came to feel the existence of his body.

He struggled desperately to open his eyelids, and after a long while, a little light finally pierced through the darkness.

He was still alive… Due to the confusion of his memories, he couldn't recall where this feeling of relief, like he'd escaped death, came from; he simply breathed a silent sigh of relief. But the next moment, a scream loud enough to shatter eardrums suddenly rang out beside him: “Aaaaaah—”

The voice was filled with astonishment and joy. Unable to turn his head, he could only barely open his eyes a crack and could not see who was making a fuss. He could only hear footsteps coming and going hurriedly around him. He did not know how much time had passed, but the commotion around him continued. Suddenly, a strange voice rang in his mind.

"You finally woke up."

"Who goes there!" Peden was startled; if he hadn't been unable to move, he would have jumped up.

"Don't worry about it." The voice was calm, as if laughing: "It's just a little trick."

"Is that so... Could it be that you, like Lord Klark and the others, are also a magician?"

"Magician, ha, you can think that way. But it doesn't matter. Do you remember what happened before you lost consciousness?"

Before he lost consciousness... he tried to recall, but as soon as the thought arose, it was as if a knife had suddenly been inserted into his mind, twisting it violently. His head throbbed with pain, and his once-condensed consciousness instantly collapsed.

"me……"

"If you can't remember, don't force yourself." The gentle voice interrupted him. Once he gave up on remembering, the intense pain vanished instantly, as if it had never happened.

"How is this going?"

“You were attacked by His minions. We happened to be passing by and saved your lives.”