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

He tilted his head and thought for a moment: "...I really haven't heard of it."

P.S.: I got soaked in a thunderstorm in Guangzhou, and I'm probably going to catch a cold again... Ugh. Goodnight everyone, remember to vote!

Chapter 193 Shadow and Light (Part 2)

There was no suspense in this battle from the very beginning.

The twin swords wielded by the Shadow Heroic Spirit—Guinevere suspects that these two might have reached the level of near-Noble Phantasms—according to Krauss's speculation, the longsword possesses an effect similar to distorting causality, ensuring that the first attack will always hit. However, the specific conditions and limitations for its activation are unknown. Just now, Musashi almost fell victim to it, but she was able to withstand it with the Sword of Light. It is unclear whether the opponent changed the technique, causing the effect to malfunction, or whether the mystery of the Sword of Light itself played a role.

In any case, after using her ability to win on the first strike, the longsword looked like just a relatively sharp ordinary weapon. The corrosive ability of the other short sword had no effect on her armor and the Sword of Light. In addition, the Dragon Armor provided all-around protection, giving Guinevere a huge advantage.

Defeating the opponent would be easy, but capturing them is another matter entirely. Perhaps due to the possession of the host, this shadow spirit's strength is vastly different from the other shadows she has encountered before. Her dual swords are also agile and unpredictable; if one strike misses, she can roam and wait for another opportunity to attack. Leading him into a trap is equally difficult.

The two fought for about ten minutes. Seemingly realizing he had no chance of winning, Shadow Spirit feinted an attack and turned to leave. His leaping ability was astonishing; he darted and ran through the trees like a nimble ape. Guinevere chased after him for a few steps but lost track of him. Even using the power of the Wind Seal to search, she found nothing.

These shadow spirits are inextricably linked to Niman, and her Nine Witch Mark ultimately belongs to Niman's power. It's normal that he has some way to evade her search... Although her rational mind understands this, the girl still feels quite regretful that she finally found an important clue only to lose it again. She silently memorized the location of the area, made a few marks, and then returned to Tirnano to meet up with Musashi and the others.

In the days that followed, she waited for Balan to wake up while continuing to go out on reconnaissance with the other Picts.

Although Balan's injuries were severe, the Britons, whose divine nature still remained, were incredibly strong. The sword wound that exposed bone, though seemingly tragic, was not truly life-threatening. After Neof applied the herbal medicine passed down from the Druids, he began to recover gradually.

The truly troublesome thing was the black mist surrounding him. Neoph speculated that Balan, like Leodogran and Gal, had been forcibly used as a vessel for a Heroic Spirit, but she didn't know how he managed to escape midway through the ritual. The ritual wasn't completed, yet the evil power continued to slowly corrode his soul and body, which was why Balan hadn't awakened yet.

Guinevere also tried to use the Arena of Fate to see if she could sever the possession of the Heroic Spirit directly, just like Gal had done, but she was unable to pull Balan into the domain. It was later speculated that this was probably because the Arena of Fate was essentially a trial, and Balan was in a coma and had no will to fight, so he was not recognized as a participant in the trial.

Whatever the reason, all that was left was to wait for Neov to slowly peel the "black mist" away from Balan's soul. This was a very laborious task, so Guinevere didn't want to rush them. Instead, she focused even harder on finding Leodogran, the Twin-Sword Shadow Heroic Spirit. However, their entire force only numbered forty or fifty people, a drop in the ocean compared to the vast forest. After several days of investigation, they still had no clue. Meanwhile, another group encountered another shadowy figure, resulting in the deaths of three warriors. Guinevere and Musashi arrived shortly after and together they defeated the shadowy Heroic Spirit.

The possessed person was a noble knight she had met a few times in the palace. They had no real relationship, but seeing a familiar face die in front of her still made Guinevere feel depressed. The next day, she was gloomy and withdrawn. After leaving the holy land with the others, she searched aimlessly in the great forest for most of the day. After returning to the holy land, she obtained permission from Niove and sat alone on the steps in front of the Golden Palace in the Clouds, lost in thought. After a while, footsteps approached, and a pink-haired figure sat down beside her.

"To be honest, this is probably the strangest world I've ever experienced. In every sense of the word." Musashi rested his chin on his hand, sat on the suspended stone steps, looked at the seemingly endless clouds and mist all around him, and sighed softly.

This area possessed an incredible magic that allowed people to understand each other's languages. Guinevere no longer needed to speak her broken Japanese. She paused for a moment, then turned her head: "Musashi, you..."

"Ok?"

"Which worlds have you visited so far?" She was quite curious about this question herself, and despite her depressed mood, she took the opportunity to ask Musashi when he brought it up.

Musashi thought for a moment: "There are too many to count all at once. But there are only a few worth remembering..." He counted on his fingers: "There was a region where I lived around the same time as myself. I wandered around there for a while and happened to meet an old man who looked very strong. I got itchy and tried to challenge him... It was really dangerous back then. I was almost killed."

The pink-haired woman chuckled and stuck out her tongue: "There's also a very, very large wilderness, where many people ride horses and carry guns... You probably wouldn't understand what a matchlock gun is, umm, anyway, it's a ranged weapon that's much more powerful than a bow and arrow. Fighting and killing, it's quite interesting. That's when I learned to slice bullets with a knife..."

Although the person in question spoke in a leisurely tone, Guinevere could easily imagine how many dangers this seemingly tall, slender, and carefree swordswoman must have encountered along the way—dangers that most people could hardly imagine in their entire lives. It wouldn't be surprising if she had died at any moment; it was nothing short of a miracle that she had survived until now.

"...But what I remember most vividly are the previous few worlds, I think it was the one before that or the one before that... It was a very small island, and it was full of ghosts—not just a figure of speech, but real ghosts, the kind with horns on their heads and little bellies. I met a very interesting girl there, she was also very cute, with fluffy hair, somewhat like a small animal..."

With his hands supporting his body and his legs swinging casually, Musashi tilted his head back, looking at the palace above him that seemed to float among the clouds. In a casual tone, he briefly recounted what he remembered. Guinevere listened with great longing: "Chaldea, saving humanity... it sounds like a truly magnificent undertaking."

“Yes. It’s truly remarkable. It’s a pity that I probably won’t have the chance to see her again…” Musashi smiled faintly. “It’s the same with you. I don’t know when I will leave, and judging from the current situation, I might even die in this world… But that’s the essence of the journey.”

“Two people who were originally unrelated meet because of fate, and when fate ends, they separate. Then, at some time and in some place in the future, they meet again, or they become a memory and remain here.” She tapped her heart: “The same goes for those who have passed away… Remember them, but don’t get obsessed with them and take your eyes off reality.”

Guinevere turned her head to look at her: "So, you're trying to comfort me?"

"I just wanted to play the role of a caring older sister once in a while. How about it, not bad, right?" She seemed to want to reach out and pat the girl's head, but when she saw the imposing dragon horns, she smiled wryly and poked the exposed tip of the nose.

Guinevere shrank back: "It's pretty good."

"Yeah, right."

Looking at Musashi's rather smug expression, she laughed as well: "Actually, I understand. It's not a peaceful time now. If war breaks out, there will be bloodshed and people will die... All the things I've learned so far, whether it's swordsmanship or magic, are ultimately for fighting... for killing."

“I’ve known for a long time that one day I would take someone’s life with my own hands. But when it actually happened, I felt a little uncomfortable…” Guinevere looked down at her palms, her hand guards open, her five fingers as black as dragon claws.

She and Musashi joined forces to fight the powerful Shadow Heroic Spirit. Due to the chaotic situation, and in order to protect the wounded Pict, they could not find an opportunity to open the Arena of Fate to save the opponent. Although Musashi delivered the final blow, as she watched the black mist dissipate and the familiar figure fall to the ground, the girl realized that she had killed someone after all.

There wasn't much inner turmoil or struggle. Born into a chaotic world, killing was the most normal thing in the world, and she wouldn't be so dejected as to become despondent. Yet, deep down, there was always a slight sense of unease. It was as if the memories of that peaceful era, those once clear people and things, were gradually becoming distant...

“I can tell that your situation is somewhat similar to mine.” Musashi shook her head. “How should I put it? Our thoughts and speaking styles are subtly different. Of course, everyone has their own secrets, and I won’t pry. But… here, take this.” She rubbed her sleeve and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper, handing it over.

Guinevere curiously took it, glanced down, and saw that it seemed to be a store coupon, densely covered with printed patterns, except for the last one which was blank, but it was all written in Japanese, and she didn't know what it meant for a moment: "What is this...?"

"In Tokyo, Japan, in the previous world, there was a restaurant with amazing udon noodles. They were having a promotion where if you collected all the stamps, you could get a free serving of the owner's special secret-recipe udon. I was so craving it that I went almost every day, and just when I was about to collect all the stamps..."

Musashi shrugged. The swordswoman, who had been so composed when discussing life and death just moments before, now wore a worried expression: "Based on past experience, I probably won't be able to go to that world again. I was planning to keep this as a souvenir... but I'm giving it to you now."

"Give it to...me?"

"Don't look like you don't know what use this thing is. I don't have many hobbies, except for swords and eating. When giving a gift, you should give someone what you care about most, but I'm keeping these two swords for self-defense, so I can't give them to you. Therefore, I can only settle for a bowl of udon that is said to be very delicious. If you have the chance, you can try it."

She patted Guinevere on the shoulder. Although it was an extremely absurd topic, the girl paused for a moment, then burst out laughing.

"I will go if I have the chance."

"Please." Musashi said, then pushed himself up to stand. "That knight named Balan has just woken up, and Neof asked me to call you over. But your expression just now was really awful; going directly to him might scare him..." He tilted his head and reached out to pinch the small half of Guinevere's face under her helmet. "Hmm, your expression is pretty good now. Keep it up."

The girl rolled her eyes, but didn't slap the other person's hand away. Instead, she carefully folded the crumpled udon coupon, put it away, and then looked up.

"Let's go."

……

P.S.: The comments and bullet comments are finally back to normal. This long single-player gaming journey is finally over (wiping away tears)... It's really over, right? I'm sure everyone will be actively sending bullet comments and voting for recommendations. They won't leave Qingbai all alone to continue playing single-player, right?

Right? !

Qingbai believes in you!

Chapter 194 Shadow and Light (Part 2)

When I entered the room, Balan and Niove were talking. In fact, if you were to ask who in Scotland today is most familiar with the Picts, the answer would undoubtedly be this knight who had served at Antony's Wall for many years.

Although he has not been granted a title by the king for various reasons, no matter how powerful or influential a person is, they would not dare to treat Balan with disrespect. In private, many people even respect him and call him "the king's right arm" with awe, which shows his reputation and status.

As a former apprentice of his, Guinevere knew more. Balan and Leodogland's encounter began with a hunt. From then until centuries later, hunting was an extremely popular activity among the nobility, a way to showcase their skills and flaunt their power and wealth, which people naturally enjoyed immensely. Leodogland was no exception; in his youth, he would hold a large hunt on average every two months, and even more smaller ones. On one occasion, while chasing wild deer, his horse unexpectedly went out of control. Had Balan not been there to help him in time, it would likely have carried its master wildly off a cliff.

Subsequent investigation revealed that someone had bribed the servant in charge of the horses to tamper with them. Naturally, a major reorganization followed, and Balan came into the public eye as a result. He went on to experience numerous battles, large and small, and made brilliant contributions each time. Finally, he rose from a wanderer to become one of the most important generals in Scotland.

But during their casual conversation, Guinevere had heard Balaan mention that his "ambitions lay elsewhere." Thinking about it, it makes sense. Someone with such power could go anywhere in the world if he wanted to, whether it was King Uther, King Bartholomew, or even the Roman Empire across the sea. He could do whatever he wanted. How could he be over thirty years old and still homeless, wandering around?

Balan was not the kind of person who was truly without desires and regarded power as dirt. The reason he traveled around was to find his brother Balin, who had disappeared many years ago. With meager intelligence, he traversed almost the entire Britannia and even ventured deep into Pict territory, but unfortunately, he did not obtain any useful clues in the end.

He therefore rejected Leodogland's offer of a knighthood and land, remaining in Scotland only because he felt a connection with the people there and that Scotland needed him. Once things were settled, he would embark on another journey to find his brother, likely by sailing to other continents.

For all these reasons, Balan appeared especially imposing in the young girl's eyes. His free-spirited yet deeply loyal personality was exactly the image she admired. For a time, she developed a kind of idol-like adoration for her swordsmanship teacher. Of course, their relationship was also that of teacher and friend. Although there was some admiration involved, their interactions were more like those of uninhibited friends.

Upon seeing her enter the room, the two people who were talking stopped and looked in her direction.

"Where is Miss Musashi?" Neof looked behind her and was slightly taken aback when she saw that only Guinevere was there.

The girl smiled and shook her head, explaining. The reason was rather comical—Musashi had been leading the way for a while when he saw the pink-haired girl, Twelve, approaching with a bowl in the distance. He immediately turned pale and fled in a panic. Clearly, that bowl of so-called soup, with its mixed flavors, had left a deep psychological scar on this swordswoman who loved food, to the point that she ran away at the mere sight of it.

Incidentally, the reason she didn't run away wasn't because Guinevere didn't have psychological trauma, but because before running away, she had already noticed that the bowl was empty. Coupled with the faint, deliberately suppressed gagging sounds carried on the wind, it was clear that a brave person had already become a "sacrifice" in their place.

As the saying goes, good medicine tastes bitter. This stuff is so hard to drink, it should help young Peden recover soon... Thinking with a bit of schadenfreude, after explaining, Neo couldn't help but smile: "You've really gone to a lot of trouble."

"I'm fine, I'm fine." He shook his head with a smile, then met the gaze of the person on the bed and looked at his face: "Balanqing, how are you feeling? Is there anything that's bothering you?"

"The wound doesn't hurt much anymore, but I still feel... a bit tired. And... Princess, you have such good taste in your attire." The man on the bed smiled weakly. He was about thirty-four or thirty-seven years old, beardless, with hair flowing over his shoulders. His refined appearance made him look more like a poet or scholar than a warrior. After saying this, Neof added, "His soul has been deeply affected, so it's normal for him to feel tired. After about seven more sunsets of rest, he'll be as lively as usual."

"That's good." Guinevere breathed a slight sigh of relief. On the other side, Balan also smiled: "I didn't expect to meet the princess here. It seems that fate has not completely abandoned Scotland..." In his memory, Balan always seemed to have a calm and composed attitude no matter what happened, but at this moment, he seemed a little dejected.

"What's wrong? The Balanqing I remember wouldn't say such discouraging things." That's what she thought, so she asked directly. Balan paused for a moment upon hearing this, then raised his hand and gently pinched the bridge of his nose—a habitual gesture he made when troubled, as if he was hesitating about something.

After waiting a moment, Balan still showed no sign of speaking, so the girl asked again. Balan's gaze still held some struggle, but then it was Neof who spoke first: "There's nothing to hide. This little princess and her companions are our most capable help right now. Tell us what's going on, and we believe she has the ability to judge."

“Very well.” After a moment, Balan nodded slightly. For him to be so conflicted, it must be something serious. Guinevere composed herself and prepared herself mentally, but his words still surprised her: “There is a traitor by the side of the King of Scotland…”

"traitor?"

Unlike the guards like Peden, who were mainly responsible for the security of the royal palace, Balan held a very high position and was aware of most of the overt and covert matters. He pressed his nose, remained silent, and exhaled: "You should have heard about the general course of events from that guard, so I won't go into details. But actually, when I led the army into the great forest to investigate, I had already noticed something amiss... At that time, the Picts who were killed had not completely transformed into monsters and still retained their basic appearance, so at first I also thought the enemy was still Picts, and deployed my troops according to the usual method."

"But I immediately sensed something was wrong... The enemy's reaction was too fast. Almost every time I gave an order, the enemy would suddenly appear and attack our weakest point. After this happened several times, I suspected that there was a traitor leaking information. I tried to set a trap, and I actually managed to lure out several traitors..."

At this point, Balan suddenly gave a strange smile: "Those five were all druids recruited by the king back then."

“Druid, could it be…” Guinevere’s eyes widened suddenly as she thought of a certain possibility.

"The forest is the druids' home ground. The power they displayed was difficult for me to contend with for a while. In addition, the enemy coordinated with their pace, launching a continuous attack from the outside, which caused heavy losses to our forces. In the end, less than ten people survived... Don't comfort me, it was indeed my mistake."

He waved his hand, a gesture that seemed to aggravate his wound, and his expression shifted slightly: "If only one druid had betrayed us, it might have been a simple individual act. But there were only five druids with us at the time, and all five betrayed us. This cannot but raise suspicion... After returning, I privately informed the king of this, and the king's decision to personally lead the entire kingdom into battle was not only to seize this opportunity to defeat the Picts, but also partly a test of that person's intentions."

"Wang was always confident, so he deliberately placed that person nearby to keep an eye on him... Unfortunately, we still underestimated him. It wasn't until I woke up and heard the lady explain what the Picts had gone through that I realized what I had encountered before."

“Those were the minions of God.” As if recalling that bloody past, Neoph’s face turned ashen as she answered, word by word.

And Guinevere's inner suspicion was thus confirmed: "Lord Balan, you mean, that traitor is..."

“The leader of the Druids, Klark.” Balan frowned. “We had anticipated that he might turn against us at the most crucial moment, so we made some preparations for it. And when the King carried out his plan, Klark struck as we expected.”

"His followers were quickly wiped out, but unexpectedly, even when the king and I joined forces, we were still unable to defeat Klark. The other knights and ordinary soldiers could not hold out for long against those shadowy figures and strange hands. Seeing the heavy losses, the king had no choice but to order a retreat. However, Klark seemed to be able to lead those strange enemies in pursuit, and many people died at their hands."

"You and Father are also..."

“I parted ways with the king halfway through. Thinking that it would be good to at least hold them back for a while, I decided to cover the retreat for the others… Unfortunately, the king still did not return to the castle safely.” Having already heard Neof mention Leodogran’s situation, Balan couldn’t help but sigh with some frustration: “But I was not defeated by Klark.”

His expression suddenly turned serious: "This is also something I need to remind you of, Princess. That witch named Terena, like Klark, is a subordinate of that goddess. It was because of her sudden appearance and her joining forces with Klark that I was captured and forced to undergo that bizarre ritual..."

Guinevere then realized why Balan had been hesitant to speak earlier. She wasn't familiar with Klark and the other druids, only nodding acquaintances, but she trusted Terena quite a bit. Balan had probably been thinking that she would be shocked by this news, which was why he had remained silent. But what surprised the girl now was something else entirely: "You said Terena and Klark joined forces? How is that possible…?"

"Princess."

"No, I know what you're trying to say. But that's not what I meant..." Terena had already been sealed in the Mark of Death by Merlin long ago, so how could she possibly still be in the north? Even if the Mark of Death had fallen into Niman's hands, if you count the time, Niman should have been in the south half a month ago.

With this question in mind, Guinevere briefly explained her experiences in Cornwall, which cleared up the misunderstanding for Balan. However, what followed was an even deeper mystery: "I can't be mistaken," he said firmly. "I witnessed the princess's sparring with that witch. The abilities she used—condensing natural elements into swords and summoning lightning—are powers that Terena has once displayed."

"Then that's even more impossible..." These marks were collected by Nimue a long time ago. Whether this newly appeared Terena is real or fake, she has no chance of wielding these powers again. But if it were a similar ability, why would they deliberately create someone like Terena, whose identity is so awkward? There must be a better option.

Guinevere thought that once Balan awoke, he would know the answers to everything, but besides learning of the traitor within the kingdom, new mysteries arose. However, according to Guinevere, Klark had been on good terms with Pat long ago; if he was black, then her brother…

“I do not know the current situation in Scotland. But Prince Pat did not go on the expedition with the army. Instead, he was ordered by the king to guard Antony’s Wall. This was to prevent Clarke from learning about the situation and taking preemptive action because of Prince Pat. But now that the king has not returned safely, it is very likely that the important domestic affairs... including military power, are now in the hands of Prince Pat.”

“Then I should go back immediately and warn him not to trust Klark…”

“Princess,” Balan interrupted Guinevere, “Prince Pat and Klark have been close for several years. Given your current relationship, are you confident you can convince him to believe you, rather than Klark’s version of events?”

"This……"

Seeing the girl hesitate, he added, "Even the king doesn't believe what he says, and he carries more weight in Prince Pat's heart than Klark. And if Prince Pat listens to Klark's words, Princess, are you confident enough to escape unscathed from their encirclement?"

Balan's tone was calm, each word spoken softly yet firmly, possessing an aura that instantly calmed the listener. Guinevere's hands clenched and unclenched several times, finally managing only a bitter smile: "I want to say I believe in my brother, but in reality..."

In fact, given Pat's current obsessive mindset, she would interpret everything Pat does as an attempt to seize the throne. Even if she returned and told Pat the whole story, Pat would most likely not believe her. The young woman believed she understood the situation quite well and therefore didn't think Balan was trying to sow discord.

How could such a villain be the one that my father trusts and values?

"What does Lord Balan think I should do? If we don't tell my brother about this, our strength alone is simply not enough to fight against Neman... Him," she asked.

Baran had already thought it through and immediately replied, "The important thing is not to let Prince Pat know the cause and effect, nor to make him believe it, but to make Scotland a force against this threat."

"Is it not my brother who matters, but Scotland...?"

"That's right. So the best way is to find and rescue the king. Once the king returns unharmed, all power will naturally no longer belong to Prince Pat. And with the king's wisdom, once he knows the dangers involved, he will naturally lead the whole of Scotland against that god named Neman and his minions."

“But it’s not easy.” Seeing Guinevere thinking, Neov answered for her: “All our manpower is currently devoted to the search, and after several days, we still haven’t found any trace of the King of Scotland.”

“Therefore, another method is needed—not by the princess herself, but by someone capable of intimidating Prince Pat and the ministers of the country to deliver this message,” Balan said.

"But is there anyone..." At this point, the girl finally understood what Balan meant, and her eyes lit up: "You mean, ask Uncle Lotte for help?"

Half-reclining on the bed, the refined-looking man nodded: "Our own strength is insufficient; we should seek external assistance. King Lotte and his wife, as well as the three Gawain siblings, are the best help available right now. I asked Lady Neover, and it only takes about three days by fast horse from here to Orkney. Please ask the princess to go there personally and persuade King Lotte to help us resolve the predicament of Scotland, and indeed the entire North..."

He spoke sincerely, but Guinevere's lips drooped slightly, making her look somewhat embarrassed. Neof glanced at her, read her thoughts, and suddenly began to suppress her laughter as well.

"What's wrong..." Seeing the two's inexplicable reactions, Balan, who had been talking eloquently, was taken aback. After thinking back to see if he had said something wrong, he suddenly fell silent. After a long while, he lowered his head apologetically: "I'm sorry, I forgot about the peculiar condition that makes you disliked by horses, Princess."

“…It’s alright.” Guinevere forced a smile. “I can run there.”

P.S.: Qingbai came from the rain and went back to the rain~ I basically did nothing these past few days in Guangzhou except get soaked, hide from the rain, and catch a cold... Ah, ah, ah, ah—Golden Butterfly's whirlwind-like sneeze!

Chapter 195 The Three Siblings (Part 1)

It was between nine and ten in the morning. The sun wasn't shining very brightly, and clouds were gathering in the distance, making it look like it was about to rain.

Inside the lord's castle in Orkney, all was quiet, save for the sound of the wind whistling through the long corridors. A servant hurried along, carrying a tray with a cup of hot tea and some simple food. His footsteps echoed in the deserted corridor, making the place seem rather desolate.

Turning a corner, he saw the king leaning against the door, arms crossed, lost in thought. Hearing footsteps approaching, Loth pressed his throbbing temples and slowly opened his eyes—his eyes were bloodshot, and he looked exhausted, as if he hadn't had a proper rest in a long time. At first, there was a moment of bewilderment, but when he looked at the person who came, his expression returned to its usual majesty.

This servant had served him for over twenty years and knew his master's every move intimately. He immediately noticed the exhaustion the other man was putting on. He sighed inwardly and was about to speak when Lott shook his head and gestured towards the closed door beside him.

The servant nodded in understanding, then simply handed over the wooden tray, bowed, and turned to leave, this time deliberately making his steps lighter. Lotte's gaze softened. He looked down at the steam rising from the tea, lost in thought. After waiting for a long time, a very light footstep came from behind the door, and with a creak, the door was gently opened.

A faint smell of blood wafted out.