High above Romania, aboard the King of Conquerors' chariot, Guinevere leaned precariously over the edge, nearly half her body hanging out.
Flying proved far faster than running or driving. The chariot covered the distance to Mordred and Sakura in under twenty minutes. Unless the pair had been instantly defeated, Guinevere's group would arrive in time to support them.
"Rider, don't get any closer. Maintain your current distance. If Little Mordred finds out we're secretly following her, she'll be upset. If she can retreat safely, we won't need to intervene."
Standing beside Guinevere, the King of Knights felt the same wind. To their left, the King of Conquerors gripped the Thunder Ox's reins, while Waver stood with his back ramrod straight.
Five years had passed. The boy who once trembled in fear, clinging to the King of Conquerors' cloak, had matured considerably. He now strived to present himself as a competent vassal, rather than a pampered royal consort.
"Lady Guinevere, is raising children always this complicated?"
"It's not just about raising children, young Waver. Do you ever consider the King of Conquerors' moods and preferences?"
"His Majesty has the magnanimity to accept my counsel."
Guinevere's question carried a hint of her deeper teasing, but Waver, oblivious to the undercurrent, missed the jest entirely.
Still, he wasn't entirely wrong. Interacting with the King of Conquerors rarely required such delicate considerations.
When truly displeased, the king would simply scowl and point out the error directly, often adding a playful flick to Waver's forehead.
"Rider?"
"Young man, I appreciate your compliment, but such remarks shouldn't be made while I'm speaking. It makes me take it as a declaration of criminal intent. And..."
The King of Conquerors paused, considering his words. As an ancient monarch, he had seen his fair share of matters between men and women.
"Miss Guinevere," he continued, "I am not like you people. I am not abnormal. Such banter is best avoided. It only makes me want to wage war against you again, even knowing full well I cannot win."
Waver, still bewildered, remained oblivious to the dark depths of Guinevere's heart, which the King of Conquerors had exposed. The King shot a disapproving glance at her, Guinevere had crossed a line and genuinely angered him.
What kind of person would make such jokes to someone's face?
"I've told you before," the King said sternly, "inspiration is one thing, but you need to stop reading those kinds of magazines. Your mind needs to be more normal."
"Rider, I apologize," Guinevere said sincerely. "I won't let my... tendencies get the better of me again." She retracted her crawling shadows, offering a genuine apology for her misstep.
The King of Conquerors, ever magnanimous, paused briefly before erupting into hearty laughter, his stern demeanor dissolving. He clapped Waver on the shoulder, blunt as ever.
So coy and evasive, hiding half of what you mean—what kind of King of Conquerors is that?
"King, I..."
"Waver, we are master and servant, lord and vassal, but we are also friends."
He looks like he's about to cry again. Even though Waver had long outgrown his tearful days, he tilted his head upward, visibly overwhelmed by the King of Conquerors' words.
"Yes, I'll remember that, Rider! King! My dear friend!"
Their friendship deepened. Guinevere merely watched, her initial teasing rooted in mischief, yet its outcome was undeniably good.
Turning to meet the King of Knights' gaze, Guinevere vigorously rubbed her face, banishing all unwanted thoughts before taking Lia's hand without hesitation.
Abnormal is as abnormal does. She had always been this way—past, present, and future, she would never change.
"Sorry, Lia, for making you abnormal with me."
"Enough with the fake apologies. You just want me to coddle you and kiss you, right? Not here. I won't do it in front of everyone."
The two women stood with their backs to the others, gazing out at the thick clouds beyond the chariot. They whispered in each other's ears, Guinevere even crushing a gem imbued with soundproofing Magecraft.
Wealth and the convenience of such trinkets had led Guinevere, despite her superficial knowledge of Jewel Magecraft, to always carry a collection of such gadgets.
"Guinevere, since you're apologizing for this, let me say thank you. Without your appearance and the way you made me feel, my fate would have unfolded exactly as Master Merlin foresaw it a thousand times over.
Guinevere, don't apologize for this again. I've never regretted falling in love with you."
His voice carried slightly louder than intended, and since the King of Conquerors and Waver were close by, the soundproof barrier proved largely ineffective.
The King of Conquerors heard him, and so did Waver. The King of Conquerors slapped his forehead and earnestly apologized to Guinevere and the King of Knights:
"King of Knights, Caster, I apologize for my earlier inappropriate remark. Like Caster, I shouldn't have said it to your faces. I won't make that mistake again!"
Now it was Guinevere and the King of Knights' turn to be exasperated. But having chosen this path, they were grateful for any respect and blessings they received.
After all, that's just the way the world is.
"Hey, Rider, don't you think we've been chatting for too long and gotten too engrossed? My little Mordred has already started fighting the enemy."
It was the power of perception—a gem imbued with Water Mirror Magecraft.
Through the water vapor released when the gem shattered, all four occupants of the Gordius Wheel soaring ten thousand meters above the ground could see the battlefield below.
As they approached the Yggdmillennia Family's castle, Mordred's chariot was forced to traverse the desolate wilderness.
As a vast clan housing numerous Mages, the Yggdmillennia Family lived in seclusion, with no other human settlements within tens of kilometers of their castle.
This isolation allowed Mordred and the enemy servant to unleash their full power without restraint, even at the outer fringes of the family's territory, engaging in a life-or-death duel with their true blades.
"Caster, do you recognize the enemy servant? He seems to be a Caster who excels in close combat as well."
As the battle erupted, the four figures on the chariot focused solely on the battlefield.
Relying on her formidable base stats and sword skills honed through years of brutal training under Guinevere and the King of Knights, Mordred relentlessly pressured her opponent in close quarters, forcing him back step by step.
However, she remained slightly restrained, as Runes occasionally detonated in unexpected locations.
Yet Mordred was ultimately a Saber. Upon realizing that the enemy's Magecraft was of "fodder" level, incapable of breaching her Rank B Magic Resistance to inflict serious harm, she began to disregard it entirely.
She intensified her assault, stepping into an "Earth Crack" trap. Had she not reacted swiftly, the enemy Caster would have stabbed through her helmet.
"I've told you countless times, Mordred still fights too recklessly."
"Guinevere, look closely. Is Mordred truly being reckless? She's already seized the enemy's staff."
"By the way, you still haven't answered the King of Conquerors' question. Do you recognize who he is?"
The opposing Caster's attire differed from Guinevere's usual blue bodysuit. Instead, he wore a heavy, fur-collared hooded cloak, but his features remained unchanged from Guinevere's memories.
"It's Cu Chulainn—Cu Chulainn as Caster," Guinevere murmured. "If it's him, he should have seen through Mordred's feigned weakness, the bait she deliberately left to lure him in."
Her eyes narrowed slightly as she spoke. Immediately after she uttered these words, the battlefield shifted.
The staff Mordred had seized sprang to life, coiling around her body like vines until she unleashed her Mana Burst, shattering the weapon and forcing Cu Chulainn, who had been preparing a Grand Magecraft, to retreat.