"Should I accept it?"
Feeling a daunting magical power emanating from Merlin's magnificent eyes, attempting to pull him into an illusion, Souya pondered silently.
Undoubtedly, with everyone else choosing to accept the blessing, refusing would—while not necessarily exposing his identity immediately—certainly arouse Merlin's suspicion and draw his scrutiny.
Seeing Merlin take the field personally and expend massive amounts of mana to construct the entire battlefield into his workshop, it was clear the fellow had glimpsed a grim future from within Avalon. He was betting everything to break his vow, leave Avalon, and descend upon Londinium to join the fray.
Although Souya had swiftly retracted Rhongomyniad into his body the moment he felt Merlin's presence, turning traitor was only a matter of time. When the shackles of the world loosened and Vortigern gave the order, Souya would inevitably tear off the mask of friendship with Artoria and Merlin.
If Merlin grew suspicious now and later interrupted the activation of the Holy Lance due to this moment of hesitation, it would be a tragedy.
But if he accepted the blessing... given Merlin's nature as a "trash" incubus, would this so-called blessing really be free of hidden agendas?
Furthermore...
"'Reversal,' is it?"
A blessing that sounded problematic just by its name.
While others received clear buffs like Gawain's "Nightless" or Tristan's "Sure Hit"—skills that directly boosted their raw power—Souya was given "Reversal," a term that had nothing to do with traditional strengthening.
With a little thought, Souya realized this was undoubtedly Merlin's scheme—or rather, an open trap.
The so-called "Reversal" was nothing more than twisting one's will, subverting thoughts and behaviors. It was like turning a compassionate gentleman into a cold-blooded, bloodthirsty executioner.
As the Lion of Britain and a Radiant Knight who had sworn an oath to the Witch Morgan, if Souya truly harbored ulterior motives, the "Reversal" would naturally make him despicable, forcing him to violate his oath and betray Morgan. If he understood the meaning of "Reversal" and refused, his true colors would be exposed just as easily.
Thinking of this, Souya's heart sank. He had underestimated Merlin. Despite Merlin's constant claims to Artoria that "destiny" would bring Souya to their side, seeing Souya actually standing among the Knights of the Round Table had made Merlin suspicious. He was using this blessing as an insurance policy.
Vortigern was right; incubi were truly cunning and disgusting creatures.
Souya thought this, but reality gave him little time to deliberate. Feeling Merlin's gaze grow increasingly meaningful and strange, Souya knew he couldn't hesitate any longer.
Gritting his teeth, he opened his mind and proactively accepted the descent into the illusion Merlin had constructed.
To hell with it. I refuse to believe my own "Pitch-Black Will" can be overcome by the illusionary control of a mere incubus!
But as Souya's eyes became glazed, matching Gawain and the others, a strange power surged from the depths of his soul, transforming into physical energy that poured into his eyes and mind.
The next moment, the phantoms gradually surfacing before Souya's eyes vanished instantly. His mind cleared, and his consciousness returned to his body.
"This is..."
Feeling the holiness and familiarity of that energy, Souya understood immediately.
The empowerment of the Holy Lake's water; the proof of Morgan's appreciation: the skill 'Protection of the Lake (A)'.
[Protection of the Lake (A): A blessing from the Lady of the Lake, Morgan. This rank represents an extremely close bond with her. It grants immunity to curses and illusionary attacks, and increases combat effectiveness when fighting in the Holy Lake or freshwater areas.]
Without a doubt, it was the protection from Morgan that warded off the effects of the illusion. From the system panel, the rank remained at A, the meaning of which was self-evident.
Souya took a deep breath, his resolve now as tough as steel and unshakable.
Seeing the vacant, illusory look appear in Souya's eyes, Merlin finally withdrew his gaze, the unease in his heart subsiding significantly.
As expected, destiny does not deceive me.
Thinking this, Merlin took a deep breath and raised his arms once more, shouting to the sky:
"The blessings are complete! O knights who have received the grace, for the sake of Britain and King Arthur, draw your swords against the villainous White Dragon!"
"Yes!"
The next moment, as Merlin's shout echoed, all the Knights of the Round Table cried out and charged toward the Demonic Dragon Vortigern, who held the black Holy Sword high.
"Hmph!"
Vortigern's dark-gold dragon eyes remained unchanged. He didn't even spare a glance for the incoming Gawain or Lancelot; his gaze was locked firmly on Merlin.
BOOM—
In the next instant, the massive sword flowing with dark light crashed down. Ignoring the attacks released by Gawain and the others, the ink-thick magical energy transformed into a blade light that smashed into the earth where Merlin stood like a giant hammer.
"I told you—as long as there are flowers, you can never truly kill me."
Even though the dark sword light obliterated the incubus's body along with the sea of flowers, a mere breeze blew through, and Merlin's figure reappeared amidst another cluster of swaying blossoms.
Before Merlin's white robes could even fully solidify, another black blade light struck, tearing him apart and devouring him.
Vortigern said nothing. He simply swung his sword relentlessly. The massive Vile King's sword whistled through the air with a piercing shriek, sounding like the unyielding wail of a dying era.
"Vortigern! Your enemies are us!"
Seeing they had reached him yet the dragon continued to attack Merlin as if they were invisible, Gawain—who had never been so slighted—flew into a rage.
He held the Sword of Turning Victory. His silver armor erupted with rings of light as dazzling as the sun. Under the influence of the illusion "Nightless," even though it wasn't the natural time for the Saint's blessing, Gawain entered his "Triple Strength" state.
As long as there is a sun in the heart, it is always the hour of the Saint.
Without a moment's pause, the cognitively impaired Gawain roared. His Holy Sword ignited with a raging fire, carrying immense heat. It transformed into a pillar of light equal in size to the black sword in Vortigern's hand and swung down.
"Excalibur Galatine!"
This time, the White Dragon's attention was finally caught. Feeling a scorching, solar-like magical power rushing toward him, Vortigern ceased his pursuit of Merlin and turned his massive dragon head to face Gawain.
Facing the incoming solar light, Vortigern did not raise his sword to block. Instead, right before Gawain's eyes, he slowly extended his left hand and forcefully caught the seemingly matchless light beam.
"How is this possible!"
Seeing his released Noble Phantasm caught so effortlessly, Gawain's pupils shook with shock as he froze in place.
"Why rush to your deaths? Wouldn't it be better to simply be a spectator?"
Sighing softly, Vortigern's gaze lingered on Gawain.
"You truly intended to attack me with 'light'? You seem to have forgotten that I am the White Dragon that devours light."
As his voice fell, shadows flowed within the left hand that had caught the light beam. In the blink of an eye, it swallowed Gawain's attack, reversed it, and condensed it into a red-black orb of light, which he hurled back at the Knights of the Round Table.
"Aroundight Overload!"
This time, Lancelot stepped forward. The famed foreign knight held his Holy Sword and shouted the name of his Noble Phantasm, compressing all of Aroundight's power into the blade before cleaving the orb of light into oblivion.
Whoosh!
Violent winds raged, making the knights' capes snap in the air. Their hair fluttered, revealing eyes full of grit and gravity.
"Everyone, the dragonified Vortigern is too strong. We have no chance against him individually. We must join forces and fight with our lives on the line."
Lancelot spoke with a heavy tone.
"Understood."
No further words were needed. Their long history of cooperation meant the Knights of the Round Table possessed perfect chemistry. The next moment, led by Lancelot and Gawain, the knights charged at Vortigern together.
Bolstered by the illusions, the knights' offensive poured out like a violent storm toward the White Dragon. Yet, facing the joint attack of Britain's highest tier of combatants, Vortigern's massive frame remained as unshakable as a giant tree in a hurricane—like an eternal demon god.
Fortunately, though the process was arduous, the knights managed to barely pin down the dragon.
Taking this opportunity while Artoria prepared to join her knights, Merlin's figure appeared beside her once more.
"Lily, the time Gawain and the others can buy is limited. Whether we can defeat Vortigern depends entirely on you and the Holy Sword in your hand."
Artoria was stunned. She instinctively looked at him and asked:
"What should I do, Merlin?"
Likely due to his repeated "deaths" and "rebirths," Merlin's voice sounded weary, but he maintained his smile, looking at Artoria with expectant eyes.
"It is simple. Recall. Resonate. Use your will to move the Holy Sword and obtain its true power."
"Move the Holy Sword? True power?"
Hearing Merlin's cryptic words, Artoria looked down at the sword in her hand. She could feel the connection between herself and the blade; it was longing, it was urging. It wanted her to defeat Vortigern and destroy the reversed Vile King's sword.
"But Merlin, have I not already received its recognition?"
"It is not about receiving its recognition, but using it to gain the recognition of the Will of the World. Only then can you use its true power."
Not far away, a massive explosion erupted on the walls of Londinium following a fierce dragon roar. Clearly, the battle there was going poorly.
"Time is short, Lily. I believe you can do it."
Realizing that Gawain and the others were struggling due to being countered by Vortigern's light-devouring nature and the Vile King's sword, Merlin hesitated, then chose to head back into the fight personally.
Before leaving, he placed a flower petal in Artoria's hair and whispered:
"This petal will help you remember everything. Work hard. The lives of everyone, the future of Britain, and even the fate of the entire world are in your hands."
With that, Merlin's figure dissolved into drifting petals and flew toward the battlefield, attacking Vortigern with magecraft and mana bullets.
Watching her comrades, one by one, struggling in their battered states against the White Dragon, Artoria felt an unprecedented pressure. Recalling Merlin's words, she forced herself to calm down and closed her eyes to sense the feeling he described.
But the more she tried to force herself into a meditative state, the more her heart refused to be still. With her sight gone, her hearing sharpened, and her mind began to wander.
Every time she tried to recall her oaths and her mindset, the shouts of her fighting comrades and the roars of the demonic dragon interrupted her thoughts. She instinctively worried for their safety. After all, the dragonified Vortigern was too powerful.
He had devoured the remains of the Last Dragon, bore the counterattack and blessings of the Age of Gods, and possessed both the reversed Sword of Promised Victory and light-devouring traits. Vortigern had become a natural disaster for all of Britain. If she couldn't trigger the Holy Sword's power to defeat him as Merlin said, they would all die.
Thinking of her companions, her family, and that young man who sat under the moonlight talking with her about life—thinking they would all turn to ash under the dragon's fire—Artoria's heart could not be restrained. The harder she tried to enter the state, the more she felt unable to take a single step forward.
"ROAR!!"
Accompanied by another roar from the dragon, Artoria heard the panicked voices of her comrades.
"Not good! Agravain was struck by the black sword and has lost consciousness! Get him out of here!"
The girl bit her lip, using all her willpower to sink her consciousness into the Holy Sword.
"Damn it, his sword carries a curse! Gaheris, go find Merlin and have him dispel it. I'll hold the line here!"
"But... Merlin was just killed by Vortigern again!"
...The girl remained silent, her brow furrowed.
"Lancelot! Are you mad?! Your chest was pierced! Retreat or you'll die!"
"Quiet! What is a mere fatal wound compared to victory!"
No, stop, it shouldn't be like this...
The girl's hands tightened unconsciously, her nails digging into her palms.
"Gareth! Save Gareth! She is the youngest, she shouldn't lose her life here!"
The girl's body trembled. She prayed—even begged—in her heart for the Holy Sword to respond, but it was useless.
"Lamorak! You bastard, why are you standing in front of me?! I don't need you to save me!"
...That was Kay's voice. His voice was angry and anxious, as if the person he spoke to was in grave danger.
"I CAN'T DO IT!!!"
Finally, Artoria snapped her eyes open. Under these circumstances, she could not abandon her comrades. She couldn't let them fight just to cover her, nor could she let them face death while she sought some "power of the Holy Sword."
The girl leaped up from the ground, charging toward the White Dragon with the Holy Sword of the Planet in hand.
She didn't need the recognition of the world. She didn't need the "true power" of the sword. Even without those things, Artoria refused to stand by while her companions fought for her.
She was the King. She was hope. She was the destined one carrying the hopes of the British people. But above all, she was Artoria. She could not accept her own inaction. Even if it was ineffective or meaningless, she had to try, to save, to prove to that person that what she said that night was not empty talk!
Thump-thump!
Her dragon heart beat like thunder. Pure magical energy poured into the Holy Sword like a surging river. In the next instant, before the girl even arrived, her sword strike did.
"Breath of the stars, shining torrent of life! Take this, Vortigern!"
"Excalibur!"
Dazzling particles of light gathered. This time, they didn't form a beam, but—under Artoria's deliberate control—condensed into a golden blade magnified countless times, slashing down toward the White Dragon.
Even sensing the attack, Vortigern was unable to dodge due to the harassment of the remaining knights. All he could do was tilt his body, letting the giant blade intended for his head slash into his left shoulder instead.
In the next moment, under the shocked gazes of everyone, the giant sword of light sliced through Vortigern's left arm with the force of a hot knife through butter, even severing the tattered, ferocious dragon wing on his back.
"ROAR!"
The White Dragon's mournful wail of pain echoed through the heavens.