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"Can you lend me this sword and scabbard for a while?" the king asked.

"Of course, my king," she replied, placing the Sword of Promised Victory into its scabbard before presenting it to him.

She felt a deep sense of pride and honor in being able to offer this weapon to her king. To her, dedicating everything to him and securing victory was the greatest possible reward.

Taking the sword and scabbard from Artoria, the king unsheathed the Holy Sword and turned his gaze toward the sky, where a white dragon was flying. His eyes then fell upon the dragon's horn, the Rhongomyniad, before returning to the Holy Sword in his hand.

"If you are truly a Holy Sword, then show me your power and cut down that lance!" he commanded with a determined voice.

In response to the king's will, the Holy Sword began to undergo a transformation, taking on a new form that was unique to its wielder.

The Holy Sword had no fixed shape, as it was a pure crystallization of a planet infused with the concept of the "sword." It would reflect the inner nature of the one who wielded it.

What was in the king's heart?

The Sword of Promised Victory shifted and transformed, taking on the appearance of a resplendent golden sword that glinted in the sunlight.

Unlike Artoria's Excalibur, and unlike the Holy Sword of male King Arthur in his memories, this sword was different. It was a pure, unadulterated golden blade that shone brilliantly, a reflection of the king's steadfast heart and unwavering resolve.

In terms of its performance as a weapon, the golden sword may not have undergone significant changes. However, its golden body was a powerful manifestation of the king's spirit.

As the king flew towards the white dragon, ominous black wings unfurled behind him. His goal was clear - to cut off the dragon's horn and lance, Rhongomyniad!

But the white dragon was not about to go down without a fight. With a deafening roar, it launched a fierce attack at the king.

The sky rumbled with a fierce storm, and a powerful beam of starlight erupted from its horn, unleashing the very power of the gods.

With quick reflexes, the king sidestepped to dodge the beam.

Without warning, the white dragon opened its jaws and unleashed a powerful burst of dragon breath, infused with a potent magical aura.

Caught off guard, the king hastily placed the scabbard in front of him, enveloping himself in a protective shield of "Evil."

Though the dragon's breath was unable to penetrate the scabbard's defenses, the "Evil" surrounding the king was completely obliterated by the blast.

The dragon's breath left the king's body scorched and billowing with white smoke. Though "Evil" was able to repair the damage, the king remained in immense pain. Nevertheless, he maintained a stoic expression on his face.

With his wings unfurled behind him, the king launched himself forward, hurtling towards the white dragon.

Clad in the lion's armor, Artoria fixed her gaze and retrieved Caliburn once more, charging fearlessly into the horde of beasts.

The attacks from the white dragon - the searing dragon breath, the True Ether Cannon, and the star-shot attack from Rhongomyniad - were all incredibly powerful.

Knowing he could not face them head-on, the king deftly dodged and blocked with the scabbard when necessary. Despite his best efforts, he suffered extensive burns, which he quickly healed with the power of "Evil."

While "Evil" was able to repair his injuries, it could do little to alleviate the king's pain. Nonetheless, he endured these hardships with an unshakable will.

Despite being burned by the white dragon a total of seventeen times, the king refused to give up. Finally, he managed to get close enough to grab onto the beast's back.

"Roarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!"

With a deafening roar, the white dragon took to the skies, flying at breakneck speed in an attempt to shake off the king.

Clad in the black armor, the king summoned black hands beneath his feet, gripping onto the dragon's scales and pressing forward against the fierce winds.

The white dragon twisted and turned, spiraling, reversing, and darting frantically in all directions, but still the king clung on with an iron grip.

Even when the beast crashed headlong into the mountain, the king persisted, shielding himself with "Evil" as he spat out blood and wiped away the stains from his mouth. With each step, he drew closer to the dragon's horn, undeterred by the pain and oppression.

The white dragon unleashed a deafening roar, its fury echoing in the king's ears.

"You humans are so foolish!" the dragon bellowed. "What awaits you but destruction? Why resist? Why deny? Why bother to move forward? This world is twisted. Those who refuse to submit to the gods will bring about the fall of Britain, and you will all be doomed to extinction!"

"You're the foolish one, dragon," the king replied. "Living in fear of some inevitable downfall only holds you back. I'm fully aware of the harsh reality that everything has an end. But I'll still stand and fight."

He went on, "If this world is as twisted as you say, it's because of people like you—smug creatures who think they're doing the right thing, without considering the consequences from their actions!"

"And what do you, the King of Men, understand?" the dragon shot back. "If annihilation is an inevitable outcome, should we simply resign ourselves to it without a fight? Why must Britain be destroyed? By whose authority? If we do not fight, how can we hope to survive? Humans are meant to strive for greatness, but for what purpose? If we do not fight, how can we continue to exist?"

"Your own words reveal your weakness, dragon. Your cowardice is plain to see!" the king declared. "Your own fears are what blind you to reality and bring disaster upon you! Being human isn't about accepting some pre-ordained fate. It's about carving out our own future through courage and perseverance!"

Despite being covered in blood, the king crawled his way up to the dragon's head with a determined expression on his face.

Infuriated, the white dragon lashed out with Rhongomyniad, unleashing a direct attack at the king from point-blank range.

The king withstood the dragon's attack with his sword sheath and bolstered by both "Evil" and "Projection," he unleashed a barrage of combined beam cannons from the projected Holy Sword. Despite his valiant effort, the king was ultimately struck by Rhongomyniad, flung several dozen meters away with his skin charred beyond recognition. Yet, his unwavering gaze remained unchanged.

Although the King's physical wounds had been healed, the pain still lingered within him. Nevertheless, he gritted his teeth and pushed through the discomfort, dragging his injured body forward as he took another step toward Rhongomyniad.

Meanwhile, the White Dragon continued to dance wildly, thrashing about in an attempt to shake the King off of its back. Despite its efforts, however, the King remained steadfast, clinging to the dragon's scales with all his might.

The White Dragon stretched out its two powerful claws, reaching out to grab the King. But he was quick to react, manifesting six black hands to entangle with the dragon's claws. With sheer determination and strength, he pulled himself up to the shining Horn and raised the Holy Sword high into the air.

"In the beginning, humanity's great endeavor opened up the heavens and the earth. And now, the proof of a true king lies in this sword!"

The Holy Sword began to emit a dazzling light, illuminating the surrounding area with its radiant glow. With a dangerous glint in his eyes, the king swung the sword down.

"Crack!"

With a powerful strike, he shattered the base of the dragon horn.

"Roarrrrr!"

The White Dragon let out a deafening roar, its voice filled with agony and fury.

As the dragon horn shattered, it transformed into the Holy Lance Rhongomyniad, which the king now held firmly in his hand.

But as he gripped the lance tightly, he felt a searing heat begin to emanate from its scorching body. The Holy Lance seemed to reject him, causing his hand to feel as though it were melting under the intense heat.

Undeterred, the king sneered and called forth the power of "Evil," covering his hand with its black mud. With a resolute will, he endured the scorching heat, refusing to let go of the lance.

Nothing could stand in the way of the king, for he was invincible.

As he flew away from the White Dragon and landed on the ground, he held both the Holy Sword and the Holy Lance in his hands. He looked like a person who had bathed in a sea of blood, his garments stained with the remnants of his battle. With a fierce glint in his eyes, he declared triumphantly, "The time of victory has come!"

The White Dragon smashed into the mountain range, its enraged roar reverberating through the air. Its wings retracted as its once-pure-white body began to morph into dark, flowing lava.

Locking eyes with the King, the dragon expanded, stretching out to an immense fifty meters, its body pulsating with rage.

Now, the once-white dragon had morphed into a colossal, pitch-black beast, its mouth oozing molten lava—ready to incinerate anything in its path.

...

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