Overcome the Trial

On top of the city walls, soldiers in full armor stood at their posts, gripping their weapons tightly with solemn expressions.

Arkhan, Benedict, and Bedivere stepped onto the city wall, gazing into the distance.

"Right there, Your Grace." A servant pointed in a certain direction.

Benedict and Bedivere followed the servant's direction, their eyes gradually filled with shock.

"That is..."

On the road leading to Lucanmont, a group of over three hundred people was slowly advancing.

Their armor was completely covered in sand and mud, bearing numerous scratches and hardly a piece of intact equipment could be seen. Their hair was disheveled, their faces covered in dirt.

At a glance, one might mistake them for refugees fleeing from afar.

But behind this group of refugees lay the bodies of twenty wyverns—the pinnacle of phantasmal species that still existed in this era, excluding the earlier phantasmal species from the beast tide.

Even experienced, well-equipped soldiers needed a group of at least thirty individuals to have a chance of defeating a wyvern. And that's just the chance to defeat them; these creatures possessed flight abilities and superior intelligence. If they sensed danger, they could simply fly away, leaving pursuers helpless.

To kill a wyvern outright, you needed at least two mages skilled in restraining magecraft, or a well-coordinated army of a hundred or more, with intricate tactics and traps in place beforehand.

Benedict was certain that this group of three hundred had no mages, as no mage would tolerate such a slovenly appearance. Did that mean they had killed all these wyverns by themselves?

Benedict instinctively wanted to deny such an absurd notion, but as he observed them, his resolute conviction wavered.

These people were covered in filth, even more destitute than beggars, but their eyes shone like torches as if each one was a pearl, polished to reveal their own radiant brilliance.

They walked in silence, each step firm and heavy, and despite the large group, their formation remained disciplined, as if they shared a single mind. No words were needed; a single glance conveyed their intentions.

And the sheer force, the unstoppable momentum, as if no matter how powerful the enemy, they would never retreat. Their collective spirit was like a mountain moving forward!

Benedict now understood why the servant who had reported earlier had looked so panicked.

These terrifying people could only be matched by the legendary Roman soldiers, akin to demigods.

Benedict glanced at Arkhan, who had claimed that these three hundred were all his knights.

Artoria and the others who arrived late were equally astounded when they witnessed these three hundred people.

"Your Majesty, aren't those people...?" Artoria looked at Arkhan in disbelief.

"Indeed." Arkhan smiled and nodded, "They are the previous knights who chose to embark on the path of trial to become true knights of mine."

'Path of trial? True knights?'

Benedict's sharp instincts told him that there was a direct connection between these disciplined people and the words mentioned by the new king.

""They really are them...""

Artoria and Kay exchanged a glance and said simultaneously, both reading the same shock in each other's eyes.

Among all present, aside from Arkhan, no one understood the true nature of these knights more than they did. And that's precisely why the shock hit both of them so hard.

They could hardly believe that these impeccably disciplined and powerful knights were formed by the same knights who had been carefree and disorganized just a month ago.

What had they been through in this past month?

"Ah~ah, I really didn't expect them to actually complete this path. It's quite embarrassing, to be honest..."

Echoed a voice with a light chuckle, as pink petals gathered around. An exceptionally handsome white-haired mage emerged from within.

Merlin nodded slightly to Arkhan.

"Congratulations, Your Majesty. Your goal, once again, has been achieved."

"This is only to be expected..." Arkhan replied with indifference. He turned to the duke and asked, "Duke, do you have any wine on hand?"

Benedict promptly understood and nodded without hesitation. "Don't worry, Your Majesty. Whatever amount of wine you desire, I shall provide it today!"

"Thank you." Arkhan smiled and then turned to walk toward the city wall. "Let's go everyone, follow me to welcome them."

Under the city wall of Lucanmont, a force of three hundred knights stood firmly. The heavy gates slowly opened with a deep rumble, and Arkhan led the way out.

At the forefront of the formation was the very familiar figure of Lamorak.

This future knight of the Round Table also appeared disheveled, but the sharpness in his eyes was sharper than ever before.

""We greet Your Majesty!""

Lamorak knelt on one knee, and the rest of the knights behind him followed suit, their collective voices roaring like thunder!

Influenced by this storm-like intensity, the soldiers guarding the wall involuntarily took a few steps back, swallowing hard.

Arkhan remained silent, his gaze sweeping over each person. After a long pause, he took a deep breath.

"In the beginning, I promised each of you that if you could complete this trial, I would recognize you as true knights. Now, the time has come for me to fulfill that promise."

He took out Caliburn and, one by one, gently tapped each knight's shoulder with the blade, paying no mind to the dirt on their armor.

The whole process was quiet, with not a word spoken.

Arkhan's expression was more serious and solemn than ever before. The knights who received his recognition clenched their fists tightly, trembling all over, and some even couldn't help but sob quietly.

Besides themselves, no one knew what they had endured during this time.

Torrential rain, swamps, cliffs, raging rivers, monsters, sacrifices—they had faced the threat of death countless times, contemplated giving up numerous times, and were driven to madness by this seemingly endless torment.

They had argued, fought, and even erupted into battle, but after calming down, they had still chosen to support each other in silence and move forward.

Now, they had finally overcome all these hardships and despair, using their own strength to reach the finish line. With the weight on their shoulders from the king's sword, no one could restrain the surging tide in their hearts.

The knighthood ceremony concluded.

Arkhan turned around and shouted, "Bring out the wine!"

Artoria, Kay, Lancelot, Benedict, and Bedivere personally took down the wine from the carriages and distributed it to the three hundred knights.

Arkhan stepped forward, lifting a cask of wine and turning to face the knights.

"My knights! To your victory and to this splendid triumph! Cheers!"