[51] The Arrogant One

[The Dark Soul Over The Heaven]

[Burning in this Eternal Night]

[Rank: EX]

[Type: Anti-World Noble Phantasm]

[Range: ???]

[Maximum Targets: ???]

[Life and death, an endless cycle. This is the Firelink Greatsword, bringing hope and death to all things in the world. The so-called dark will is the determination to burn oneself completely.]

[The dark will, formed by your perseverance, your beliefs, and your determination, responded to the desperate call at the brink of death, ultimately gaining this response from the sword of an otherworldly realm.]

[Eternal night is shadow, and the ember is light.]

[Eternal night is tranquil death, and the ember is the burning hope.]

[With the Firelink Greatsword in your hand, you are both the last glimmer of light in the twilight of the age of gods and the eternal night that brings tranquility and annihilation to your enemies.]

[If the will of the world seeks to obstruct you.]

[You must let that will of the world drown in the eternal and annihilating death.]

[In death, ignite hope.]

...

Hundreds of longswords fell like rain, clanging as they hit the blood-stained wheat field. Gripping the peculiarly-shaped coiled sword, the silver-haired youth's entire body, previously shrouded in dark and profound shadows like mercury, now danced like flames.

Knights who lost their weapons stared at their empty palms, frozen in place, momentarily bewildered.

"It's... it's dark magic! The Son of the White Dragon has exhausted his strength, everyone, follow me and take his head!"

There were still those unyielding, willing to fight and charge forward, stepping into the flickering shadows.

Then, in the bewildered gazes of the onlookers, they fell.

Like harvested sheaves of wheat, they collapsed, one after another. Knights, who moments ago fought valiantly, now silently and without fanfare, met their demise.

Those who dared to trespass into the Dragon's territory all perished.

With the Firelink Greatsword in hand, the black-clad knight, half-kneeling in the blood-soaked ground, slowly stood up. His gaze, hazy and distant, examined the sword in his hand.

Is this a holy sword?

The black, non-reflective, and strangely coiled design looked more like a cursed sword than a holy one.

Alvin pondered for a moment.

"Well then, let's call you the Dark Sword!"

The coiled sword's body suddenly emitted winding shadows, quivering as if expressing dissatisfaction with a mournful clang.

"Not satisfied, huh? Then it's the Firelink Greatsword... This name sounds quite bitter, but, my friend, this fire isn't spreading."

The quivering of the sword gradually subsided.

Alvin raised his hand, running it through his blood-soaked, messy silver hair, attempting to tidy it up. He lifted the sword and walked towards the Knight of the Round Tables.

Around Alvin, the bodies of the knights, immersed in the shadows, collapsed as if consumed by a fiery blaze, turning into black ashes that melted into the ground.

The golden wheat, stained with blood and flattened by the blades, gently swayed again, radiating a brilliant vitality as if resurrected by the wind.

In death, new life was gained.

The last dazzling twilight before dusk cast its light on the black-clad knight.

He seemed to be on fire.

Observing this breathtaking and miraculous scene, the knights of the Round Table felt as if something had flowed away from the depths of their hearts, leaving behind an empty and fearful sensation.

Their fighting spirit was erased, their vigor smoothed away.

Facing the black-clad knight approaching with his sword raised, the kneeling Knights of the Round Tables displayed complex and rigid expressions.

Although he was covered in blood, with shattered armor and unsteady steps that made him look like he might collapse with a gust of wind, they couldn't summon the courage to resist him.

Gawain on the ground fumbled, grabbing the hilt of the Galatine, attempting to stand shakily.

However, the shadow of the black-clad knight had already halted in front of him.

The Knight of the Sun raised his gaze, and his last sunlight was completely obscured.

"I like the words people say when they're about to die."

The silver-haired youth's words remained as ethereal as ever, echoing as if in another world.

Because those words made him feel alive.

"We've lost. Kill us or spare us, you're probably not the type to accept our oath of allegiance."

Gawain lowered his eyelids.

He had never imagined that he would face death with such calmness.

"However... Gareth hasn't come of age yet. I beg you to spare him."

The Knight of the Sun, deeply favored by sunlight, bowed his head, almost burying it in the blood pool.

"Sir Gawain..." Gareth trembled with some fear.

"Still concerned about that underage protection law of yours?"

Alvin chuckled.

His laughter was bright and cheerful, but the blood-stained face made it appear somewhat grotesque.

"So, I just turned sixteen today, and all the knights on this island are coming to kill me. What a surprise birthday gift..."

The Knights of the Round Table raised their heads, looking at the silver-haired youth.

Only by looking closely could they vaguely discern the traces of youthfulness in the corners of his eyebrows and eyes.

At fifteen... he was already an enemy of the world.

The dying White Dragon's son had defeated the entire Britannia.

"Alvin, your strength is undeniable, and we admire it..." Gawain said softly, "But even so... it's hard for you to win because fate is not on your side."

"Fate is not on my side. Then I will grab Fate by its collar and beat it relentlessly until it dares not stand against me."

As his words faded away, silence enveloped the night.

Gawain smiled.

He laughed sadly, coughing up a bitter smile.

"If it's you, perhaps you can really do it. I'm sorry, Alvin."

"As a farewell, it's not very qualified. I hate repentance. Die peacefully with a calm heart."

The Knights of the Round Table closed their eyes.

Alvin slowly raised the sword.

But he did not swing it.

Because, a figure walked out from the wheat field.

As if gently lifting the thin veil of the world, she emerged from the side filled with the fragrance of birds and flowers.

She held the Sword of Selection, stained with blood, and the dripping dark purple blood reflected a brilliant hue under the setting sun.

Her expression was sad and frozen, her gentle golden hair swaying in the wind like the wheat field.

Alvin finally waited for her.

And she finally saw, her idol covered in blood, like a demon, enveloped in broken black armor.

"Sir Alvin..."

"Good evening..." Alvin said, "Artoria."

There was no smile on the blood-stained face.

Because Alvin had realized.

At this moment, a smile was only grim.

The tenderness that once made Artoria feel as if bathed in a spring breeze.

Now, only indifference remained.

From the armor, silver hair, and face, dense red blood like drops began to fall.

It also made the golden-haired girl seem like her heart was being twisted.

"Can you... spare them?"

Artoria said with bitterness...

"Even if I... beg you."

"Seeing that the situation is lost, Merlin released you, huh?"

Alvin lowered his eyelids.

"Do you know that he just wanted you to beg me."

"I know... but-"

"They want to kill me."

Alvin lightly interrupted her,

"If it weren't for your call, Artoria, I would be a dead man by now."

Artoria closed her eyes.

Perhaps it was her inherently kind nature that led her to be embraced by the throne.

Alvin suddenly swung the coiled sword.

Hiss~

A wave of dark sword light rippled, and all the Knight of the Round Tables immediately emitted painful groans.

Six right arms were completely severed, and the concepts of death attached to those wounds almost declared the end of their knight careers.

"You saved my life, so I only took their right hands... there won't be a next time."

He indifferently lowered his iron-gray eyes and glanced at the blood-stained sword in her hand.

Undoubtedly, it was... Merlin's blood.

"...Is there anything else?"

Silence.

Time stagnated in the silence.

"Don't proceed..." she said in a daze, "Sir..."

"What..."

"You will die, Alvin Pendragon."

Artoria gazed sadly at the black-clad knight covered in blood.

"The decline of the Age of Gods is the will of the world, just like Arthur's reign. If this crucial historical point is tampered with, a hundred years later, this world will likely trigger corrective measures and be abandoned in destruction."

"I know."

Alvin's calm words made Artoria freeze in place.

"You know... and yet, you..."

"So... must I accept it because destiny decrees it?"

"Why?"

Alvin calmly questioned her.

"Does the will of the world demand my death, and should I willingly offer my neck for the executioner's blade?"

The silver-haired youth raised his gaze, looking at the fading twilight.

Night ascended, the sun dimmed. Eternal night was approaching, and the remaining flames of vigilance were not yet kindled.

"I just want to live happily and peacefully with the ones I cherish. I also hope that the kind-hearted people on this island can have a peaceful and happy life. That's my simple wish. Yet, it is scorned by the world. So, I choose to... go to hell."

His voice trembled slightly.

The coiled sword in his hand also rippled with layers of shadowy waves.

"If the will of the world wants to disturb my peaceful life, I will make the will of the world fall as a loser consumed by dust! I will tear off its head! Pierce its spine! Nail it to the cross! Through wind and rain, until fate is shattered, and the shackles are broken free! Because... I am inherently a villain filled with evil, aren't I?"

He continued to speak with sharp, heart-piercing words.

He still stood there, both in figure and will, admirable.

Faced with his piercing questions, just like in the past, Artoria found it difficult to answer in this dilemma.

"Moreover, Artoria... with the decline of the Age of Gods, the people you cherish will eventually die, and the desolation of this island will swallow everyone in Britannia. When you drew the sword, you had already foreseen such an ending, right?"

Alvin spoke softly.

She's really, really stubborn...

So stubborn that it's infuriating.

Despite using all means to try to hold onto her, she still walked towards that miserable loneliness.

Annoyance.

Alvin felt annoyance towards this person's stubbornness.

She willingly sacrificed herself for the survival of humanity.

This was the girl named Artoria, carrying the hopes of the people, who ultimately ascended to the lonely throne of death.

"You want to protect the future of this world, but if you can't protect the present, what's the point?"

Such irrefutable words received a response...

"You're wrong, Sir Alvin..."

Artoria, with determination, gripped the Sword of Selection.

"I don't want to protect the world."

The resolute words of the girl made Alvin momentarily stunned.

She raised her gaze.

Her deep green eyes, like lakes, were as clear and pure as ever.

"I only want to save you, Alvin."

As her words fell silent.

As if even the wind ceased.

Alvin stared at her, dumbfounded.

Staring at her in silence and stupor.

He never thought he would hear such an unexpected and shocking answer from Artoria's mouth.

The Knights of the Round Table all looked up at the back of the king, unable to believe their eyes.

Those figures, that radiance, that admired resolution.

Were they all... just a facade?

In front of this person.

She finally took off the mask she had never taken off in front of anyone.

The real Artoria.

"Do you still remember the teachings you once gave me?"

Staring at Alvin's bewildered face.

She slowly recounted.

"You told me that living is about finding peace of mind, right? You told me that before becoming a king, I must first become a human, right? No one wanted me to be a human, everyone wanted me to be a king. Except for you, Alvin. You told me to... become a human first. So, I worked hard to learn how to be a human. So, I found my peace of mind. It's you... It's you, Alvin."

The girl named Artoria tightly held the Sword of Selection in her hands.

The deep green lake-like eyes seemed to be surging with layers of sorrowful ripples.

"I don't want to continue the world... I don't want to protect Britannia. I don't care about the joys and sorrows of those people! I don't care whether they laugh or cry! The continuation of the race has nothing to do with me! I want to save you, Alvin... Alvin Pendragon, regardless of the world, I just want to save you alone. As long as I die, obeying the will of the world, and die in such loneliness... Even if the Age of Gods declines, I know you, Alvin, will definitely live on! The world will no longer be against you! You won't suffer so much hostility! You don't have to break free from shackles, topple fate! You can live peacefully, obtain the calm life you desire! Just let go of my hand, Alvin... Let it go, and let me die alone..."

Finally releasing the pent-up emotions, she trembled.

Not only did her body tremble, but her voice also trembled.

Like the strings she plucked.

The sad melody played by the weeping Tristan with his remaining left hand resounded.

"Ah... the painful tones, the melancholic melody, what a desperate yet beautiful emotion. In this world, there is no sadder scene than what I see before me."

Removing all masks, the revealed sentiments.

The son of the White Dragon of Britain, the pure and white knight princess.

She stood so close to him.

Yet, it seemed as if she were so far away from him.

Facing the silver-haired youth in front of her, the peace of mind she desired.

She earnestly spoke, almost pleading.

"Sir... Alvin Pendragon. You will die. Don't go any further..."

For the first time.

Alvin felt his own foolishness.

He was truly... a foolish person.

When did it start becoming like this, even though he was maintaining a proper distance between friends?

Unaware.

His nerves were stagnant and dull.

Ah...

...Perhaps, he was inherently despicable.

Yes.

He originally wanted to make her sink like this, wanted to make her fall so deep.

Originally, he wanted to defeat her, tarnish her, insult her, and harm her...

Isn't this the thought he had from the beginning?

Isn't this what he wanted to see in the first place?

Artoria, she clearly fell into it.

Only to save one person, she chose to become the king.

Perhaps.

This is the unforgivable sin committed by the villain named Alvin Pendragon, filled with evil...

"I don't want to deceive you, and I won't deceive you, Artoria..." Alvin said softly. "So, I refuse. I refuse to let go of your hand, refuse to let you die. This is something I cannot compromise on no matter what."

Yes.

This is also the most tragic confrontation in the world.

He wants to save her, so he must overthrow the fate of Britannia.

She wants to save him, so she must protect the future of Britannia.

They stand at the two ends of the balance, in the light and darkness where they reach out but cannot touch each other, observing each other, never giving up.

"Cough... Cough cough!"

"Even if you want the return of the Age of Gods, it's not that easy, Alvin Pendragon..."

Agravain, who had been silent, covered in wounds, coughed up blood and spoke with a complicated expression.

"To save our king, unless you can find a way to smoothly pass through the desolate years of the decline of the Age of Gods. Otherwise, Britannia will still fall to the invasion of external enemies, and the king will still die in endless battles, in such lonely death..."

"...You... do you already have a plan to solve this?"

"No, I'm still searching..." Alvin shook his head gently. His tone was calm and honest. "I haven't succeeded yet, and I can't even assert that I will definitely succeed."

"So, for that slim chance, are you willing to face the hostility of the world?"

Supported by his remaining left hand, Gawain struggled to stand up, coughing blood.

"You will die, Alvin Pendragon. Today's ambush is just the beginning... Even if our Round Table doesn't oppose you, as long as you want the continuation of the Age of Gods, the world will increasingly target you. There will be heroes much stronger than us emerging, all wanting to kill you."

"Then come and face your death. If my sword wavers even the slightest, I don't deserve to topple fate."

Alvin's tone remained unwavering.

"There is no immediate change capable of overturning the world, but if we don't try, it will never change."

"Do you know how difficult your path is, Alvin? Even if you succeed in bringing back the Age of Gods, you will face an even heavier problem..."

Percival, the oldest and most devout knight at the Round Table, spoke hoarsely.

"The gods are real... Since the Christian era, the connection between humans and gods has been severed. The surviving gods are mostly imprisoned within the Inner Sea of the Planet, unable to break free. But if you allow the return of the Age of Gods, they will gradually come back."

"The gods seek human belief, and for them, humans are extremely fragile creatures... They may view humans as tools or toys created at their whim."

"Do you have compassion and care for your tools? At that time, the joy or anger of the gods could cause turmoil in the human race. They want to destroy humanity, turning it upside down with just a whim!"

"The Age of Gods has gone and will not return. The next era belongs to humanity..."

"This is the tragedy of us, but it is also a fact we must face..."

Yes, the return of the gods, it's even more troublesome than the world's animosity.

Those figures standing high in the clouds, who once ruled over humanity for thousands of years. If they return, how can they easily let go? With the experience of a failed attempt, they will undoubtedly carry out even more brutal rule.

Over the heads of humans, a dark cloud named 'god' looms.

Alvin fell into silence.

Just when everyone thought he finally found it challenging, the pitch-black knight spoke gently.

"You're wrong, Percival. As long as there is desire, ambition. Gods are just stronger life forms. As long as it's alive, it can be killed."

Alvin was not sure about the setting of gods in the moonlit world, but even if they were the gods, so what? The gods also bleeding.

"If to the gods, humans are just created tools."

"Execution is a torture invented by humans, War is a struggle unleashed among humans, and Domination is a social relationship shaped by humans."

"So, just as people fear execution, fear war, fear domination..."

"The gods should also... fear me."

Stunned.

Everyone stared blankly at the knight before them, shrouded in pitch-black darkness.

He was like a black hole, absorbing everyone's reason.

Such... such an arrogant person.

Ultimate silence.

A perpetual, isolating silence.

No one could utter even a single word.

Except for the unexpectedly soft, always refreshing but nauseating voice that suddenly sounded.

"You might be the most arrogant person in this world, Alvin."

Merlin's illusionary figure appeared on the battlefield. At this moment of resolution, he finally chose to reveal himself.

"Interesting... You're truly interesting..."

The development of events was giving incubus the ultimate amusement.

There was no sign of distress from the failed ambush.

His expression remained as joyful as ever.

Tasting determination, tasting anger, and also tasting the fear of people.

In this battle, the complex emotions of those knights were like a delicious delicacy, allowing incubus to have a satisfying feast.

That's how incubus are.

The more intense the emotions, the more delightful the mood.

"Even in such dire straits, you can still break through, Alvin. You've given me too many surprises!"

"...Such love! Such compassion! Such world-saving sentiments..."

"Do you know, Alvin, you are gradually descending into the abyss called BEAST, constantly falling..."

"Thank you for your blessing, Merlin. As expected, another illusion..."

"Do you really think that being an illusion will solve everything? You call me arrogant, Merlin, you, this arrogant creature, are as arrogant as ever..."

"In other words..."

"...You, this trash, still dare to appear in front of me!"

The pitch-black knight grasped the hilt of his sword.

"Perish, be bestowed with the eternal night called death..."

The coiled sword in Alvin's hand suddenly spun dizzyingly and transformed into an entirely black spear in an instant.

A profound, shadow-like black flame flickered at the tip of the spear.

At the moment the illusion merlin saw that coiled, his expression froze on his face as if in a trance. His whole body became numb, unable to move a single finger.

"This... this is..."

Struggling to speak with great difficulty.

When the nerves finally reacted.

Splurt~

That strange and inexplicable coiled spear had already been thrown forcefully by Alvin, piercing through his eye socket.

The illusion merlin... did not shatter, nor did it disperse into petals.

Instead, from the wound sprayed... a dark purple blood.

Immortal? Incubus?

The First Flame is adept at burning immortal souls.

Through the connection of the illusion, it gave the main body death.

This was the Firelink Greatsword, an attack that burned the essence of the soul.

"Gwaaaah!!"

The magus's illusion covered his eyes and let out an extremely miserable scream.

The main body of incubus, hiding in the land of fairies, also screamed in disbelief, crying dark purple blood from his originally splendid eye sockets.

Alvin gave him the darkness called Eternal Night.

No longer having that Clairvoyance.

Even normal vision was almost completely taken away.

He... was completely blinded.

"Unfortunately, the connection between the illusion and the main body is too weak with such a medium as illusion."

If Merlin's real body appeared here, Alvin would have pierced his heart with one strike.

Trying to touch that scorching, but unable to escape no matter what.

The illusion screamed and collapsed to the ground, convulsing and twitching like a shrimp boiled in hot water.

"Now, do you personally feel my arrogance, Merlin..."

"Incubus, what about it..."

"Even if it's a god, I'll show you how I can kill it."