May the Lord Have Mercy

Late at night in Avalon, sickly white light illuminated the Privy Council. Lancelot took a deep breath and pushed open the metal box before him. Inside it, the 'creature' ate the light and tore apart the darkness. Cold and sharp light shot out from it. It appeared in the air for a moment and even breathing became painful.

The sharp light filled the air, turning the air into needles that pierced at the lung. One could see vaguely that the blade was carved with a fine and ancient music score. However, it was covered by dried blood and had become blurry and faint. It was so serene when it was not drinking blood. It was terrifyingly serene.

Lancelot picked it up and caressed the broken body of the spear and the seemingly dull tip. He seemed to hear a dragon's heavy breathing and sweat poured from his back.