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Camelot.

The god's fury was like that of thunder and lightning, scattering around and shattering the walls of the white palace. Its body was encased in white dragon scales, and its eyes had lost their human color, with vertical dragon pupils that showed its visible anger.

The god was caught off guard, unexpectedly dragged down from its divine throne!

Initially, with the collapse of the Roman Empire, all power was inherited by Uther. However, Uther accepted the established fact that the era of the gods had ended, which angered Vortigern.

At that time, Uther told him, "The destruction of the Age of the Gods is already a predetermined fact, and cannot be reversed by human power."

Uther's decision to do nothing and calmly await the final destruction made Vortigern very angry.

He said to Uther, "If heaven intends to destroy us, then we must take up our swords and fight back!"

Uther shook his head and stated, "The world's predetermined ending cannot be altered by human power. The power of the island only serves to preserve its peace."

"If humans are unable to accomplish it, then let the 'gods' handle it!" With those words, Vortigern formally severed ties with Uther.

He was acutely aware of humanity's fragility and limitations, convinced that only by transcending his own humanity and becoming a "god" could he hope to alter their predetermined fate.

Leveraging Merlin's prophecy, he enticed the Saxons to invade the island, formed an alliance with the Picts, and ultimately cast himself as the prophesized dragon that would conquer Britain.

By defeating Uther and gradually consolidating his hold on the island's power, he set himself on a path towards divinity.

He tainted the Sword in the Stone with the essence of the White Dragon, rendering it seemingly inauthentic. He then disseminated this false information, sowing discord among the kings and breaching Hadrian's Wall, which had thwarted him for a decade. With an unwavering determination, he pressed forward towards Camelot, employing fear-inducing psychological tactics to coerce the meek nobles into submission and compel them to open the gates for him. In this manner, he swiftly overran the stronghold of Barton Hill and marched straight towards Camelot.

He went so far as to incite a rebellion among the nobles within Camelot. Initially, they had believed that they could outlast the enemy by depleting their resources and triumph without engaging in combat, a strategy that they anticipated would take no less than three years. However, to their surprise, they succeeded in just over two years, effectively executing their plan.

Simultaneously, having conquered nearly 70% of the land, he succeeded in freeing the Holy Lance and manifesting the Tower of Light.

His strategy entailed deploying the Tower of Light's formidable firepower to quash the resistance of the remaining kings, after which he would dispatch his army to seize the remaining territories in ruins, thereby achieving total unification and fully materializing the Tower of Light. Ultimately, by invoking the power of nature, he would extract the essence of the Tower of Light, thereby ushering in the Age of the Gods once more.

However--

His plan failed!

He was caught off guard!

Those cursed bloodsuckers launched a surprise attack under cover of darkness, seizing control of the central region. Although it did not pose a significant threat to him, what truly mattered was that the rebels, the humans, the lowly insects...had actually managed to seize Londonium!

The strategic importance of Londonium was immense, as it served as a vital link connecting the British coast with the Gaul coast, the north to Scotland, and the south to Hadrian's Wall.

With the rebels seizing control of Londonium, a line had been established stretching from Cornwall to Londonium, resulting in the complete occupation of the southern region by the rebels.

Moreover, the Dead Apostles launched an assault from their kingdom, seizing control of the central region and severing Vortigern's communication with the heartland.

As a result, Vortigern, who had made Camelot his stronghold, found himself caught between two opposing forces. With no other option, he was forced to withdraw to the northern region.

Despite being transformed into nature and endowed with the power of a god, Vortigern had forfeited the resilience and emotions that were intrinsic to humanity. And now, he was being dethroned by two groups of mere insects!

The god was extremely angry!

...

The soldiers that dotted the land were now nothing more than scattered remnants, leaving in their wake a desolate plain strewn with the remains of people, ruined walls and tiles, and shattered debris. The once-mighty fortress city of Londonium now lay in ruins.

The blaring sound of the commanding horns had ceased, and the beasts that had once followed their orders now ran amok without direction, resembling a flock of headless chickens.

Lamorak and Lancelot had already disembarked.

The soldiers, bearing wounds and injuries, were fiercely escorting all the Saxons within the city. They gnashed their teeth, as if on the verge of unleashing a brutal onslaught that would spare neither men, women, nor children.

Yet, they were under orders from the king to merely detain them, and so they abided by the command.

Shirou stood atop the city wall, gazing upon the field of death that lay before him.

Beneath the leaden skies, the corpses of beasts had already begun to dissolve into nothingness, like melting snowflakes, while those of humans remained where they had fallen.

Blood stained everything, with broken limbs, shattered swords, and shattered armor littering the ground alongside internal organs.

Crushed skulls and bloodshot eyes, still connected to the frayed nerves, bore the tragic mark of death.

In the nearby sea, floating corpses and the debris of warships drifted aimlessly.

Those who had once been familiar with one another, who had laughed and joked together... now their voices could no longer be heard, and their faces could no longer be seen.

The sole sound that could be heard was the mournful weeping of the surviving soldiers, as they lamented the loss of their fallen comrades.

The knights too were enveloped in profound sorrow, with Lamorak, who held the soldiers closest to his heart, having already wiped away his tears in secret.

The king remained silent, his emotions too overwhelming for words. He averted his gaze, unable to witness the scene. Despite his regal stature, the king was still human, with a heart that could feel pain.

Leaving Artoria, Gawain, and the others behind in Londonium to tend to the wounded, account for the fallen, and secure the remaining soldiers, the king hurried back to Cornwall overnight. He feared that the magi, who had been entrusted with the "Evil Flower," might succumb to its malevolent influence if left unattended.

As Shirou mounted his trusty Dun Stallion, Artoria approached him with a grave question: "My king, how should we handle these Saxons?"

"Detain them all," Shirou replied without hesitation. "A select few may join our army, but the majority shall be enslaved and closely monitored. While they may be spared their lives, they must be reminded of their place. Any who dare to rebel against us shall face swift and severe punishment."

"Understood, my king," Artoria acknowledged with a solemn nod.

The king spurred Dun Stallion into a gallop, racing back to Cornwall under the twinkling night sky.

Upon his arrival, he immediately sought out Merlin and the others, retrieving the "Evil Flower" from their care.

Merlin let out a deep sigh of relief and said to his king, "If you hadn't returned, I don't know what would have become of us."

"I don't have the luxury to listen to complaints," Shirou replied curtly. "Take a moment to catch your breath, then make your way to the palace to handle affairs."

Turning to the other magi, he barked out his next order. "The rest of you, stay put and rest. We're not out of the woods yet. The next step is a tug of war!"

The exhausted magi, who had been tormented by the "Evil," responded with a resounding "Yes!"

Shirou paused and turned to Morgan. "For the time being, stop with the games."

Morgan: "..."

Although she looked exhausted, this sentence made Morgan grit her teeth. What does he mean by "games"?

Shirou made his way back to the palace and took charge of the work that Guinevere and the others had been handling. Though Guinevere appeared weary, she mustered the courage to speak up.

"My king," she said hesitantly, "next time you call for me, could you refrain from pulling my hair?"

"Hmm?"

"Uh, never mind," she stammered, immediately regretting her request.

Guinevere's heart pounded as she wondered if she had made a grave mistake by speaking up. Would the cruel and ruthless king chop off her head and display it as a warning to others?

Contrary to her despair, he didn't even look up from his papers as he said, "Take a day off and get out of the palace."

Despite the king's sarcastic and harsh tone, she felt a surge of relief. At least she still had her head intact.

The king suddenly said, "Wait."

Guinevere's body stiffened as she felt anxious. She couldn't help but wonder if the king had changed his mind and was now considering chopping off her head. Her heart felt heavy with sadness.

However, to her surprise, the king praised her, saying, "Well done."

Guinevere was left stunned for a moment, staring at the king in disbelief. She noticed that he didn't even lift his head, still holding the papers, as if the praise had never been uttered.

But...could it be possible that she had imagined the whole thing?

Feeling bewildered, she stumbled out of the palace in a daze.

--- "Well done"

Guinevere was in disbelief. Did the king, who was known for being brutal, harsh, and treating everyone as tools, just praise her?

It didn't make sense. And yet, she couldn't deny the slight feeling of excitement that stirred within her.

Why was she feeling this way? It shouldn't be like this...

As Scathach walked towards her, she noticed Guinevere's happiness and asked, "What's making you so happy, Guinevere?"

She recounted the events that had just occurred, sharing how she had rebelled against the sarcastic and harsh king and instead of being punished, had been praised. It all felt so strange to her.

Scathach couldn't help but laugh at the situation.

"Why are you laughing?" Guinevere asked, puzzled by her reaction.

She laughed and said, "Honestly? I don't think you're that bad. Yeah, you're a fairy, but you've always been kind of timid. No wonder that nasty king's been pushing you around. But seeing you stand up for yourself must have impressed him a bit. Why would he want to cut off your head?"

She continued, "Moreover, you aren't actually happy. The king suppressed you for so long that when he started showing some kindness, it threw you off balance. There's a disconnection between your perceptions and the current reality. It seems you have become so accustomed to being bullied that when it stops, you feel out of place."

"Is... is that true?" Guinevere was startled, then timidly asked, "Excuse me, Lady Scathach, did you just refer to me as a fairy? Did you perhaps make a mistake? I'm just a human..."

Scathach softly touched a finger to Guinevere's lips, her eyes smiling warmly. "Don't seek answers. Some truths are best found on one's own rather than provided by someone else. But, against my better judgment, I'll give you a hint: Only you can fill in the pages of your life's story..." She trailed off, noticing the strange expression on Guinevere's face. "What's with that look?"

Guinevere gazed at her in disbelief, her mind struggling to process the situation. Finally, unable to contain her curiosity, she spoke up. "Are you truly Lady Scathach?"

Scathach looked at Guinevere with a curious expression, her eyebrows slightly raised. "Yes, it's me. Is there a problem?"

Guinevere felt a stark contrast between the Scathach before her and the one from the past, but she held her tongue. She simply shook her head and said, "It's nothing."

Scathach shifted her gaze to the palace, an air of intensity surrounding her as she began to walk away. "Well, if that's the case, I'll keep my thoughts to myself as well," she remarked, making her way to find Arthur.

A realization dawned on Guinevere as she whispered to herself, "Scathach isn't as oblivious as she seems."

She then gazed at her back with a sympathetic expression. "Lady Scathach, you say that I have been oppressed and exploited so much that I struggle to accept the king's kindness. Yet, it seems we're in the same boat. You noticed my abnormality but failed to recognize your own abnormality."

Guinevere let out a deep sigh, feeling a mix of emotions swirling inside her. "That king... he really knows how to manipulate people's hearts," she muttered to herself before turning and leaving the palace.

...

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