Abnormality

Before Arkhan stood a magnificent and grand city, unmistakably Camelot, the white city from his memories.

However, compared to the original Camelot, the city before him not only had a broader expanse but also brimmed with more vitality, like the rising sun, full of vigor.

'What is it?'

Arkhan furrowed his brows slightly. For some reason, he felt a strange sense of dissonance deep in his heart, as if he had forgotten something.

'What is this feeling...'

As an experienced warrior, he wouldn't overlook this sudden abnormality. Just as he was about to use the power of Fenghuang Down to investigate what was wrong, a familiar voice suddenly came from behind him.

"Arkhan?"

He paused for a moment, then turned around to see a beautiful woman with long black hair and sparkling black eyes standing before him. She wore a simple black dress that couldn't hide her graceful figure, exuding a captivating charm of mature femininity.

"Nid..."

"What's wrong with you? Why are you standing there like a fool?" Nidhogg stepped forward, her slightly cool hand touching his face, her eyes showing a hint of worry. "Are you feeling unwell?"

"No... I..." Arkhan opened his mouth but didn't know how to explain his recent strangeness.

"Although I don't know what happened, judging from your appearance, it shouldn't be anything serious." Nidhogg smiled, taking his hand. "C'mon, everyone is waiting for you."

"Waiting for me?" Arkhan blinked slightly. "Why?"

"Did you forget?" Nidhogg tilted her head in confusion. "Today is the monthly family gathering. Everyone is already here, just waiting for you."

"Family gathering..." Arkhan murmured after a moment of contemplation. "Right, today is the day of the family gathering..."

He remembered now.

After traveling through countless worlds and resolving numerous world crises, he finally raised the 'Savior' to EX and wielded the true Holy Grail, altering the fate of Britain.

After discussion, Artoria and the others decided not to publicize this matter. Instead, they simply designated the day of his return as the day of the family gathering that would be held monthly, symbolizing their eternal unity in the future, never to part again.

"That's right, we've been ready for a while now. I came to get you because you were taking so long to arrive..." Nidhogg smiled. "Shall we go now?"

Arkhan glanced back at the bustling and magnificent city behind him, then nodded slightly after a moment of silence.

"Yeah."

===

"Are you kidding me...?"

Mordred stared at the towering white stone walls before her and the flag fluttering on the city wall, unable to help but open her mouth wide.

"Camelot? This is Camelot? But... why am I here?"

She tapped her helmet and furrowed her brows tightly, feeling like she had forgotten something.

"Sir Mordred, why are you still standing there foolishly?" 

A cold voice suddenly interrupted Mordred's train of thought. She instinctively looked up in the direction of the voice, only to see a figure she knew all too well.

It was a tall man clad in black armor, with a white and dark blue cloak draped over his shoulders. His short black hair was neatly combed back, and his stern face, akin to a carved marble sculpture, gave off an aura of gloominess, making it evident that he wasn't someone easy to get along with.

"Agravain..." Mordred's face displayed undisguised disdain.

Mordred had never been fond of Agravain, despite their blood relation. Part of it stemmed from Agravain himself; he always wore a stern expression and rarely smiled, as if everyone owed him money.

Moreover, due to his ruthless nature and questionable methods, Agravain had garnered a bad reputation, making it difficult for anyone to get along with him in the Round Table.

On the other hand, she also felt jealous of Agravain. Even Lancelot, whom she disliked the most, had to admit that Agravain was remarkably a capable man. Whatever task the King assigned to him, he completed it flawlessly, earning the King's trust and becoming the King's right-hand man.

And that was exactly what she had always wanted but couldn't attain.

Clearly accustomed to Mordred's disdain, Agravain remained unfazed.

"Come with me, Sir Mordred. The King has been waiting for you for a long time."

"Wait! What did you just say?!" Mordred suddenly widened her eyes, her tone urgent. "You said the King's been waiting for me?!"

Seeing her frantic behavior, Agravain furrowed his brow slightly, seemingly finding her question rather foolish. However, after a moment's consideration, he sighed and patiently explained.

"Because you led the army to conquer Gaul, the King is pleased with your accomplishment and has decided to personally speak with you at the palace and bestow upon you a reward."

"I... conquered Gaul? Huh...?" Mordred muttered to herself before suddenly remembering something.

She quickly turned and looked behind her to see an endless number of soldiers neatly arranged, everyone looking at her with a hint of respect.

Clear memories suddenly flooded her mind like a tide.

She remembered leading her army charging toward the royal palace of Gaul, defeating all the enemies along the way, and none of the guards were her match. She marched through the throne room, seized the fleeing king of Gaul, and then beheaded him with a single swing of her sword.

Yet, for some reason, she still felt like it wasn't entirely right.

Where did things go wrong?

"You know what's up or not." Agravain furrowed his brow, his tone growing impatient. "You should know by now. What the King hates most is people with no sense of time."

"Huh? Oh, yeah... sure..." Mordred quickly brushed aside the odd feeling in her heart. After ordering her army to stand by, she rode her horse behind Agravain toward the familiar white city.

The heavy gates, glowing with the radiance of magical energy, creaked open slowly, and the spacious, tidy streets quickly greeted Mordred's eyes.

Countless people stood on either side of the street, staring at her intently, their eyes filled with admiration, respect, and various emotions.

"Here she comes! It's Sir Mordred!"

"Well done, Sir Mordred! You make Camelot proud!"

"Kyaaa—! Sir Mordred, I want to have your babies!"

Watching these enthusiastic people, Mordred felt a bit uncomfortable and awkward. She had never experienced such a high degree of attention before, not even when the King was present.

But being adored like this wasn't too bad.

"Look at them, Sir Mordred." Agravain said without even turning his head. "These people are your subjects; they love, support, and respect you. Your goal is to make their lives better. That's your responsibility, understood?"

Upon hearing that, Mordred glanced oddly at Agravain. Somehow, she felt like there was more to his words than met the eye.

However, after saying that, Agravain reverted to his usual silent self, not saying another word.

Mordred didn't mind.

She just silently waved to respond to the crowd's enthusiasm while looking toward the magnificent white castle in the distance, feeling a hint of anticipation rising within her heart.

This time, what kind of reward would the King give her?

===

"Berserker is the strongest!"

Hearing an excited voice, Heracles woke up abruptly, turning his head to look around.

He found himself standing in a vast expanse of snowy terrain, surrounded by the corpses of wild wolves. They lay scattered across the snow, their blood staining the pristine white landscape with an eerie hue. The cold, bloody scent lingered in the air, carried far away by the biting wind.

Lowering his gaze, he noticed he was clad only in a battle tunic, holding a stone axe-sword in his hand. But soon, his attention was drawn to a little girl standing by his feet.

She appeared to be around eleven years old, with hair as white as snow and eyes as red as rubies. Barefoot and clad only in a thin white nightdress, she stood tall amidst the howling wind, resembling a snow spirit.

Memories buried deep within his consciousness suddenly stirred.

Heracles seemed to want to say something, but as he opened his mouth, he found himself unable to speak. Yet the girl seemed to understand his meaning as she gently touched his finger.

"I understand, Berserker... You protect me not out of obligation or duty as a Servant, but out of your own will."

Saying that with a soft voice, the little girl lifted her head, meeting his gaze, and smiled.

"That's why, from now on, my life is in your hands, Berserker."

Heracles remained silent for a moment before slowly crouching down and gently embracing the little girl before him.

'Leave it to me... This time, I will surely protect you, Illya...'