Chapter 256: Galahad vs Lancelot

Lancelot, seeing that Melusine had no intention of fighting him, released the grip on his sword hilt.

"I want to ask you something," Melusine said, her eyes steady on his. "Are you going to take responsibility for Galahad?"

"That's none of your concern," Lancelot replied curtly.

"Who said it doesn't concern me?" Melusine responded seriously, blinking at him. "I carry your spiritual foundation. If you won't fulfill your responsibilities, I will. I'll look after Galahad myself. His Majesty Lott and Her Majesty Morgan care deeply for him. If you don't step up, there are plenty of others who will."

"Stay out of it," Lancelot said, his expression darkening. "I'll handle it. What's mine, I won't let anyone take from me."

With that, he brushed past Melusine and headed towards the competition arena. Melusine watched him go, a small smile forming on her lips.

"Just as His Majesty Lott said, there's no shortage of pride among the Knights of the Round Table," she murmured to herself, amusement dancing in her eyes. Whether it was Lancelot or Galahad, both needed a push to express themselves.

In the original history, tragedy and sacrifice had been necessary to bring them together. But here and now, neither Lott nor Melusine wanted any more sacrifices.

In the arena, the crowd buzzed with excitement. Even though both competitors—one from England, the other from France—had little connection to Scotland, their skill and strength were undeniable. Both had effortlessly dominated their previous opponents and now they were finally going head-to-head.

The Scots, known for their respect for strength, were thrilled by the prospect of this duel.

"Come on!"

"Fight!"

"Show us who's the best!"

"Go, Senior Galahad!"

A clear female voice rang out amidst the cheers. The crowd turned to see who it was. It was Mash, cheering enthusiastically for Galahad. The spectators were puzzled. Why was she supporting Galahad when he was one of her opponents?

In the arena, Lancelot and Galahad faced each other, swords drawn.

"How many times have we fought now?" Lancelot asked.

"This will be the third," Galahad answered.

In their previous battles, Lancelot had been caught off guard, either underestimating Galahad or unprepared for the skills he had learned from Scáthach. Now, after much training and experience, he felt more confident.

"But this time," Lancelot said seriously, "I won't lose again."

"We'll see about that," Galahad replied, tilting his head slightly.

Lott's words had lessened his desire to defeat Lancelot, but facing him now, Galahad felt a surge of anger. He wanted to win. He needed to win.

Without another word, he charged forward, swinging his sword in a sharp arc. A wave of energy sliced through the air towards Lancelot.

Lancelot stepped forward, gripping his sword with both hands and countering the attack. The clash of their blades sent shockwaves through the arena, making the spectators shiver with excitement.

The intensity of the battle only grew as the two knights continued to clash. The ground beneath them trembled with each strike, and the air crackled with energy.

But amidst their fierce combat, the two continued to talk.

"Did you hear everything from Miss Mash?" Galahad asked between strikes.

"Yes," Lancelot replied, his expression dark. "I didn't think I'd end up with a son and daughter the moment I set foot in England."

Hearing this, Galahad's lips twitched upwards in a slight smile. Lancelot, noticing his son's amusement, felt even more disheartened.

"But you can pretend not to know anything," Galahad suggested, increasing the intensity of his attacks.

Lancelot blocked and parried, gritting his teeth. "How could I ignore something like this? I will find a way to make sure you don't regret anything."

"How can you change what's already happened?" Galahad challenged, his attacks unrelenting.

Lancelot, though on the defensive, kept his focus. "After this timeline returns to normal, I'll have plenty of time to make things right."

"And do you think you'll still have this memory after the timeline resets?" Galahad asked, his tone tinged with sarcasm.

Lancelot hesitated, then spoke with firm resolve. "Even if I lose my memory, my emotions won't change."

"Really? I'm not sure I believe that," Galahad said, though a faint smile tugged at his lips. Despite himself, he felt moved by Lancelot's words. In the audience, Mash, too, was taken aback by Lancelot's declaration.

"Your feelings may be genuine, but I don't want to see my tragedy repeat itself," Galahad said, his smile fading. Despite Lancelot's words, his assault didn't slow.

"In my world, everything was a tragedy. My story was tragic. His Majesty Lott's story was tragic. Her Majesty Morgan's story was tragic. Even King Arthur's story ended in tragedy. And your story too, it's all one long tragedy."

Each of Galahad's strikes carried the weight of his words, pushing Lancelot back. At that moment, Lancelot heard Galahad's final words.

"Maybe you think returning history to its original path is the right thing to do. But this world—our world—has been built step by step. I won't let anyone destroy it. If it's a mistake, I'll make it real."

With a powerful blow, Galahad knocked Lancelot's sword aside and brought his blade to his father's neck.

This battle was Galahad's victory. But it wasn't just his strength that secured the win; it was his unyielding resolve. His conviction outweighed Lancelot's.

Galahad's attachment to this world, to the kingdom he had built with Lott, was far stronger than Lancelot's.

"How could I let anything ruin the world my father and I have worked so hard to create?" he thought.

If something was wrong, he would change it. He would protect this world and make it right, no matter what it took.