LRAB Chapter 44 Departure
Chapter 44 Departure
Arthur saw it.
Ten images unfolded around him simultaneously, fragments of the complete "possibility".
Like a shattered mirror, each fragment reflects a different angle.
The first fragment, Kai stood to his left, his hands pressing on his left shoulder, crimson magic pouring into his dragon power channel without reservation.
Kai was shouting something, but it was hard to hear. However, his mouth formed two words: "Live."
The second fragment: Gawain stood to his right, the Holy Sword of the Sun plunged into the ground, and golden magic flowed along the earth, merging into his bones.
Gawain closed his eyes, his lips moving silently in a prayer.
The third fragment: Tristan sits on a rock in the distance, his harp resting on his lap, his fingers not plucking the strings, but the magic itself.
The deep green magic extended like vines, wrapping around Arthur's ankles and fixing him in place.
Tristan is playing a piece that Arthur has never heard before; the melody has only one theme: Remember.
The fourth fragment: Lancelot is directly in front of him, his sword drawn and pointed at Arthur.
A lake-blue magical energy shot out from the tip of Lancelot's sword, forming an extremely thin protective film on Arthur's body.
Lancelot's eyes were open, and the elf's image was reflected in his pupils.
The fifth fragment: Bedivere was behind him, a silver prosthetic limb pressed against his back, not channeling magic, but sensing something.
Bedivere uses the metallic touch of his prosthetic limb to sense every beat of the Heart of Arthur's Furnace, and then synchronizes it with his own heartbeat.
He was doing one thing: keeping Arthur's heartbeat steady.
The sixth fragment: Morgan's sealing array rotated on the dome, and the icy blue light transformed into six chains.
It pierced through Vortigern's body from six directions, pinning him firmly in place.
Morgan stood in the very center of the sealing array, her long, silvery-white hair flowing freely. She took off her thorn crown and held it in her hand, the thorns piercing her palm.
Blood flowed along the patterns of the sealing array, and with each pattern it passed, the light of the sealing array brightened a little.
The seventh fragment: Scáthach's guardian rune flew in from a great distance.
Crimson runes burned in the void, imprinting themselves one by one at the entrance to Arthur's Dragonforce River.
As the runes filter the mist, they remove the "Will of Vortigern" from it, leaving only pure dragon power.
The eighth fragment: Meryl's Avalon blessing fell from a greater distance.
Silvery light fell like snowflakes, landing on Arthur's shoulders, on his blond hair, and on the back of his hand holding the sword.
Where the light fell, the gray mist automatically veered away, and Merry herself stood by the lake in Avalon, her hands clasped together, her amethyst-like eyes closed.
Her lips moved, and she said—"My beloved red dragon, come back alive."
The ninth fragment: Guinevere's prayer rises from the direction of Camelot, a warm, golden light, extremely faint and distant, like the last rays of sunset on the horizon.
The light fell on Arthur's brow, like a hand gently pressing there.
Guinevere knelt in the castle's prayer room, before whom lay a letter with only the beginning of its sentence, bearing only two words: "I am here."
The tenth fragment: a scene Arthur had never seen before, Mordred... not a baby, but a blond, blue-eyed boy of about twelve or thirteen years old.
He stood in the round room, holding a sword that was still sheathed. There was a line of words engraved on the scabbard, but it was too blurry for Arthur to see.
But he recognized Mordred's eyes; they were eyes that longed for recognition.
All ten fragments glowed simultaneously.
The lights intertwined and coalesced into a new ray of light before Arthur.
This ray of light is not a "possibility that already exists".
It is the only path pieced together from all the fragments that leads to "severing Voodoo and returning alive."
Arthur reached out his hand.
The instant my fingertips touched that ray of light,
He saw it.
I saw the complete picture.
He stood before Vortigern, the magic of the five knights flowing into his body from five directions, while Morgan's sealing array pierced down from the dome.
Scáthach's Guardian Rune burned at the entrance to the Dragonforce River, Merry's Avalon Blessing fell like snow onto her shoulders, and Guinevere's Prayer was pressed between her brows.
Mordred's "approval" came from the direction of the round table hall, with an extremely thin beam of light, a mixture of silver and emerald green.
and also.
It emanated from his own chest, from the depths of the furnace, something deeper than the power of the dragon, something older than the legacy of the red dragon—the "Radiance of the Stars" chosen by the Star Trail.
The power he awakened on the day he drew his sword is the fundamental reason why he can observe and intervene in parallel world lines.
The light was pure white, not the white of sword light, not the white of magic, but the white of the stars themselves.
Eleven beams of light were simultaneously injected into the holy sword.
The light from the sword in the lake and the sword in the stone merged in his hand, and the light from the two swords became one.
Blue and gold intertwined, enveloped by eleven recognized rays of light, transforming into a sword light of indescribable color.
Cut it down.
The vortigern's core cracked open, its grayish-white body shattered, and its pure black core was split open.
The very center point, "darker than black," the point that kept sliding away, was simultaneously locked onto by eleven beams of light.
It won't slide off.
The sword light slashed across that point.
That point emitted a very soft, sigh-like sound, and then shattered.
Vortigern disappeared.
The white dragon's body, the gray mist, the pure black core, and the dotted line piercing through Britain all turned into particles of light, slowly rising and merging into the depths of the island's ley lines.
The Age of Gods has ended.
Britain is no longer an isolated island.
Arthur stood in the center of the cave, still holding his sword in both hands, but the light on the sword was slowly fading.
His Dragon Furnace Heart was still beating, its four beats steady as always. The chill in the Dragon Force River had vanished, as had the pure black mark.
Instead, there was a very faint, warm, golden light.
That was the last thing Vortigern left behind; it was the silent message left by the white dragon after he "recognized" the red dragon at the last moment.
Arthur didn't hear what the sentence was.
But he knew it wasn't hatred.
The screen ends.
Arthur opened his eyes.
He knelt on the floor of the room, his hands supporting him on the ground, panting heavily, sweat dripping from his forehead onto the stone slab.
The swords in the stone and the sword in the lake were scattered on either side of his body, their light dimmed considerably.
The four beats of the Dragon's Heart are extremely faint, like the sound of a drum coming from a very, very far place.
Outside the window, the sky was just beginning to brighten.
He spent the entire night in the Trails of Stars.
"I saw it." His voice was so hoarse that it was almost unrecognizable as his own.
"I saw it."
Eleven rays of light, none of them missing, that was "the power that prevented Vortigern from sliding away".
Five Knights of the Round Table: Morgan, Scáthach, Meryl, Guinevere, Mordred, and himself.
Eleven rays of light.
Footsteps came from outside the door, very light, as if deliberately kept quiet so as not to disturb him.
Although the Dragon Power River was weak, it had not been completely withdrawn, and he sensed that magical power.
It's silvery-white, and carries the scent of Lake Avalon.
The door opened a crack, and Mary poked half her head in, blinking her amethyst-like eyes.
"Oh, you're still alive."
Arthur looked up at the nightmare that had accompanied him all night in Trails of the Stars in the form of an "instruction manual".
"You last night..."
"I slept in Avalon last night." Melly pushed open the door and walked in, her hands behind her back, tilting her head to look at him.
"What, you dreamt about me?"
Arthur did not expose her.
"I need you."
Mary paused for a moment, a very brief moment, so brief that no one but Arthur's dragon eyes could detect it.
"Oh dear." Her voice returned to its usual lightheartedness.
"You can't just say things like that, I'm in high demand..."
"Vortigern," Arthur interrupted her, "I need to cut him off. I need you."
Mary fell silent.
The morning light streamed in through the window, falling on her long, silvery-white hair and into her amethyst-like eyes.
She looked at Arthur kneeling on the floor, his blond hair disheveled, his face covered in sweat, his hands still trembling, and the heartbeat of the Dragon's Heart was so weak that it seemed like it might stop at any moment.
"Do you know what the blessing of Avalon is?" she said softly.
"have no idea."
"It is my 'existence' itself," Meryl said.
"I am a hybrid of a nightmare and a human. Avalon took me in and gave me a blessing, which is proof that I am alive."
If I share my blessing with you, the time I can stay in Avalon will be shortened. What could have been a thousand years might only be five hundred after I share it with you.
Arthur looked at her.
"So, are you still going to break up?"
Mary stared at him for a long time.
Then she laughed, but not her usual mocking, scheming, or "the kind of laugh that makes you want to watch the drama unfold" kind of laugh.
It was a very quiet smile, tinged with a touch of sadness.
"Let's split it," she said.
"Anyway, five hundred years is long enough. It's enough for me to watch you grow old, to see you get wrinkles, and to see you become a white-haired old man."
Then I can laugh at you every day—'Where did that blond heartthrob go?'
Her eyes reddened, but no tears fell.
Arthur pushed himself up from the ground, his legs still trembling, but he stood up straight.
"I won't make you wait five hundred years."
"...What?"
"I will find a way," he said, "to keep you in Avalon longer than a thousand years."
Mary turned her face away, her long, silvery-white hair obscuring her expression.
"...Arrogant brat." Her voice was muffled. "Let's kill Vortigern first."
Footsteps sounded outside the door again, this time from more than one person: Kay, Gawain, Tristan, Lancelot, and Bedivere.
Five fully armed men stood in the corridor, with the Northern Lord leaning against the back wall, clutching a new piece of dry bread in his hand.
Morgan stood at the top of the stairs, her thorn crown once again on her forehead, her long silver hair styled into a high bun for easy movement.
His icy blue eyes looked at Arthur, without asking, "What did you see?" or "Are you sure?"
She simply nodded.
Arthur hung the sword in the stone and the sword in the lake back on his waist.
"Set off."