The morning sun rose, and brilliant shards of golden light pierced through the clouds, spilling across Britannia and illuminating the pure-white ideal kingdom upon the land.
As the morning mist gradually dispersed, the majestic Holy City of Camelot stood like a mighty lion awakening from a long slumber.
With the turning of winches and the lighting of Magecraft Chants, two ranks of fully armed Enforcement Knights slowly opened the sealed main gates before taking up guard positions on either side.
Inside the city, plainly dressed commoners and splendidly attired nobles alike gathered along the main street leading to the Holy City's gates, gazing outside with anticipation and excitement.
Woo~ Woo~
Before long, the deep blast of horns rang out.
A torrent of steel gleaming beneath the sunlight swept over the distant horizon like a silver tide, rapidly advancing toward the gates of the Holy City.
In an instant, the thunder of countless galloping horses shook the air. The ground beneath everyone's feet trembled violently, like a massive war drum being struck again and again, sending dust and gravel flying.
The army had not even arrived yet, but its fierce, blood-soaked killing intent already pressed down upon the crowd, nearly stealing their breath.
Faced with such an unstoppable force, even the Holy City of Camelot offered little sense of safety. Everyone felt as though they had been thrown into the middle of flashing blades and clashing swords, chills crawling across their bodies.
Before that overwhelming edge, any enemy foolish enough to stand in their path would have their courage and will to resist washed away in an instant.
Only one thought would remain.
Drop their weapons, cast aside their armor, turn around, and run.
Rumble!
As the army neared the Holy City, the vast formation abruptly slowed and split into several distinct columns.
Their seamless changes in formation displayed extraordinary coordination and horsemanship.
Each force remained clearly separated from the others while supporting one another, and at the head of each rode one or more Knights of the Round Table.
Behind them, the Enforcement Knights unfurled the coats of arms and banners belonging to their respective commanders.
From afar, one could see nearly every renowned Knight of the Round Table among them.
Lancelot, the Knight of the Lake. Gawain, the Knight of the Sun. Gaheris and Gareth, siblings who held the sixth and seventh seats of the Round Table. Agravain, the Iron Wall. Tristan, the Son of Sorrow.
For a time, the army rolled forward like a tide beneath a sea of fluttering banners.
And at the center of it all, surrounded like the moon among stars, rode the King of Knights.
Wearing a lion-mane helmet and fully enclosed silver-white armor, the King stood at the forefront, exuding such solemn majesty that she seemed like a god walking upon the earth.
People instinctively held their breath, overcome by the urge to bow before her.
Only after the King of Knights had passed through the main gate and continued down the main street did the watching citizens finally snap out of their trance.
Then the joy they had been holding back erupted toward the Knights of the Round Table entering behind her.
Amid the wild celebration, people waved their hands enthusiastically and showered the legendary knights with flower petals and dried fruit.
There were even noble ladies and socialites tossing handkerchiefs and sending flirtatious glances their way.
Excited screams rang through the crowd like those of devoted fans finally seeing their idols, mixed with noisy discussions and exaggerated boasts about the knights' exploits.
Yet almost no one spoke of the King who had ridden at the very front.
What people felt toward her was reverence, or perhaps fear.
What they lacked was affection and closeness.
Without anyone realizing it, the Knights of the Round Table, slowed by the enthusiastic crowd, had already fallen quite a distance behind their King.
From a shadowed corner, the witch watched the passionate celebration with cold eyes.
Of course, it was a celebration that excluded its ruler.
When people felt helpless or lost, they would often call upon the names of gods and pray for divine protection.
But if a god truly descended and stood right before them, they would instinctively shrink away.
Of course.
How could a god seated high above the clouds ever be close to those crawling upon the earth?
Perhaps this was simply the price of answering the people's expectations and becoming their King.
Morgan recalled Vortigern's mockery before his death within the Swamp Dragon's Remains and murmured quietly.
How pitiful...
"You're done watching already? The fun isn't over yet."
Seeing her employer turn to leave, Mari sat on a rooftop cracking open sunflower seeds and dried fruit she had somehow gotten her hands on, cheerfully trying to make her stay.
"Boring. Where's Samael?"
Morgan dismissed the spectacle flatly before turning to ask.
"Him? He said he was taking the little ones around nearby to see if there was anything fun to do. He'll be back right on time for dinner."
Mari answered casually.
Then her eyes shifted mischievously. She leaned her head over the edge of the roof and smiled down at Morgan.
"What's wrong? You haven't even been apart for an hour, and you already miss him?"
"No one will mistake you for a mute if you keep your mouth shut!"
Just as the white-haired Succubus began teasing her out of habit, a miniature spell projectile shot up from below and nearly struck her squarely in the face.
"Did you really need to silence me just because I guessed what you were thinking?"
Mari ducked her head and complained, but apparently learned nothing from the warning.
Instead, she kept running her mouth, pushing her taunts as far as possible while preparing to flee.
"Come to think of it, are human females always this aggressive when they're in heat? Scary, scary. Better keep my distance..."
"While you can still talk, you'd better say everything you want to say!"
Morgan's face turned livid.
The words squeezed through her clenched teeth carried a chilling murderous intent as she cast an illusion to conceal herself and went after the damned Succubus.
Unfortunately, this familiar game of chase was exactly what Mari wanted.
"Hey, hey! There's a man you could be chasing, so why are you chasing me? I can't satisfy you!"
"Wait. Maybe that's not entirely true. How about I make a little sacrifice and give us a yuri chance?"
"First tell me, do you prefer my hands, my mouth, or..."
Without Samael around to restrain her, the white-haired Succubus was like a fox let loose in the snow.
She ran while looking back over her shoulder with a gleeful smile, firing off one shameless tease after another at Morgan.
Even worse, she cleverly weaved through the crowd, taking full advantage of the packed streets and enjoying herself immensely.
After being relentlessly steamrolled by a seasoned expert and having the proverbial wheels driven over her face again and again, the murderous intent in Morgan's eyes only grew stronger.
Now that she possessed the complete blessing of Mystery, Morgan was absolutely confident that under normal circumstances, she could defeat this third-rate spellcaster whose talents were limited to infiltration, lockpicking, and shapeshifting in a one-on-one fight.
Unfortunately, they were currently inside the Holy City during the grand celebration of the Knights of the Round Table's triumphant return.
With so many people around, Morgan had no room to unleash her full strength.
Mari, on the other hand, was completely in her element.
Gradually, the frustration building in Morgan's chest reached its limit.
She clenched her fists until her knuckles cracked.
As expected, the very existence of this Succubus is a nightmare!
Maybe I really should just kill her!
Mari, you'd better keep running. If I catch you, I swear I'll stuff you inside a rock!
Meanwhile, while the two teammates inside the city were busy with their intense yuri pursuit, Samael, who had been assigned to watch the children, had brought the little ones to a grassy meadow rippling like waves of emerald.
Few people came here, making it a perfect spot to snack, drink some morning tea, and comfortably enjoy the leisure of slacking off.
As for going to the main gate of the Holy City to watch the ceremony?
Please.
After all these years, what kind of grand spectacle had he not seen?
He had long grown tired of these so-called historic events.
Given the choice, he would much rather find somewhere quiet and lie down for a while longer.
Besides, there happened to be an interesting landmark here worth seeing.
After handing out the snacks he had bought for everyone, Samael stretched comfortably and walked toward an ancient stone platform standing in the middle of the lawn.
He placed his palm against its weathered surface and slowly traced downward.
His fingers finally stopped at an indentation in the center that resembled the wound left by a sword blade.
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