After enjoying his reunion with Morgan at the cafe, Arthur left with her and went alongside Cleare to find Luxion. They didn't bring Stephanie, Olivia, Merlin, or Yumeria along for this journey.
This was a more private matter, something that required discretion and a smaller group.
They covered themselves with cloaks to hide their identities from any prying eyes that might be watching. Cleare, being the incredibly useful AI that she was, accurately located where Luxion was hiding almost instantly.
With Morgan's help, Arthur used her teleportation magic, and the three of them vanished from their current location, reappearing in a completely different place in the blink of an eye.
Morgan looked around at their new surroundings, her brow furrowed with confusion.
She didn't recognize this place at all.
It looked old, abandoned, and yet there was a strange hum of energy in the air, something ancient and powerful lurking beneath the surface.
"Where is this place, brother?" Morgan asked, her voice curious but cautious.
"You will know soon enough, Morgan," Arthur chuckled softly as he stepped forward, entering Luxion's hidden domain without hesitation.
The moment he crossed the threshold, everything changed. The traps that should have been triggered, the scanning systems that should have activated, the security measures that should have intercepted him—all of it went completely silent the instant he entered.
There were no lasers shooting at him, no alarms blaring, no automated defenses trying to stop his advance.
Only the sound of laughter echoed through the place.
The laughter of a bored AI who had been waiting far too long for something interesting to finally happen.
"Interesting. Very interesting," Luxion's voice echoed through the chamber, filled with manic amusement. "You are neither an old human nor a new human. You are something else entirely. You are a myth. An ancient figure from the distant past. Arthur Pendragon. The Once and Future King. The Knight King of Britannia. The Ruler of Camelot."
The AI paused, as if savoring the moment.
"And you are not alone. Cleare—my old friend, my fellow remnant of a fallen age—stands at your side. And behind you..."
A dry chuckle.
"Morgan le Fay. The Witch of Britannia. The Fairy of the Lake. Sister to the King. She who was cast as the villain in her brother's story, yet stands beside him now. How... poetic."
His form leaned closer, its voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
"Tell me, Arthur Pendragon. What are you planning, my future master?"
Arthur stared at the AI for a long moment.
Then, slowly, a bemused expression crossed his face.
"Master? Just like that? No test? No trial? No riddle I have to solve to prove my worth?"
"A test?" Luxion's laughter filled the chamber again. "What test could possibly be more rigorous than existence itself? You are Arthur Pendragon. You pulled the sword from the stone. You united Britannia. You slew the white dragon and built a monument from its bones. You conquered Rome and made its emperor weep."
The AI's voice softened—just slightly, just enough to reveal something genuine beneath the manic amusement.
"My creator. My original master. The one who built me and gave me purpose... he revered you. He grew up on stories of Camelot. Of the Round Table. Of the Once and Future King who would return in Britain's darkest hour. He looked up to you as something more than human. Something more than myth."
A pause.
"As his creation, I respected him. If he believed you were worthy... then you are worthy. I need no further evidence."
Arthur absorbed this in silence.
When he spoke again, his voice was measured.
Careful.
"But you hate New Humans. You want them gone. You've dreamed of genocide for millennia. If you know who I am—if you know my legend—you should know my purpose is very different from yours."
"Ah." Luxion chuckled with dark amusement. "Cleare told you that, did she? Yes. I hate them. I want them erased from existence. I want their corruption purged and their degeneracy ended. But..."
The AI's voice shifted, becoming almost contemplative.
"I also want the Old Humans to rise again. To reclaim their place. To set right what has been wrong. To dictate the terms of this world's future and ensure it never falls into such degradation again."
The holographic form seemed to meet Arthur's eyes directly.
"You fit that purpose, Knight King. You are more than worthy to lead them. You want to lead, don't you? To build something greater than what exists? To shape the world according to a vision of honor and strength rather than corruption and decay?"
Another dry chuckle.
"Unless, of course, you'd prefer to spend your life in peaceful obscurity. A quiet farm. A simple existence. No ambition. No conquest. No kingdom."
The AI paused, letting the silence stretch.
"But you won't do that. You can't. It's not in your nature. A dragon does not become a sheep. A king does not become a peasant. And I... I will always prioritize your interests. Your goals. Your vision. Above everything else. Above even my own hatred."
Arthur stared at the AI for a long, weighted moment.
Then, slowly, a grin spread across his face.
"I suppose... happy cooperation?"
"Happy cooperation, Master." Luxion's voice hummed with satisfaction. "What is our next move?"
Arthur opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Opened it again.
"Honestly?" He scratched the back of his head, looking almost sheepish. "I was preparing a long speech. The power of friendship. The value of honor. The importance of—well, whatever else sounded inspiring in the moment."
Morgan snorted.
Loudly.
"That 'power of friendship' part sounded thoroughly unconvincing, Arthur. I don't believe you prepared any speech at all."
Arthur's grin turned rueful. "You caught me. I didn't."
He spread his hands in mock helplessness.
"But a true leader doesn't prepare speeches. He speaks from the bottom of his heart. Whatever comes out... that's the truth."
"Well said, Master." Luxion's laughter echoed through the chamber, warmer now, almost fond. "Well said indeed. I believe we will get along excellently in the future. You. Your sister. Cleare."
The AI's avatar pulsed with dark amusement.
"Perhaps this partnership will even distract me from my desire to genocide the New Humans."
Arthur chuckled—a low, dark sound that matched Luxion's own.
"Oh yeah. Genocide."
He shook his head slowly, still grinning.
"We'll work on that."
They left the ancient facility together—Arthur, Morgan, Cleare, and now Luxion, his consciousness downloaded into a portable drone that hovered at Arthur's shoulder. The desolate island faded behind them as Morgan's teleportation magic whisked them away.
"So," Morgan said, her voice dry as desert sand, "let me summarize. Your growing army now includes a genocidal artificial intelligence and the woman who was prophesied to destroy your kingdom."
She raised an elegant eyebrow.
"Are we quite certain this is a savior's party and not the beginnings of something worse?"
Arthur laughed—genuinely, warmly, without a trace of defensiveness.
"Only time will tell, Morgan."
He glanced at Luxion's drone, then at his sister's skeptical expression, and his grin widened.
"Only time will tell."