Chapter 113: Ghost Shark Force Awakens  

Late at night, along the coast of the British Isles.

With the looming threat of a Roman invasion, the people of several coastal cities had already been relocated to the newly constructed inland cities—magnificent, bustling centers designed under Arthur's new order.

Though the move disrupted aquaculture efforts, it wasn't a primary concern. Britain no longer relied heavily on fishing. With ample resources and higher-yield, standardized aquaculture stations elsewhere, most found work in the inland cities more stable—and far better paid.

No one complained.

After all, the coastal areas, especially the most likely landing sites for a Roman fleet, were no longer suitable for living.

Strangely, though, the military presence on the front lines remained sparse. The defensive line stretched long and thin—so thin, in fact, it appeared the stationed soldiers weren't meant to fight at all.

Because they weren't.

Their role was basic oversight. The real defense rested in the hands of one woman: Skadi, the Third Knight of the Round Table, and her Ghost Shark Force.

A specialized naval unit, they were rumored to have annihilated multiple Roman fleets without leaving a single survivor. Every encounter ended in absolute destruction.

But to the common soldiers stationed here, this elite force was more phantom than fact.

Even when they prepared meals, they only ever made a portion for Skadi.

It was unsettling.

No one ever saw the Ghost Shark Force.

No one ever heard them.

Just the sea, and silence—and Skadi.

She was beautiful, that much was certain. Cold, distant, and impossibly powerful. None of the soldiers dared approach her.

Tonight, however—

"We've received a new order," said the team leader, standing in the moonlight near the camp perimeter. "Over the next few days, we're to increase defensive patrols. And… pay closer attention to Lady Skadi's mental state."

"...Should I go deliver the message?" the younger soldier beside him asked nervously.

"Don't use that tone," the leader scolded, then added with a resigned smile, "Lady Skadi is a beauty—even our king admires her."

Still, the unease didn't leave the young man's face. To him, beauty meant nothing compared to the fear of being in her presence.

The team leader understood.

Though praised by King Arthur himself, Skadi was impossible to approach. Cold to everyone but the king, she rarely smiled and often didn't respond at all. Arthur claimed she was kind—but expressed it in ways most couldn't comprehend.

But then, how were they supposed to respond to such incomprehensible tenderness?

The team leader hesitated, then sighed, making up his mind.

"Alright, stop pouting. I'll go with you. She won't bite. She's a Knight of the Round Table. She's not going to hurt us." He looked away and muttered, "Still… I envy how close she is to the king. Maybe someday we'll have to start calling her 'Princess.'"

"Haha, yeah. Who wouldn't want to hear the king's teachings up close? If you're so jealous, Captain, why not aim to become a Knight of the Round Table yourself?"

"Don't be ridiculous!" The captain gave the soldier a light smack on the head.

Who in Britain wouldn't dream of the Round Table?

It was the highest honor, the ultimate legend.

Still chatting, the two approached a small, lonely cottage near the edge of the sea.

That's when they heard it.

Soft. Haunting. Beautiful.

"Is that…?"

"It's Lady Skadi… singing. Captain, don't panic. It's just a song. And honestly—it's beautiful."

It was beautiful.

The language was foreign, incomprehensible. Yet the melody transcended words, rich with longing and sorrow.

Why was her voice so full of sadness?

They didn't ask. Silently, nervously, they approached until they were just a few meters away.

"Lady Skadi, we're here to deliver King Arthur's orders—"

They relayed the message quickly, breathless with tension. Skadi listened, nodded faintly—and said nothing.

Relieved, they retreated without another word.

There were no torches. No lanterns. Just the pale moonlight and the deep, endless sea.

Skadi stood alone, leaning against a massive black sword planted in the sand, its blade darker than the night. She watched the two soldiers disappear into the shadows.

With her extraordinary senses, she'd heard every word they whispered.

The fear.

The awe.

The envy.

The distance.

None of it mattered.

She wasn't here for them.

She was here for Arthur.

Or rather—her king.

Still, to her, Arthur felt more natural.

She understood all too well that she wasn't human. She had a human body. Her blood resembled theirs. But she wasn't… quite complete.

Not entirely a person.

Not entirely a monster.

Just—Skadi.

But she liked humans.

She liked Camelot.

Not Britain—Camelot.

Camelot was the place where Arthur's will permeated most deeply. There, people welcomed her. They offered kindness—not because they truly understood her, but because they respected the king who did.

Because she was a Knight of the Round Table.

Because she was the beautiful one praised by her king.

But in the depths of her heart, there was a familiar ache—a premonition, a sorrow.

The more she cherished someone, the farther she had to stay.

Because she was a calamity.

And all that she held close would eventually be destroyed.

She tried to resign once.

Her face must've been full of reluctance and pain.

But Arthur refused.

He wouldn't let her go.

He insisted she remain in Camelot—as his knight, his beloved, his family.

"What a stubborn king," she murmured. "Always taking responsibility for me… making it impossible for me to leave."

Maybe she hadn't really wanted to leave at all.

Maybe… deep down… she still had hope.

But since she had chosen to stay—she would protect him.

Protect Camelot.

Protect her king.

Suddenly, a pair of crimson eyes glimmered in the darkness.

Not human eyes.

They burned with fury and death, glowing like a beast's in the moonlight.

As if in response to Skadi's vow, the shadows stirred.

They rose like fog from the earth, seeping into the ocean—resentment, dragon's breath, death energy.

A tide of vengeful spirits emerged, each one twisted by sorrow and rage.

Thousands of them.

They surged into the sea, a dark mass of coalesced hatred.

And finally—they fused.

A single monstrous shadow slid beneath the waves, vast as a leviathan.

And the ocean, already cold and grim, turned utterly black.

-End Chapter-

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