Chapter 117: Miss Killer Whale Needs Comfort  

After Skadi returned to Camelot and reported the intelligence, the people around Arthur... well, they didn't quite know what to make of it. But the surprise was genuine.

"Jeanne of Arc ALTER?" Arthur muttered repeatedly with a strange expression. When Skadi confirmed it, his face grew even weirder.

By the way—shouldn't Jeanne ALTER be a character confined to the Singularity? Why wasn't she fighting in the Evil Dragon War in Chaldea, but instead causing trouble in King Arthur's Britain?

Arthur racked his brain but couldn't figure it out.

Had he offended her? Did Britain deserve death? Did she not know that Britain now belonged to the Celts? It wasn't the Celts who burned Joan of Arc in later generations—they were all victims of the Saxons. So why embarrass fellow victims? Oh well, she was illiterate anyway, so whatever.

Arthur hadn't expected Black Jeanne to defeat Skadi.

But after thinking it over, he felt relieved.

Maybe it wasn't bad to let Rome taste victory. If they always suppressed the enemy and prevented landings, the humble king might be killed. Arthur had personally invited him, but the Sword Emperor Lucius never dared to show his face. This had been planned in advance, but Jeanne Alter's interference had slightly accelerated the timetable—harmless in the grand scheme.

However, the most urgent matter wasn't the Roman landing.

It was the autistic Miss Killer Whale crouched miserably in front of him.

"Is it really necessary to be this upset over a loss?" Arthur muttered helplessly.

Just then, Manaka walked in.

"Prince, it's dinner time—"

As soon as she entered, she took in Arthur's dilemma and Skadi's withdrawn posture. Manaka understood immediately. After all, Skadi had cared for her on many occasions and even taught her some love tips. Whether useful or not, she was sure that Skadi now needed comfort.

She glanced at Skadi's side, spotting the Sword of Stirring Tides with cracks on the blade, and the Frostmourne whose glow had dimmed considerably. Manaka planned to recast both herself later.

Alright, she thought, I'll lend you the prince for a little while. But if you do anything to him—!

Her eyes flashed dangerously at Skadi.

Then she recalled Skadi's own advice about respect and trust in relationships—modesty and tolerance were key to avoid causing hatred.

So Manaka abandoned her plan to lurk in the shadows.

She smiled gently at Arthur to show understanding, then quietly left.

Arthur blinked in surprise.

Since when had Manaka become so easy to talk to?

"Skadi, are you on good terms with Manaka?" he asked.

No response.

Miss Killer Whale remained withdrawn.

Arthur had no choice but to approach, squat before her, and gently stroke her head.

The feeling was different this time.

Before, it was always him being pulled along by Skadi's strength.

Now, it felt like he was comforting her.

Arthur felt... elevated, like this was some kind of achievement.

Well, to put it bluntly: being comforted by Skadi relaxed his body, and comforting Skadi soothed his mind.

His eyes lit up.

Miss Killer Whale really was amazing!

No matter how you looked at it, she brought him a pleasant experience.

But what Arthur hadn't expected was how quickly the strong and elegant Skadi would begin to cry.

Small, intermittent sobs.

Her head bowed, shaking slightly.

It was heartbreaking.

Arthur froze, wanting to comfort her but not knowing how.

Why was Skadi crying? She was always so strong.

This was natural.

Although Arthur cared deeply for all his subordinates, he was still a man. How could he fully understand a woman's delicate feelings?

Skadi had come to this world and lost all her memories.

Her mind hadn't regressed to a child's, but she'd lost the sadness that could have made her stronger.

Sadness could destroy a person—or spur them to grow.

Skadi was strong and always had been.

Though defeated by Gawain once, it was just a defeat—not a death sentence.

If she chose, she could kill him—or die alongside him.

Since arriving in Britain, she'd never had to worry too much.

But this time was different.

Jeanne Alter's counterattack had absorbed Skadi's magic power and almost all the energy of the vengeful spirits.

Skadi had felt death and powerlessness firsthand.

If that attack came again, but aimed at Camelot, with no preparation—she wouldn't be able to protect anyone.

Jeanne Alter not only defeated the swordswoman Skadi, but shattered her pride and sense of superiority.

"I am not strong. I am weak."

"I cannot protect those I cherish."

After a while, Skadi stopped crying.

"Skadi, are you feeling a little better?" Arthur asked gently.

He had little resistance to a woman's tears—especially Skadi's.

She raised tear-filled eyes and spoke with determination:

"I am strong, but not strong enough. So I will become stronger—strong enough to protect everything I cherish!"

Her words were powerful.

The seriousness in her tone made Arthur drop the gentle expression.

Skadi wasn't just a girl—she was a Knight of the Round Table, a warrior.

Comforting her as if she were fragile would only insult her honor.

"I believe you'll become stronger," Arthur said solemnly. "How about working toward becoming leader of the Round Table?"

Then, shifting gears, he analyzed the battle tactically:

"From a battle perspective, you won, regardless of the outcome. There's no need to blame yourself. As a knight, you've not stained the name of the Round Table."

"I know."

Skadi still looked somewhat lost.

If possible, she wanted to win every battle and war.

But if you lose, you lose; if you win, you win.

One must keep things in perspective.

"After retreating, I returned to position and arranged for soldiers to withdraw. They've fallen back to the nearest city along the coast."

Skadi's swimming speed far exceeded the Roman warships'. Plus, the Romans feared ambushes, so they advanced cautiously.

Because of this, Britain suffered no casualties in the battle, but Rome lost at least half their forces.

Arthur's philosophy was simple:

Weapons can be replaced.

Cities can be retaken.

But people are irreplaceable.

"We only have one life. The lives of our soldiers and people are the most precious."

The position that was about to be lost was lost by plan—and there was no need to record it as a demerit.

-End Chapter-

Visit the Patreon!!

Read 30 chapters ahead, more on the way!

P@treon.com/TrashProspector