Chapter 77: The Shadow of the King of Knights

Chapter 77: The Shadow of the King of Knights

[You spent a twisted yet sweet night with Artoria.]

[The place that should never have been tainted was defiled by you throughout the night in the most humiliating manner.]

[However, she did not feel any sorrow; on the contrary, her face blossomed with a smile full of happiness.]

[The two of you embraced and fell asleep together.]

[At dawn, both of you awoke.]

"We should head back, shouldn't we?"

Ian spoke as he helped Artoria put her clothes back on.

"Umu," the girl nodded slightly.

"Sir Ian, when morning comes, we shall return."

"But—"

Artoria looked at Ian, her gaze somewhat cautious, as if probing him.

"Sir Ian, before that, may I ask you something?"

"What is it?"

"Well..."

Artoria turned her face away, her voice tinged with a hint of shyness.

"Sir Ian, did you feel good last night?"

"..."

Clearly, she was the one subjected to defilement, yet Artoria's tone sounded as if she had just received a precious treasure from Ian.

No matter how stoic a person might be, hearing such words would inevitably stir some emotions.

He pulled her into his arms, gently kissed her soft lips, and smiled as he replied:

"Of course."

"I was very happy."

The girl's face turned bright red.

It was the truest emotion, but also something she would never normally express under ordinary circumstances.

"In that case, Sir Ian, from now on, please continue using this method to keep our hope alive."

"Until—"

"Until Sir Ian feels ready to accept everything."

"And if I can never accept it?"

"Then let it stay like this forever!" Artoria tilted her head slightly, answering without hesitation.

"..."

Ian said nothing more.

He knew it took great courage to smile and say such things.

Artoria, she was sincere.

[You and she returned on horseback.]

[Both of you rode Dun Stallion along the same path you had taken before.]

[She leaned against you, like a bride who had just spent her wedding night.]

[You didn't shatter her beautiful illusion.]

[Because you knew it would eventually break on its own.]

[As you passed a cliff, she suddenly pulled the reins to stop the horse.]

"Sir Ian."

Artoria gazed toward a distant village, her green eyes filled with an indescribable emotion.

"Do you like a peaceful life?"

"...It's alright."

It's impossible to say that I don't like it.

It's just that, for a cunning knight like him, your life has never been associated with peace until now.

"I see..."

Artoria nodded slightly, as though pondering something.

"At the very least, you don't hate it, right?"

"That's good to know."

[You sensed that Artoria was hinting at something with her words.]

[But you didn't delve deeper—after all, the result didn't hold much significance for you.]

[The two of you returned safely to the military camp.]

[All the knights were overjoyed to see you bring back the two holy swords.]

[Gareth was especially enthusiastic and playful.]

["Father, show us the power of Excalibur Galatine, please!"]

[You realized this might be an opportunity to elevate your reputation.]

[You wouldn't let it slip away.]

The noonday sun shone brilliantly and powerfully.

Ian felt an unending surge of energy flowing into his body through the Excalibur Galatine in his hands.

[Talent "Excalibur Galatine++" activated: The Blessing of the Sun envelops you and the Sword of Revolving Victory. To inspire the knights, you will unleash a powerful Sun Slash.]

[Talent "Gift of Red Dragon+" activated: Mana absorbed from Artoria aids you, allowing precise control over the range of this Sun Slash.]

Ian focused all his attention on the Sword of Revolving Victory.

He raised the blade high in his hands.

The blue hilt and silver blade of Excalibur Galatine pointed straight to the heavens.

In an instant, sunlight gathered, as though drawn by an invisible force, coiling around the holy sword.

A loud boom—

Flames erupted from the tip of the blade, surging upward until the entire sword was engulfed in the blazing red fire of the sun.

If the day had already been bright,

Then at the moment Excalibur Galatine unleashed its power, it felt as though a second sun had descended from the heavens, ready to incinerate everything.

No one could doubt that they were standing in a scorched land.

Nor could anyone believe they could escape the fiery haze erupting from the blade.

"That's enough, Sir Ian,"

Artoria spoke.

"If you continue, your sword might harm our knights."

"Understood."

Though in private, Ian had defiled Artoria, in public, he maintained his respect for her.

The flames summoned by the sun disappeared instantly, as if they had never graced this land.

Silence.

A roar.

The crowd erupted in cheers.

Finally, an overwhelming commotion.

Every knight was thrilled and exhilarated.

For if Ian's Excalibur Galatine: the Sword of Revolving Victory, could display such might—

Then surely—

Excalibur: The Sword of Promised Victory wielded by King Arthur would be no less extraordinary!

The dawn of victory in the war seemed to illuminate every knight at this moment.

How could they suppress the excitement in their hearts?

Artoria was deeply satisfied with the situation—she had never feared that Ian would become arrogant from the knights' praise.

"Father."

Gawain approached Ian.

The deep blue eyes he inherited from Morgan now shone with admiration for his father.

"I never imagined you possessed powers far beyond mere swordsmanship!"

Although Gawain always appeared mature and composed in front of others—a knight of absolute reliability—

When facing his father, Gawain was still like the child he once was, eager to learn every aspect of swordsmanship from him.

"My son, this is not my power."

Ian replied humbly.

He raised the Sword of Revolving Victory in his hand.

"It is this sword that grants me the ability to perform such feats."

"No." Gawain shook his head.

"Father, we have all witnessed your strength with our own eyes."

"This is definitely not something a single holy sword could achieve."

"How much more must I grow before I can become someone like you?"

"My son, you will surely achieve it."

Ian gazed at Gawain with affectionate eyes.

"Because you are my greatest pride."

"You don't need to become me—you need to surpass me."

"You will achieve strength equal to, if not greater than, mine."

"..."

Initially delighted by such praise, Gawain's expression soon revealed a trace of worry.

Ian, of course, could not miss this obvious change.

"Gawain, is there something else you wish to say?"

"Then speak now. If your mind wavers on the battlefield, you will have no chance for regrets."

Hearing Ian's words, Gawain hesitated for a moment before speaking bluntly.

"Father, I know this question might displease you."

"But—"

"I still want to ask."

"Father..." Gawain glanced toward Artoria, who was encouraging the knights.

"What exactly is the relationship between you and King Arthur?"

"..."

In the end, Ian could not avoid this question from Gawain.

But he remained calm—he had long anticipated this moment.

"My son, although there are indeed many rumors circulating outside,"

"I assure you, everything I do is for your mother."

"This might lead to misunderstandings that are hard to explain, but please trust in that."

"..."

The doubt in Gawain's eyes gradually transformed into a purer belief.

"So that's how it is."

"I understand now." He nodded.

"Father's love for Mother is unshakable!"

"I will no longer harbor any doubts."

"Gawain, it's truly good that you understand my intentions."

[You have dispelled all of Gawain's concerns.]

[He has come to firmly believe that there is nothing improper between you and King Arthur.]

[He spreads a positive image of you among the knights, and thanks to Gareth cute energy, this perception spreads even further.]

[Knowing everything Gawain has done, you feel a profound sense of complexity within.]

[However, you also understand that you don't have the luxury to dwell on these matters.]

[Your focus must remain on corrupting Artoria completely.]

[You must make her wholly accept this disgrace, becoming a puppet entirely under your control.]

[During the day, she leads the knights alongside you, her authority over you absolute.]

[At night, she kneels before you, her trembling body accepting every humiliation you leave upon her.]

[In her private sanctuary, traces of your visits are always evident.]

[By all accounts, this should have been a natural process of degradation.]

[Yet you quickly notice that something seems amiss.]

[Artoria has her own plans.]

Breathing heavily.

Ian halted his actions of defiling Artoria.

In the maiden's private sanctuary, traces of disgrace and defeat lingered heavily.

The trembling of her body was the most evident proof of her surrender.

But Ian couldn't shake the feeling that something about these encounters had subtly changed each time.

Before he could figure it out, Artoria turned to face him, her expression tinged with a mix of embarrassment and caution as she softly asked:

"Sir Ian, do you... feel that something is different?"

"..."

Ian found himself momentarily at a loss for words.

Seeing his reaction, Artoria nervously clarified:

"It's alright if you didn't notice."

"Perhaps I haven't perfected the method yet."

A sense of unease stirred within Ian.

"You mean... what, exactly?"

"Well—"

Artoria turned her gaze toward the Sword of Promised Victory before her.

"I thought, perhaps I could use other methods... to make the experience feel more authentic for you."

"But now that I think about it..."

Artoria let out an awkward chuckle.

"It seems I've failed."

Ian stood stunned for a moment.

Finally, he understood why every encounter felt slightly different.

It was the result of Artoria's earnest efforts.

Even in a place that was never meant for such acts, she sought to enhance the experience as much as she could.

And upon reflection—

Even the wine used to set the mood was something she had prepared in advance.

The sincerity of this maiden's devotion lay bare before the one she loved, expressed so straightforwardly.

It was impossible to ignore.

Ian gently caressed the fair skin of the maiden, once again entering her private sanctuary.

"You didn't fail."

"I truly had an amazing experience, one I can't seem to stop longing for."

"Sir Ian..."

"Shh—"

Ian clasped the maiden's hands.

"The others are resting."

"Let's keep quiet for a while."

"Um, umu!"

In the knights' encampment at night, the sound of flowing water echoed faintly.

The king surrendered herself to the knight, secretly savoring the bittersweet taste of her disgrace.

[Your time spent fighting alongside Artoria has grown significantly.]

[With such physical and spiritual harmony, your synergy on the battlefield surpasses all expectations.]

[The Sword of Promised Victory and the Sword of Revolving Victory shine brightly, their combined power unmatched.]

[As a result, whether it is day or night, the sight of a knight wielding a radiant sword is ever-present before the armies of Camelot.]

[You have achieved five consecutive victories in battle, amplifying King Arthur's renown across the lands of Britannia.]

[These feats have elevated your status among the knights immensely.]

["Magic of Princess" has been replaced by "Shadow of the King of Knights."]

[You are recognized as the strongest knight under King Arthur's banner, with campaigns you lead giving both allies and enemies alike the impression that King Arthur herself is present on the battlefield.]

[The knights now respect you not for your title as "King Lot," but for your undeniable accomplishments.]

[Your bond with King Arthur is seen as a connection of body and shadow.]

[This reputation has spread beyond the marching army, reaching even the capital.]

[The people cheer and rejoice.]

[But not everyone is pleased by this development.]

On the city walls.

Morgan gazed out over the golden wheat fields that stretched endlessly to the horizon, her expression tinged with melancholy.

This was not the work of Merlin, but rather a miraculous sight born of magecraft seeds she had cultivated in isolation after Ian's departure.

A creation imbued with her solitude and determination.

"Mother."

Agravain approached with his usual stoic demeanor.

"You summoned me... may I ask for what purpose?"

Hearing his voice, Morgan turned to him and handed him a dagger.

"You understand, Agravain," she began.

"I did not have you train in the assassin's art for so long merely to see you stay in Camelot, living a life of quiet obscurity."

"You have work to do."

"..."

Agravain accepted the dagger, his expression unchanging, as though he had long anticipated this moment.

"I understand."

"Mother, I will take my leave."