Chapter Thirty-Five: The Vanguard of Avalon

Arthur Pendragon stood on the edge of a ruined hillside overlooking Manchester, his armour gleaming faintly in the pale morning light. The city below was a patchwork of destruction and fragile rebuilding, a testament to the resilience of its people and the chaos of the conflict that still raged.

He rested a hand on the hilt of Excalibur, the ancient blade feeling both familiar and foreign in his grip. It had been centuries since he last held it, yet the weight of its responsibility had never left him.

The world he had awoken to was far from the Camelot he had once ruled. There were no lords, no knights, no castles. Only broken buildings and a fractured people struggling to survive.

And yet, in their struggle, he saw a spark of the same hope that had driven him to unite Britain so long ago.

Behind him, Alora and Christopher approached, their presence grounding him in this unfamiliar reality.

"Still thinking about it?" Alora asked, her voice soft.

Arthur turned, a faint smile touching his lips. "Always. This world is so different, yet its wounds feel all too familiar."

Christopher smirked, leaning casually against a jagged stone. "You get used to it. Or you go mad. Either way, welcome to the team."

Arthur chuckled, the sound deep and warm. "A team, you say? It feels more like a band of rebels than a knightly order."

Alora crossed her arms, her emerald eyes narrowing playfully. "You'd be surprised. We're not so different from the knights of old."

Arthur studied her, his gaze thoughtful. "Perhaps. But if we are to stand together, we must do so as more than rebels or knights. We must be a beacon—a vanguard for a better world."

Christopher's grin widened. "There's the big speech. Knew it was coming."

Alora elbowed him lightly, though a smile tugged at her lips. "Vanguard of Avalon," she said, testing the words. "I like it."

Arthur nodded, his expression resolute. "Then let us forge this vanguard together. A new Camelot for a new age."

Later that day, the growing team gathered in the ruins of the chapel where Arthur had first been awakened. Lumina stood beside Yuri, both of them visibly relieved to have a leader with a vision they could believe in. Stormseer, Shadowbane, and the other Guardians were more cautious but intrigued.

On the other side of the room, the Vanguard watched with wary expressions. Swift Angel stood tall, his wings folded tightly against his back, while Firebrand paced like a caged lion, flames sparking at his fingertips.

Arthur addressed the group, his voice steady and commanding. "You have fought bravely—each of you—for what you believed was right. But now we stand at a crossroads. Divided, we risk destroying the very world we seek to save. United, we can build something greater."

Firebrand snorted, his flames flaring briefly. "And who put you in charge? Waving a sword around doesn't make you king."

Christopher raised an eyebrow, his tone light but pointed. "Careful, mate. You're talking to the guy who is king. Like, literally."

Firebrand glared at him but stayed silent.

Swift Angel stepped forward, his grey eyes locked on Arthur. "We've been fighting for order, for stability. Why should we throw that away to follow you?"

Arthur met his gaze without flinching. "Because the order you seek cannot be built on fear and domination. The people will not follow those who rule with iron and flame. But they will follow those who lead with justice and compassion."

The room fell silent, the tension thick as Arthur's words hung in the air.

Lumina broke the silence, her glow brightening. "He's right. We've all lost sight of why we started fighting in the first place. This isn't about power—it's about hope."

Yuri nodded, his icy breath visible in the warm air. "If we keep fighting each other, there won't be a world left to save."

Firebrand crossed his arms, his golden eyes blazing. "Hope doesn't win wars."

"No," Arthur agreed, his tone firm. "But it is what makes them worth winning."

Swift Angel's wings shifted slightly, his expression softening, though doubt lingered in his eyes.

"I'll think about it," Angel said finally, stepping back.

Firebrand didn't respond, but he didn't leave either.

As the meeting concluded, the group began to disperse, though the lingering tension between Firebrand and Swift Angel remained.

Alora approached Arthur, her voice low. "They'll come around. They just need time."

Arthur nodded, his gaze thoughtful. "Time is a luxury we may not have. But I will do everything in my power to unite them."

Christopher sauntered over, his grin as irreverent as ever. "Well, you've got the speech thing down. Now you just need to make them believe it."

Arthur smiled faintly, his tone lighter. "And you, Merlin? Will you stand with me?"

Christopher laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. "Wouldn't miss it for the world, mate. Besides, someone's got to make sure you don't start getting ideas about round tables and jousting tournaments."

That night, Arthur stood once more on the hillside, the faint glimmers of light from Manchester flickering below. Alora joined him, her shadow magic swirling faintly in the cool breeze.

"Do you think this can work?" she asked quietly.

Arthur's gaze didn't waver. "It must. For if it doesn't, there may be no world left to save."

Alora nodded, her voice filled with quiet resolve. "Then let's make it work. Together."

Arthur smiled, a spark of hope flickering in his eyes. "Together."