Excalibur Galatine vs. Arondight!

T/N: Information for the ignorants.....

For those who don't know France was called Gaul in the 5th century.

But in the original for some reason the author written it as France not Gaul.

So in this translation it would be called Gaul.

Cause no false information should be spread.

......

[You didn't expect a knight to request a meeting at this time.]

[You especially didn't expect this knight to be from Gaul, across the coast.]

[You feel that this matter isn't as simple as it seems.]

Ian and Artoria exchanged glances, understanding each other's thoughts.

There was no point in avoiding the meeting; it was better to face it.

"Let him come," the young king said.

"Understood."

And so, amidst the aroma of food and the welcoming cheers of the knights, a man appeared before them.

He was a man of tall stature, with beautiful violet eyes and milkweed-like hair.

One glance was enough to tell he was a knight of extraordinary bearing.

"Greetings, I am Lancelot, a knight from Gaul."

[You notice his gaze is fixed on Artoria beside you.]

[This is different from Percival and Palomides—they had mistaken you for the true King Arthur.]

[You realize he is no ordinary knight.]

[You sense his strength might be formidable.]

Seeing no one answer, the knight who called himself Lancelot spoke again.

"If my guess is correct," Lancelot looked at Artoria, "you are King Arthur."

"And he," Lancelot looked to the side, "must be the king's attendant."

Though expected, Ian wasn't pleased.

"In that case," Ian returned Lancelot's gaze, "Knight from Gaul, what brings you here from so far?"

"Surely not just to tell us you can tell us apart?"

Though he was a scoundrel who could privately manipulate Artoria's emotions, Ian maintained absolute respect for her in public.

A king could be corrupted in secret, but never publicly disgraced.

If anyone dared to offend Artoria's dignity, Ian was sure he would be the first to draw his sword.

"Of course not," Lancelot smiled and shook his head. "That would make me seem rather petty."

"Then what is your purpose?" Ian pressed.

"Simple." Lancelot's hand rested on the hilt of his sword.

It was a round pommel made of some material.

Even in the sunlight, it remained perfectly calm, as if never touched by the sun.

"Across the sea, I heard tales of the invincible King Arthur, who drew the Sword from the Stone."

"Those heroic deeds have even been turned into songs in Gaul, echoing through the halls."

"And I," Lancelot drew his steady blade from its sheath, "am the counterpoint to those songs."

"I often wondered if I could truly accept this."

"Only when I embarked on this journey, crossing rivers and mountains, and saw the true King Arthur, did I know what choice my heart would accept."

Lancelot pointed his weapon at Artoria.

The heavy, lake-like blade pointed at the young king.

"King Arthur, accept my challenge!"

[You fully understand Lancelot's intention.]

[He is a knight from Gaul, who, tired of being compared to Artoria's heroism by his people, resolutely set foot on British soil.]

[This is why he focused his gaze on Artoria from the start.]

[His purpose is completely different from the previous two knights who came seeking fame.]

[Knights seeking fame would subconsciously associate the invincible King Arthur image with your tall figure, leading to misunderstanding.]

[For Lancelot, he comes with the determination to wipe away his shame.]

[The image corresponding to the title of King Arthur in his mind is naturally the seemingly easier-to-defeat Artoria.]

[You realize Artoria has been underestimated.]

[You are a little displeased.]

"Lancelot," Ian placed his hand on the hilt of Excalibur Galatine.

"You are a knight from a foreign land; there is no reason to challenge the king immediately."

"Oh?" Lancelot shifted his gaze from Artoria to Ian.

"By your words, you intend to stand before King Arthur?"

"Exactly," Ian drew Excalibur Galatine.

"Without defeating the king's shadow, how can one face the king?"

"Makes sense," Lancelot smiled gracefully. "Then let me first defeat you, the shadow."

[Your duel with Lancelot is inevitable.]

[For the knights on the Feast Day, it is excellent entertainment.]

[Your duel with Lancelot is set in the center of the camp.]

[All eyes are on you two.]

[Only Artoria is worried about your health.]

[She decides to prepare something on the sidelines.]

"Brother Gawain," Gareth, munching on roast meat, asked Gawain nearby, "who do you think will win this duel?"

"Is that even a question?" Gawain was still fiddling with his mashed potatoes. "Of course, it's Father."

"Gareth, have you ever seen him lose?"

"No!" Gareth took a big bite of meat. "Father seems to have never lost to anyone."

"Exactly," Gawain nodded, "so this time will be no exception."

"…That makes sense."

As the siblings talked, Artoria appeared behind them.

"Gareth, Gawain."

Hearing the King's voice, they turned around, respectfully.

"Your Majesty," Gawain said quickly, "we didn't notice your arrival; it's our fault."

"It's nothing, no need to be so tense," Artoria reassured them. "I just wanted to remind you of something."

"What is it?" Gawain asked immediately.

"Well," Artoria looked towards the duel, "if possible, I want you to be prepared at all times."

"In case of any unexpected events, you can react immediately."

"Yes, I understand."

"Good."

Watching Artoria leave, Gawain felt a little uneasy.

Could something go wrong in this duel?

"Gareth, stop eating! The king wants us to be ready."

"Huh?! O-Okay!"

[You are unaware of Artoria's actions.]

[You only want to duel with Lancelot before you.]

[But you can vaguely sense something.]

[The blade held by the knight from Gaul resonates strangely with your Excalibur Galatine.]

"Then," Lancelot raised his weapon, "before the duel begins, let's agree on a few things."

"I did not cross mountains and seas to start a war—but merely to prove to the people of Gaul that I am not inferior to King Arthur."

"So, I propose three agreements."

"Neither of us will kill the other."

"Neither of us will harm any knight not participating in the duel."

"And we will acknowledge defeat in the duel."

Lancelot looked at Ian "Can you accept these conditions?"

"Of course," Ian replied directly. "They sound like excellent agreements."

"Indeed," Lancelot smiled slightly, "Gaulish knights are always courteous."

"Then," "Enough with the pleasantries," Lancelot pointed his mysterious blade at Ian. "It's time for the knightly duel."

"Indeed."

The atmosphere tensed instantly.

Lancelot and Ian, each holding their blades, looked at each other warily.

This was normal behavior.

In a duel between equals, victory or defeat often hinges on a single move.

Rushing in would only expose one's weaknesses.

Even in this standoff, Ian was sure his initial assessment was correct—Lancelot was no ordinary knight.

Sunlight shone on their blades, casting a pure white glow.

The knights in the camp were all battle-hardened veterans and quickly realized this was no one-sided affair.

They quieted down, no longer noisy.

Some even slowed their breathing, afraid their actions might affect the duel's outcome.

Suddenly—!

Lancelot launched the first attack.

He gripped the thick, calm blue blade and slashed at his opponent.

Ian, naturally, would not be outdone, gripping Excalibur Galatine with both hands to meet the attack.

Clang!

The blades clashed, producing a violent collision!

To outsiders, it might seem like a normal clash of blades.

But for Ian, he felt the extraordinary nature of his opponent's blade.

[Mana erupts from your blades and Lancelot's.]

[You both realize your weapons share the same origin.]

[This surprises you both.]

"King's Shadow," Lancelot said, surprised, during the clash, "you also have a blade from the lake?"

"Of course," Ian answered without hesitation. "Knight of Gaul, isn't your blade the same?"

"Heh," Lancelot suppressed his surprise. "Then tell me, what is its name?"

"Excalibur Galatine," Ian didn't hide it. "And yours?"

"Arondight," Lancelot also revealed his blade's name.

Clang!

The blades clashed again and bounced off each other.

After this exchange, both Ian and Lancelot knew that close combat was pointless.

Both blades came from the Lady of the Lake, and their hardness was undoubtedly equal.

Then—the only way to decide the winner was to see how well each had mastered their blade.

That was the best way to determine superiority!

Almost instantly, a light flashed across the camp.

More precisely, it was a pure white brilliance, as clear as lake water shimmering under moonlight.

Those who witnessed it felt as if they were standing in a moonlit lake, everything around them still and silent.

Ian knew this was no illusion.

It was the effect of Arondight, the lake blade held by Lancelot.

For an ordinary knight, facing such a scene would mean certain defeat.

But fortunately, it was he who was participating in the duel!

However calm the moonlit lake, it was merely a nocturnal wonder.

And now—it was high noon!

Excalibur Galatine was a blade blessed by the sun.

Now was the moment for it to unleash its full power!

Ian raised his blade.

The blazing sunlight gathered on the blade like threads.

All its heat was drawn by Ian alone.

The knights, previously suspended in the still and silent realm, were now engulfed in the heat summoned by the sun's brilliance, brought forth by Excalibur Galatine.

Clearly—the outcome was becoming evident.

The moment the visions created by their blades collided, the result would be etched into the air.

But things didn't proceed as expected.

[Princess's Curse++ activated: Your mana, drawn to Excalibur Galatine, is now vulnerable to the curse.]

A piercing pain shot through Ian.

He clutched his chest.

Black blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

Lancelot sensed something was wrong.

But it was too late to stop.

After the initial clash, he knew his opponent was no less skilled than himself.

The current still and silent realm was created with his utmost concentration!

The battle quickly turned one-sided.

Even as Ian tried to resist the onslaught, he could only see Morgan's hateful visage flashing before his eyes.

Was this to be his end?

The thought crept into his mind.

In the nick of time, Artoria threw off her royal robes.

She gripped Excalibur and stepped in front of Ian!