Chapter 3: World Reaction

The entire world recognized the miracle almost instantly.

In the stillness of an ordinary night, something impossible happened: a city appeared — vast, colossal, immaculate — among the hills of Malham Cove. At its heart stood a castle white as ivory, with walls that touched the heavens and towers bathed in gold. It was Camelot. A sacred kingdom brought back into reality by the Holy Lance wielded by a God.

Nathanael.

The world barely had time to react. The news spread in real time. Shaky cellphone footage captured the silhouette of the city materializing. Drone videos revealed the impossible architecture, the celestial dome rising above the main fortress. Social media exploded. Streamers rushed to go live. Theories surfaced within seconds.

But when some tried to approach… something stopped them.

The [Divine Authority] of Rhongomyniad.

The air around Camelot trembled with the sacred presence of the Lance. An invisible field of pure awe and reverence took hold of human hearts. There were no physical barriers — only Nathanael's will. And it was absolute. Those who dared step forward felt the weight of something far greater than themselves. Their steps faltered by instinct alone.

Nathanael would never allow just anyone to enter Camelot.

His kingdom was no tourist attraction.

It was his home.

Then came the light.

A golden beam tore through the skies, rising from the heart of the castle like a divine beacon. It was the sign. The Summoning had begun. The Knights of the Round Table were returning.

And then... silence.

The light vanished.

But the world had already changed.

In modern times, where magic had gradually faded and mystery had turned into legend, Nathanael's presence was an anomaly. A reminder. Something greater than time had returned. And the longer he remained in that world, the more the Earth itself seemed to remember...

...what true legend meant.

...

"Sir. You need to see this."

Phil Coulson's calm yet firm voice cut through the silence of the S.H.I.E.L.D. platform. The sound of waves crashing against metal echoed in the background, while Nick Fury stared out at the sea, hands clasped behind his back, immersed in his thoughts — thoughts focused solely on one project: the Avengers Initiative.

"Is it about the Avengers Initiative?" Fury asked, without even turning his gaze from the vast blue before him.

"Maybe… something more complex."

Coulson held out a tablet. On the screen, live footage and recordings from phones and drones — a city that hadn't existed hours ago. A resplendent white castle, rising in the middle of the hills of Malham Cove, England. The structure looked medieval, yet it defied all architectural logic, as if taken straight from a mystical epic. And then... the golden beam of light piercing the skies like a divine spear.

Fury took the tablet and finally turned around.

His one eye examined the screen carefully, analyzing the data. His expression, already naturally stern, grew even more intense.

"This... reminds me of when I met Carol," he said in a low voice. "That damned incident with the Skrulls... That's where it all began."

He closed his eyes for a moment. The past was a reminder — and a warning.

He stared at Coulson with intensity.

"Find the source of that light. Find out who they are. Now!"

Coulson nodded. "I've already alerted our satellites. We're triangulating anomalous energy. And the United Nations wants answers."

"We'll give them answers when we know what the hell is going on!" Fury shouted as he turned his attention back to the sea.

London, United Kingdom — Official Residence of the Prime Minister

The morning had begun like any other. But the sunrise revealed something impossible.

A city.

Not just a city — a fortress of white marble rising in the middle of the Malham Cove hills. The castle at its center shimmered in the morning light, visible even from the most distant villages. Air traffic over the region was immediately suspended.

In the situation room, the British Prime Minister watched the images with an expression of sheer disbelief.

"Is this some kind of experimental American base?" he asked, his voice tinged with irritation and concern.

"Negative, sir," replied an MI6 analyst. "We have no records of any project, construction, or military movement in that area. The city appeared... overnight. Satellites show that at 2:13 a.m., there was nothing there. At 2:14, it was."

"You're telling me a bloody medieval city just popped out of nowhere, on our soil, and we don't know how, why, or even what?!"

"Not even the what, sir," murmured an aide. "The central tower emitted a beam of light into the sky. Some are calling it a divine column. Atmospheric sensors detected a brief pressure collapse and localized electromagnetic disturbance. Strangely... the animals in the area gathered and moved toward the light."

"Contact Washington. I want to know if this is theirs."

Washington D.C. — Pentagon War Room

The U.S. Secretary of Defense stood, leaning against the table as the generals quickly discussed.

"Then tell me: is it a new weapon? A secret European project that no one shared with NATO?"

"No, sir," replied the CIA director. "There are no explanations. No foundations, no power grid, no thermal signature of construction or transportation. The city simply exists."

On the screen ahead, a high-resolution photo showed the silhouette of the castle, its coats of arms, unknown flags fluttering in the wind, and a wall stretching like a stone ring. There were arcane inscriptions at the base of the main tower, in a language no one could decipher.

"Any movement?"

"Yes... we saw shadows. People. Guards in medieval armor. And a man in white armor... he appeared at the top of the tower before the light shot up to the sky."

"You're telling me there's a medieval king in British territory? This sounds like a damn RPG coming to life!"

"We're monitoring social media. The event has already exploded on Twitter and TikTok. They're calling it 'The Light of the Sky.'"

"Shit... I want drones in the sky, satellites in orbit. And... someone send a warning to the President."

Moscow, Russia — Kremlin

In the dark room of the Russian Security Council, images of the city filled all the screens.

"Is this a new NATO weapon?" asked a general.

"No. The Americans are as lost as we are," replied the SVR director. "But... there is something strange. Our satellites detected an unusual radiation pattern. It's not nuclear, nor electromagnetic. It's something... unknown."

The Russian President observed in silence, his fingers drumming on the table.

"You're telling me a city teleported to the United Kingdom?"

"We don't even know if it was teleported. It might have been created. As if it emerged from the ground. The structures show no signs of wear. They look new, but also... ancient."

"Send a group of scientists. And deploy the Spetsnaz to position at the air border. If NATO doesn't know what this is, then it's a threat to everyone."

United Nations — New York

An emergency meeting had been called. Diplomats from 198 countries spoke at once, in a diplomatic chaos unlike anything many had ever seen.

"The city emerged on British soil, but the energy emitted surpassed the stratosphere! This is a global risk!"

"We demand that the United Kingdom allow an international inspection! This could be a violation of the Geneva Treaty!"

"The Vatican wants to send an emissary! Some say this is a divine manifestation!"

"This could be the opening of a new type of war. A kind the world has never seen."

While governments tried to understand and control the phenomenon, Camelot remained silent.

The city had not responded to any diplomatic calls, had issued no clear message—only the golden light had been its announcement. And now, all the satellites in the world were focused on the English hill. Every step taken by anyone within the walls was recorded, magnified, analyzed.

And at the center of the castle, seated on the white marble throne, Nathanael watched it all through the planet itself, which spoke to him. His expression was calm, patient.

He knew the world had noticed his arrival.

And this... was just the beginning.

White curtains rose in silent dances, reflecting the golden glow emanating from the heart of the throne room. The King of Camelot, seated in his chair carved with arcane symbols and ancient inscriptions, took a deep breath, allowing the silence to envelop him for a brief moment. His golden eyes were half-closed but alert—as if seeing beyond the present, beyond space, beyond time itself.

He didn't need oracles, prophets, or reports. The Earth itself whispered to him. Every breath of the wind, every pulse of the ground, every beat of a living creature's heart... all converged to him like a deep and eternal chant. Like a God-King who had forged his pact with the world itself, Nathanael listened.

The voices of the planet reached him in a silent current, like a river of murmurs: the restlessness of world leaders, military paranoia, religious fervor, the fear contained in the words of scientists. Even the sound of children playing, unaware of the storm of uncertainties brewing on the horizon.

And even deeper... further below the crust, where no light reached, he felt it.

A dormant being, a colossus of ages, hidden in the core of the Earth. An ancient creature, a titan of the skies known only as Celestial. A name that the modern world still didn't comprehend, but that the Earth had known since its formation. Around it, others—beings known as Eternals and Deviants, pulsing with unknown purposes, but all connected to that primordial core.

'What power is this...?' Nathanael thought, his eyes shining more brightly with every beat of the planetary heart he absorbed. 'Is this the true extent of my Authority...?'

He knew what the Divine was. He felt what it was to be divine. But now... it was as if he were sitting on the throne of a world. Not just a spiritual ruler, but a living part of the very planetary organism.

And then, he responded.

Not with empty words or useless promises, but with a single phrase laden with pure power, pacification, and warmth:

"Calm down, your suffering will end. I only ask for patience."

Her voice did not echo through the halls. It echoed in the roots of the Earth, in the tectonic plates, in the incandescent core, and rose to the heavens like an inverted prayer. The trees heard it. The waters stopped for a second. The animals looked to the sky. And the planet... responded with relief.

It was at this moment that Artoria Pendragon, once King, now Queen, approached. She stood, her shining armor reflecting the colors of the moonlight, the royal blue cape resting behind her like the wings of an angel. Her steps were firm, but there was hesitation in her gaze.

She had felt it too. The magic, dense, ancient... pure. A wave that made her remember the past ages, when the Gods still walked among men.

"Na—... My King," she quickly corrected herself, her tone soft, as if still testing this new reality. "What happened?"

Nathanael looked at her, a barely perceptible smile forming on his divine face, as if that brief slip was more important than any formality. He then sighed again — but now, with less weight, almost as if relieved.

"The planet is asking for help," he replied, with a serenity that made even the winds around them slow. "I'm just... responding."

Artoria nodded slowly, but her eyes never left his face. There was something there — something beyond divinity, something that made the very world bend in silence before him. She crossed her arms, and even with her military discipline, she couldn't avoid pressing her hands together, as if trying to contain the curiosity that burned in her chest.

Now she was Queen. And she knew that, in certain matters, she should maintain respect, composure. Still...

"You're curious, aren't you?" Nathanael asked, even before she could say anything, his voice laced with lightness and wisdom.

Artoria blushed slightly, caught in the act like an apprentice before her master. She smiled, a rare gesture in times of war and difficult decisions.

"Yes... I am."

Nathanael extended his hand, inviting her to come closer.

Artoria was visibly embarrassed by the direct question. Her shoulders hunched almost imperceptibly, a subtle yet revealing gesture for someone who had carried the weight of an entire kingdom on her shoulders with the posture of a living legend. Her eyes, normally as firm as steel, wavered for a brief moment before looking away, contemplating the polished marble floor that reflected the golden sky of Camelot.

She eventually nodded, a small movement, but full of sincerity.

"It's hard not to..." she murmured, her voice carrying a touch of hesitation unusual for someone who had commanded armies and faced indescribable horrors in the name of the people. Still, there was strength in it — not from a warrior, but from someone who recognized something beyond their own understanding. "You speak to the planet as if it were an old friend."

She paused, almost as if contemplating whether to continue, but her eyes rose, now fixed on the King before her.

"Even when I was King... I never felt that kind of connection. Neither with Avalon nor with the Earth. Only with my sword."

For a moment, silence reigned. The sound of the wind passing between the pillars of the throne room was like an ancient melody, played by the invisible hands of the world.

Nathanael smiled tenderly upon hearing her words, a smile that seemed to come not just from his lips, but from his soul. He stepped forward, his robes gently swaying with the movement. He raised his hand, and as if responding to a silent call, the air around them stirred.

The wind changed.

It became warmer, more alive. It carried the scent of the forests of Albion, the ancient fields, and the hills where magic once reigned supreme. The sky above briefly tinted with a golden light, not blinding, but comforting — like the sun's glow on spring mornings, when the world still feels new.

"You guided by the sword, by will," he said, his voice as firm as it was gentle. "I... listen. The world doesn't speak like us. It groans. It remembers. It whispers forgotten tragedies, dreams buried under concrete and steel."

He turned, and together, they gazed at the city that stood as a beacon of hope: Camelot, shining, sublime, almost ethereal under the sunlight. The towers pointed to the skies, but their roots were deep, connected with the very spirit of the planet.

"Since I invoked Camelot, everything has become clearer," Nathanael continued. "It's as if every particle of earth recognizes me, as if my throne is not just symbolic, but literal. It pulses. It feels. It's the heartbeat of the world."

Then his golden eyes fixed on the horizon, beyond the mountains and oceans, beyond the veil of the turbulent nations.

"This planet... is crying, Artoria. It can no longer bear it. Heroes and monsters walk upon it with arrogance. People have lost faith. Technology advances, but wisdom has been left behind. And now, a God — a Celestial — sleeps beneath us, trapped in an ancient cycle where destruction and creation blur together. The humans don't know. But the planet knows. And it called me. It begged. For me."

Artoria slowly approached, her eyes wide, not with fear, but with reverence. This was not just power... it was purpose. It was what she had sought her entire life. Even when she led with a sword, even when she fought for justice... she always felt something was missing. Now, before Nathanael, she understood.

"So... will you answer?"

"Yes," he said, without hesitation. "But not as a warrior. Not as a conqueror. As a King. A God. The modern world has forgotten the sacred. It has forgotten the value of silence, reverence, and order. I will bring back... not the past. But something new. Something eternal. A new covenant with the Earth."

He then extended his hand to her, not as a command, but as an invitation. A gesture full of trust and complicity.

"Come, my Queen. Let us write together a new era. An era where the divine walks among men, but also listens, protects, and guides. An era where neither the Eternals, nor the Deviants, nor the Celestials dictate the fate — but the world itself, through us."

Artoria looked at the extended hand. Within it, a silent storm raged. She remembered the fall of her Camelot. The loneliness. The guilt. The burden she had never stopped carrying. There was fear, yes. The fear of failing again. Of seeing everything crumble once more.

But in Nathanael's golden eyes... she saw something she had never had. A partner. An equal. A King who did not need to command with a sword, but with empathy. With soul.

She took his hand. And as she did, she felt the warmth of the Earth pass through her skin, as if the world were accepting her too.

"Yes, my King."