I am Arthur
He watched time fly by. Days turned into weeks. Weeks into months. Time moved forward—and so did he.
He didn't know how to get out of this place, so he accepted it. Part of him wanted this. He was not alone those years.
He lived the life that belonged to someone else.
He trained with the best. He mastered every kind of swordsmanship. He traveled the world, learning.
Then came the years of ruling. He led armies. He held court. He stood in the middle of cheering crowds. He gave orders. He gave hope.
And every day, the real Excalibur never left his side—as he fought with a replica Excalibur to keep people believing in him.
No matter what he accomplished, no matter how many battles he won, the real Excalibur never accepted him.
Still stayed sealed.
Still stayed quiet.
As if it was still waiting for the real Arthur.
He lived like a king. Acted like a king. But to it, he was a fake.
Over time, he stopped trying. But he continued to carry it with him.
Not for show. Not to lie. He carried it because a part of him still hoped—maybe one day, it would see him the same way everyone else did.
Maybe one day… it would believe in him too.
Because no matter how many people called him king… he didn't feel like one.
They believed in him. They knelt. They followed him into battle. They died for him.
But he knew how fragile belief could be.
If the truth ever came out—that he was never the one who pulled the sword from the stone—everything would fall apart in a second. Like glass.
As time passed, the hologram stopped showing up. He didn't know his task anymore.
But he didn't mind.
He was living a good life. Waiting for his end.
He had no regrets.
But one thing always stayed with him.
The thought that he didn't deserve the crown—because the sword never moved for him.
And yet… he continued to move forward.
He sat at the Round Table. Fought beside the greatest knights. Dined with royalty.
He learned their names. He laughed with them. Cried with them. Buried some of them.
He loved.
He lost.
And slowly, without realizing it, he stopped pretending.
He embraced it. He became Arthur.
His old name became a blur. He didn't think of his life as Sylas anymore. He stopped asking himself when the trial would end.
He spent every bit of time with his mother—until she passed away.
This life felt real now.
Then came the betrayals.
By his trusted knight Lancelot.
By his lover Guinevere.
By his own sister.
Even through the worst of times… Excalibur stayed beside him.
He watched as his friends turned into strangers. Knights who once cheered him now whispered behind his back. The kingdom he gave everything for—slowly splitting apart.
And still… he kept going.
Kept fighting for it.
Because that's what a king does.
He kept carrying the sword. Carried the hopes of everyone.
Sometimes, when he was alone, he would try to draw it. Hoping he might have become worthy.
Nothing ever happened.
It wouldn't move.
And yet—he never left it behind.
Because even if it didn't choose him…
He had already chosen it.
Before he knew it—
His hair grew longer.
His voice deeper.
His back straighter.
He was no longer the boy who fell into a trial.
He was a man now. A ruler. A legend.
But one thing stayed the same.
The sword was still sealed.
Then came the end.
The final march.
The battlefield was filled with blood and fire. Mordred leading the charge. His crown slipping. The replica Excalibur—broken. Shattered in his hands like everything else.
And in that moment, surrounded, wounded… only Merlin stood with him.
"What would you do, false king?"
He laughed as he dropped the fake Excalibur.
He walked forward—Excalibur in his hand.
He lifted both arms. Left hand on the sheath. Right hand on the hilt.
As the enemy approached, he said—
"Hey Merlin, tell me this."
With all his might, he pulled.
"I don't understand why a sword gets to pick a king."
He pulled harder.
"In the end, a king without his followers is just a man with a crown."
He pulled even harder, his grip tightening.
"I'll be damned if I let a sword mock me in my last moment of glory!"
He pulled one last time with all his strength and roared—
"I am done letting a sword decide who I am…
I AM A KING!"
The sword exploded with golden light.
The seal shattered.
The weight disappeared.
It was light.
He felt the power flowing through him.
He looked at the sword—and he charged.
But even now, as he held the real thing… he wasn't angry.
Not at the sword.
Not at the trial.
Because in the end—he had no regrets.
He had lived a full life.
He led a kingdom.
He found a family.
He got to see his mother's face every morning.
He wasn't alone anymore.
As he was about to collide with the enemy, his surroundings turned white.
Then it popped up again—
[System Notification]
Trial: Gate of Legends – Final Stage Complete
Title Confirmed: The False King
Weapon Bonded: Excalibur – E Rank
System Path: Unranked – Legacy Override Active
Belief Counter: 25,000 / 25,000 (Skill Slot Unlocked)
Hidden Requirement: Fulfilled
Unlocked Skill: Domain of the true King
Create a battlefield shaped by him—filled with replica swords.
Sylas can summon and wield any sword he has seen or touched.
Each replica can only be used once—after a single attack, it shatters.
Enemy buffs are suppressed inside the domain.
Duration: 60 seconds (Base Form). Scales with Excalibur's Rank.
Passive Skill Evolved: Absolute Sword Sense
Now capable of drawing out 200%+ of any weapon's potential.
New Status: Excalibur Seal Broken
Mana Output: E (matches Excalibur's current rank)
Combat Rank: E
Overload Scaling: Active
Power increases as Excalibur evolves.
Next Rank: D
Requirement: 50 Soul Core Fragments
He let out a soft laugh.
The weight was finally gone.
As he turned, he saw Merlin standing there—quiet, waiting.
Merlin didn't say a word.
He just stepped forward… and held out Excalibur.
Sylas took the sword.
No speech.
No goodbye.
Just a silent understanding between them.
Then Merlin pointed to the door.
The end of the trial.
Sylas walked toward it.
And with every step, his body began to change.
The scars faded.
The years peeled away.
His crown, his armor, the life he lived here… all slipped from him.
He was becoming himself again.
He stopped at the door and turned around.
Arthur stood beside Merlin.
Both were smiling.
Both raised their hands in a final wave—
One from the man he replaced.
The other from the man who tested him.
Sylas raised his hand slowly… and waved back.
Then he stepped through the door—
A thought kept coming to him:
Was any of this real?
Even if it was not, he didn't have any regrets.
After all, he was able to see his mother once more.
Maybe that's why she had her face—because he wanted to see her one last time.
He lived a fulfilling life.
He turned once more.
"Thank you, Merlin."
He opened the door and entered.