Sunforged

The cold kiss of steel against his neck jolted Lancelot back to reality. His breath caught.

He couldn't see her.

No footsteps. No warning. No aura.

Even he—Lancelot, famed knight chosen by the Calanthor Council—couldn't sense her.

What the hell is she?

At the altar, Julius stood like a statue, lips curved in a smirk that didn't reach his eyes.

Damn it. Why can't things ever go smoothly?

"L-Leave Sir Lancelot alone!" Elena cried out, desperation trembling in her voice. Her hands were raised, arcane energy crackling in her palms, ready to cast.

"Wait—!" Lancelot's voice rang across the hall, sharper than any blade. "If you don't want to get killed, then stay back! I'm fine!"

Elena froze, torn between fear and determination. But after a long, wavering breath, she lowered her hands.

"How smart of you, Sir Lancelot~" came a sultry whisper by his ear. A gloved hand slid around his waist, mockingly intimate.

He kept his breath steady. "Mind introducing yourself, pretty lady?"

"Oh my. Since you asked so nicely…"

She stepped into view, finally revealing herself.

Sleek black armor like liquid midnight, eyes glinting with dangerous amusement, and a smirk carved by chaos itself.

"I'm Delta."

Delta? That's not a name I wrote… she's not supposed to exist. An external variable.

But right now, there was no time to dwell on that.

There was only one thing to do.

Act.

In a blink, the weight at his throat vanished. The moment the blade left skin, he vanished—moving faster than the eye could trace.

Steel rang. Sparks flew.

Delta didn't flinch.

"Oho~ How dirty, Sir Lancelot."

I can't win. Not in speed. Not in strength. But—

"I have to hold on!"

He launched into a flurry—low strikes, fainted stabs, a spin followed by a reverse grip slash. Every trick in the book. He even threw his cloak to obscure her vision.

She giggled. Actually giggled.

Each blow was either deflected with lazy elegance or dodged by mere inches, like she was dancing.

"Oh, don't stop now~ I'm having so much fun!"

He gritted his teeth. His muscles screamed with every move. Blood dripped from reopened wounds. He could barely breathe.

Yet he didn't stop.

---

Meanwhile, near the altar, Natalia's eyes remained fixed on the battle. Then she snapped her fingers.

"You. Go get Elena," she ordered one of the knights. "Bring her over quietly."

The knight hesitated. "But Your Majesty, what about Sir Lancelot—"

"Let him be. Do as I say."

Her voice was frigid. Unreadable. Julius, standing close, felt the hair on the back of his neck rise.

The knight obeyed, slipping away and circling to Elena.

"No—wait! Sir Lancelot—!"

Elena struggled as the knight gently but firmly pulled her back toward Natalia.

"Lady Natalia, we can't leave him there!"

"Hmph. Let him be," Natalia said, already walking toward the shattered entrance. "Your life is the only thing I care about. Besides, we stand a better chance of escaping the barrier if he buys us time."

Elena looked back, torn. But ultimately, she followed.

Natalia looked back once.

No one knew why.

---

Lancelot's vision blurred. His limbs felt like iron. She was toying with him now—parrying lazily, yawning mid-dodge, even humming.

They backed away… Good. At least she's safe.

But he could barely stand now.

Delta tilted her head, eyes gleaming like a cat with a crippled mouse.

"So pitiful, Sir Lancelot. Your precious queen doesn't even care about you. She doesn't see your worth. Join us. Vespera doesn't abandon its own…"

He spat blood and grinned. "No thanks. I don't join thieves."

Delta's smile faded.

"…Thieves?" she repeated.

Then she snapped.

"Thieves?! We are the only ones willing to burn this rotten kingdom to the ground! We are justice made blade—!"

Steel flashed.

A slash. A scream.

Lancelot hit the floor hard, sword flung from his hand. Delta's boot pressed down on his chest, her blade once again against his throat.

"You've lost," she whispered, a dark thrill in her voice. "You can't win."

The fight was over.

Everything was hopeless.

And Lancelot… laughed.

"Have you lost your mind?" she asked.

"No…" he whispered. "You're right. I can't beat you…"

His eyes flicked to the shattered roof.

"But he can."

A sound like the sky being torn apart split the air. A radiant slash burst through the heavens, obliterating the barrier that surrounded the chapel. Light flooded in like a second dawn.

"Tch. Is it that time already?" Delta growled, springing backward and landing on the roof.

From the light, a figure emerged, walking with sword in hand—his blade glowing like the sun itself.

Garrick Solvain.

The Sunforged Knight.

"…Garrick?" Natalia muttered, her mask finally cracking with surprise.

"You're late…" Lancelot wheezed from the ground.

"Yeah, yeah," Garrick said casually, not taking his eyes off Delta. "Took some time to crack that overgrown rock."

"You better do your part properly."

Garrick smirked. "You bet I will."

He raised his sword—Apollo Ignis—and let its radiance surge. Flames like golden light spiraled around him.

Delta narrowed her eyes.

"So you're the Sunforged…"

"That's right."

He pointed the blade toward her.

"Hope you brought sunglasses."

He leapt into the air—his entire form swallowed by brilliant flames.

"RISE OF THE BRILLIANT SUN!"

The roof didn't collapse. It evaporated. A blinding flash engulfed the hall like the wrath of a god.

Everyone shielded their eyes.

Lancelot, lying bloodied on the floor, laughed through his tears.

"…He's called Sunforged for a reason, huh?"