Encounter! Gun-Demon Gawain!

Thus… in a way it was baffling, and in another it felt inevitable: the so-called Unified Britain Front was formed under the push of Artoria, the Prophecy Child—although she herself was merely swept along, unwillingly. It was truly bewildering. Artoria found it almost laughable, yet she couldn't bring herself to laugh.

She had originally decided to save Britain because of him… and now she was told that to save Britain she had to defeat him? What was that about? Artoria sank into confusion.

At this moment, she envied her friend Myrienne's straightforwardness more than ever. Seeing Artoria's distress—and the reason behind it—Myrienne had once comforted her:

"Why do you always wear that troubled expression? I have no idea what you're agonizing over."

"You can't approve of his methods, right? You can't condone the wanton slaughter, the ruthless means—even when unnecessary—that he employs."

"As the saying goes: when the path differs, companions cannot remain. If you cannot accept his approach, then naturally he is your enemy."

"And if he is the enemy, what is there left to discuss? Rather than languish here in inner torment, better to think about how to defeat him."

"The victor justly claims everything. Once you defeat him and capture him, how to deal with him is up to us. Afterwards, persuading him, turning him to our side, or reclaiming his heart—those are matters for the next stage. We can consider them later…"

"—What matters most now is: however it takes, you must win against him."

Artoria had murmured, "That reasoning is too simplistic…" but Myrienne calmly replied:

"What's wrong with that? Battle, victory, then rule—does any other approach exist? Otherwise, what could you do? Frown here every day and hope he'll come back?"

Though not fully convinced, Artoria found no real rebuttal. Afterward, she resolved to gather her strength again and act. Not to fight merely to defeat Gawain, but to somehow bring him back to the right path… Though Artoria felt it arrogant to assume her own path was "correct," she could not accept Gawain's bloody methods as right.

Having made that mental shift, everything else followed naturally. She overcame her own barrier and determined to grow stronger—thus, even the once-detested "Forbidden Transmutation" became a key focus. Through repeated experiments, she indeed produced many useless items and some bizarre, conscious—and dangerous—magical creatures; but she also gained plenty of usable tools. Armed with these, Artoria once more set foot on the battlefield.

After she and Myrienne persuaded Myrienne's lord Myrienne to ally, he granted them free access to Gloucester's Bell-Chiming Hall, where Artoria rang the first bell. She was pleasantly surprised: thanks to the "Wild Boar Princess" status, her Strength and Endurance had already risen to D before ringing; after the bell, her Endurance—which had never surpassed D in simulations—reached C. Though it was a pity that ringing the second bell did not further raise Endurance, seeing "Strength: B" floating in her status bar made Artoria nod in satisfaction.

"Yes! With my current strength, even alone I could swat down a Queen's Knight with my staff, right?" she said, swinging her staff like a baseball bat, feeling endless power in her arms.

"Wait—there's something off in that statement… You're supposed to be a mage, aren't you?" Oberon placed a hand on his forehead, helpless as he watched his pupil veer down this odd path.

"A mage? What's wrong with being a mage? A true mage wins by any means, using all possible methods! My teacher taught me to exploit everything around me to achieve victory, so whether it's strange magical devices or physically knocking foes down unexpectedly, it's all magic!" Artoria argued confidently.

"You…" Oberon was momentarily at a loss. Indeed, he himself had said one should use everything at hand to succeed—though he had meant to draw on magical materials in the environment, not to charge forward smashing people with a staff. He thought his "ultimate pragmatism" was abstract enough, but clearly Artoria had surpassed even that.

"All right! Now isn't the time to stall— we must find a way out. Haven't you heard the echoes of that bell? The other Tooth Clan guards in Oxford must be reacting now!" Artoria slid the Invisibility Cloak from her storage and said, "When we escape, don't speak unnecessarily or draw attention. The cloak plus Stone Cap conceals us, but can't hide noise—any suspicious sound might give us away."

Before she finished, a clamor rose from outside the Bell-Chiming Hall. Though some noise was expected after ringing the bell, these sounds were unlike what Artoria had anticipated. Amid those sounds rang too many clangs of metal, the ripping of flesh, and cries of disbelief and agony.

At this unexpected disturbance, Artoria and her companions exchanged glances, then donned their Stone Caps and Invisibility Cloaks and crept toward the corridor's exit. But when they reached the spot where the bewitched Tooth Clan guards had been causing chaos, all they found was dismembered limbs scattered on the floor and corridors stained crimson.

"What… happened? Why are they all dead?" Gareth asked in a trembling voice.

"It looks like a slaughter took place here… someone ambushed them, so they had no chance to resist and were all killed," Artoria concluded, forcing herself not to retch as she surveyed the corpses.

"So who would attack them? Our allies are focused on capturing other cities; Oxford shouldn't have special plans now," Gareth whispered. "We didn't even bring Rhedra for this infiltration."

"Uh… well…" Oberon suddenly wore a troubled expression.

"What is it, Oberon? Does this massacre relate to you? Do you know who struck them?" Artoria asked quickly.

"It's not exactly about me… but it's a bit connected," Oberon murmured, scratching his face. "Before coming here, I approached a respected member of the Tooth Clan left in Oxford—someone once powerful locally but crushed by Woodworth's rise. I heard that this fairy's eye was blinded by Woodworth long ago, so he bore a deep grudge. I stirred him to create a disturbance today to help us slip in… but I never expected him to go this far. It seems he aimed to seize all of Oxford at once."

"Well, whatever the case, he greatly aided us. Let's seize this chance to withdraw; what happens to Oxford afterward is no longer our concern." Oberon pulled his cloak around him and led Artoria and Gareth toward the exit.

"No! Wait—stop!" Gareth suddenly widened her eyes and gripped Oberon's arm, halting their retreat. "We can't go further… there's something terrible coming this way!"

As she spoke, barely two meters ahead, a beam of light, thicker than a millstone, tore through the wall to their right, streaked down the corridor, and punched through the wall on the left, roaring toward the Bell-Chiming Hall. Had they not been pulled back, they would have been impaled.

Then, a sulfurous stench preceded the sight of a massive, gun-like arm of metal and flesh smashing into the wall above the gap, sending cracks racing upward as the wall shattered like tofu.

Amid their shock and fear, a hideous figure—seeming born of hell itself—stepped through that breach into the corridor and turned to face Artoria and her friends.

[As you fled, you encountered the "Calamity Overlord" Gawain, come to suppress the Oxford uprising.]

Even without the system prompt, Artoria would not mistake him. She had seen that form in Norwich. Last time, she'd thought it a hallucination—but now, with the sulfurous aura of hell upon her, she could not deny it: he truly had become unrecognizable.

At that moment, Oberon and Gareth, hidden under their cloaks, both glanced at Artoria. Though they did not speak, their expressions clearly conveyed: Artoria, are you ready to fight? But… how could she be ready? Artoria clenched her teeth; her palms beneath the cloak were slick with sweat. Everything had happened too fast for her to process.

Yet the voice from ahead suddenly gave her a moment's relief:

"How odd… I sensed a few stragglers here just now… but when I came over I found nothing."

Hearing that, Artoria exhaled deeply, as if a stone had fallen from her heart. It wasn't time to fight yet—while he hadn't detected them, they must escape quietly. She signaled her companions to retreat. Oberon and Gareth exchanged looks, then gave a subtle nod. Indeed, now was not the moment to engage: facing that oppressive presence in front of them, none felt ready to fight.

So, after a brief silent agreement, the three cautiously backed away down the corridor, distancing themselves from the demon-like figure. They did not pursue. Only when they reached the corridor's end did they relax slightly and turn to slip around the corner—only to feel a gale sweeping from behind, accompanied by his voice:

"Did you really think you could slip away from me?"

"Your stealth is impressive… but alas, your shoes and the hems of your garments are stained with blood."

The next second, a grotesque blade slashed down from behind them.