Chapter 66: Sister, I’m Here to Save You!

Finding King Arthur was no easy task—especially not in Vortigern's territory. Since the fall of darkness, more and more people had lost their minds. It was rare to encounter anyone still sane, let alone still loyal.

The lives of ordinary people had always been hard in these foreign-controlled lands. Those who remained behind were either too powerless to flee… or had pledged themselves wholly to Vortigern's rule.

Now, the maddened roamed freely, slaughtering the lucid. Under such chaos and pressure, even catching a hint of Arthur's whereabouts was near impossible.

But where numbers gathered, so too did hope. Slowly, with collective effort, fragments of information came together.

Yet this progress had its price.

The enemy had begun to track the direction of their movements. The closer they drew to Arthur, the easier it became for Vortigern's forces to predict where she might be hiding.

A clash was inevitable.

Everyone understood it—Aslan and his companions, the remnants of allied forces, and even the enemy commanders keeping watch from afar. A storm was coming. And despite the good news—signs that King Arthur was alive—none could feel joy.

Only one person was in high spirits: the woman hellbent on wiping Arthur from existence. At last, she had located her rival. Finally, she could eliminate the woman who had dared steal the attention of her beloved King Vortigern.

Her face twisted into a grotesque grin as she read the intelligence report. She had clawed her way to power, trampling one rival after another. All for the slightest glance. For just a moment of attention from him.

"King Vortigern… my king…"

She whispered to herself like a priestess delivering a prayer.

"Oh, my faith! Soon, so very soon… I'll return to you with Arthur's head."

Just then, a soldier pushed open the tent flap and knelt respectfully before her to deliver a new report. His loyalty was met with the crack of a barbed whip. Flesh tore; blood sprayed across the tent floor as he screamed.

The woman clutched her face with one hand, her visible eye filled with fury.

"Did I not tell you never to disturb me when I'm communing with the king?!"

Her voice was shrill with embarrassment. What if someone saw her like this? That was unthinkable. Her devotion should remain pure—private.

"…But you said you've found that damned Arthur?" she added, her voice dropping. "Fine. You live this time."

She stepped lightly out of the tent, her body swaying like a dancer. With a flick of her wrist, her whip cracked sharply in the air.

"Gather up! All of you! If anyone lets Arthur escape because they slowed me down, I'll flay you alive!"

Artoria narrowed her eyes, watching movement on the horizon. A dark column of soldiers was advancing toward their position.

"There's no mistake," she murmured. "They're coming straight for us."

She turned to the Knights of the Round Table.

"Pack what supplies you can. We move now."

But even as they prepared to retreat, Gawain frowned, staring into the opposite direction—their planned escape route. A cloud of birds erupted from the trees.

"Your Majesty! We're surrounded!"

There was no hesitation in Artoria's voice. She raised her holy sword high.

"Group up! Form ranks! Break through together—we pick one direction and force a path. Don't scatter!"

They were deep in enemy territory. If they dragged this out, they'd be overwhelmed.

With her usual grace and fury, Artoria was the first to charge. The holy sword in her hand glowed red as she cleaved through soldier after soldier. Blood splattered across her silver armor, clung to her golden hair. But she didn't flinch. A king must lead from the front.

The enemy commander watched with widening eyes, grinding her teeth until they bled. Rage twisted her already-mad expression into something grotesque.

"Kill them! Surround them and slaughter them all! I will bring Arthur's head to the king before this ends!"

Her whip lashed furiously through the air, striking her own soldiers when they moved too slow.

Just as her fury peaked, another soldier approached, clearly terrified.

"Commander... behind us—reinforcements! A large force is coming! Arthur's allies!"

Her eye twitched.

With a whipcrack, she looped the barbed cord around the soldier's neck and yanked him forward.

"What. Did. You. Say?"

Of course she'd heard him. But she needed to vent her rage.

And who was leading the reinforcements?

Aslan, of course.

The moment he realized Arthur's location was compromised, he stopped holding back. His unit advanced aggressively, Aslan leading the charge.

He had to. The black mist was swirling again, feeding him, corrupting him. If he didn't release the pressure, it might consume him.

Besides, you don't reveal your trump card unless there's no other way.

"Move forward!" he shouted. "Your king is ahead! For your ideals, for this land—fight!"