At the same time.
Outside the walls of the White Dragon Nation, at a camp at its base.
Riding a horse, a gallant woman clad in silver armor and a war skirt, with a longsword at her waist, stopped beside a tent. She lifted the tent's flap and entered.
Upon seeing her, a voice spoke up.
"You're back, Lancelot? Didn't His Majesty order you to hunt down the intruders?"
Following the voice, the woman called Lancelot looked at a blonde female knight sitting by the bed.
Lancelot shook her head. "I didn't manage to catch them. Plus, it's already dark, so I didn't pursue further. I'll continue the chase tomorrow morning when it's light. By the way, why are you here, Gawain? What about the camp you're handling?"
"There won't be any problems there, you know that, Lancelot. I'm here just to follow the Palace Witch's advice, to keep an eye on your work."
The Palace Witch's advice?
"That witch, huh…"
"Witch is a very fitting term. Though she claims to be Merlin, she clearly isn't." Gawain said, crossing her arms over her chest and lifting her prominent features, making Lancelot want to smack her. "Disguising herself as Merlin with Magecraft, and being able to spend every moment with His Majesty… It's quite enviable."
For them, the Knights of the Round Table here, this was a reunion with their King after a long separation. Though not long after the reunion, that change occurred, causing them to feel sorrow again before the joy of the reunion could last too long, at least being able to see their beloved King Arthur was already the best outcome.
But the witch claiming to be Merlin forcibly kept them outside. Though they knew the reason, Gawain couldn't help but feel a bit jealous.
Lancelot felt the same.
"Even so, it's true that only that witch can help His Majesty. The fact that His Majesty's condition has remained stable until now is all thanks to her hard work—we can't deny that. I just don't know how long this situation can last. Has the frequency of the dragon calamities increased recently?"
"There have been thirty-two occurrences this month, surpassing last month." Gawain said. "If this continues, we won't be able to handle it fully with just our strength. Sir Tristan even got lightly injured yesterday while dealing with a dragon calamity. The intensity of the calamities is gradually increasing too."
"When it rains, it pours…" Lancelot sighed softly. "By the way, how's Mordred doing?"
Gawain gave a wry smile and spread her hands. "As usual. Honestly, when I learned she was Mordred from this human history, I was a bit worried. After all, the Mordred we knew was…"
"But surprisingly, the Mordred here is very easy to get along with. She must have matured, or perhaps she got what she wanted. She's a 'perfect' version of our Mordred. I really don't know what she's been through."
The rebellious knight of the Round Table, Mordred. For Lancelot, Gawain, and Tristan, it was hard to say they had positive feelings toward her initially.
Dissatisfied with His Majesty's rule, constantly defying His Majesty, often opposing His Majesty, and ultimately even rebelling—with such impressions, it would be strange if they had positive feelings toward Mordred.
Yet, the Mordred here turned out to be remarkably mature. Though she still had a slight childish streak, her actions were highly dependable.
Thanks to that, the pressure on Lancelot and the others was significantly reduced. Otherwise, just the three of them trying to handle the dragon calamities across the entire Singularity, even with the blessing of the Holy Grail, would have been too difficult.
Mordred at least alleviated the pressure from one direction.
"Even so, the pressure is increasing day by day. Not just for us—I think His Majesty feels it too."
Gawain looked toward the city walls.
"Lancelot, what do you think about what His Majesty said earlier? About [her] from this world?"
"I don't know." Lancelot shook her head. "Besides, it's too early to think about this issue. No clear anomalies have appeared yet, and everything that's happened is still within our ability to handle. Don't overthink it, Gawain."
Don't overthink?
Gawain gripped her arm, as if mocking herself. "Maybe. Maybe I am overthinking. Thinking that I might have to witness His Majesty's departure again, my feelings are a bit—"
"Gawain…"
Muttering, Lancelot spread her arms and hugged Gawain. "Relax, Gawain."
◆━⊰✧⊱━◆
Inside the White Dragon Nation.
The throne room.
Looking at Arthur sitting on the throne with his eyes open, as if frozen in place, Merry sighed softly. "He's entered this state again… It's gradually getting deeper. If this continues, it'll happen soon."
"But honestly, to maintain this state for half a year and actually wait for that child's arrival—I don't even know if this is the result of strong resolve. It's far beyond what resolve alone could achieve."
As someone who had been standing here all this time, Merry had seen with her own eyes that Arthur hadn't closed his eyes once during this period.
Not sleeping for over half a year was less about strong resolve and more like obsession.
"But your resolve is futile. Though you've delayed the time until now, it's only postponing the destruction. In fact, because that child has arrived, this [world] will collapse faster than you expected."
Leaving the throne room, Merry stepped onto the main street outside. She looked up at the clear night sky, raised her hand, and gently snapped her fingers. Her entire body vanished like mist, and in the next moment, within the mist, a mature woman with white hair in a black dress silently appeared.
If anyone connected to the Round Table were here, they would surely recognize her.
King Arthur's sister, Mordred's mother—Morgan.
"What a beautiful night sky. Though it's fake, I never said the fake can't be better than the real thing. But soon, this night sky will vanish too… After destroying the stars, I wonder if that child can achieve the feat of destroying the sky this time."
"What do you think?"
As if asking someone, Morgan stretched both hands toward the sky, where a massive black shadow faintly appeared, as if responding to her question.
Of course, Morgan knew that black shadow was merely an illusion. Its true body was now completely isolated from the outside world.
With a wry smile, Morgan reverted to her Merry guise and turned to re-enter the throne room.
(Come quickly, my dear King Arthur, my dear Holy Sword wielder.)
(This is an enemy only you can resolve.)