The room was silent. Once he stepped out of the door, it slowly sank into the ground. He scanned the area, but no one else was there. He was alone.
"I guess I was the last one to finish the trial."
He lifted his hands up.
"I have returned."
In his left hand, he was holding Excalibur. It looked different, as if it had finally revealed its true form to him. The sword was long and golden, with a glowing core at the center of the guard. It was beautiful.
His memories are all messy. He barely remembers his life as Sylas. He doesn't know what he is feeling. His memories—his mind—feel different. He doesn't understand or know who he is.
He walked through the empty room, but then he heard something cracking under his foot.
Then he noticed some of the doors were broken.
He looked at all the broken doors and picked up one of the fragments.
The space looked like a field of broken cocoons.
"You all were given a chance to transform," he paused, "to be something great—to be something more." He looked at the door fragments, picked up and smashed it. "But you all failed."
He spread his arm, shouted,
"You all failed to break out of the cocoons and become a butterfly."
Suddenly, the door behind him opened. He turned his head to see Elizabeth. When their eyes met, she instantly froze, then dropped everything she was holding.
His eyes widened.
"Guin."
She ran toward him and hugged him before he could finish.
He placed his hand on her head.
"How have you been, Elizabeth?"
Her personality hasn't changed. Her orange hair is longer and tied into a ponytail. She had even gotten slightly taller, and she looked like her.
"You have grown." His hand still on her head.
"How long was I gone for?"
She moved her head away from his chest.
"Two years."
He let out a small but painful laugh.
"Only two years."
"Let's go. I need a shower."
He started walking toward his room.
He handed her Excalibur. She carried it in both hands while the hilt rested on her shoulder.
Even though he was Sylas again, the life he lived as Arthur still clung to him.
It didn't fade. It didn't leave.
It stayed with him.
He carried himself like a king.
His back was straight, his steps calm, quiet.
He moved forward, and the world moved with him.
"How many people made it out?"
The words came out of him like a command.
"Fifteen."
He turned his head. His gaze was sharp.
"Not bad."
"Is the sword heavy?"
"No, Sir Sylas."
"Good. Let's walk faster."
Even without a throne, he moved like a king.
The halls stayed silent around him.
Not out of fear, but out of respect.
Elizabeth followed him quietly.
She didn't talk. She just stared at the man in front of her.
Once they entered the room, he saw it was exactly how he had left it. His room looked clean, as if someone kept it that way.
"My clothes."
She handed him the sword and ran off to get him clothes. He noticed that the clothes he was wearing were the ones he took from Arthur. They were a bit tight, but they still fit.
He took a shower. He looked at himself in the mirror, but he could only see his future self—the 40-year-old version of himself.
"Who am I?" he questioned.
"Am I Sylas… or Arthur?"
He looked at Excalibur.
"That's right, I was born as Sylas… I became Arthur."
"I've carried the name, lived the life, fought the battles."
He paused.
"I earned both names."
He stepped away from the mirror, his eyes steady.
"Now I am both."
"Sylas, son of Alice."
"Arthur Pendragon, the king."
"It doesn't matter who I am now."
He raised Excalibur.
"Like I was as Arthur, I'll also become a legend in this world."
Elizabeth knocked on the door.
"Enter."
She handed him a pair of perfectly folded clothing and left the room without saying anything. As he wore the clothes, it was different from what he was used to.
He laid in his bed, closed his eyes just for a bit. The comfy bed, the soft pillow, nice blanket—he would be lying if he said he didn't miss it. His eyes closed, until the sun came up.
Elaine burst through the room with excitement on her face. She rushed in and embraced him.
"I have missed you too, sister."
She stared at him in disbelief.
"Wow, you have grown."
He just smiled. He got up and moved the curtain from the window to see the view. He felt peaceful.
He looked at Elaine.
"Let's take a walk."
She nodded.
He grabbed his sword.
Elaine looked at him.
"You can leave it here."
He nodded.
"I like to keep it around me."
"Not sure why, but whenever it's not with me, I feel… incomplete." He looked at the sword. "Without it, I feel empty, hollow." Then he looked at Elaine, smiled.
She busted out laughing.
"It's just a sword, little brother."
Without a word, he shook his head.
"No, sister," he paused, "Excalibur wasn't just my weapon. It is my anchor. It carries my identity. And without it, I feel like I might forget who I am."
She looked at him and lifted an eyebrow.
"You're kidding, right? Did the trial mess you up?"
Without a word, he handed her the sword. As soon as she grabbed it, the weight of the sword slammed her hand into the floor. She couldn't move. She was stuck in place.
"What the hell is this, Sylas?" she groaned as she tried to remove her hand from under the sword.
Sylas bent down and picked it up with ease. She stared at him.
"What happened to you?"
He moved toward the door.
"Nothing. Let's go for a walk."
They walked through the garden. As he enjoyed the air, it didn't smell like war or blood. He forgot how good fresh air felt. The smell of the flowers. Birds flying around.
"What happened to you?" she asked again.
He turned and smiled.
"Nothing."
Slowly, they walked toward the training ground, and he saw a few people training. They stood in a perfect line, each one holding their stance with discipline, as a commanding knight was in front of them, barking out instructions.
Their blades clanged against each other and the sound of their footwork echoed through the field. Whenever they made a mistake, he would start shouting.
"Not like that."
"Arms higher."
"Foot too close."
"Okay, take a 20-minute break."
Among them was Luis.
He looked like he had gotten taller, his posture straighter than before—trying to stand out.
But his face still looked like a brat.
Sylas sat on the bench to the side—on the highest one—watching them go through basic training.
He sat still, like a king, watching over them.
His gaze quiet, focused.
After they were done swinging, Luis called Elizabeth to bring them a towel. She ran forward with it, holding it carefully in both hands. As she ran, one of his household members stuck out a foot and tripped her. She fell headfirst onto the dirt.
The towel dropped, hitting the ground and scattering all over.
They all started laughing.
The towel she carried got dirty.
Their voices became low and tense.
"Look what you have done."
They hovered above her.
But then Sylas's voice cut through. Calm. Direct.
"Elizabeth. What are you doing there?"
"Come here. My arms are tired."
He lifted his sword up.
"You're supposed to be carrying my sword."
They all looked at him, barely recognizing him.
"Oh, it's the son of a slave."
He ignored him.
"Elizabeth. Come here. Now."
Luis stepped forward.
"No."
Elaine stayed frozen, just watching. She didn't know what to do.
He stood up and walked toward their direction. With every step he took, the air around him became denser. His presence grew heavy. Every step made the space tighter, harder to breathe.
None of them moved. They couldn't let out any words as he passed by them.
They just watched.
Just as he was about to pull her up, the instructor reached out and grabbed his shoulder.
"Hey, what are you doing here?"
He turned his head.
"Did I say you could touch me?"
His red eyes pierced through him. A single glare—and he stumbled backward as Sylas pulled her up.
"Now. Hold this."
He turned.
"You only follow my order."
As she held on to the sword, Luis's eyes glowed with desire.
"Where did you get that sword?" he asked, reaching for it.
Before he could touch it, Sylas glanced at him.
His voice—steady and cold.
"Have you forgotten what happened two years ago?"
Luis backed away. Quiet.
"Let's go, Elizabeth."
Both Elaine and Elizabeth followed him back to the house.
As they walked, Elaine was amazed by his new behavior.
"How can she pick up your sword and I can't?"
He smiled.
"That's a secret."
Elizabeth looked at them, confused.
"You act just like Father," Elaine muttered.
He let out a small laugh.
"No. I'm better."
She didn't know what to say, because she didn't understand what he meant.
"I hope you are an S-rank when they measure your ability tomorrow," she muttered.
"Doesn't matter. I'm not trying to be part of this family," he said calmly.
"I will create one of my own."