When Gawain's forces arrived at Camelot, what he saw was nothing like the dazzling white city he had imagined—the most prosperous capital of the Fairy Kingdom.
The cries of tens of thousands of fairies, filled with both fear and rage, intertwined in the air. Easily manipulated, they were scattered throughout the city, holding high burning torches as they rioted.
"Knocknarea! Where's that wicked queen?!"
"Kill her! Kill her!"
"Burn her! Only then will the curse end!"
"Someone's outside! Someone's coming! It's the northern fairies! They're the wicked queen's minions!"
"Stop them! Don't let them rescue that damned Knocknarea!"
By now, even if Gawain had been unaware of what was happening in the city, those shouts made everything clear to him.
It was obvious—this was yet another of the frequent uprisings that plagued the fairies. The exact cause didn't matter. Fairies always seemed to erupt into chaos for no reason at all.
Right now, the only thing that mattered was rescuing Knocknarea and the others.
Without hesitation, Gawain drew both the Knights of Calia's greatsword and Vic's long spear, charging straight into the oncoming mob. His left hand swung the magic greatsword in sweeping arcs, felling foes in droves, while his right hand thrust the thunder spear through the crowd, punching a direct path toward the inner city.
[You led your army into Camelot at once. The local fairies tried to block your advance, but with you and Bagest forming the tip of the spear, your forces crushed the enemy with ease.]
After Gawain's merciless assault, the mob quickly broke apart, scattering like frightened animals. Yet even as they fled, he faced a new problem—where was Knocknarea?
Then, in the corner of his vision, a flash of turquoise light caught his attention. He looked toward it just in time to see a colossal turquoise spear plummet from the sky and slam into the ground. A wave of magic power surged outward before vanishing without a trace.
"Everyone, with me!"
[Spotting the magic spear, you immediately understood that something important was happening in that direction. You led your troops toward it without delay.]
Along the way, more rioting fairies appeared, but you cut through them effortlessly. Reaching the spear's location, you found Knocknarea, Artoria, and Bavanzi—cornered and exhausted—still fleeing for their lives.
"Gawain!"
Seeing him charge in, all three felt a wave of relief and the joy of survival.
Knocknarea still maintained her composure before her subordinates, but the utterly exhausted Artoria simply collapsed into Gawain's arms and fainted. Bavanzi was in little better shape, though even as she lost consciousness she kept glancing behind her, murmuring "Mother" again and again.
"…Bagest, look after them."
Once the three were secured, Gawain inspected their injuries—and his expression darkened instantly. The air around him grew heavy and oppressive, making even Bagest's hair stand on end.
Leaving the wounded in Bagest's care, Gawain wasted no more time. Sword and spear in hand, he charged into the group of fairies still pursuing Artoria and the others.
When a strange, golden, maddened flame exploded among them, the fairies finally realized something was wrong—but by then it was far too late. Gawain had already reached the level of a top-tier Heroic Spirit, and once he unleashed Vic's Madness Flame, he became terrifying beyond belief.
The countless magical attacks raining down on him faltered as the golden fire washed over the mob, leaving them clutching their heads and screaming in agony. In the next instant, the flame clung to them like a curse that could not be shaken off. Within mere breaths, their fragile souls were completely burned away—without even the chance to become Mors—obliterated in endless madness and pain.
[You slaughtered the rioters without mercy, even unleashing the Madness Flame. The sheer cruelty of your methods, and the agonized screams of the dying, struck terror into every fairy who witnessed it. Many concluded that dying by your hand was worse than taking their own lives.]
[Under your bloody suppression, the riot quickly ended. Terrified, the fairies of Camelot surrendered en masse.]
[However, because so many fairies had been engulfed in negative emotions during the riot, the progress of the Mors curse accelerated sharply. Large numbers of them transformed, and the tightly packed crowds allowed the curse to spread rapidly. You were forced to immediately begin purging the Mors within the city.]
[Even with the northern fairy troops assisting, putting down the riot and cleansing the Mors kept you busy for a long time. By the time the situation stabilized, it was already the evening of the third day.]
[Afterward, Knocknarea had the survivors counted—only 60% of Camelot's fairies remained after the riot and the Mors outbreak.]
[To prevent another uprising, Knocknarea ordered the remaining fairies to be gathered into the central area of Camelot. Housing was found for them near the royal castle, and they were kept under heavy guard. Any sign of unrest or Mors infection would be met with immediate suppression.]
[Manpower was stretched thin, but this was eased on the fourth and fifth days when Percival and Bogut arrived with their forces. Shortly after, Lancelot brought Myrrhion to Camelot, allowing Knocknarea—who had been working nonstop—to finally rest.]
[Yet as your full forces assembled, the challenges only grew.]
[Inside Camelot, the fairies were contained, and the threat of the Mors curse was minimized. Outside the city, however, other regions were not so fortunate.]
[From the fourth day after Knocknarea took the throne, refugees began arriving from surrounding areas—both fairies and humans.]
[From them, you learned that while the curse outside Camelot wasn't as bad initially, the lack of proper containment had caused massive outbreaks. Now, the situation outside was even worse than inside Camelot.]
[Bogut saw these refugees as dangerous, recalling the earlier riot. He suggested turning them away and letting them fend for themselves to reduce the burden on the city.]
"Turn them away? Impossible. I am the future king of Britain—protecting my people is my duty. If I cannot even safeguard my own subjects, what kind of king would I be?"
[Knocknarea rejected Bogut's proposal. She took the refugees in, sending the fairies to the quarantine zone and the harmless humans to other parts of the royal district under guard.]
[To prevent the newcomers from being influenced by Camelot's fairies, she housed them separately. She also sent Lancelot to spread word across the kingdom: any surviving human or fairy could seek sanctuary in Camelot.]
[In the following days, more and more refugees arrived from all directions. Knocknarea accepted them all, placing humans and fairies in their respective zones.]
[But over time, the number of refugees dwindled, while the number of roaming Mors around Camelot grew. You and Bagest led multiple sweeps, and Lancelot patrolled the skies to protect incoming refugees—but the trend could not be stopped.]
[By the seventh day after Knocknarea's coronation, refugees had all but disappeared. In their place came the first waves of Mors, converging on Camelot from all directions.]
[The last refugees reported that all other parts of Britain had become hellscapes. Aside from Camelot, almost no fairies remained alive. The Mors swarms seemed to be gathering, as if summoned, toward the city's heart.]
[This news stirred unease within Camelot. Some fairies still tried to blame Knocknarea for everything, but separated as they were, their words could not reach the human and fairy refugees.]
[From the seventh day onward, the Mors began their assault on Camelot.]
[The siege was grueling from the start—large numbers of Mors had already gathered outside the city.]
[Fortunately, thanks to Lancelot bringing the Round Table army to Camelot, their human warriors became vital in fighting the Mors. Alongside the Fang Clan and northern fairy giants, they formed the core of the defense. Fairies less resistant to the curse provided long-range fire support from the rear.]
[Still, the Mors came in endless waves. No matter how many you killed, there were always more. By the eighth day, there was no rest at all—the attacks never stopped, and you could only keep the defense going by rotating your troops in shifts.]
[By the ninth day, the Mors outside were like a vast ocean, stretching beyond the horizon—everywhere you looked, the ground writhed with them.]