Strictly speaking, Melusine's combat strength should have been far above Lancelot's. Even with the blessing bestowed upon him by the Lion King, Lancelot could only barely match her.
After all, the title of "Lancelot" meant little more to Melusine than the right to abandon her grotesque draconic body and walk in human form. In truth, it was more of a handicap than an enhancement to her battle power.
The only reason she had suffered at Lancelot's hands before was largely because of the Lion King's interference. Without that anomaly in the Holy City, Melusine had more than enough ability to cut her way through its walls, carve "Melusine was here" on the throne, and retreat without issue.
But now, with her injuries not fully healed, her current state left her on roughly equal footing with Lancelot—perhaps even slightly disadvantaged.
Unfortunately for him, Lady Melusine was never one to play fair. She didn't even consider testing the waters with a few normal exchanges—she went straight to cheating.
When Lancelot saw his sword pass cleanly through Melusine's glowing golden form, as though slicing a phantom, his eyes widened in shock—only to be struck back again and again by her relentless blades.
His blessed armor prevented serious injury, but under the chainsaw-like grind of the magic whirling across Melusine's twin swords, cracks began to appear.
Before he could recover from the bizarre sight, Melusine was already upon him again, chanting like a broken record:
"seya! seya! seya! seya!"
Shuffling footwork, twin-blade frenzy, and brainless repetition—the infamous combo.
Anyone who had faced her knew the pain.
Even Guinevere before had nearly vomited from sheer disgust, crying out on the spot that it was unbeatable.
Without invincibility-piercing or guaranteed-hit abilities, there was no way to defeat her in this state, save for overwhelming numbers and luck in catching her fleeting vulnerability.
And clearly, Lancelot possessed none of these.
Within only a few exchanges, Melusine broke through his defenses. His body soon bore several deep wounds, his situation perilous and unsustainable.
In desperation, Lancelot roared:
"Is this all you can do?! To defeat your foes with nothing but this cheap trick—don't you find it dishonorable?!"
"Nope. It works great."
Melusine answered self-righteously:
"I earned my wheelchair fair and square—why shouldn't I use it?"
Then, recalling something Uther had once said in a similar situation, she mimicked:
"If you're weak, practice more. If you can't handle it, don't play."
Lancelot nearly shattered his own teeth from grinding them.
Alas, his once-illustrious reputation, undefeated across Britain for decades, would now fall to a shameless wheelchair-user.
And not even one weaker than he—one who could easily fight fair, yet stubbornly refused to.
Worse still, she even sighed regretfully:
"Really… I've only used Twin-Blade Frenzy, and I haven't even shown my other moves, yet you're already cornered? This is the strongest knight of the Round Table in Proper Human History? This level?"
"So the so-called Lion King and her knights are only this capable…"
Seeing Lancelot's face grow darker, Melusine realized she might have gone too far.
After all, this was the man who had stolen his liege's wife—a feat worthy of respect. There was no need to turn him into a bitter enemy.
Thinking so, she offered consolation:
"Hey, Lancelot. Sure, you're a bit weak, but don't lose heart. You're the man who stole his king's beloved! That alone makes you amazing!"
"——"
Hearing her heartfelt words, Lancelot's fury erupted so violently he felt his skull would split open.
"I. Will. Kill. You!"
He leapt at her with a roar, startling even Melusine.
"Huh? Why? I was comforting you!"
As he charged, face twisted in rage, she simply cut him down again with her invincible seya slashes. At that moment, Agravain and Gawain arrived. Seeing Lancelot battered, bleeding, and barely able to stand, they immediately moved to intervene.
But before they could, Melusine sensed the danger and abruptly ceased her assault, retreating quickly to Nitocris's side and shouting indignantly:
"Tch, can't play fair? Going two-on-one now?"
Hearing this, Lancelot nearly spat blood again.
Clinging to the last of his reason, he turned and reported through gritted teeth:
"Be careful! Her power is strange—while attacking she seems untouchable! I couldn't land a blow at all!"
"Untouchable? Like some phantom transformation?" Agravain's face grew grave. "Then stall her here. I've already sent word to the King. Once Her Majesty arrives, she'll dispel this witch's trickery."
Then he barked an order:
"Lancelot, your task now is to finish off Pharaoh Nitocris. Leave this woman to Gawain!"
"What?! No! I'll defeat her myself! She's my opponent!"
"Lancelot!"
Agravain's voice rose like a whipcrack:
"Will you defy direct orders?! If your recklessness ruins our King's plans, can you bear the blame?!"
"Gh…"
Grinding his teeth, Lancelot finally nodded.
"I understand."
His own death he could accept—but not endangering the King's designs.
Yet before he could redirect his focus to Nitocris, Melusine suddenly scooped the Pharaoh into her arms and launched skyward.
"Hmph! Think I'm a fool? If you're going to gang up, I'm out. Bye-bye!"
She glanced at Nitocris.
"Oh, right—don't bite your tongue."
Nitocris: "Eh?"
Before she could react, Melusine accelerated like a missile and vanished into the horizon.
"Damn it—"
Lancelot's face twisted as he prepared to give chase, but Agravain raised a hand to stop him.
"Enough, Lancelot. Let her go."
"What? You want me to stand here while an assassin who struck at our King escapes, carrying away our enemy Pharaoh?!"
His fury burst past restraint, and words he should have kept buried slipped out:
"Or have you already betrayed our King? Will you now turn to your witch mother, Morgan?!"
At that, Gawain's face paled. He grabbed Lancelot by the shoulder with crushing force:
"Lancelot! Do you realize what you just said?!"
"Don't touch me!" Lancelot shoved him away and stepped back, glaring.
"Gawain, you're not free of suspicion either! From the moment we met those strangers, you've blundered over and over! And don't forget—you're also Morgan's son, with Lot! How am I to trust you won't betray us too? Why didn't you unleash your sword just now? If it were you, Cavendine and the others never would've escaped—"
"Lancelot!" Gawain roared, shaking with fury. "Do you doubt even me now?! Do you suspect I would betray King Arthur?!"
"——"
Lancelot froze. His near-broken sanity reeled back a little. He turned away.
"…Forgive me, Gawain. I spoke rashly. Of course I trust you… But—"
He glared again at Agravain.
"I cannot trust him. He's always been detestable—not just that!"
"Think, Gawain! Don't you find it strange? Our King, ordering us against civilians—no, she never said so directly! All such commands came through Agravain! Except during Round Table councils, we hardly see our King at all! Every time I try to offer counsel, he blocks me with excuses!"
"It must be him! He's ensnared the King! He's controlling her—that's why she's like this now!"
"You…" Gawain sighed heavily, but Agravain cut in coldly:
"So that is your accusation, Lancelot? That I bewitched our King?"
"Of course!" Lancelot spat.
"Then recall your other accusation. You also said I betrayed her for Morgan."
"…Yes. So what?"
"If I had truly joined Morgan, and already manipulated the King, why wouldn't I simply welcome Morgan into Camelot at once?"
"…Because…" Lancelot faltered.
"And if I already control the King," Agravain pressed, "why would I, the de facto master of Camelot, ever kneel to Morgan?"
"Because… maybe you were her spy from the start, meant to seize the throne…" Lancelot muttered weakly.
"Do you even believe that?" Agravain's eyes pierced him. "Think, you fool. Whose death marked Britain's collapse? Who was most important to the Round Table?"
Lancelot fell silent.
"I once thought only your character was flawed. Now I see your brain is just as pitiful," Agravain said icily.
"You…"
Grinding his teeth, Lancelot changed tack: "Then why did you let that assassin go? She slowed down carrying someone—we could've caught her."
"Because I lied earlier." Agravain's tone was flat. "The King expended too much fighting the Sun King. She desperately needs rest. I never reported this skirmish to her."
"Not only her—Mordred and Gawain are drained. Tristan was struck down by the Sun King's lightning and requires recovery. Right now, you alone are in fighting shape."
"Even so, that doesn't mean we just let her strut away!" Lancelot argued. "Even weakened, if we pinned her down, reinforcements could—"
"Why do you think she is alone?" Agravain interrupted coldly. "The King's wound on her was severe. Yet during your fight, I saw it largely healed. Our scouts reported she never treated herself while fleeing. Which means—"
He glanced toward the horizon where Melusine had vanished.
"She has already found her companions and received aid. And since she rushed here before fully recovering, they cannot be far."
His gaze locked back on Lancelot.
"So tell me—would you have us, after draining ourselves against the Sun King, launch a reckless battle against Morgan and all her knights right now?"
"I…"
"Enough. Don't waste more breath." Agravain turned away. "Gather the men who still live. We withdraw to Camelot at once."
"…Very well."
After several seconds, Lancelot unclenched his fists and lowered his head.
"I understand."