[Third person POV]
Arthur and the Black Knight re-engaged in fierce combat, their blades clashing in a relentless storm of deflections and parries. Each thrust and slash was expertly redirected, blades narrowly missing vital targets as the two warriors moved like dancers locked in a deadly waltz, each trying to overwhelm the other with sheer skill and precision.
From the sidelines, Gwyneth didn't hesitate. She swiftly drew her wand and declared with urgency, "We have to help him—he can't fight that thing alone!"
Lance, who had remained frozen in hesitation, looked momentarily ashamed for not having spoken up first. He nodded quickly, his resolve solidifying, and followed Gwyneth's lead by pulling out his own wand, ready to charge in and stand beside Arthur.
But just as they prepared to move, Merlin stepped forward with a sigh and drew her wand. In one fluid motion, she spun it in her palm. The wand shimmered with light before elongating and reshaping, transforming into a staff taller than she was. With swift precision, she swept the staff horizontally, blocking both Gwyneth and Lance from advancing.
The two stopped abruptly, staring at Merlin in shock and confusion—shocked that her wand had just grown into a full staff, and confused because she was now standing in their way.
"What are you doing?" Lance demanded, his brow furrowed in frustration. "This isn't the time for games—Arthur's in danger!"
"Is he?" Merlin replied calmly, her eyes fixed on the ongoing battle. "Take another look. What do you see?"
Gwyneth and Lance turned their eyes back to Arthur, expecting to see desperation or fatigue—but instead, they saw a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Though his brow was damp with sweat and creased with focus, there was no fear, only determination… and something else—excitement.
Twin ice-blue magic circles flared to life at Arthur's side, pulsing with ethereal energy as he continued to duel the Black Knight.
[2nd Tier Magic: Ice Shard]
Dozens of crystalline icicles formed in midair, conjured by the glowing circles. They launched forward with sharp, whistling speed, striking the Black Knight's armor with explosive force. Though they landed with booming impacts, the knight's thick armor remained pristine—undented, undamaged.
Gwyneth frowned, clearly puzzled, but Lance's expression turned grim. "He's… having fun," he muttered, almost in disbelief.
Merlin gave a small, tired sigh and nodded. "Unfortunately for us, yes. Arthur is enjoying himself. If we interfere now, he might actually resent it. This battle—this challenge—its a way for him to test himself and his training, don't interfere."
Gwyneth gaped at them both, exasperated. "Oh, bullocks! Who cares if he's having fun or if he's testing himself?! He's still in danger!"
"We'll intervene if he's truly in peril," Merlin said firmly. "If he reaches the brink of death, we step in. Until then—we spectate."
She then turned her attention to Arthur and asked with a sly grin, "Care for a change in scenery? Somewhere with more space?"
Without taking his eyes off his opponent, Arthur replied, "Underground dungeon. Something you'd expect while having a boss fight."
"As you wish." Merlin held her staff vertically, murmuring a pretend incantation under her breath. Then, with theatrical flair, she slammed it against the floor.
A wave of magic rippled outward from her staff, distorting the very air. The world around them shifted, as though reality had been peeled away and reimagined. In the blink of an eye, they were transported to a new location—one that looked like the vast, underground hall of a forgotten castle.
Massive stone pillars surrounded them, carved with intricate runes and ancient sigils. Long crimson and gold carpets stretched between rows of banners fluttering without wind. The chamber extended endlessly in all directions, the sense of space both majestic and surreal.
"H-How…" Gwyneth gasped in astonishment, spinning to take in the impossibility of it all.
Hermione, equally stunned, sat with her mouth slightly open, her mind racing for answers. Lance, however, narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Merlin.
Before any of them could ask further, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed.
"Hermione!!" Ron and Harry burst into the room but stopped abruptly at the sight of the raging battle before them.
Merlin silently pointed them toward Hermione, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor, visibly shaken as she tried to comprehend what had just happened. She was safely encased within a protective magic barrier conjured by Arthur earlier.
Merlin directed her staff at the shield, allowing Harry and Ron to pass through it. They rushed to Hermione's side, questions burning on their tongues, but now was not the time.
Meanwhile, Arthur had taken to circling the Black Knight with increasing speed. The armored foe spun wildly, slashing through the air with deadly arcs of his enormous sword. Arthur ducked, weaved, rolled, and twisted, doing everything he could to stay ahead of the relentless swings. He knew better than to meet the knight's strength head-on—such an exchange would end with him crushed.
But now, the knight was slowing.
Though Arthur's icicle barrages hadn't pierced the armor, that wasn't why he was using them, he was using them for their secondary effects. Each time the shards exploded, frost coated the joints and crevices of the Black Knight's armor. The ice spread subtly but steadily, restricting movement with every blast.
The temperature dropped. Ice coated the stone beneath the knight's feet. His motions became stiff, jagged.
Then, Arthur's Grimoire began to glow, floating beside him like a silent companion. A massive magic circle appeared beneath his feet, pulsing with power. Glowing circuits of magical energy ignited across his skin, illuminating intricate patterns as they traveled across his body like rivers of light.
Arthur closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, and raised his sword before him in calm focus.
The Black Knight, misinterpreting the gesture, saw an opening. It charged, sword raised high, intending to strike the final blow.
But Arthur remained still.
And then—he exhaled.
Magic surged from his core, The magic circuits traveled from his hands and into his sword, gaining blue lines of circuitry.
He whispered with intense focus, "[Third-Tier Magic: Reinforcement.]"
A surge of energy exploded outward. Arthur's hair whipped in the gale of magic that swirled around him, his cloak fluttering behind like a banner in a storm. His eyes snapped open—and now even his icy blue irises were laced with glowing magical circuits, as if the very essence of mana had embedded itself into his soul.
The Black Knight, undeterred, had already closed the distance, swinging its massive sword in a devastating arc meant to cleave Arthur in half. But Arthur, calm and collected, raised his blade and blocked it effortlessly. There was no strain on his face, no falter in his stance—only a growing grin of exhilaration.
This time, the weight of the blow didn't push him back. If anything, it was the Black Knight who stumbled.
Arthur stepped forward, his feet exploding off the ground with a burst of speed that doubled anything he had displayed before. He darted toward the knight in a blur of motion, closing the gap like a missile. His hands gripped Caliburn tightly, and with a roar, he brought it down in a brutal slash.
The Black Knight tried to raise its sword to block—but Arthur's strike was too fast, too heavy. The impact rang like a bell, sending the armored behemoth flying several feet backward, crashing against the stone floor.
Without wasting a second, Arthur chased after it, his body leaning forward, gliding low across the cracked grey bricks of the conjured battlefield. His form was sleek and aerodynamic, optimized by his magical reinforcement.
The knight caught itself mid-slide with a thunderous stomp, the ground beneath its metal boots fracturing from the sheer force. But Arthur was already upon it.
The clash resumed.
Arthur's blade became a blur, his strikes rapid and relentless, weaving into a violent flurry. The Black Knight was being overwhelmed. For the first time, scratches began to form on its armor—shallow at first, then deeper. Sparks flew as steel scraped steel, and chunks of armor were chipped away with every follow-up.
Realizing its defenses were failing, the Knight shifted tactics. It abandoned its guard and committed fully to offense. It launched a sweeping horizontal slash, which Arthur deflected cleanly—but that left him open to a devastating counter. The Knight's gauntlet suddenly curled into a fist and shot forward like a cannon.
Arthur raised Caliburn to block, but the force behind the punch was immense. It lifted him off his feet and hurled him like a ragdoll. His body smashed through a stone pillar, shattering it on impact, debris exploding in all directions. He coughed violently as he hit the ground, blood spraying from his lips. He rolled several feet before groaning and clutching his ribs.
"Arthur!!" Lance cried out, fury in his voice. He broke free of Merlin's guard, pushing past her with surprising force.
Merlin made no move to stop him this time, merely watching with a sigh.
Lance pointed his wand at the Knight, and it glowed with crimson light. His wand firing a powerful, unspoken explosion spell, a powerful Bombarda.
The blast struck the Black Knight squarely on the shoulder. A massive detonation followed, engulfing the towering figure in flames and smoke.
Arthur gritted his teeth as he clutched his ribs, blood dripping from his mouth. Thanks to the reinforcement spell, his bones hadn't shattered, but the internal damage still left him winded and aching.
"Lance! Stay back! Don't go past Merlin!" Arthur shouted between coughs.
But Lance wasn't listening. Determination burning in his eyes, he advanced toward the thick smoke, unleashing more spells—each a flash of light and force—but none strong enough to deal meaningful damage.
From within the smog, a deep rumble sounded.
The Black Knight burst forth like a wrathful demon, its armor scorched but intact, red eyes glowing with renewed menace. It charged directly at Lance with terrifying speed.
Lance froze. He raised his wand—but in that instant, he realized it was useless. The spells weren't stopping it. His hand trembled. For the first time, Lance felt death breathing down his neck—closer than ever before—and his body locked up in fear.
The Knight raised its sword for a killing blow.
But it never came.
From above, a flash of golden light tore open the sky itself.
Arthur, bloodied and furious, descended through a rift he had cleaved into the fabric of space with his sword. Caliburn pulsed with an intense golden glow, charged with almost all of his remaining magic.
"ARGHHHH!" Arthur roared, voice filled with fury and defiance. As he fell, he raised his sword overhead and brought it down with all his might. His blade slammed onto the Knight's armored shoulder.
"[Third-Tier Magic: Mana Burst!!]"
A brilliant surge of mana erupted from the blade in an explosive torrent of blue and gold. The energy screamed through the air and carved cleanly through the Black Knight's armor as though it were paper.
But it didn't stop there.
The blast was so powerful, it left a jagged gash across the entire battlefield—a diagonal cleave that cut through the air, the floor, the ceiling, and even the distant walls. It was as though the entire dimension had been scarred by the force of Arthur's magic.
The Black Knight stood still, frozen mid-motion.
Then, with a metallic groan, it split apart diagonally from shoulder to hip. Its pieces crashed to the floor with a deafening clatter, lifeless.
Silence fell.
As the smoke began to clear, the real shock was revealed—embedded deep within the Knight's body was a massive, glowing magic circle. It pulsed with a sinister red hue… until Arthur's attack had sliced through it. Now, the circle sparked erratically, severed, broken. The red glow dimmed, flickered, then vanished completely.
The Knight's red eyes—once blazing with unnatural life—faded into black.
It was over.
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