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Chapter 110 - Chapter 110: Gawain Said You Shouldn’t Come Over!  

Maybe it wasn't just imagination—but at least none of the Knights of the Round Table had abilities related to crows. Besides, this was only the outskirts of their defenses, and the village was still deep in the mountains. The crows soon returned to normal. There was no need to strike them down—yet. Hopefully, whoever was watching meant no harm.

For some reason, Arash thought of the witch they had encountered before. Aside from resistance fighters like themselves, everyone else seemed tied to the king in one way or another. Arash, who had read modern novels and watched dramas, couldn't help but feel like he was stuck in a massive family soap opera.

…Which, oddly enough, was kind of exciting.

Although a single day wasn't enough to blanket every ruined city with projectors, Aslan didn't need to. Just a few in densely populated places would do. Survivors would naturally spread the news.

Now that he had manifested as a Servant, Aslan didn't need to sleep. He completed all the equipment by dawn.

By daybreak, they were already en route to the Holy City. From here on, they had only half a day to conceal their identities.

After traversing ruined cities and reaching a vast plain, the Holy City of Camelot came into view. Majestic. Towering. Bathed in radiance. Knights patrolled the walls, and the brilliant gates beckoned. To an average survivor, it was the symbol of hope.

Guarding the entrance was Gawain, the Sun Knight. Once, his willfulness led his king astray. Now, he vowed to hold this gate no matter the cost.

Aslan recalled his last infiltration fondly. Maybe it was time to remind Gawain how easily he'd been knocked down. Even with the blessing of the Lion King, he still couldn't stop him!

Aslan packed away his equipment into his enchanted gear and changed his appearance—brown hair, brown-black eyes, tanned skin, freckles. Unremarkable and local. Unrecognizable from afar. Up close?

Hehe\~

He could already imagine Gawain's face. If only he could livestream it.

"Ahahaha! My dear nephew Gawain, uncle's here to give you a present!" he muttered, amused.

Meanwhile, in cities further away, young mountain refugees arrived bearing projectors. Their appearance didn't draw attention—just more displaced wanderers. Only the installation of the equipment caught a few eyes.

"Young man, what are you doing?" an old villager asked.

"My parents said this lets us see the Holy Selection at Camelot. Like clairvoyance," the boy answered, wiping his brow.

The old man sighed with envy. "If I were younger, I'd try for the Selection too. But now… I'll just wait for death quietly."

The boy didn't reply. Arash had already explained the truth about the Holy Selection to them. They had long given up on the king. But these people… were still like he once was. At least they had Hassan to rely on.

Soon, the broadcast began.

The image showed the outer ruins of Jerusalem near the Holy City of Camelot, where many hopefuls gathered. Some came for the selection. Others simply hoped to be protected.

There was even a rudimentary service economy—guides would offer tours in exchange for bread or water.

The original Jerusalem had been a vibrant city, but now its ruins held little shelter. Only a few wells still provided water. Food was even scarcer. For orphaned children, survival was brutal.

Where there are people, there is hierarchy. Even here, the strong oppressed the weak. Such was human nature… and why so few passed the Selection.

Who, after all, is truly kind, flawless, and upright?

Aside from a few children, perhaps only those who could be called saints.

Because the Selection wasn't public, and the gates remained sealed, those who passed were simply never seen again. Most assumed their friends were living happy lives in the city.

None ever returned.

 

-End Chapter-

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