Artoria returned to her court.
The smile on her face was as if nothing had happened, and her light steps and resolute voice continued to inspire the fledgling kingdom and all its people... just a bit more effort, and life would improve!
No, in truth, hadn't life already begun to improve?
Though invasions by foreign tribes still occurred sporadically, valiant knights... Lamorak, Percival, Tristan... marched batch after batch to the southern borders. Artoria bid each farewell, promising a grand celebration upon their triumphant return.
At this moment, Camelot... no, the military might of the Britons... was stronger than ever before.
Victory in the war seemed within reach, and even Artoria herself believed she was just one step away from her "Ideal Kingdom."
"But how to take that step… that's the real challenge!" She muttered.
"Merlin, is there truly no way to deal with that demonic dragon?"
Only in private, reverting to her youthful demeanor, would the king slump over a table, venting her frustrations.
Against a demonic dragon fused with the entirety of Britain, ordinary attacks were useless. Even if an attack could kill him, Artoria had to consider whether it would destroy the island itself.
Her goal was not to eliminate Vortigern but to save this island, already teetering on the edge of the end times.
"Isn't there a way to erase Vortigern's soul without harming his body?" She asked, more in passing than expectation.
Was it her keen intuition or her progress in the study of Mysteries that deserved praise?
"There is." Merlin replied casually.
He studied her eyes, watching as her emerald gaze sparked from confusion to hope, and he smiled with satisfaction.
"What you're describing is actually quite easy to achieve."
"What?"
"As the saying goes, 'the cure is never far from the poison.'"
"The way to save this island is right by your side."
The Dragon's Sanctuary, the Temple of Light.
Guided by Merlin, Artoria rushed to the sanctuary with eager anticipation.
"Babydrago, Babydrago!" She called, desperate to share the good news with her closest companion and ally.
But no one answered.
"Lord White Dragon God!" She tried again, adopting a more formal tone to summon the dragon, unsure what mischief he was up to.
Clang...
This time, the temple's doors swung open.
But it wasn't the dragon she expected. Instead, Vina, the priestess temporarily stationed at the temple in service to the White Dragon God, emerged.
"My king, welcome." Vina said. "You're asking about Lord Alaric? He's gone out to meet some ancient crone who's lived who-knows-how-long."
"Oh, and he told me to tell you not to wait for him and to not trust that magus's words."
"As for the White Dragon King, he'll handle it himself."
"???"
The Reverse Side of the World.
While Artoria stood bewildered, Alaric had already met with the "ancient crone who's lived who-knows-how-long."
But the meeting wasn't in the Land of Shadows... it was in Alaric's own sanctuary, now formally named Avalon.
"What a realm brimming with life!" The goddess of the underworld exclaimed, strolling through the sanctuary.
She inhaled deeply, savoring the vibrant life force around her, her face alight with delight.
In truth, she'd suffered from "graduating too early." When she departed the world, it was at the height of the Age of Gods, teeming with gods, fairies, and dragons. The surface world offered no other realms for her to claim.
"If you like it, you're welcome to stay." Alaric said casually... not out of false courtesy but genuine openness.
There was no need for pretense with Scáthach. They were beings of the same caliber; he could speak plainly.
"No, staying long-term isn't for me. I'm used to places where the sun never shines." Scáthach replied, gazing at the radiant "sun" Ahead.
The Tower of Radiance, standing at the world's end. The Pillar of Light anchoring the world's surface. The holy lance, Rhongomyniad.
"So, it's this lance." Scáthach said, instantly understanding why Alaric had sought her out.
"What, has the end of the world arrived?"
Rhongomyniad was a weapon forged for the world's end.
Alaric had known this for some time.
In the original history, Artoria used this holy lance to slay Vortigern, who had become a demonic dragon. His final words were: "To think even Rhongomyniad was granted… Fools. To defeat a tyrant, you've brought about even greater destruction."
But that was all Alaric knew about the lance.
He was wary of what "even greater destruction" meant and didn't trust the magus's words. Though Merlin never lied, believing him in such matters was reckless.
So, Alaric sought Scáthach... a sage who had lived long enough to know all, hoping for a true answer.
"You're asking what Rhongomyniad is?" Scáthach said.
"Well… it's many things."
In her "teacher" mode, Scáthach faced her student's earnest question.
"It's an anchor, a pillar, a manifestation of the world's will, and a weapon of immense power."
"But I think the answer you really want is this:"
"This tower is a key."
"A key?"
"Yes, a key to unlock the world's end."
"No matter the purpose... when this holy lance is drawn, it marks the beginning of the apocalypse."
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