"And so, my friends, until we meet again."
Following Mash, the Knights of the Round Table' bodies dissolved into specks of light, returning to the Throne of Heroes.
Artoria waved them farewell.
Her face showed little sorrow, for she knew her bond with these knights was eternal. The words "until we meet again" were no empty promise... when the king needed them, her loyal knights would cross the vast river of history to stand by her side once more.
"But… it still feels a bit lonely."
The knights were gone.
The magus had vanished.
The once-lively tower now stood empty.
Just like her heart, once filled with countless duties, now hollow.
She stepped out of the tower, watching the playful fae chasing each other in the paradise. She briefly considered organizing them into an elite force, but quickly dismissed the foolish idea.
She was no longer a king.
This hidden realm needed no ruler.
"So idle... "
It was the most leisurely moment in her thirty-odd years of life.
Nothing to think about, nothing to plan. She lay carefree on Avalon's grass, gently closing her eyes.
She thought she might drift into a long slumber.
But five minutes later...
"Can't sleep."
Artoria sat up, rubbing her cheeks.
She had tried her best to convince herself to rest.
But a voice within kept nagging: "It's not time to rest." "Thirty is the age to strive." "So much still awaits you."
"So that's why you're not sleeping at midnight and came to bother me?"
"Damn it, even dragons need rest!"
Alaric opened his eyes, visibly annoyed.
That golden tuft of hair swayed before him, as if urging him to decide quickly.
"You can do it, right?"
"I've sensed it... the power to break through time!"
Artoria declared with certainty.
She had once become a wing, helping Alaric unlock the Abyss-Eyes White Dragon form.
It was one of the Blue-Eyes White Dragon's mightiest forms.
"Born from the boundless source of time, the pure white dragon raises trembling wings in the resonating echoes of souls"... those words perfectly captured the essence of the Abyss-Eyes White Dragon.
A dragon with the power to traverse time, summoned to different eras by unique souls.
A simplified version of the "Throne of Heroes."
"But it's not that easy to be summoned. Few people are connected to me."
"Wait… I think I feel something."
As it turned out, the planet's greatest asset was its abundance of people.
With enough people, even the rarest events could occur.
But should he answer this call?
Sensing despair and rage in the summoning, Alaric blinked at Artoria.
"Huh? Not as a hero to save the world, but as a villain to destroy it?"
Artoria said, surprised.
Alaric expected her to refuse the summons outright.
But to his shock...
"Of course we're going!"
"I want to know what it's like to be steeped in darkness and despair, waiting for someone to save me."
"What?!?"
…
1431 AD.
Orléans, France.
This was once a city of heroes. Just a year ago, a holy maiden descended from the heavens, leading a ragtag band of soldiers to defeat the English invaders, greatly boosting the morale of the French people.
But who could have foreseen?
In just one year, the saint who saved the nation would fall, becoming a witch bent on its destruction.
"Burn, burn, burn."
"Let it all blaze in my fury!"
The white-haired witch commanded wyverns from another era, unleashing her wrath upon the city.
Buildings crumbled, lives were lost, everything of value was to be destroyed... along with the nation she once swore to protect with her life.
"Your Holiness, how do you feel?"
In the burning city, a magus with bulging eyes stood behind the Dragon Witch, inquiring about her sentiments.
"Boring."
"And laughable."
"Thinking I gave my life for these fools makes me want to laugh."
The Dragon Witch spoke bluntly.
She was tired of this slaughter... her anger couldn't be quenched by killing these ordinary people or razing this city.
"Gilles, isn't there a faster way?"
"I'm done with this country, this land!"
The former saint, now a witch, made no effort to hide her disdain for the place.
And this was exactly the scene the magus named Gilles de Rais wanted to witness.
"Of course, Your Holiness, of course there is!"
The magus led the witch to the city's central plaza.
There, a summoning ritual was already prepared, awaiting her call.
"Go, Your Holiness."
"With this city as a sacrifice, you'll summon the aid you need."
…
Jeanne d'Arc Alter stood at the center of the summoning circle.
The ritual, sensing her magical energy, activated instantly.
Conceptual extraction:
France; Dragon.
Thus, the heroic spirits summoned to this land were inevitably tied to these concepts.
Hum...
Black magical energy pulsed above the summoning circle.
Seven figures, shrouded in dark auras, opened their eyes with expressions of confusion or excitement.
"What happened to me?"
Artoria, also summoned, looked at the full-body armor covering even her face, puzzled by the need for such heavy protection.
"Shh, keep it down."
"You don't want people knowing the great King of Knights is sneaking around like this, do you?"
Alaric, also summoned to this land, had shrunk his form to about three or four meters and donned a new guise:
The White Dragon Paladin.
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