Another morning, a biting north wind swept from the battlefield on the outskirts of London, carrying the scent of blood, earth, and metal.
The banners of the Red Dragon and the Lion were clearly separated, occupying opposite sides along an obsidian-like tower.
Regardless of which army they belonged to, as soldiers passed the tower that pointed to the sky, they involuntarily held their breath and cast gazes of awe upon it.
After all, they had seen it with their own eyes—the veiled woman had walked gracefully, and even the noble Twin Kings merely served as her attendants.
She casually touched the ground, and the tower rose from the earth before everyone's eyes.
Subsequently, rumors spread among the troops: the veiled woman was none other than Morgan le Fay, who had once almost single-handedly destroyed Albion. She had secretly escaped from London Tower, intending to exact revenge on Arthur and Merlin for a second time.
Neither the Red Dragon Duke Edward nor the Lionheart King Alistair denied this rumor.
And with the rising of this tower, the temperature of the place dropped day by day, the sky became overcast and icy, the north wind whirled and howled endlessly, and white frost crystallized on weapons and withered grass.
All signs indicated that Morgan le Fay was ready to exact a grand revenge for her grievances.
But today, a sudden fear began to spread through the army.
One of the Round Table Knights under the Red Dragon Duke Edward died suddenly in his military tent.
When he was found, he was lying peacefully on his camp bed, looking as if he was in a deep sleep, yet both of his eyeballs had been gouged out by his own hands and discarded on the ground.
This Round Table Knight had inherited the name "Gawain."
With the sudden death of the valiant contemporary Gawain, fear quickly spread through the army, and this blame was subtly placed on Morgan.
The Red Dragon Duke Edward quickly punished the rumor-mongers and intensified night patrols.
That night, no further anomalies occurred in the Red Dragon army.
However, when the sun rose the next day, the Round Table Knights in the Lion army died suddenly.
The contemporary "Lancelot," "Agravain," and "Tristan."
They were also found dead on their camp beds, each with a more gruesome death than the last.
The Round Table seats were not always full. When four Round Table Knights died one after another, the surviving Round Table Knights also began to retreat. They did not fear an honorable death on the battlefield, but they were unwilling to die so dishonorably.
The Round Table Knights were the core of the entire army. When they wavered, the entire army structure stirred restlessly.
The Red Dragon Duke could not curb this tendency. After a violent quarrel, two Round Table Knights, leading their retinues, left together.
They intended to retreat to a safe distance to encamp.
These two Round Table Knights were "Ector" and "Lamorak." They believed that by moving away from the battlefield and the witch's tower, they would be safe. However, when night fell and dinner was served in the camp, the cook let out a terrified scream.
When the junior officers came to investigate, their faces all lost color.
Stewing in the large pot were the heads of the contemporary "Ector" and "Lamorak."
Their facial features had long since rotted away from being soaked in boiling water, but the Round Table Knight's coronets confirmed their identities.
The successive fears completely seized the minds of the soldiers and officers. A camp panic thus erupted, and the night was still long; tonight's slaughter was destined not to end so simply.
...
Heber impaled her on the barracks doorpost with "Gareth's" lance.
The Round Table Knight's hand curled weakly, trying to pull the long spear from her chest, but in the end, it just fell limply, leaving only bulging eyes staring at the ground.
With this, all nine current Round Table Knights had been killed by Heber one by one.
It would take at least twenty years for the next generation of Round Table Knights to grow, so it was conceivable that all seats on the Round Table Council would remain vacant for at least this period.
"Compared to your ancestors, you truly are failures," Heber said calmly as she walked out of the barracks. "But then again, you are merely 'politicians' who inherited your seats through power struggles, neither loyal to your desires nor able to walk the path of your ancestors."
Every one of the former Round Table Knights had, without exception, established their own outstanding merits, all climbing to the second rank on the Path of Ascension—[Daybreak].
Their tempered wills reforged their weapons and armor, and their glorious achievements, even after a hundred years, imbued these relics with powerful strength.
Even if these succeeding Round Table Knights were mere mortals who barely managed the first rank, [Enlightenment], when fully armed, they could briefly manifest the great power of the [Daybreak] rank, becoming a thousand-man killing god on the battlefield.
Therefore, in the world's epics and anecdotes, Daybreak is also known as the "Hero" rank.
They were the prototypes of the "Heroic Spirits" sung by bards.
However, the Magus of the Court Merlin, whom Heber played, was of the third rank, [Twilight].
Every "Twilight" had existed in the world for at least two hundred years; they were living legends, even myths.
—Son of God, Earthly Angel, Saint, Devil, Banished Immortal, Dragon... these legendary titles could fully be used to refer to beings of the "Twilight" rank.
Their achieved great works enabled them to easily accomplish miracles unimaginable to mortals.
Even though Heber's great work leaned towards transformation, support, and blessings, and did not possess any large-scale destructive abilities, it was enough to easily destroy an entire army in the fear of dreams and illusions.
After destroying the minds of mortals with fear, merely swinging a blade was enough to take their lives.
It was just a bit tedious.
Heber did not feel disgusted or timid. When she was clearing the Lostbelt, she always maintained an objective and detached perspective; she experienced the feeling firsthand, yet could always withdraw from it at any moment.
At necessary moments, what did it matter if she sacrificed herself? As long as she could clear this Lostbelt, it was enough.
"Alright, these Round Table Knights who could have been variables are all dead. Now it's your turn…"
Frightened soldiers and junior officers ran past Heber, splashing mud that even touched the hem of her robe. Yet, they paid no attention to Heber, as if she were merely a reflection in a mirror or a phantom moon in water.
—[First Mark: Illusion].
The foundation of a great work is a stigmata called a Mark.
This was the earliest Mark Heber condensed, the talent of Merlin, whom she played.
Within this body, the bloodline of a Nightmare flowed naturally.
Nightmares are not creatures of reality; they reside in the "Wasteland"—a dream realm above reality, accessible only through dreaming.
Semi-illusory pansies sprouted from beneath Heber's slender feet, then quickly occupied the entire battlefield. Both the Red Dragon and the Lion armies fell into the mire of illusion without realizing it.
—When did you get the illusion that I wasn't using illusions?
She clapped her hands softly.
Clap.
And so, in an instant, everyone caught in the illusion felt their thoughts detach from their bodies, then intertwine, making it difficult to distinguish between self and other, inside and out.
They fell one after another into the mud—not dead, but unable to wake up.