Merry smiled bitterly, finally understanding why Arthur valued the Roman army so highly.
Because now, she too was under tremendous pressure.
More accurately, due to the special nature of their relationship, she was suppressed even more severely than Gawain and the others.
"It's a barrier that repels Phantasmal beings... Yes, that's what my king had in mind. A massive barrier encompassing the British Isles and the Roman Empire, with the Holy Grail at its core. Just now, the barrier suddenly contracted, its properties reversed, and it mutated."
Merry explained in the simplest terms she could manage—then her body went limp, collapsing into Arthur's arms.
"Oh my, I didn't expect Big Sister to be so embarrassed. Is what my king said true? That this is retribution?"
"You—" Arthur hesitated.
Though the current situation was extremely tense, he couldn't help but want to complain at the sight of the weakened Merry.
You've ended up like this?
No. I can't look at her any longer. If I keep staring at that face, I'll burst out laughing.
Fortunately, the killer whale girl was considerate enough to rescue Arthur from the awkward moment. She grabbed the long hair of the half-asleep demon and casually tossed him aside.
"Huh? Skadi, are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. I don't rely much on magic, so I'm unaffected." Skadi nodded calmly, then placed a hand on Arthur's head and rubbed it. Soon, Arthur's frown relaxed.
"Hmm… Come to think of it, I don't seem to be affected either." Arthur looked confused.
"Ahaha, of course. Britain is an extension of my king's hands. Unless the dynasty collapses, nothing can affect him... and here, he is the Son of God." Merry said this with her last breath of strength. Then her head tilted, her body twitched twice, and she fell still.
"Mer—Merry, she—" Kay's eyes widened. "Merry is dead!"
She's not dead, just fainted! Don't jump to conclusions!
In an instant, the Knights of the Round Table were energized, forgetting entirely that they were being suppressed by the barrier.
It seemed that killing Merry—or Merlin—had always been a top priority for them.
Boom boom boom—
The sound of massive stones hurled by catapults slammed into the city walls. The Knights turned with grim expressions.
That's right. This was a battlefield. Save the celebrations for after victory.
"My king."
"What? Have you lost your confidence just because we're weakened by a barrier? People say my Round Table is full of gods, and that it's because of divine power that we've resisted Rome this long. Do you believe that too? A mere barrier can pull us down from the throne—but we were never gods to begin with. We've fought longer as mortals than we ever have as 'gods'." Arthur spoke lightly.
I already had Gawain test it.
Weakened by the barrier, Gawain's power had dropped to a level only slightly stronger than when he first met me.
Judging by that, this is probably how strong the Knights of the Round Table were in proper pan-human history.
The soldiers were also affected to varying degrees, but no matter how weakened, they were still considered "ordinary people" by Britain's standards.
So the question is—what were ordinary people in the Age of Gods to the Romans?
A powerful foe. One that required life-or-death struggle to defeat.
Ultimately, all Rome had done was bring both sides to the same level.
The rest was just a difference in numbers.
"Open the city gates. Follow me to face the enemy!"
Perhaps traditional city defense would have provided a certain advantage. But Britain's defensive strategies had relied on overwhelming firepower to instantly crush the enemy. They had no proper training in conventional siege warfare. So here, they simply abandoned the walls and chose to fight head-on.
Watching Arthur lead the charge, the soldiers forgot their own weakness.
Morale soared.
With this renewed energy, the city gates opened, and the British army surged out in a frenzy.
There was no need for orders. The Romans had created this scenario deliberately, and they were committing to it fully.
Britain answered in kind.
The two armies crashed into each other in the most primal of ways, and the battlefield plunged into chaos. Warriors swung swords and spears. Horses trampled the ground, stirring clouds of dust that quickly blanketed the field.
For a moment, it was hard to tell friend from foe.
There was no room for words—no space for diplomacy.
Both sides had reached a point of desperation where even a single step back would lead to annihilation and collapse.
From the start, it had been a brutal death match.
The cavalry charged. The infantry struck at anything in front of them. The archers, unable to distinguish targets, relied on their commanders' judgments and loosed volleys at where the enemy seemed most concentrated.
And amid the chaos, a single figure stood out.
"Red Dragon! Red Dragon! Come out, Artorius! I am here! Rome is here! Rome is here to destroy your dynasty! Come! Come fight Rome—I am ready!" he roared, consumed by rage.
Lucius rode a strange beast and charged wildly, scanning the battlefield for Arthur and announcing his presence with deafening clarity.
Every British soldier who neared him was cut down with ease.
No one could stop him. No one could match him.
Not even a single blow could be exchanged.
Contact meant instant death.
"Give it up. With his personality, he'll only appear when he's forced to. He won't act unless he sees a chance to win in a single strike," said the man in the black robe running alongside him, voice cold and indifferent.
But such advice couldn't calm the emperor.
Now that the conditions were finally right, Lucius's emotions were surging. He was eager—no, desperate—for a decisive confrontation. He longed to defeat his eternal rival with his own hands.
"Haha! You said it yourself! We just have to force Artorius to face me!" Lucius laughed maniacally, raising his sword high. "Bear witness, my elite! My glorious legion! Let Rome put an end to Britain!"
Behind him surged overwhelming might.
Cavalry riding giant elephants.
Towering, terrifying giants.
And a battalion of magi, sorcerers, and others with supernatural abilities.
It was an army of monsters, alien and cruel, sweeping away all resistance.
"Watch carefully! This is more than enough to turn the British Isles into scorched earth! Watch your homeland be reduced to dust before your eyes!" Lucius bellowed, raising the red magic sword Florent.
The Roman soldiers erupted in thunderous cheers, singing the praises of their fearsome Sword Emperor.
This was the emperor known as the Rakshasa, one of the most violent in Roman history.
And he had come to challenge the British Isles.
"Stop joking, Sword Emperor! There's nothing here for you to destroy. No matter who the enemy is—Britain will never retreat!"
-End Chapter-
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