"Haha, we're really evenly matched. Even with the Giant's Arm, it can only match your arm strength. Haha, that's it, that's how it should be! Very good, Artorius—you did a great job!"
Lucius laughed wildly.
Rather, from the moment Arthur appeared, his smile had never left. It only became more unscrupulous.
"You—" Arthur frowned.
What on earth is this guy laughing at?
Laughing? Or simply enjoying this life-or-death struggle, this brutal war?
It was abnormal. Far too abnormal. This guy was simply a lunatic!
Arthur's repulsed expression didn't escape Lucius's eyes.
"What's wrong? You should enjoy it more, Artorius. This is a rare opportunity for both of us. Don't you think? I am the Sword Emperor—no one can match me in swordplay. And you... only you can withstand my sword head-on! Why suppress your nature? Be more cheerful—laugh out loud with me!"
Unlike Arthur, who bore the pressure alone—
Lucius thoroughly enjoyed battle and war.
To this emperor, the army was a musical note, strategy the score, and battle the performance. Lamentations and cries, death and wailing—everything at this moment flowed in unison like a symphony. Everything was beautiful, and the sight of the Red Dragon's Son before him was so breathtaking that he trembled with excitement.
No! This is war!
Compared to before, when Arthur and the man in black robes used tactics to test each other, the current battlefield was something truly fascinating.
"Get out of here!"
A golden light flashed before Arthur's eyes as he unlocked his highest level of clairvoyance. That alone made him feel slightly better. "The Holy Grail... it's in your possession after all. That abnormal ability—even I... no, it's precisely because I'm affected by it."
As the Lord of Britain, Arthur should not be influenced by external forces.
Where Arthur stood was the territory of Britain.
As long as it was within that range, it became holy ground. All things would support King Arthur. This was the so-called [Holy King].
But if it was a vessel of karma—bypassing the identity of the Lord of Britain and touching the identity of the Son of God—then it was different.
In other words, only the power of the Holy Grail could affect Arthur.
As if to confirm his thoughts, a flood of information suddenly flooded his mind, making him grimace in pain. The knowledge—covering the birth of all things to the progress of civilization—was chaotic, fragmented, and yet it was truth. The truth that magi longed for. However, in the midst of intense combat, it was not a gift, nor a blessing, but a tormenting test.
Tsk! That damn white dove actually used this method—
"I ask you again, Artorius. Become my property."
"I refuse!"
Arthur gritted his teeth, raised the holy sword to block the attack, and covered his head with his hand, hoping to ease the pain.
But in such a half-baked state, facing the Sword Emperor was tantamount to suicide.
Lucius merely brushed the holy sword aside and swung his own sword in a fierce arc toward Arthur's neck.
A fatal blow.
Even Lucius thought so.
Without the holy sword in hand, Arthur couldn't draw the Sword of Selection. The Shield of Radiance had just been knocked away. He had no means of defense left. All barriers had fallen.
Then Arthur did something that surprised Lucius.
He raised his hand.
He used flesh and blood to block the devil's sword.
At the cost of a shattered arm, he dodged the fatal strike? Hoo~ho. He says he hates battle, but in reality, he's quite decisive... and ruthless.
However, Lucius's real surprise was yet to come.
Clang—
The sound of steel colliding rang out. The demonic sword tore through Arthur's arm armor like air—but then it was caught. Caught by a pale hand, white as snow. Arthur's arm suddenly radiated golden light, and though the holy sword had been knocked away, with a wave of his hand—
Boom—
Lucius's pupils shrank sharply. He barely evaded the light cannon's direct blast in time.
Behind him, a great number of soldiers were erased by that beam before they could even scream.
And that was far from its full power. Even the conspicuous giants of the alien army on the far end retreated in fear, casting anxious glances at the golden beam.
Arthur waved again, and the holy sword returned to his hand. He opened his eyes halfway, staring coldly at Lucius.
This was a gap anyone could understand.
Even under the Holy Grail's influence, Arthur could still unleash that kind of attack. Just as the man in black had said—even with superior swordsmanship, Lucius had no chance of victory.
One-on-one, Lucius would die.
But the emperor didn't retreat. Instead, he laughed even louder: "Hahahahaha! Didn't you do well? Don't you know your own strength? It's only natural that the White Dragon would die at your hands. How could an ordinary human fight against the Holy Sword Master who defeated the Saxons and Picts?"
"Stop shouting. What are you so excited about?" Arthur snapped coldly.
His condition was the worst it had ever been. Even if he tried to use psychological tactics, judging from Lucius's expression, it would do no harm—perhaps it would only excite him further.
In the end, Arthur was the only one being affected.
This was terrible. Why did his opponent have to be such a pervert—in the most literal sense?
"Is it difficult to understand? Dominating the continent means dominating all things on behalf of the great men in heaven. The innocent children born into this world and the pitiful lives harvested like grass on the battlefield are all the same. No matter how precious or how tragic, all of them are in my hands."
Lucius charged forward again, a mad glint in his eyes.
"What the hell are you trying to say, bastard?" Arthur was forced to meet him.
One sword, two swords.
Both Arthur and Lucius attacked with inhuman speed—any missed strike could be fatal.
And even now, Lucius still laughed and poured in strange ideology.
"Don't you see? We were granted everything—and allowed everything—to protect the people and ensure the nation's prosperity. We are the gods of this earth. We will exist forever."
"You're mad, you fool. Nothing in this world is eternal. Whether it's a person or a dynasty, everything decays and dies in the end."
"Wow, Artorius, who fed you that nonsense? Was it some sage? Let me correct you. You were born and crowned King of Britain because you were granted the authority to rule the earth from the very beginning—and to live eternally. Otherwise, how could someone so abnormal be born in this era?"
Lucius spoke with absolute conviction. "I have thoroughly investigated you."
Indeed, Britain—no, Camelot's former king Uther—had mysterious powers. He was the incarnation of a dragon.
Even 'Pendragon' meant Dragon Clan.
And 'Uther' meant Dragon Head.
But after King Uther mysteriously vanished, he concluded that a human king could no longer sustain Britain. So he created a monarch who was no longer human: the true red dragon.
But the true red dragon wasn't Arthur.
It was Arturia—
No!
Wrong!
Arthur suddenly realized truths he had long ignored—or had chosen not to face.
Why was he born?
Not as the Son of the Dragon, but the Son of God?
Simply because of Morgan's wish? That explanation was weak and hollow.
Because it was a divine game? An even more groundless assumption.
He had been born in this era. Had become King of Britain. Had caused countless changes. Had turned the world into something completely otherworldly.
And by now—
He had unknowingly acquired the authority to rule the earth... and the ability to live forever.
-End Chapter-
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