Meanwhile In Otherworld,
Boom
A howling barrage of magical beams rocketed out from the undead heavy infantry opposing Ricky's own.
"SCREEEEEEE!" Another wave of chimeras billowed out from behind the heavy infantry on the rolling hills, as if some unseen signal had ordered them to commence another charge.
WHOOSH
A light breeze stirred the battlefield, subtle at first, but enough to prickle the hairs on every neck.
Electricity pulsed like a heartbeat through the air, faint little sizzles that sporadically appeared throughout the vicinity.
Then came the faint sound of hooves.
KRA-KOOM
KRA-KOOM
KRA-KOOM
Thunder crashed in rhythm, distant at first but rapidly growing closer and the moment the chimeras surged forward from behind the heavy infantry, snarling and screeching as they descended from the rolling hills, the sky split open.
A barrage of lightning rained down with terrifying precision, each bolt striking undead flesh and igniting it into ash.
Chimeras wailed as they were charred mid-lunge, twisted into steaming husks before rolling down the hills.
BOOM
Bucephalus roared through the lines of the undead, charging headfirst into the fray as chimeras exploded into chunks upon colliding with him.
The front line was utterly vandalized by the might of the steed and only then did Alexander's legion surge forward, crushing all that remained.
With practiced ease, they tore the chimeras apart, following their sub-commanders' subtle orders with brutal precision, piercing through undead flesh as if it were no more than wet paper.
Boom
However, on the other side of the battle, it had become a stalemate.
The heavy infantry had been keeping the coven at bay, preventing them from breaking through and halting the progress of the battle.
"Argh!" Dexter grunted, hurled backward by the blast as Eldric conjured a spell to cushion his fall.
"Elder Eldric, I can't-"
"I know. I know full well," Eldric said grimly, his gaze narrowing as the stalemate had come from the grotesque undead holding the high ground, their elevation giving them the advantage.
Boom
A beam dragged down from the hilltop, the undead channeling its magic through the twisted form of Dexter's little brother held hostage, used like a conduit, like he was nothing but a mere magical core.
The pure magical beam carved a deep scar into the earth below, sending dirt and debris flying.
Dexter raised his forearm against the blast, eyes burning with hate as he stared at the monster clutching the only family he had left on this earth in its rotting embrace.
"I-"
Thump
The sound of rusted chainmail hitting the earth echoed behind the coven as Dexter immediately spun, ready to hurl a spell, only for his wrist to be caught by a rotted hand.
All eyes widened as they saw the Headless Dullahan, once the hero Brian Braddock, seated atop the twisted steed that had once been his close ally, Meggan Puceanu.
No words were uttered, no thoughts spared, but within that simmering pool of darkness hovering where his head should've been, a fragment of Brian remained.
The inkling of what it meant to be a hero, to help others.
He was enslaved to Ricky now, twisted into an undead servant, forced to bend to his master's whims.
But that didn't mean Brian had lost who he was, only that he'd lost control of what he could be.
"Dexter, leave the undead alone and let us prepare for another attack," Eldric said, trying to usher him away.
But the young man didn't budge, his gaze fixed on the headless Dullahan, who slowly released his grip on Dexter's wrist.
"M-My brother is trapped in that vile thing and we have no way to break through, no way to free him or end this." Dexter's voice cracked, the emotions swirling in his throat as he thought it was utterly stupid to ask a headless undead for help.
But Dexter was desperate enough for anything at this point.
"Please help me, help me lay my brother to rest."
The words sounded out from Dexter while the other coven members sort of looked at him as if he was a crazy idiot.
But the Dullahan merely turned his body toward the heavy infantry stationed atop the hill and clicked his heel against his steed.
The wraith-steed suddenly beckoned forward, its hooves pounding the earth as all eyes from the coven fell upon it.
The Dullahan leaned into the charge, lifting one hand and calling for something unseen.
A black scythe answered the call, materializing in midair before dropping into his grasp as he clenched the handle tightly and then, something shifted.
A strange phenomenon rippled through the battlefield, amidst the remaining cannon fodder that Ricky had controlled before he left.
Ethereal Command (Passive): Commands the undead with ease, bending them to his will.
It was one of the Dulahan's passive skills and as a black aura surged around him, the undead finally used it.
Suddenly, a portion of the chimeras, mid-lunge, jerked their heads up as if waking from a trance.
Then, without warning, they bolted after the Dullahan, following his path.
Dexter, Eldric, and the coven members watched with wide eyes as the Dullahan's charge began to slowly morph into a stampede of undead, forming into that of a spearhead formation, cutting straight towards the wall of undead infantry ahead.
"This is our chance, prepare everything!" Eldric called out, quickly raising his grimoire as Dexter lifted his own.
The other coven members followed suit, chanting a multifaceted incantation meant to channel devastating power between all of them.
The Dullahan looked up at the wall of undead before him, gripping the scythe tightly in his hand.
But at that moment, he understood that these creatures weren't enemies.
They were comrades.
Not to the coven, not to the living, but to him.
The Dullahan and the heavy cavalry unit before him were bound by the same fate: undead, stripped of will, puppets twisted into service under their necrotic masters.
So many emotions swirled within the Dullahan, emotions he should no longer possess.
But one rose above the rest, sharper and clearer than the others.
Resolve.
To free others from the fate that he would forever bear.
Booom
A ray of magical energy beamed down from above just as the Dullahan swung forward, his blackened blade meeting the blast mid-air.
The scythe cut through it with effortless precision, splitting the ray in two as if slicing through cloth.
The heavy cavalry, once bearing down on the coven members and their chimeras, suddenly shifted.
Their formation turned, hooves pounding, as they redirected their charge to follow the Dullahan up the hill.
Booom
Booom
Booom
Beams of energy slammed down on the Dullahan's charge as the scythe swung furiously, trying to slice through each one.
But the attacks slowly began to connect.
Half of the Dullahan's body was seared away, his form retreating only to be struck again by another burst of magical fire.
Yet still, the relentless charge pressed on.
Finally, the Dullahan leapt from his steed, launching himself straight into a hurdle of heavy cavalry.
WHOOSH
The scythe sliced through the connections binding the undead bears to their magical cores.
The anguished wails of the children trapped within slowly dimmed as the scythe was more than a mere weapon.
It held the power to sever and damage souls, and its devastating effect was on full display as the Dullahan began severing the links the undead had to their captive, twisted magical cores.
"Everything, POUR EVERYTHING INTO THIS ATTACK!" Eldric yelled, gritting his teeth as he watched the Dullahan slammed by blast after blast, cutting down as many foes as he could while taking on the agro of this heavy calvary.
Tears streaked down Dexter's face as he burned every ounce of magical energy he had and suddenly, a massive tsunami of meteors appeared in the sky.
"METEOR SHOWER!" The coven members roared, hurling down a combined and deadly spell.
The sky darkened instantly, clouds swirling violently as fiery meteors tore through the air like streaks of blazing death.
One by one, they crashed into the rolling hills where the Dullahan and the heavy infantry fought.
For a second, the Dullahan looked up, momentarily halting his assault as if taken by the sheer beauty of the overwhelming display of arcane power.
BOOOOOOOOM
The meteors slammed down from the darkened skies with an earth-shattering force, igniting the ground in a thunderous magical explosion that incinerated everything in its wake.
Trees vaporized, stone shattered, and the very earth buckled beneath the relentless fury.
A colossal dust cloud surged upward and outward, roaring across the rolling hills like a living tempest.
It swept over the coven, engulfing them in a thick, choking shroud of dust and debris, swallowing the battlefield in eerie silence and obscurity.
WHOOSH
But it was when Dexter ran out that the rolling hills revealed themselves as a cratered scar gouged deep into the earth as he staggered forward, eyes scanning the devastation around him.
Bits and pieces of the heavy infantry lay scattered like broken statues, while most of the cavalry Merlyn had sent were reduced to ash.
The rolling hills had completely turned into a smoldering ruin of craters that littered this beautiful landscape like a plague.
Then, cutting through the eerie silence, came a husk of a voice that was almost hollow, chilling, but barely more than a whisper.
"Make it stop~"
Dexter jerked his head sharply toward the sound, his breath catching in his throat as he fell to his knees.
Drip
Drip
Dexter stared down at the shattered remains of the heavy cavalry unit, the twisted form that held his little brother captive, the very reason he had come here today.
Limping forward, he dropped to his knees beside the undead creature that had once been his little brother.
He nudged himself closer to the half of Daniel awkwardly protruding from the charred, broken corpse.
But without fear, Dexter gently brushed his hand against his cheek.
It was so cold, the immediate sensation felt as if he were touching frozen stone as Dexter's shaky fingers trembled as they traced the outline of his little brother's face.
Then his eyes fluttered open, only to reveal empty sockets where his brother's eyes once were and the hollow voids staring back at him.
"Daniel?" Dexter whispered, a trembling smile breaking through as tears welled in his eyes.
The small child's hollow eyes slowly met his gaze, empty but somehow reaching out.
"It h-hurts~" Daniel's sliver of consciousness whispered, a fragile remnant of the boy who had long since died, now barely tethered to this world.
"I know, I know," Dexter murmured, pulling him close as the half-dead boy lay limp in his arms, but strangely, he closed his eyes.
"I'm going to make it stop now. Just rest, alright?" Dexter sobbed, clutching his little brother tightly as he held out his hand.
A spell was conjured as Dexter held him tighter, unwilling to let go but knowing it had to be this way.
"Alright~" Daniel's husky voice whispered, a faint light flickering within him as the writhing boy slowly stilled, surrendering to the peace at last.
Sniff
"Rest Daniel, please just rest." Dexter sobbed as the spell deepened, his brother's form slowly turning to ash.
He didn't want to carry his remains back like the others, he just wanted his little brother free from this horrid reality as quickly as possible.
Dexter's embrace gradually dissolved, until nothing remained but a fragile stream of air that lifted the final ashes, carrying Daniel away and finally freeing him from this hellish existence.
SNiff
HIC
Dexter crumpled forward, relief flooding through him that Daniel was finally free but the pain of what had happened still weighed heavy on his heart.
It was then that footsteps echoed nearby and slowly, Dexter lifted his head and looked up to see the Dullahan regenerating, his steed materializing beneath him like a shadow returning to life.
Sniff
"S-Sorry about the spell and you know, getting you caught in the blast." Dexter said in a guilty tone, rubbing his eyes while looking up at where his head should be.
The Dullahan gazed upon Dexter for a long moment before slowly nodding and riding off to join Bucephalus's next charge.
"What a beautiful end to that chapter~" Asterion murmured, wiping a tear from his eye as he gazed at Dexter in the distance, a gentle smile on his lips.
But the moment shattered abruptly as a sudden attack was hurled at Asterion.
From behind, Sir Mordred slithered forward, breaking the fragile calm with deadly intent.
BAM
However, Asterion calmly grabbed the extended weapon, clutching the undead Mordred's wrist and slamming him forward. With a powerful kick, he sent Mordred crashing into Sir Kay and Sir Gawain, who were advancing to intervene.
"Why… why can't I be with my flowers?" Sir Agravain bellowed, curling into a tight ball and rocking back and forth beside Lady Roma, still trapped within the first configuration of Chastiefol.
Lady Roma stared at the scene in bewilderment, her heart pounding as she recognized the armor.
She knew it belonged to Sir Agravain, the knight who had always tended to his beloved flower garden with quiet devotion.
But seeing him now, twisted and turned into such a creature, felt impossible.
A single thought clouded her mind: this had to be a trap.
Something designed to lower her guard, to turn her against her father.
It was a desperate and tangled thought process, a wild attempt to make sense of the impossible scene before her.
But it was also a shield, a way for her to cope with the horror unfolding, and the reason she steeled herself not to fall into the trap so easily.
"You vile fiend! Your tricks won't work on me!" Lady Roma screamed, glaring at Asterion as the gentle minotaur turned toward her, confusion furrowing his brow.
"What tricks? I'm simply guarding you," Asterion wondered aloud, surprised that she was speaking to him since until now, she had been unconscious after Morgana knocked her out.
Before she could respond, Asterion punched beside him, sending Sir Gahris's smoldering form flying backward as he rolled across the ground like a ragdoll.
"Sir Agravain died after betraying Camelot. He was slain by my father when he tried to usurp—"
"For only a moment!" Sir Agravain cried out, his rotten hand clutching his decayed face as Lady Roma flinched.
"Then, before I could even register my death, he pulled me back to life." Sir Agravain whimpered, sucking his thumb like a frightened child, struggling to bear the weight of those horrid old memories Lady Roma had dredged up.
"But he didn't stop, he changed me into-.........this." Sir Agravian looked at his undead form, how ugly and disgusting it looked which made the soft knight crumple into his self loathing further.
Sniff
""For hundreds of years, I've been shackled to this cursed form, having parts of me torn away and replaced and now, after all that suffering, I serve another." Sir Agravain cried, rocking back and forth, his mind breaking under the unbearable weight of living like this.
"N-No, my father would never do such a thing-" Lady Roma laughed in disbelief, thinking that Sir Agravain was going even deeper into his lie so she went even deeper into her hysteria.
"I'm afraid, Lady Roma, you do not truly know your father just as I did not truly know mine," Asterion said gently, treating her with respect even as she spat hateful words at him.
"Although my father was a bull, not fully conscious as we are, I think you understand what I mean." Asterion smiled briefly, then dodged a strike, punching Sir Kay before slamming his horn into Sir Gwaine's blade and kicking him away with a powerful hoof.
"But-"
"I understand that, from your perspective, we are villains that cannot be trusted." Asterion first said, disarming Sir Gaheris and stabbing him with his own weapon before flinging him to the side.
"I also understand that Merlyn is your father and it would be unreasonable for me to simply expect you to register what is happening since after all, we have taken you hostage."Asterion then took into account Lady Roma's view while slamming his fist into the charging Sir Kay's face.
"But could you use my real name?" Asterion asked gently, headbutting Sir Kay before turning back to Lady Roma, who flinched.
"You keep calling me a vile fiend, and it truly hurts my heart—for I am a living being with a proper name, Asterion, not some animal." Asterion's eyes held genuine sadness, a quiet vulnerability that was almost at odds with the ruthless way he was tearing through the undead knights, striking them down as if they were nothing more than playthings.
"I-I apologize, Asterion," Lady Roma said, surprised at herself for apologizing as he hadn't asked her to hear him out or understand him, only to call him by his name.
"It's alright," Asterion laughed, punching the oncoming Mordred in the face.
"But you don't have to apologize for I am, after all, your captor." Asterion laughed, trying to lighten the mood but it only made Lady Roma even more confused.
"But why?" Lady Roma asked, looking at Asterion as a reasonable being rather than a mindless lackey she was used to when going against villains like she deemed Ricky to be.
"Because Ricky asked me to," Asterion said simply, picking up Sir Gawain and hurling him toward the charging Sir Mordred.
"Asterion, you seem like a kind soul." Lady Roma said quickly, glancing over her past misgivings.
It was ironic to change her tune so suddenly, but looking at the reasonable Asterion, it felt like her only chance.
"Thank you-"
"But that's exactly why you need to release me. Ricky is working with none other than the wicked Morgana, he's trying to bring down Camelot." Lady Roma said as if trying to convey some since into Asteiron who shook his head slightly.
"No." Asterion replied sincerely, his words echoing with quiet conviction.
"The one trying to bring down Camelot is Merlyn." Asterion's gaze met Merlyn's through the orb, the truth reflected starkly in the mage's eyes.
However, Merlyn merely stood, leaving his room and walking down the hall toward the Round Table, where the anxious knights of Camelot gathered.
They were deep in conversation about the recent attack and preparations, debating where to position the new support forces, who had come from the Starlight Citadel.
Since as already previously stated, Merlyn had already evacuated it after understanding that Morgana would attack so as to trap her until it was her time in this performance.
It was then that Sir Bors spotted Merlyn approaching and immediately stepped forward, chivalry written plainly across his features.
"Master Merlyn, the attackers are outside the walls and-"
"They have Lady Roma." Merlyn's voice cut through the murmurs like a blade, silencing the Round Table knights mid-discussion.
A heavy stillness fell over the chamber as all eyes turned toward Merlyn, not as the great, unshakable wizard they revered, but as a father stricken with sorrow and fear.
For the first time, it felt as if to these knights at least, his legendary composure seemed to falter, revealing the man beneath the myth.
"What I am about to ask you is something no man should ever ask of another, something a father should do himself, but I must be here to-"
"Master Merlyn, say no more." Sir Tristan rose, his golden armor catching the light, and with him, all the knights of the Round Table stepped forward in unison, unwavering in their resolve.
"We will retrieve Lady Roma." Sir Tristan's words not only spoke for himself, but the seven others who dutifully nodded.
"Oh, knights of Camelot, Arthur's most trusted swords, heed my warning before you proceed!" Merlyn declared with a sweeping gesture, as if putting on a grand performance to rouse the knights' spirits.
"I have managed to teleport the vile villain known as Ricky away, but only temporarily as the moment he returns, only I will be able to stop him." Merlyn's voice softened as he looked upward, forcing a tear to trickle down his wrinkled cheek.
"That is why, in this time of dire need, I ask you, please, save my daughter."
The knights of the Round Table locked eyes with him, their gazes filled with unwavering resolve.
"WE SHALL SAVE LADY ROMA!" They roared in unison, chests swelling with the pride and honor of Camelot as they charged out of the hall.
Merlyn simply watched his finely conditioned knights, the six easiest to manipulate, stormed out of the meeting hall.
Funny enough, that was the true qualification for being part of the Round Table.
While it certainly required a high degree of skill since only sixteen knights ever measured up to the standard Merlyn had set, the real test was something far less noble.
The six knights who had been discarded weren't lacking in skill or bravery.
No, they were simply the hardest to manage, the most stubborn and unyielding, knights who refused to bend to Merlyn's subtle manipulations and schemes through proper means resulting in their improper fate.
In the end, the Round Table was less about honor or prowess and more about pliability.
Those who could be guided, controlled, and molded to serve Merlyn's grand design were the ones who remained.
"Then, let's continue my little show for Ricky, shall we?" Merlyn murmured to himself, a chuckle escaping his lips as he strode back to the chamber filled with countless orbs, each capturing moments unfolding across New York.
He began selecting specific scenes, carefully targeting the emotions he wanted to stir within Ricky.
At his side, the orb tracking his daughter glowed faintly, its surface shimmering with her shocked expression.
This exact moment was caused by her rash nature which had thrown everything off course when she acted impulsively instead of following Merlyn's carefully laid plan.
Leading them down a spiral which forced him to use that damned branch and directly link this situation with Gaea but Merlyn was no fool.
He knew that Gaea wouldn't interfere since she always let things played out before appearing when everything was hashed out.
"I'll deal with her when Arhtur returns." Merlyn muttered, his fingers dancing over the orbs, manipulating threads of fate as he monitored the unfolding drama, weaving his intricate plan with cold precision.
"What are you saying?" Lady Roma asked, eyes narrowing as Asterion nodded, unsurprised that she might not believe him just yet.
"Your father wants to resurrect Arthur and he intends to use Ricky to do it though I don't know the specifics, but that's as far as I understand." Asterion accurately summarized the situation, doing so quickly without wasting any time.
"That's insane, Arthur died, his soul was pulled into the void by the Nethergod Necromon when-"
"As I said, I don't know the specifics," Asterion replied calmly, ducking under a strike.
"But I do know this, Merlyn wanted Ricky here." Asterion grabbed Sir Kay mid-charge, hosting him in the air with his effortless strength, his tone never shifting from composed.
CRACK
Snapping the undead's spine over his knee, Asterion tossed the creature aside like refuse before turning back to Lady Roma.
"Even so, I see the kindness within you-"
"Lady Roma, I am all for this polite conversation and it is a pleasure to talk to you, please believe me." Asteiron smiled at her, placing a hand on his chest as if meaning every word.
"But I won't release you, I apologize but I made a promise." Asterion said as he looked her dead in the eye.
His gaze held a warmth few others would offer her but behind it burned a firm, unshakable resolve.
"FREE OUR DEAR LADY ROMA!"
The cry rang out like thunder just as the undead horde under Merlyn's control had begun to settle, their relentless assault fading as if the battle were drawing to a close.
Then came the golden eruption.
From the gates of Camelot surged a radiant burst of energy, a roaring stampede of power that shattered the stillness.
Six knights rode side by side, clad in shimmering golden armor, their focus unshaken, their eyes locked on one target: Asterion, standing beside Lady Roma, appearing every bit the captor in the eyes of the oncoming force.
Asterion side-eyed the golden pulse of power radiating from the Six knights as he slowly turned his body toward them, sensing the gravity of what approached.
Beside him, Bucephalus stiffened, the mighty steed sensing it too as his instincts flared and positioned him before this new attacker.
"Mighty steed Bucephalus, would you grant me the honor of facing them myself?" Asterion said politely, his tone still calm even as battle loomed.
Bucephalus stared at him for a long moment and then, with a quiet understanding, the warhorse gave a solemn nod.
This subtle movement acknowledging the minotaur's strength, he turned away, charging off to finish the last remnants of the Chimeras on the battlefield.
"Asterion, wait!" Lady Roma called out, her voice trembling as her eyes widened. She took a step forward, reaching toward him.
"The knights of the Round Table are noble men not to be underestimated, they have slain-"
"Do you see this scar?" Asterion interrupted softly, his back still turned to the approaching six as he gestured toward the lone mark carved across his otherwise flawless white fur.
"The only thing that's ever pierced my skin, was the divine trident that commands the seas." Asterion said softly, recalling that painful memory that always made his wound ache.
"And even then, it took three dozen beings, each crafted by the same hands that wielded that weapon, to hold me down." Asterion finally turned his back to Lady Roma, facing the oncoming knights of the Round Table.
"I'm sure you've seen these men in battle, heard their stories, their legends, but let me make one thing clear." Asterion's voice lowered as the very air began to pulse with weight, raw and ancient.
"They won't cut a single hair on my body."
It was then that a tremor rippled through the battlefield.
One that made even the undead knights, mindless and unfeeling in their pursuit of him, collapsed to their knees under the sheer gravity of strength that now surrounded the Minotaur in that moment.
"But they are welcome to try."
A deep red glow erupted from beneath his hooves, curling up around him like fire made from rage itself.
His fist clenched, and from the charged air, an axe slowly began to materialize into an ancient weapon that had once cleaved legends in half with a single swing.
Asterion's once-blue eyes darkened, swirling with a seething red as his gaze locked onto the approaching knights.
The fury in his eyes was not blind rage, but focused wrath, one that had been tamed with decades of training.
The knights, sensing the shift in the air, brought their steeds to a halt.
One by one, they dismounted in silence, their golden armor catching the light as they drew their weapons and looked upon the lone Minotaur gripping his axe with white-knuckled focus.
"Asterion, let us help-"
"No." Asterion interrupted sharply, his voice firm and final.
"You'll only die if you get caught up in this fight." Asterion words hit like a wall, and Eldric instinctively flinched.
Without hesitation, he turned to his coven and urgently motioned for them to retreat a few paces.
From everyone on Ricky's side, it was painfully clear that Merlyn stood at the center of this orchestrated chaos.
But no matter how obvious it seemed to them, there was no convincing the knights of the Round Table.
To those warriors, the outsiders were nothing more than invaders.
They believed Merlyn's words without question, the story that the chimeras had gone berserk in the absence of the vile man known as Ricky, causing the undead to turn on one another.
They accepted that the traitorous former knights of the Round Table had been resurrected at Ricky's whim and were now controlled by him, even after he had lost control.
And most of all, they believed that the innocent Lady Roma had been captured and was being held hostage.
But it was with blind loyalty that they followed this lie dressed in gold and honor.
Because that was how they were shaped to be, by none other than Merlyn himself.
"How dare they wield the beauty of life in such a vile way," Sir Tristan muttered angrily, his eyes scanning the undead horde.
His entire body radiated with a pungent golden aura, a visible testament to his purity and resolve.
Though repulsed by the abominations before them, the knights' gazes remained fixed solely on Lady Roma, bound by the first configuration of Chastiefol, and on the dark figure standing at the forefront of her captivity.
"Wicked beast, unhand Lady Roma!" Sir Benderve shouted, drawing his sword with a flash but before he could charge, a firm hand gripped his arm, halting him.
"Sir Benderve, calm yourself," Sir Galahad said quietly, casting a wary side glance at the familiar and traitorous figures of their former comrades.
Sir Benderve's fury only deepened as recognition dawned on him as although it had been decades, perhaps centuries, since they had last seen one another, but brothers bound by war never forgot a single face.
Before them stood five of the six traitorous knights who had defied their king and turned to dark ways, or at least, that was the story Merlyn had fed them to believe should they ever cross paths again.
"You there, noble beast!" Sir Bors called out, stepping forward toward Asterion, who slowly lifted his gaze to meet the knight's eyes.
"Must it be this way?" Sir Bors asked first, his voice heavy with passion as he faced the imposing Minotaur.
"No, it does not have to be this way." Asterion answered honestly, his calm tone catching the Round Table and even his own allies off guard.
All eyes shifted to him, searching for the truth behind his words.
"But it must be so," Asterion replied, his eyes flickering with a faint, unsettling red.
"For we know no peace that isn't our own." Asterion gazed out at those who cloaked ignorance in the guise of justice, misguided and unwilling to see the truth.
Deep down, I think even Asterion believed himself to be in the same role of these knights but simply standing on the other side of the line that had been drawn long ago in the sands of this conflict.
Then, shifting his gaze, he looked toward Lady Roma, still questioning the weight of what she'd been told.
Yet Asterion's worry wasn't truly with her doubts, it was with Ricky.
Deep down, he knew Ricky would not perish easily.
But that helpless feeling, the same one all who are weak endure, is something even the strongest bear in their own way.
Everything had happened so fast that Asterion barely had time to react and perhaps that was why he clung so fiercely to Ricky's last request.
To uphold it until they reunite.
That was the kind of person Asterion wanted to be: hopeful.
But beneath that hope simmered a fierce, burning anger that had always been a part of him since the very first day he was born.
"Please, fair beast, let us not shed blood that need not be spilled," Sir Gareth pleaded, his humility shining even toward those he believed were his enemies as his eyes locked with Asterion's, silently begging for peace.
"What are you?" Asterion asked quietly, gesturing towards Sir Gareth who was confused by a question.
"A knight of the round table?" Sir Gareth asked, looking at the minotaur as if wondering if it was wrong.
"And what does a knight cherish more than anything else?" Asterion smiled, looking at Sir Gareth who didn't really understand the question but his comrade did.
Sir Gawain's eyes lowered in understanding, shining with respect but also a quiet resolve that few could see.
"His word," Sir Gawain answered solemnly, slowly unsheathing his sword along with the rest as Asteiron slowly nodded.
"I gave my word to my comrade Ricky, much like you gave yours to Merlyn." Asterion's voice softened but remained firm against these six knights.
"If I cannot ask you to break your word, then how can you ask me to break mine?" Asterion's hand slowly stretched out, a silent gesture signaling both peace and the inevitability of what was to come.
"YOU-"
"Enough Sir Benderve, there is no point in meaningless banter." Sir Tristan spoke, knowing that nothing would come from talking anymore.
"We've drawn the line within the sand and now, we must stand on it." Sir Gareth spoke, his eyes lighting in a golden ray of aura as Asterion nodded.
"What a perfect way to phrase-"
BAM
Sir Benderve struck before Asterion could finish, his sword erupting in a brilliant beam of golden light, a pure radiance that but that wasn't what made the other knights to flinch.
"It." Asterion finished, but the smile had vanished with the surprise attack as he raised his axe and slammed it down with unstoppable force.
SPLAT
"ARGH!" Sir Benderve grunted loudly, pushing off of Asterion's humongous body and rolling backwards into the embrace of one of his comrades Sir Tristan.
But his sword was gone, missing along with his severed hand and while clutching his bleeding wrist, he now found it trapped firmly in Asterion's grasp.
CRUNCH
Clutching his fist, Sir Benderve's sword shattered completely and fell to the ground, along with his severed hand near his hooves, as he stared at the six slowly trying to surround him.
However, instead of charging after Sir Benderve as the knights expected, seizing the moment to break through and reach Lady Roma, Asterion remained perfectly still beside her.
Asterion was wholly confident that none of them posed a threat to him, but even so, he wouldn't leave Lady Roma's side for a single second.
She was Ricky's hostage and as long as he stood there, she would remain exactly that.
"We must use it," Sir Galahad said immediately, recognizing the overwhelming strength that had effortlessly incapacitated Sir Benderve as the others nodded in solemn agreement.
A golden light swirled up from the depths of their hearts, shooting out and slowly linking each of them together, like the links of an unbreakable chain.
They all gasped as their souls began to bond, sharing the unbearable pain that Sir Benderve was enduring.
This was a rare and powerful ability, honed over countless years of grueling practice, a bond of power that allowed them to endure agony and triumph together as one.
It also came with a price: while it multiplied their physical attributes dramatically, it left them completely immobile and vulnerable for several days afterward.
It was then that each of the six knights' bodies erupted in a brilliant golden light, their forms glowing with fierce intensity.
The light sharpened, focusing and multiplying sixfold, until it coalesced into a pure, radiant white aura that bathed each of them in an otherworldly brilliance.
The air around them seemed to hum with power, their very presence transformed as the energy surged through their veins, fueling their bodies and spirits alike.
"All at once!" They all shouted, slowly circling around Asterion who slowly looked around at the looming formation with a calm expression.
WHOOSH
A sudden gust tore through the air as each of the six knights launched themselves toward Asterion, their armor gleaming and weapons poised for the clash.
But Asterion just gripped the configuration of Chastiefol that bound Lady Roma and leapt into the air with powerful grace.
The knights, their momentum carrying them forward, slowed mid-flight just enough to avoid crashing into one another.
But when their eyes shifted upward, a collective widening of the eyes ensued.
Asterion's entire body pulsed with a fierce red glow, the light radiating through the thick white fur covering his muscular frame.
His powerful arms tensed visibly beneath the fur as he wound back his axe with deliberate force.
BANG
The sheer force of him throwing the axe sounded akin to a gunshot, sharp and thunderous, as the axe sliced through the air.
The six knights lunged aside, narrowly avoiding the deadly arc, but the ground beneath them did not escape.
BOOOOOOOM
The earth immediately compressed beneath the impact, then violently exploded outward in a cataclysmic surge.
Dirt and rock were flung into the air as the land itself seemed to tear open, shards of earth suspended like jagged teeth around the axe plunged deep into the ground.
All six knights found their vision obscured as the upheaved earth formed towering walls around them, like a jagged maze forged from the explosion itself.
They glanced around, armor clanking softly, senses sharpened until a gleaming pair of red eyes pierced the dust and shadow, appearing suddenly beside Sir Gawain.
In that instant, the axe, still embedded in the torn ground, whistled back toward its master, slicing through the earth like butter, carving a direct path to Asterion.
Sir Gawain's eyes widened as he caught the glint of spinning steel and dove to the side, narrowly avoiding its lethal trajectory.
Bam
The sound of the axe slamming back into Asterion's waiting palm echoed through the shattered terrain, rattling in Sir Gawain's ears.
He turned to retaliate immediately but it was too slow.
The axe head was already mid-swing, and with brutal precision, it slammed into his side.
Red and gold clashed in a brilliant explosion of force as Asterion's axe collided with Sir Gawain's side.
The moment of impact sent a ripple of pain through the shared bond, the other five knights gritted their teeth in unison, their bodies flinching from the echoed force.
But instead of the axe carving through flesh, the sheer power behind it launched Sir Gawain like a comet, his golden armor sparking as he was sent flying through the air.
He slammed into the ground yards away, tumbling in a violent roll before skidding to a halt, motionless for a breathless moment.
HUFF
HUFF
HUFF
Sir Gawain slowly lifted his gaze, his expression weary but resolute as the five remaining knights of the Round Table rushed to his side.
Their swords were drawn, gleaming with tension as they stared through the settling haze.
Out from the swirling dust, Asterion's towering figure began to emerge completely unshaken, almost serene, the red glow still humming faintly around him as it pierced through the dust and seemingly saw through them.
"It has been a long time~" Asterion's voice echoed calmly, almost reverently, a touch of nostalgia clinging to the edges of his words.
As he exhaled, a slow trail of steam rolled from his nostrils into the cool night air, curling in the moonlight like smoke from an ancient forge.
"Such a long time since my axe struck a man without piercing his flesh, not since Heracles."
The weight of that name, spoken so casually, sank heavy into the knights' chests.
Behind him, Lady Roma remained speechless, her body frozen and her pupils trembling as they locked on the Minotaur as there was no spell, no magic, simply raw strength.
"But I felt it, the moment it collided, not just with flesh, but with that spell, that bond, or whatever it is you choose to call it." Asterion said, his voice low and steady, as his axe gleamed with the same red that burned behind his eyes.
"I felt how strong you are when you stand together, uniting your strength." Asterion's gaze locked onto the six knights, unwavering.
Then Asterion's words slowly halted, gazing upon them as a beat of silence passed.
"It's not enough."
The words echoed through the chamber, carried on the faint hum of magic, reverberating from within Merlyn's orb.
The old wizard stood still, his expression unreadable but in his eyes, he understood the truth as well.
His hand hovered above the orb, trembling slightly as he reached for it only to stop.
Fingers curled into a fist, he pulled his hand back, turning instead toward the almost-finished construct at the heart of the room.
Whatever he had been about to do, to intervene, alter the course, perhaps even warn someone, was now abandoned.
There was no turning back, not when he was so close.
But it was then, after metaphorically turning his back on his own daughter, that Merlyn suddenly felt it, a shift in the air.
The atmosphere bent unnaturally, space and time contorting ever so slightly, like the trembling breath before a storm.
Slowly, deliberately, the wizard reached for the side of the orb, his expression unreadable.
"Retreat," Merlyn said, forcing the word to ring out into these knights' ears as it jarred around their heads.
The knights heard it clearly, but their faces twisted in confusion and disbelief.
"Master Merlyn, what about Lady Roma—" One of them began, but Merlyn cut him off.
"You must leave for Camelot-......she needs you." Merlyn said solemnly, letting a crack slip into his voice, feigning vulnerability.
"The true threat is returning."
A heavy silence followed, and the weight of his words settled over them like a shroud.
The knights hesitated for they were supposed to be proud, loyal, righteous and harbingers of justice above all else.
But it was when they slowly, one by one, began to turn their backs that the extent of their conditioning was revealed.
However it was Lady Roma who watched them, the knights of the Round Table, the heroes of her childhood, and the legends her father had spun stories of since she could remember.
Watching while her pupils shrank as she saw them now, not as legends, but as men.
Men who turned their backs on her.
And without another word, they retreated toward their steeds, leaving her standing in the cold shadow of their loyalty.
"W–Wait-......WAIT!" Lady Roma cried out, her voice cracking with disbelief.
It was ridiculous, unthinkable, that they would abandon her after only a single clash since surely, their oath, their pride, their honor couldn't be so malleable.
But the six knights never even looked back.
Without a word, they mounted their steeds, their golden armor catching the last traces of moonlight as they rode away, back toward Camelot, leaving her behind.
Lady Roma stood frozen, the sound of galloping hooves fading into the night as something inside her quietly shattered.
But it was in that hollow, disbelieving gaze, fixed on the retreating backs of the knights, that something else began to take shape.
Within the dust and moonlight, the silhouette of another back emerged.
It slowly morphed from the haze, coalescing into a familiar figure, one she had not seen since this chaos began.
The very person who, in her mind, had started all of this.
"F*cking finally, that took forever~"
Author's Note: Sorry about the late post but I think I caught something and I've been f*cking sick the last two days and I thought it wasn't a big deal but I just couldn't get out of bed. But I decided that I had to get something out and so I posted this and I'm sorry that it took me so long.