When a pure white, immaculate city appeared overnight on the war-torn land, those who had suffered through endless conflict saw it as a heaven on earth.
To enter that city, one had to undergo the "Holy Selection"—and the ones performing the ceremony were none other than the legendary Knights of the Round Table.
The refugees, unaware of the truth, didn't realize that the "Holy Selection" was a ritual where only a select few would be chosen and allowed inside.
The rest? They would face "Holy Punishment."
That was why, every time the Knights finished selecting a few, the remaining refugees were massacred. No one was left alive to spread the truth.
In this age of isolation and scarce information, people could only naïvely believe that everyone had been welcomed into the chalk-white city. Nothing more.
Morgan, Scáthach, and Caren arrived at Camelot after nightfall. Cloaked and hooded to conceal their faces, they mingled among the refugees, pretending to await the "Holy Selection."
The fully armored Knights of the Round Table, along with the Enforcement Knights standing ready, made one thing clear: the people at the gates could be wiped out at any moment.
So when Gawain declared "Holy Punishment," arrows rained from the walls. Morgan, having anticipated this, immediately moved with Caren and Scáthach, dodging the barrage while fighting off the advancing Enforcement Knights, planning a swift retreat.
She had at least expected the gates to open, but the ceremony was shockingly brief. With just a few words, the Lion King sentenced all but a handful to death.
"We need to fall back. I didn't think we wouldn't even get the chance to sneak in and find him," Morgan sighed, lowering her head, refusing to look at the refugees slain by arrow and blade.
Though she had long grown tired of such sights, being in the middle of it all brought a different kind of clarity.
Beneath her hood, she saw one of the chosen—a mother named Salia holding her child—trying to escape the arrows, only to be knocked down by an Enforcement Knight.
The knight grabbed her without hesitation.
"You have been chosen. Come into the city."
"Rushd!" Salia, lifted to her feet, showed no joy—only panic as she looked back at the boy lying on the ground.
"That child was not chosen. Your life no longer belongs to you."
"I've obeyed everything Her Majesty the Lion King has said—please, let my son come with me! Rushd!" She reached out, trying to lift the unconscious child.
"There are no exceptions. Ideal souls cannot be compromised—"
As Salia pleaded, Morgan had already prepared her Magecraft.
Just a flick of the hand—simple enough. A small act of empathy from one mother to another, or so she told herself.
But before the knight could swing his sword at Rushd, the ground at the city gates cracked open. From the fissures, countless vines and branches erupted.
They intercepted the next volley of arrows with perfect timing and entangled the charging Enforcement Knights, halting their advance.
"What is this...?" Caren stopped and turned, but couldn't trace the source of the magical energy.
Who was using Magecraft?
Scáthach moved to her side and whispered, "It's the power of my disciple."
Morgan's head shot up. Through the branches now obscuring her view, she looked toward the gate tower.
A white figure stood there, arm outstretched, blood dripping from his hand as he controlled the vegetation with unyielding resolve.
"I'll go to him. You stay and protect Caren," Morgan said.
This time, Scáthach offered no argument. She simply nodded.
Caren, meanwhile, maneuvered around the vines—which made no move to hinder the refugees—and rushed to help Salia, who was cradling Rushd in her arms.
"If you don't want to enter the city, then run while you still can," said Caren.
Behind her, an Enforcement Knight broke free from the vines. His massive sword came down, but a crimson spear pierced through him, sending him crashing to the side, no longer a threat.
"Honestly… you and Morgan both have been led astray by him," Scáthach said, turning her head.
More Enforcement Knights had noticed the disturbance and were converging on their position.
"We're pulling back. Fall back to a safe zone and prepare for extraction—"
Before Scáthach could finish, sunlight suddenly tore through the night.
Gawain, raising the Holy Sword of the Sun, blocked Morgan, who was leaping across the treetops, trying to rush into the main tower of the city.
"So you've shown yourself, Morgan!"
With a thunderous shout, Gawain swung the blazing sword down.
Morgan dodged swiftly, and the surrounding vines and trees erupted in flames. But in the next instant, more vegetation sprouted from the ground and rapidly climbed upward, blocking the path of Gawain and the Enforcement Knights.
"I don't have time to play with children. Stand down, Sir Gawain!"
With a sharp rebuke, Morgan unleashed her Mana, shaping it into countless spears that surged toward Gawain from all directions.
"Camelot is my king's ideal city, a millennial kingdom. You will not take a single step inside!"
Spinning to deflect the magical onslaught, Gawain's flaming sword clashed with the spears. A fierce explosion shattered the thick tree branches under his feet, and he dropped back to the ground.
Morgan let out a cold laugh as she stepped lightly across the treetops, quickly closing in on the gate of the Holy City.
"This sword is a replica of the sun. Its flame shall cleanse all the impurity of this world." Gawain immediately invoked his Noble Phantasm.
The Enforcement Knights, summoned by the Lion King, were tools of divine judgment. Slaying them along with the condemned refugees posed no issue.
"Take my soul and go forth! Switch On…"
From the refugees, a slender knight in silver armor burst forth. His right arm shimmered with golden light as he lunged directly at Gawain.
"Agaterám!"
"You're—"
Gawain recognized him. He was one of the two knights who had refused the Lion King's summons—Bedivere.
He hadn't expected to find him hidden among the refugees.
But this wasn't the time for reminiscing. Though surprised by the sudden ally, Scáthach didn't stop to ask questions. She immediately joined the fray, fighting alongside Bedivere to pin down the Sun Knight and buy Morgan time to retrieve Shiomi.
"If it's the Gift from 'Nightless,' then I'll use the same trick again!"
Seizing the opening created by Bedivere's charge, Scáthach activated her Magecraft. Dark clouds gathered, eclipsing the sun.
She thrust her spear forward, forcing the now-weakened Gawain to retreat.
It was just like the battle in the desert three days ago. Gawain might have claimed he suffered no losses, but Scáthach had seen it—her magic could indeed disrupt the Lion King's Gift.
From above, Morgan seized the moment. She dodged the arrows fired by Enforcement Knights on the battlements, annihilated them with Magecraft, and in the blink of an eye landed atop the front tower.
Shiomi, his Mana sealed and forced to draw on his blood to grow trees and vines, had just noticed the sun shrouded in cloud when another figure landed beside him.