"This is so bothersome—why did someone with no reputation have to step up? Well, I suppose since Lancelot has acknowledged him, forcing him down now would offend Lancelot."
As both opponents stood on stage, Myrion, hidden in the shadows, continued her commentary:
"Allow me to introduce the combatants. On the left, the faerie knight who has protected Britannia for over a thousand years, renowned as both its fairest and strongest faerie—Faerie Knight Lancelot!"
"And on the right, the chief knight serving the Chosen of Prophecy! He serves the true Chosen, Artoria of Tintagel! Though still unknown, their names will soon echo throughout all Britannia!"
As Myrion mentioned the Chosen, the audience erupted, and the excitement swelled.
"Now that you stand on the auction stage, both of you have the right to purchase this lot, but—in my assessment—Faerie Knight Lancelot and the Chosen Artoria are virtually equal in every respect: wealth, character, and valor. It is impossible to determine superiority through mere wealth."
"No, Lady Myrion, you flatter me. Even this knight before me has character equal to mine," Lancelot interjected with a light laugh.
"—Indeed, that is so!" Myrion paused briefly, then declared,
"Since you are both knights who defend honor with your blades, let us determine the victor the most traditional way: a true sword duel, risking our knightly honor!"
"For both of you, swordsmanship is your very blood and livelihood—surely there is no greater test of a knight's worth than the purity of one's blade."
"I have no objection to such a test," Lancelot nodded calmly. "To decide by swords, and to spar with an outstanding knight like Guinevere, is an honor."
"Excellent, Sir Guinevere?"
"…I shall comply."
"Very well. Since both have agreed, let us witness the splendid duel of Britannia's greatest knights!"
At this point, Guinevere felt completely numb. There was no alternative. The Fate Blade had to be won, even if it meant facing Lancelot—whom he had no desire to provoke. After all, everything outside this simulator was just meaningless valuables; the true prizes were the simulator's skill rewards. If he wanted to avoid Tristan's vengeance later, he needed to power up.
Fortunately, in Gloucester, where everyone was forcibly reduced to LV1, all gaps in power vanished—there, Guinevere was effectively invincible.
He watched Lancelot don her helmet again, brimming with confidence as he drew his sword and quickly activated Endless Trial for Lancelot.
Then, Lancelot charged like a battering ram and crushed Guinevere's chest with a single punch, instantly shattering his heart.
A one-hit KO.
Guinevere's confidence evaporated. What was this? Why was it only him who failed? Weren't they both LV1? How was Lancelot's speed so absurdly high?
Blood spurted from his mouth as Guinevere's strength waned. He collapsed to his knees before falling flat like a scarecrow.
"Eh? Eh?!"
On the brink of consciousness, he still heard Lancelot's astonished voice:
"How could this be? I thought such an attack would not…"
I am done for, Guinevere spat a mouthful of blood onto the floor.
Your insult is to kill me and humiliate me, is it? I will remember this grudge.
Then Endless Trial activated, and time rewound to the very moment before Guinevere first faced Lancelot.
Again, Lancelot's lightning-fast strike came—but this time, Guinevere was prepared. He sidestepped in an instant, evading her onslaught.
Yet Lancelot, as if inertia meant nothing, twisted mid-air and barreled into Guinevere again, a single punch once more crushing his chest.
No… what kind of sorcery was this?
"Eh? Is that it already?"
Before Guinevere could react, Lancelot's dagger-thin voice added another cut:
"How could you not block that?" And he spat out more blood.
Then time rewound again.
This time, Guinevere preemptively brought his sword to center, blocking Lancelot's charge.
But Lancelot quickly pivoted to his side. With a flick of her arm, the sword scabbard—once a mere guard—was thrown forward, magic coalescing upon it as her blade cleaved through Guinevere's neck.
"I'm sorry. I truly didn't expect you to fail that..." Lancelot murmured, and time rewound once more.
"Eh? You really couldn't handle that move?"
Time rewound again.
"How is this happening… was I taking it too seriously?"
Rewind.
"Is it that I didn't give you enough time to prepare? My apologies…"
Guinevere's eyes turned red, his entire being quivering with rage.
It was bad enough that Lancelot spoke with obvious surprise, not scorn—Guinevere could hear genuine astonishment in her voice.
This was mortifying.
Maybe I should unleash Heavenly Fire and blow up the entire auditorium, he thought, but Lancelot's speed was far too great. As Guinevere shouted "Heav…," Lancelot's blade was already carving into his throat.
Too fast—Guinevere could not follow her movements at all.
After enduring repeated loops, Guinevere's trembling fingers finally opened Lancelot's character panel in the Endless Trial interface:
[Faerie Knight – Lancelot]
[Rarity: SSR]
[Strength: C]
[Agility: A+]
[Magic: A+]
[Endurance: A]
[Luck: B]
[Noble Phantasm: A+]
[Note: Lancelot ignores inertia and wields tremendous instantaneous propulsive magic. Coupled with her mere 20kg weight, she achieves dizzying bursts of speed and power.]
So this was the true strength of Sir Lancelot.
Guinevere did not fully understand, but he was deeply shaken.
In that moment, he remembered the terror he had felt under Tristan's siege, and the humiliation of being pinned to the ground and dragged.
Still reeling, Guinevere realized how far he had to go—and how much he needed those simulator rewards to survive another day.