The memory ended there.
That was her first encounter with him.
Though it was quite a lengthy memory, for Guinevere, receiving it passed in but an instant.
"King of Champions, Lot, huh... Damn it, after my death they really gave me that title, 'Champion King'... It's as absurd as calling someone the 'President King' or the 'Hero King.'"
Muttering this complaint under his breath, he lifted his head once more, facing the roaring torrent of flames surging toward him.
Then Guinevere—or perhaps it would be better to call him King Lot now—didn't hesitate. As King Lot, he immediately invoked one of his Noble Phantasms. An invisible domain spread swiftly, encompassing both himself and Gawain.
In the next instant, a formless wave swept across Gawain, and the aura around Lot surged dramatically.
Then, holding a spear in his left hand and a sword in his right, he struck forward.
In a flash, crimson thunder roared, starlight clashed, and the two torrents of power unleashed by Lot were three times stronger than what Guinevere had used before. Though even combined they were still slightly weaker than Gawain's Galatine, they were more than enough to significantly delay the raging flames of the sun.
As the three forces collided, violent gales burst outward. Using the gusts, King Lot lightly leapt back, landing directly at Mash's side.
"Mash! By my command, unleash your Noble Phantasm! Block it!"
Even before Mash could react, her body moved on its own. Lot's words carried an effect similar to a Command Spell, compelling her to step forward, shield in hand, and activate her Noble Phantasm at a speed even she found unfamiliar—Pseudo-Noble Phantasm: Lord Chaldeas.
In an instant, a radiant barrier materialized upon her shield, swiftly forming into a shining white wall. It effortlessly absorbed the excess flames of the Holy Sword and even reflected them back, striking Gawain directly.
"Eh? What just happened?" Mash stood dumbfounded after everything unfolded.
She hadn't intended not to defend, but there simply hadn't been enough time to activate her Noble Phantasm. So why, when Guinevere ordered her, had she suddenly moved faster than ever before? Her body had acted entirely on its own... almost as if compelled by a Command Spell.
"Oh, don't worry. That's just one of my innate skills." At that moment, King Lot stepped forward, gently patting Mash's shoulder. "In team competitions, it's important for teammates to execute the commander's orders swiftly and effectively. In heated battles, striving for collective honor, it's hardly surprising if teammates push slightly beyond their limits."
"I... I see." Though she didn't fully understand, Mash nodded earnestly, committing his words to memory.
"Eh? Wait, Mr. Guinevere, your appearance just... changed?"
Mash suddenly noticed that Guinevere's outward form had altered. His hair color, his eyes, and most striking of all—his aura—had shifted, making him look like an entirely different person. Yet when she looked, she still instinctively knew it was Guinevere.
But compared to Mash, Gawain's reaction was far greater.
"No... wait... how can this be...?"
He stared at Guinevere in disbelief. Though he had vaguely considered such a possibility before, it had only been a fleeting thought. Now, confronted with that familiar face, he was utterly shaken.
"Who... who are you really...?"
Before the question left his lips, Lot suddenly appeared before him.
"Who am I? Don't you recognize me?"
Before Gawain could react, Lot's palm smacked across his face.
"I'm your father!"
The slap sent Gawain staggering. Yet instead of anger, he felt a strange sense of familiarity in that blow, one that confirmed what his eyes told him.
"Father? Is it really you?"
"What?" At those words, not only Gawain, but everyone else present froze in stunned silence.
"Did Gawain just call Guinevere... father?"
—And that was how the story developed from there.
After being forced into the Lady of the Lake's scheme, the youth had replaced the arrogant noble wastrel, assumed Lot's identity with the witch's disguise, and returned to Orkney to inherit the throne—thus becoming King Lot in history.
—And also the father of Gawain and his three siblings.
Because Morgan never disguised her children the way she had disguised Lot, their inherited dark eyes led others to suspect infidelity. Yet no one ever came forth claiming to be their true father, and as Morgan herself seized power after Lot's coronation, few dared question it. At most, rumors spread of a promiscuous queen—but that was all.
Neither Morgan nor Lot ever revealed the truth. Even Lot's servant, who had provided details of the true Lot's habits, was quickly silenced by Morgan. Thus the secret was buried forever. Even Gawain and his siblings never knew, sometimes wondering if they were illegitimate children.
"What else could it be?" King Lot shrugged, then turned his gaze past Gawain, fixing on the stunned Agravain.
"Second son! What are you doing just standing there? Get over here!"
Agravain froze for a moment, but his legs moved instinctively toward them. After a few steps, however, he stopped abruptly, realization dawning.
"No! You are not our father! Our father was a mediocre king. With his strength, he could never have withstood Gawain's Noble Phantasm—you cannot be him!"
"Huh? Wait, when was I ever mediocre?" Lot frowned.
But Agravain immediately shouted to Gawain: "Brother! Take up your sword! This man is not the father we knew. Even if he is, he comes from another history! Right now, he stands as the enemy of the Lion King! Gawain! If you still hold loyalty to the Lion King, then raise your sword!"
"This..."
Gawain hesitated, then said to Lot: "Forgive me, Father... but I now serve another sovereign."
With that, he lifted Galatine once more and swung at Lot.
"—Heh."
Dodging back from the blow, Lot wasn't angry. Instead, he smirked.
"Well, well. Your wings have hardened—you dare fight your father now? Fine."
Drawing his blade, he caught Gawain's strike with ease, then sneered: "Then show me how far you've come since my death!"
..................................
And thus began another battle between father and son.
Watching Lot and Gawain clash below, Morgan sighed atop the fortress.
The countless simulations, the endless cycles of seeing the youth grow from young to old, slowly moved her heart. In time, she had even come to love him, bearing his children willingly.
Through those thousands of simulated histories, the Morgan of Proper Human History finally realized the truth: she was the root of all his misfortune.
As long as she yearned for Britain's throne, the youth would never know peace. In none of the hundreds of loops had he ever met a good end.
Yet the Morgan of Proper Human History could not abandon her obsession with the crown. Twisted beyond redemption, even she disgusted herself.
But after witnessing the fate of that lonely tyrant, the sliver of feeling left in her resolved to release him from the storm.
After the children were born, she staged his death, erased his memories of Britain, and sent him away. Just as he once dreamed, she placed treasure, supplies, fine armor, and swords aboard his boat, blessing it with magic to ensure it would reach a safe shore. Then she prayed he would find the bright future he had long sought.
Thus, in the annals of Proper Human History, King Lot appeared only as a lackluster figure—an arrogant fool who challenged Arthur, only to be slain by King Pellinore, a mere backdrop to Arthur's legend.
But the Guinevere who stood here now was no mediocrity.
His record came from the 777th simulation. In that loop, Guinevere—or Lot—became the most renowned king in all Europe.
He entered every contest of his time—and won every single one. Swordsmanship, wrestling, chess, horsemanship, hunting, team battles, any challenge—he emerged as the unmatched champion.
Thus posterity called him—"The King of Champions."