Chapter 50: I Only Respect Victory!
"Rhongomyniad is the key to start the end of the world."
To be honest, Scáthach's evaluation was a bit of a case of putting the cart before the horse.
It wasn't that drawing the holy spear caused the end of the world, but rather that the end of the world had come, so the holy spear had to be drawn—this was the true meaning of this holy spear's existence.
But for the gods living on this island, there was actually no difference between the two.
"When the true end of the world comes, this holy spear will be handed over to the savior to fulfill the mission of saving the world."
"But, as expected—what humanity truly prays for should be that this spear is never drawn."
Looking at this shining tower at the end of the world, Scáthach let out such a sigh.
Bailong thought so too.
At this moment, he finally understood what a dangerous thing that guy Merlin wanted to hand over to Artoria; he also understood why Vortigern, upon seeing this holy spear, would say something like "caused a greater disaster"; and he also understood why Artoria would add thirteen restraints to this holy spear, requiring a resolution from the Knights of the Round Table to unseal its true power.
Because this was an ominous power.
It was not a cure, it was just a powerful painkiller. The moment it was used meant that the situation was irreversible—in other words, as long as it was still safely located here, no matter how bad the situation was, there was still a chance to turn it around.
"Then, one last question."
"Shishou, after you walked that path, did you regret it?"
...
Scáthach was stunned.
She looked up, for the first time with a look of incomprehension, at the white dragon behind her whose gaze was always fixed on the tower at the end of the world.
—She couldn't remember ever telling this little guy about those things.
"How does he know?"
Scáthach muttered to herself, suspecting that this white dragon might have awakened some strange authority—such as clairvoyance that could look back at history, or some kind of superpower that could read people's minds.
But, never mind.
Scáthach was Scáthach, after all.
This most ancient hero of humanity was never the type to be coy.
"Although it is indeed a bit painful now."
"When I gripped the weapon in my hand, my mind went blank, I just thought about fighting my way through... and as I fought, I came to this position, and it was too late to turn back, right?"
Speaking of the past, Scáthach was also a little sentimental.
From a "normal" human girl to a hero capable of slaying gods, and completing her own path to godhood—only she knew the hardships involved, and only she could bear the costs.
"But, since it was a path I chose myself, how could I possibly regret it?"
"Since I'm pursuing victory, it's inevitable to pay some price, right?"
"Hmm, it's better to say... a victory without sacrifice, how can it be considered a true victory?"
The most ancient hero of humanity passed on the most important experience of her life to this unexpected "disciple."
Her words reminded Bailong of an "old acquaintance."
"I respect victory."
"No matter what happens, I only respect victory!"
Bailong muttered to himself.
In the system interface, the [Certain Victory] concept extracted from the Sword of Promised Victory was shining brightly.
...
Camelot Kingdom, in the temporary royal palace.
It was another ordinary day.
Artoria, who had waited for a whole day in the Dragon's Sanctuary but still hadn't seen Bailong return, returned to this meeting room a little disappointed.
The room was still the standard old setup.
The King, responsible for handling major political affairs; Bedivere, responsible for summarizing various intelligence and information and presenting them; and the magician, sitting by the window, leisurely eating an apple.
"Oh my, oh my, the King seems to be a little angry."
"This is really rare!"
The magician teased the King, who was a little sullen because she had returned empty-handed.
Of course, she wasn't angry at Bailong—she was just worried about the situation on this island, especially after knowing that there was a solution on this island. She wished she could find it immediately and then eliminate that White Dragon King in one fell swoop.
"But, this kind of thing can't be rushed, right?"
"Anyway, there's still some time, why not solve the problem at hand first."
"For example... how about entertaining a distinguished guest?"
The magician looked out the window, a "surprised" smile appearing on his face.
"A distinguished guest? Who?"
"Is Guinevere back?"
In this kingdom, the status of that princess could indeed be called "distinguished"—not only because she was beautiful, but also because she was kind to people, and even more because she brought the most scarce resources here during the most difficult period of the kingdom, and also volunteered to serve as the kingdom's "diplomat," responsible for dealing with the leaders of other kingdoms.
In the eyes of outsiders, half of the good impression of the Kingdom of Camelot was due to Artoria, the king who had signed a holy covenant with a god, and the other half was due to Guinevere, the princess with both excellent temperament and image.
"Hey, hey, you'd better not let the other princess hear you say that—she holds a grudge, you know."
Merlin said with a smile, referring to the red dragon princess who was also very distinguished but didn't seem to be very popular.
But in the next moment, his expression became very solemn again:
"But the guest visiting this time is much more distinguished than those two princesses combined."
"???"
Artoria looked up with some confusion, not understanding what trick this magician was playing.
But again, Merlin would not lie.
"Alright, alright, let me see just how distinguished this guest is—"
With a little curiosity, Artoria stood up from her seat, preparing to leave the palace to welcome the "distinguished guest" Merlin spoke of.
But, there was no longer any need for that.
Clang—
The heavy door was opened directly from the outside.
A small figure stood at the doorway, silhouetted against the light, making it impossible to see his face.
But his annoyed voice was so familiar to Artoria—a familiarity in her soul.
"This is the country under my protection!"
"Who are you calling a guest, magician?"
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