As his eyes rose to the entrance, a vast chamber unfolded before him. Stepping inside with measured caution, he allowed his gaze to wander across the walls. Murals stretched from one end to the other, each depicting fragments of an ancient tale.
One showed a colossal dragon, its skin like the very earth itself, shaping the land into form. Another depicted the dragon offering a radiant sphere of light to haggard, malnourished people. In the next, those same people were seen tilling the soil, their faces healthy and their fields abundant.
Further along, the murals shifted to the dragon creating large stone golems resembling humans and smaller dragons. But then, a darker image: the dragon, maw open in a thunderous roar, rending the earth apart creating ravines, into it poured a great black torrent, a flood the dragon seemed desperate to hold back.
At the heart of the chamber stood a cane, driven deep into the stone floor, Behind it loomed a monumental door, upon which was engraved the mark of an hourglass.
Arthur carefully described everything he saw on the murals to Hohenheim, and together they began to piece together their meaning.
'Master,' Hohenheim spoke with quiet gravity, 'the dragon in the first mural seems to represent a divine spirit, one that either created the earth itself or was believed to have done so by the people who built this temple. Most likely, it is also the one who established the bounded field you are currently trapped within.'
Arthur nodded, his gaze lingering on the final mural. 'And there… the dragon was trying to stop that black flood from swallowing the world. That may have been the calamity that destroyed this city. As for the other two murals, they don't reveal much.' Arthur said to Hohenheim. 'This divine spirit may have had a connection to farming, or perhaps it bestowed that knowledge upon the people of this world. The third seems to speak of its creations, or perhaps followers. The golems and dragons are likely a part of that'
As he advanced toward the cane, Arthur's eyes shifted to the walls surrounding it. Strange characters, etched in an unknown language, covered the surface. The closer he drew, the louder the murmurs became, a dissonant voice murmuring emotions that bled into his mind: confusion, fear, pain, pity, and desperate pleading.
The cane itself stood upon a raised circular platform, its height and ornamentation marking it as an object of great importance. The platform bore the symbol of the hourglass, but this time the dragon from the murals coiled around it.
When Arthur came to stand before the cane, the murmur shifted. Though fear and sorrow still lingered, a new and stronger feeling rose above the rest, expectation.
"Hohenheim" Arthur said quietly, his hand hovering just short of the cane, "I'm standing before it now. Whatever lies within… it wants me to draw the cane out."
"Master, are you certain this is wise?" Hohenheim's voice carried a rare edge of urgency. "We cannot know whether this divine spirit is truly benevolent. It may have been a friend to the people of this world, but will it treat you the same? That is far from certain."
Arthur exhaled slowly, steeling himself. "Perhaps, But with the way events have unfolded, this seems to be the only path before us."
Hohenheim fell silent, though the concern in his tone lingered unspoken. For one who loved humanity as deeply as he did, who regarded them all as disciples to be taught, the thought of seeing his friend and first real pupil cast into peril must have been unbearable. Arthur understood that. And because he understood, he could not bring himself to resent the constant warnings.
When Arthur looked at the cane, he couldn't help but think of Artoria pulling Caliburn. Was this new world really trying to turn him into some kind of off-brand King Arthur? Or maybe the system was pushing him toward being a "lily" knock-off of Proto-Arthur?
In any case, his name might be Arthur, but he certainly wasn't that one, and he had no intention of becoming so. One version spent her life endlessly struggling to restore a ruined homeland, while the other chased Beast VI across timelines like a lovesick stalker, determined to snuff it out no matter how many times it returned. Honestly, each fate seemed more miserable than the last.
Still… it seemed that anyone cursed and blessed with the name Arthur, or Artoria, was destined to yank something out of the ground, Sword, staff, wand… and in his case, a cane.
Arthur gripped the cane and pulled. It shifted slightly, heavy, but not impossible to move. Yet, without committing his full strength, it refused to come free.
He steadied himself and tried again, this time exerting all of his power. With a sharp jolt, the cane finally wrenched free from the stone, but the sudden release threw him off balance, and he staggered, crashing to the ground.
The moment he struck the floor, agony surged through his body. It was as though every cell screamed at once, burned away, and then forcibly reformed. His flesh, his nerves, even his very soul seemed to be torn apart and remade.
"Master, are you all right?!" Hohenheim's anxious voice echoed through the bond they shared. "The connection between us vanished for a moment, what happened?!"
But Arthur could not answer. Writhing on the cold floor, he could barely even think, let alone form words. The only thing that reached him clearly was the chime of the system.
[3 New Skills Added]
Skill [Divinity] added.
ERROR.
Due to the nature of the host, Skill [Divinity] changed to [Primordiality].
Skill [******* Heir] added.
Skill [Blessing of the ***********] added.
At last, the flood of pain subsided, leaving Arthur gasping for breath. For a long moment, he simply lay there, drenched in sweat. Only then did he force himself to respond to Hohenheim, assuring him, through broken words, that he was still alive. Once his companion's worry had eased, Arthur sat up slowly, every movement heavy, and turned his attention to the notifications lingering before his eyes.
[Primordiality] (C+) (Can be upgraded) (State: sealed)
"As one born at the dawn of the world, you are bound to its primordial forces. ###ERROR### Answer me! O fallen one born from first light."
[******* Heir] (A+)
"O children of humanity, born with golden ichor to strike down the ****** and claim their throne, render your final verdict. Yet among them you are perfect, too perfect to lose. (Your strength and agility moderately increase.)"
[Blessing of ***********] (D++)
"Through conflict and ruin, your power grows. Each strike, each act of destruction, feeds it."
'Great', Arthur thought drily, 'Another mysterious divine spirit watching me, one wants me to save things, the other wants me to burn them down. Perfect balance, really, just what I needed.'
He scrolled to the next. 'Primordiality, Sure, it looks like something out of Type-Moon… but the fact it started as [Divinity] and then got turned to [Primordiality] because of my so-called 'nature' is… concerning. Especially that last part of the description. What's that even supposed to mean? Don't tell me the system's lying about this body being fourteen, and I'm actually one of those '10,000-year-old lolis' but in shota form. Or is this about that dragon? And what's this about a 'fallen son of first light'?' Arthur has a perfectly fine mother and father, thank you very much. He's not anyone's fallen anything.
He moved on. 'And then there's this [Whatever-Heir] skill. It's… weird. Not as weird as the other two, but still. Kind of like [Robust], except now I apparently have golden blood, which, yes, I can clearly see dripping from the scratch on my arm. Just how sharp was that rock the cane was jammed into if it could cut me at all? And on top of that, I'm supposed to defeat something and steal its power.'
'Oh, and let's not forget the part about 'losing.' Doesn't sound like defeat, more like something or someone, not wanting to lose me. Great, Another creepy thing watching me, Hooray! '
As Arthur pushed himself up from the ground, he glanced around. The murals and ancient inscriptions were glowing faintly, and the hourglass mark on the floor blazed with golden light, the same hue as his blood. With a long, echoing creak, the door before him began to open.
Stepping inside, Arthur spoke to Hohenheim about what had happened, carefully leaving out the part about the agonizing pain. That man was already worried sick; no need to give him more reasons to be.
'So, from what you're saying, Master,' Hohenheim began, his voice tinged with concern, 'your blood turned golden instead of red the moment you touched the cane? I can think of two possibilities. First: the cane may have infected your blood with something, be it poison or some strange pathogen, altering its color. We'll need to examine that once you return, hopefully in one piece. Second: there are old legends from the Age of Gods that speak of divine spirits who carried golden ichor instead of blood. If that's the case… then perhaps your golden blood is a sign of divinity.'
As he stepped into the new chamber, Arthur froze. Before him stretched a colossal cave that seemed to run endlessly into the horizon, with a staircase leading downward. The vast hall was littered with the corpses of gray golems, the same ones depicted on the murals. Some lay intact, others were twisted and corrupted, their stone bodies stained black by sludge, glowing orange cracks spreading across their bodies.
The moment he entered, several fully infected corpses lurched upright and rushed at him. Arthur cut them down with Caliburn, the holy blade slicing through stone and corruption alike. Yet their grotesque appearance stirred an unwelcome memory: the monster that had nearly killed him when he first arrived in this world, before Porucus and the soldiers saved him.
Step by step, he descended the staircase, its length seemingly endless. The murmur in his ears grew louder with every stride, a constant reminder that he was nearing the source. Time blurred, an hour, maybe more, filled with scattered battles against the infected golems. He had long since lost count of how many he'd slain. 'Good thing they weren't clustered together', he thought.' If they had swarmed me, it may have been dangerous.'
At last, Arthur reached the cave's floor. Raising Caliburn, he used its light as a makeshift torch. The blade vibrated faintly in his grip, buzzing with annoyance at being used for something so mundane. In the distance, a massive shadow loomed. He narrowed his eyes, straining to make it out.
And then he saw it.
The dragon from the murals lay sprawled across the ground, its titanic body marred by patches of black sludge. Its breaths came shallow and ragged, every inhale a battle against death. Parts of its flesh were missing, torn away by its own fangs; it had bitten itself to keep the infection from spreading further. Even on the brink of death, it fought the corruption with sheer will.
As Arthur drew closer, the dragon's titanic eye cracked open. Exhaustion weighed heavily in its gaze, yet within it flickered with recognition, joy, silent acceptance, and a twinge of fear. But not fear of him. Its dread was aimed elsewhere. From the emotions radiating off the creature, it seemed almost… friendly. Perhaps it mistook him for someone of this world, or perhaps it was simply kind by nature.
When Arthur stepped closer, the dragon's eyes fixed on Caliburn, staring intently as though trying to understand what the blade was, or what it represented. By the time he stood directly before it, the endless murmurs in his ears finally became clear enough to understand their intent.
It wanted him to kill it.
Even with that knowledge, Arthur hesitated. Remembering the murals, he realized this divine spirit had once aided the people of this world, hence the grand temple they had built in its honor. To see such a noble being reduced to this state was deeply saddening. Yet he understood its reasoning. It did not want to become a monster like the corrupted corpses of its followers, both human and golem, that littered the path here. Its fear wasn't of him, but of death itself.
Arthur exhaled slowly. For such a kind and honorable divine spirit, he would respect its final wish. He would strike its core with Caliburn to ensure it never revived as a monster.
But then the dragon's eye shifted, not to him, but to the cane at his waist.
The cane glowed, reshaping itself in his hand, stretching and bending until it became a radiant golden bow.
A system notification rang in his ears.
New Noble Phantasm Added
[Arcus Gaiae] (A) (Upgradeable)
"A bow forged from the core power of the titan ******, created to combat the ***** ***. It was never used, for the titan forgot one minor detail: 'I lack human hands. None of my creations were strong enough to wield it either'. Thus, its power was sealed, reshaped into a cane to aid mankind, until one day a human strong enough to use it would appear."
Arthur blinked. 'So… it wants me to use the bow. Problem is, I don't know the first thing about archery. I don't even have arrows. Guess that means I'll be improvising.' He raised an eyebrow. 'Big Bro Red A, bless your little brother in shooting his sword like an arrow and not making a complete fool of himself, And… yeah, sorry for mocking you before.'
(Red A: …No. Go to hell. #-_-)
Arthur sensed the dragon's core; it pulsed deep within its heart. He set the golden bow, fastening his blade as a makeshift arrow. As he drew the string taut, golden radiance surged forth, wrapping the weapon in a brilliance that drowned the cavern in light.
A voice resounded in his ears, solemn and eternal, and his lips moved to mirror it:
"Born of the earth's cradle, sealed by forgotten hands…"
"O weapon denied its purpose, forged in forgotten lands."
"No arrow, no feather, yet the will of the world commands."
"By the will of the Son of First Light, become the radiance of the final choir."
The cavern quaked as the invocation reached its zenith:
"Arcus Gaiae, Bow of the Earth's Dawn — strike unerring, rend the shadow, and let the light of creation blaze across the skies!"
"Sagitta Gaiae, Lux Aeterna!"
(Arrow of Gaia, Eternal Light!)
Just before Arthur loosed the golden arrow, the murmur echoed one last time, this time not of pain, but of gratitude. From the dragon's colossal form, something broke free and fell before him, yet Arthur gave it no heed as he drew the bowstring taut and released.
The arrow of light streaked forth, striking the dragon's chest. A thunderous eruption followed, golden radiance flooding the cavern. The dragon's body, both flesh and corruption alike was consumed, erased without trace, where once it had lain, only brilliance lingered.
Arthur stood frozen, bathed in the light of its passing. For long moments he did not move, staring at the void where the divine beast had been. At last, breath steadying, he lowered the bow and looked at what the dragon had left behind.
The first, unmistakable: a dragon core, its final gift to him.
The second, stranger: a small object shaped like a meteor, or perhaps a single tear. It shimmered with the color of the night sky, stars glimmering within. Upon its surface was the engraving of an hourglass, ringed by a faint golden halo. In its depths pulsed the echo of a living being, yet unlike any mortal soul, it carried with it the weight of a quiet, unfathomable divinity? Arthur could have sworn he'd seen it before. Perhaps in a video game he'd played or a show he'd watched. He couldn't quite place it, yet it felt undeniably familiar.
He carefully retrieved the two relics and stuffed them into his inventory. The stingy system had allocated only 2 m × 1 m × 1 m---barely enough to hold his sword and bow, let alone these two artifacts.
He heard the sound of a system notification.
[Side Quest: Lay Your [Heart] Bare, O Fallen City] Completed
Settling main goal rewards [Broken Historical Tablet + 1Relic + 1 B-Level Skill]
[Broken Historical Tablet]
"A tablet fashioned by human order to teach you the language of this world"
Optional goals met
Slay the titan ******
Rewards: [one skill connected to the task]
2 skills added
[Golden Rule] (B)
"The measure of one's fate regarding wealth, prosperity, and fortune, those who possess this skill are naturally blessed with abundance in, treasures, resources, and opportunities flow toward them as though guided by providence."
[Draco Divinus Interfector] (EX)
"A unique Skill born not from legend but from deed: the absolute slaying of a true Divine Dragon, one that had once been revered as a god. By granting release to the corrupted spirit that had once safeguarded mankind, Arthur's act carved a new truth into the Throne.
At this rank, the concept of "slaying a dragon" transcends physical technique. It becomes a natural law inscribed into his being: blades, arrows, even improvised weapons in his hands carry an inherent, overwhelming advantage against draconic entities, be they beasts, phantasmal creatures, or divine incarnations.
Effect: Attacks against dragons and draconic beings gain overwhelming might, bypassing defenses and striking directly at their cores. The higher the target's divinity or draconic purity, the stronger the effect becomes.
Unique Trait: This Skill is irrevocably tied to the moment Arthur ended the corrupted Divine Spirit's suffering. Unlike inherited legends, it is proof of a personal deed, thus, no Heroic Spirit but Arthur may wield this exact manifestation.
Drawback: Bearing the mark of a dragon-slayer makes him a natural target of enmity. Entities tied to dragons, kin, worshippers, or those of draconic blood, will instinctively feel hostility toward him."
Arthur stared at the newly acquired Dragon Slayer skill. It was his first EX-level Skill, and its power was staggering. Compared to Siegfried's own skill, it was in a completely different league. At this point, if he somehow managed to strike a live Albion, he might seriously wound it, before, of course, being utterly obliterated, but let's not dwell on that.
The downside was clear: any Servant with draconic blood would likely instinctively launch their Noble Phantasm at him, not out of malice, but instinct. He would have to tread carefully.
Arthur glanced at the spot where the dragon had lain and offered silent thanks, hoping the creature had found peace in its afterlife. Then he turned toward the entrance, retracing his steps. Outside, Hohenheim was waiting. Without a word, he led Arthur back to town to examine the golden blood.
After running his tests, Hohenheim's expression grew grave as he turned to Arthur.
"Master… your blood…"