The Throne Room
The banners of Avalon hung in funereal stillness.
Even the air seemed to bow before the weight of the gathering.
Six armored titans stood before the golden throne, their faces shadowed by the visors of the Round Table order: Tristan, Lancelot, Gawain, Galahad, Percival, Bedivere.
One name was missing — and every knight here felt the void where Bors should have stood.
At the center of them all, Arthur King sat in his gilded seat, posture straight, cloak spilling like liquid gold over the steps. The great crystal dome above threw fractured sunlight over his crown, making it gleam as though the heavens themselves knelt to him.
Merlin stood to the right of the throne, his staff grounded in silent ceremony.
Arthur's voice came low, deliberate, and sharp.
> "Bors the Faithful is no more."
The words cut through the hall like a sword stroke. None dared speak. Even Bedivere, eyes still hot with unspent rage, kept his jaw clenched.
Arthur let the silence grow until it was almost a living thing between them.
> "He fell not to an army. Not to a general. Not to a hero…"
"…but to a nameless Federation stray. A single child."
Bedivere's gauntlets creaked as his fists tightened.
Arthur rose.
Every motion was calculated — slow enough to command the eye, precise enough to hold it.
> "This insult to the Grand Order will not go unanswered. The world will not remember Bors as the fallen. They will remember him as the fire that burned the last of Earth's resistance to ash."
His gaze swept over each knight in turn.
> "You are my sword. My shield. My law. And now… my vengeance."
Tristan's visor tilted slightly. Lancelot's arms folded, patient but ready. Gawain's hand brushed the hilt of his beam greatsword. Galahad and Percival stood tall, eager for the command.
Arthur's voice grew, echoing up the crystal dome.
> "From this day, there will be no havens. No sanctuaries. No borders unclaimed.
The Earth is ours — by right, by will, by destiny.
And we will scour it clean of those who refuse our order."
Merlin lifted his staff and struck the marble floor once.
The sound was like a war drum.
Arthur stepped forward, cloak flowing, his shadow stretching toward the kneeling knights.
> "Bors' killer will be found. His name will be erased, his body ground into the soil he so loves. And every soldier, every city that shelters him, will burn."
He pointed toward the massive star-chart holo that lit up above them — Earth's continents overlaid with crimson sectors.
> "Your next campaign is the reclamation of the Homeworld.
Strike every Federation remnant. Eradicate every rebel holdout.
Leave no voice to speak against the Grand Order."
Bedivere finally raised his head. His eyes behind the visor burned with the same fire Arthur stoked in them.
> "In Bors' name," Bedivere swore.
One by one, the others echoed the vow.
> "In Bors' name."
Arthur's smile was slight — and dangerous.
> "Go, my knights. And remind the Earth what it means… to kneel before Camelot."
The great doors of the throne room opened, spilling blinding light over the departing Round Table. Their footfalls were heavy, certain — the march of six warlords, each carrying the wrath of a dead brother.
---
The smell of machine oil and dust lingered in the rebel camp's command tent. Outside, the distant clank of tools and low murmur of voices carried on the dry night air.
Nura sat on a steel chair, arms resting on his knees, still feeling the phantom weight of the Gundam Thanatos' controls in his hands. Every motion from the test run earlier replayed in his mind—the sheer force of the frame, the unnerving sensation that it wasn't entirely his to command.
Across from him, General Halsten of the Earth Federation leaned forward, elbows on the table. His weathered face studied Nura like a battlefield map.
Kurein, the Rebel General, stood at the side, arms crossed, silent for the moment.
---
Halsten: "Well, Nura. You've had a taste of it. How does it feel?"
Nura exhaled slowly, eyes fixed on the table.
Nura: "Like I'm riding a beast that tolerates me… but could throw me off any second."
Kurein: "That's not encouraging."
Nura: "It's the truth. Thanatos isn't just powerful—it's alive. It feels like it wants to fight, with or without me."
Halsten leaned back, fingers steepled.
Halsten: "That's what worries me. A weapon like that can win a war… or burn everything down."
---
Before Nura could answer, the overhead lights flickered. The screens along the tent walls glitched—once, twice—before every channel cut to black.
The same thing was happening across the camp. From the corner of his eye, Nura could see soldiers outside stop mid-step, turning toward flickering monitors.
Then the black gave way to gold.
A crest appeared—a sword piercing a sun, encircled by thorned laurel.
And then him.
Arthur King.
Sitting on his throne of steel and gold, cloak draped across one shoulder. His eyes locked forward, and even through the screen, it felt like they pinned Nura to his chair.
---
Arthur King:
"People of Earth. Mars. The Colonies.
Bors… is dead."
---
The camp went still. Nura's fists tightened on his knees.
Arthur King:
"He was my brother-in-arms. A shield to Camelot. His death will not pass unanswered.
You have taken from us… and now we will take from you."
The camera slowly pushed closer, his voice deepening with each word.
Arthur King:
"I give this Grand Order.
The Round Table will march. We will take the Earth, city by city, stone by stone. Every flag that does not bear our crest is an enemy banner—and enemies of Camelot… will be erased.
Resistance is treason. Treason is death. And death will come swiftly."
---
Halsten muttered under his breath, "God help us…"
Kurein didn't speak—his jaw was locked tight, eyes fixed on the screen.
---
Arthur King stood from his throne, the camera catching the glint of his armor.
Arthur King:
"We will cleanse this world. For Bors. For the future. For Camelot's rightful dominion.
When we are finished, there will be no rebels. No factions. No borders. Only one rule.
Ours."
He raised a gauntleted hand, fingers closing into a fist.
Arthur King:
"Let this be the vengeance of Camelot."
The screen cut to black.
---
For several seconds, no one in the tent moved.
Kurein: "He's not bluffing. This isn't posturing—he means to erase anyone who stands in his way."
Halsten: "And with six Gundams at his back, there's nothing stopping him but us."
Nura finally looked up from the table, eyes steady.
Nura: "Then we don't wait for him to come to us. We find a way to hit him first."
Halsten gave a grim nod.
Halsten: "Then we'd better move fast. Because after tonight… we're already on his list."
The hum of the camp's generators filled the silence that followed. Outside, the night air felt heavier, like the whole world was holding its breath.
The war for Earth had just become a hunt—and Nura knew Camelot was already on the move.
---
The Round Table Knights – Aboard Avalon
The heartbeat of Avalon was a deep, resonant thrum—the sound of its colossal engines idling before war.
The hangar was a cathedral of gold and shadow, and six Gundams stood in perfect formation, as if carved from legend itself.
Their pilots, the Knights of the Round Table, stood ready to descend to Earth.
---
Gawain's cockpit – Gawain
He sat in darkness, visor glinting faintly from the instrument lights. His voice was a low vow.
Gawain: "Bors died a knight's death… and now we will bring his justice."
---
Lancelot's cockpit – Lancelot
Her hands rested lightly on the controls, her gaze cold and unwavering.
Lancelot: "Justice? This is war. And war doesn't end until the enemy is ash."
---
Tristan's cockpit – Tristan
The destroyer of Valkiron leaned back in his seat, a faint smirk on his lips.
Tristan: "Call it what you want. I just want to see their faces when they realize no one's coming to save them."
---
Galahad's cockpit – Galahad
His tone was steady, his discipline unshakable.
Galahad: "Focus. The King's orders are absolute—city by city, sector by sector. We take the Earth intact. No reckless killing."
---
Percival's cockpit – Percival
A low laugh escaped her as her systems came online.
Percival: "Funny coming from the man in a walking fortress."
---
Bedivere's cockpit – Bedivere
His voice was quiet, but it cut like steel.
Bedivere: "Bors fought for Camelot. Died for Camelot. We will not let that blood be wasted."
---
The shared comm channel chimed once. A single voice filled it—the voice of their King.
Arthur King:
"My knights… my brothers and sisters in arms.
The Earth below is fractured—broken by greed and petty rule.
It is yours to claim.
For Bors.
For Camelot.
For the future we will forge with our own hands."
---
Gawain: "Then give the word, my King."
Arthur King: "Go. And let the world know… when Camelot moves, the sky itself trembles."
---
Launch Sequence – Round Table
The hangar clamps hissed. Avalon's massive launch doors parted, revealing the blue curve of Earth far below.
Operator: "Round Table formation, clear for drop. All bays green."
Gawain: "Gawain—launching."
The shadow knight surged forward into the void.
Lancelot: "Lancelot—launching."
A silver blaze followed.
Tristan: "Tristan—launching."
The predator that burned Valkiron dove toward its next prey.
Galahad: "Galahad—launching."
The shield descended like a falling fortress.
Percival: "Percival—launching."
A comet of fire screamed toward the planet.
Bedivere: "Bedivere—launching."
The light of the spear descended, cutting through the darkness like a divine judgment.
---
From Avalon's observation decks, they looked like six burning stars falling toward Earth—an omen the world could not ignore.
Lancelot: "Once we hit atmosphere, no hesitation."
Tristan: "Never had any."
Percival: "Let's make them remember Camelot's name."
Gawain: "They'll remember. They'll never forget."
Re-entry flames began to consume their armor. The planet swelled in their viewports.
And above all, Arthur King's words echoed like a sacred vow:
Arthur King: "Peace cannot be begged for… it must be claimed."
The comm line to Bedivere crackled briefly, as Gundam Bedivere was falling to Earth and enter its atmosphere as his voice low and sharp—aimed at a single person.
Bedivere: "Stray child of the Earth… I will kill you and avenge Bors—!"
---
Rebel Camp, Earth
The night was quiet, save for the faint hum of camp generators.
Nura stood alone at the edge of the perimeter, staring into the vast darkness above.
Then—he saw them.
Six blazing comets, streaking across the heavens, each breaking off in separate directions, scattering like divine weapons sent to smite the Earth.
He knew.
Even without words, even without proof—he knew exactly what they were.
Camelot's Gundams.
Nura's hands clenched, but he said nothing.
He simply kept watching… until the last of the burning trails faded into the night.