A Heretic Arthur descending upon Witenagemot?
Hearing this news, all the high-ranking officials woke up in a frenzy that morning, many even rushing to change their pants.
Then, a group of British gentlemen, disregarding their dignity, hurriedly dashed to the headquarters in Greenwich.
"Why is something like this happening?"
A council member wiped cold sweat with a handkerchief.
"It seems the White Hime-Miko mentioned His Majesty's name and caught his attention."
Another council member said uncertainly.
"Good Lord! Why did something so terrifying happen?"
A woman said, covering her cheeks.
Though they all adored the Legend of King Arthur and actively associated themselves with him or the like, one thing was common knowledge: Great Britain had never done well when it came to not doing well.
Camelot was in Ireland. The territory King Arthur actually ruled was Ireland.
But what Great Britain did to Ireland—did the occult scholars, Royal Family, and nobles among nobles not know?
King Arthur didn't go to Ireland first but came to trouble them—this indicated something.
Was He here for revenge? Or something else?
"How about it, have we contacted the Black Prince?"
A young council member asked anxiously. In his view, Heretic Gods were merely prey for God Slayers.
As long as they contacted the Black Prince, everything would be easily resolved.
"No, no one has a way to contact that King."
"Then what do we do?"
Instantly, the council member panicked. God Slayers were walking disasters, but as if Heretic Gods weren't walking disasters too.
For them, Mages beneath Gods, both were no different.
"There's only one way now: pledge loyalty to the King!"
With an elegant and confident voice, the Witenagemot higher-ups looked toward the conference room door.
There, Alice, wearing a knitted dress, a white jacket, black trousers, and boots, greeted gracefully with a slight bow.
"Greetings, esteemed Sages."
"Your Highness Alice!"
"So glad you could attend in person."
A group of old men and women showed relieved expressions.
At this moment, Alice walked to the conference table, sat down, and said.
"Lord Black Prince is a man who loves playing strategies. To him, Witenagemot's only purpose is to provide him enough entertainment."
"And to get revenge on us, to see our regretful expressions."
Of course, all the above wasn't the real reason. No grudge couldn't be set aside in the face of real interests.
At most, the Black Prince could be said to have conflicts with Alice and the others, not reaching the point of deadly enmity.
As for the real reason, Alice realized one thing: in this era, there were too many God Slayers.
If she hadn't miscounted, there were already six God Slayers in the world.
Whenever the number of God Slayers grew too large, a Savior would appear, coming to cleanse the earth, kill all Devil Kings, and save the world.
And this Savior was the King of the End.
Combining the information and cultural artifacts Witenagemot had collected over the years, it was deduced that the last time the King of the End appeared was fifteen hundred years ago.
And the Legend of King Arthur was a myth born with Him as the prototype.
A hero wielding the Holy Sword, slaying ferocious Devil Kings.
No one knew the King of the End's identity, but the likelihood of it being Arthur was high.
So… why pledge loyalty to a King who, sooner or later, would be killed?
As for the King of the End, it was estimated that after killing the God Slayers, He would leave.
Meaning, in the future world, there would be no more God Slayers.
Could there be better news than this?
The Supreme Overlords above them would be gone. Then the world would be their domain.
Before that, what was a little humiliation?
"For now, if I'm not mistaken, the Black Prince is probably watching our fine performance from Royal Arsenal."
Alice made a harmless joke.
But hearing her voice, the conference higher-ups couldn't laugh. They only felt the atmosphere was heavy.
Witenagemot sounded grand, even able to compete with the Black Prince's Royal Arsenal. Its name was praised to the heavens.
But frankly, it was just one of the Black Prince's ways to relieve boredom.
To the Black Prince, Witenagemot was just a toy he could crush with one foot.
"Oh, almost forgot to tell you."
As if feeling this stimulation wasn't enough, Alice deliberately said now.
"What I saw, that summoned Lancelot isn't weaker than an ordinary Heretic God."
What did that mean? Not enough to come alone, coming in a group?
Generally, the upper limit of a Summoning Divine Authority was Subordinate God level. Perhaps stronger than a Divine Beast, but nowhere near Heretic God level.
Even after the Black Prince defeated the Mermaid Queen and made her a familiar, though very strong, it didn't reach Heretic God level.
And what was King Arthur most famous for? Of course, his Knights of the Round Table.
Meaning, King Arthur could likely summon thirteen knights at once.
If everyone was just scared before, now their faces were pale as death.
Fight? Fight what? Might as well surrender.
They suddenly felt French traditional ethics might have some merit.
Hearing such terrifying news, James Hark, the current Witenagemot Chairman, looked around and said heavily.
"So… Ladies and Gentlemen, any ideas now?"
"…"
Everyone expressed their opinions with silence.
Seeing this, Hark signaled Alice with his eyes.
The latter nodded understandingly, then said with a smile.
"Alright, the King descending on Witenagemot isn't necessarily bad. Perhaps He just wants the information Witenagemot has collected?"
Most of Witenagemot's research was on Heretic Gods' and God Slayers' Divine Authorities. Naming God Slayers' Authorities, researching their characters, and so on.
Maybe King Arthur came to Witenagemot just for this information?
But wasn't that possibility even more terrifying?
Hark was also startled by Alice's somewhat scary joke but remained calm on the surface.
Though his legs under the table still trembled, he spoke with dignity.
"Your Highness, the urgent matter now is deciding who to send to welcome the King…"
"Isn't such a thing easy to decide?"
Alice laughed casually.
"Sending a Royal Family Princess would suffice…"
Before finishing, Alice froze, seeing the gazes fixed on her.
"Your Highness Prince Charles, I recall your youngest daughter came of age this year, right?"
"You're absolutely right, but she's already divorced."
"Oh? When did Isa get married?"
"Last night, to a damned barmaid."
Alice blinked, then looked around, asking with a strange expression.
"Are all your daughters married?"
"Yes, yes, yes."
Everyone hurriedly nodded but also shook their heads wildly.
"No, no."
Alice suddenly laughed, an exasperated laugh.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, do you think I'd believe such excuses?"
She felt she'd been kind enough. She'd almost arranged everything.
But in the end, this bunch of cockroaches wouldn't even send one princess?
How could Great Britain be properly managed with this bunch of cockroaches?
And was this really a bad thing? Maybe if something happened, leaving the King's heir would be good.
Sensing the hidden glances around her, not daring to meet her eyes directly, Alice smiled, looking at the silent people one by one.
"I'll remember you all…"
Her eyes conveyed that meaning.
Alice knew well that if she kept talking, they'd just blame each other and shift responsibility to her.
Until she "voluntarily" took the responsibility.
Rather than being forced, she'd rather act with dignity. Of course, settling scores later was certain…
◆━⊰✧⊱━◆
Cornwall, England.
A countryside art gallery.
In this unremarkable rural art gallery, various artifacts were housed.
The Rosetta Stone, Parthenon statues, Apollo statues, Van Gogh paintings, stacks of books, and so on.
Villagers mocked this gallery as a knockoff British Museum.
But in reality, everything inside was authentic.
All came from the Black Prince, Alexander Gascoigne.
He took two minutes and thirty seconds to seize all the British Museum's exhibits, placing them in his headquarters, this Cornwall countryside art gallery.
And when members had time, he'd pull out the Basic Magic Grimoire inside, compare it with ancient artifacts, and teach new members about the origins of witches and mythology.
Today was no exception. The Black Prince, wearing a simple white shirt and trousers, imparted knowledge to his subordinates.
Royal Arsenal's members had complex backgrounds. They were people who knew of magic's existence in the past but didn't fully understand it, while opposing the traditional aristocratic elite magic groups.
The so-called wild path. Before he succeeded in killing a God, he was also on such a wild path.
He also knew how cursed those nobles monopolizing magic were. He enjoyed giving basic knowledge to these magic-world illiterates.
Though he could delegate it, he preferred to see it as a leader's responsibility.
But in the middle of the literacy lecture, the Black Prince's subordinate, a great knight nicknamed Ice Man, entered with a grim face.
"Alec, there's urgent business to discuss."
"Study on your own for now."
Alec, at the lecture podium, put down the textbook, brushed chalk dust off his hands, and walked out.
"What happened?"
Ice Man stopped in the corridor, saying grimly.
"Witenagemot is preparing to cut ties. They even plan to pledge loyalty to the Heretic God and don't want your help."
"Oh?"
Alec widened his eyes, even showing a delighted expression.
"Was this that cursed woman's decision?"
Ice Man said, grinding his teeth.
"No, it seems to be their collective decision. White Hime-Miko Alice just mentioned the information."
"Interesting? This leak seems a bit too convenient."
Alec rubbed his face.
He'd competed with this woman for over a decade. No one understood her wicked character better than he did.
This woman loved manipulating information to steer others' decisions. And conveniently, he couldn't interfere with Witenagemot's higher-ups.
This had led to him being played by her several times.
He even lost a bet to her once, with the condition: as long as Witenagemot remained nominally loyal to him, he couldn't take action.
"But the name King Arthur seems somewhat familiar?"
Alec recalled carefully, then found the information in his memory.
"Has that Divine Ancestor's wish come true?"
Not long after becoming a God Slayer, he searched for the Holy Grail for a long time.
Because his father's pursuit of the Holy Grail caused his childhood tragedy.
But when he found the Holy Grail, he discovered it was just a vessel of great magical power. Even the Holy Grail's information was released by that Divine Ancestor.
Feeling bored, he destroyed the dangerous Holy Grail and left.
Of course, the fact that he truly found the Holy Grail was known only to a few. Royal Arsenal's current goal was still to help him find the Holy Grail.
But because of this, he also learned the real reason Guinevere created the Holy Grail.
To awaken the King of the End.
As a God Slayer, he naturally had an inexplicable curiosity about the King of the End. He wanted to see the King of the End's power.
There was no word for retreat in a God Slayer's dictionary.
For God Slayers, every God-killing was a miracle of the weak defeating the strong.
In terms of value and Divine Authority, every Heretic God was stronger than a God Slayer.
After killing the first Heretic God, a God Slayer would grow stronger, gaining a God-level body and magical power, plus a Divine Authority.
But after that, only Divine Authorities would increase.
And now, with so many God Slayers, he was very curious about who the strongest Savior was.
So he ultimately didn't kill that Divine Ancestor or completely destroy the Holy Grail, letting her prepare.
His goal was to see the King of the End's true face.
Of course, if possible, he also wanted to kill the King of the End and seize His Divine Authority.
Would he win?
He would win.
No matter how strong the King of the End was? How strong could He be?
Every God Slayer was confident they'd kill any Heretic God they met.
Without this confidence, how could one become a God Slayer?