Timeskip: Year 2005 — 4:35:55 PM
Location: Trafalgar Square, London.
The capital and largest city of England and the United Kingdom.
A city that stood as the pride of the modern world—its old stone streets and glass towers forming the heart of Britain's power.
It was a calm afternoon, until—
BOOOM!Thunderclap!
The sky itself cracked apart.
Cling! Cling! Cling!
A column of smoke rose from Trafalgar Square.
Car alarms shrieked in unison.
A thunderstorm raged overhead as a massive tornado twisted across the Thames, while dust and magical energy turned the sunlight into a haze of gold and gray.
People ran screaming from collapsing buildings struck by lightning, and the once-orderly streets plunged into chaos.
Everyone thought it was a natural disaster or an attack, while all the officers tried to help the people evacuate.
The officer in charge of helping the people looked at the chaos.
To ordinary people, it appeared to be a catastrophic natural disaster. But the wizards and witches of the supernatural world knew the truth.
At the center of the chaos stood two figures, facing one another through the haze of shattered stone and searing light.
A sudden flash of lightning descended through the storm-darkened sky.
From within the yellow radiance emerged a man clad in a black coat.
His dark hair was matted with dust, while yellow lightning crackled around his body.
[Alexander Gascoigne, known as the Black Prince—Alec]
Behind him, concealed within the swirling smoke, stood three shadowy figures.
Three infernal goddesses.
Their presence was faint, almost imperceptible, as they silently remained behind their master.
His cold yellow eyes surveyed the battlefield, calmly analyzing every detail despite the destruction surrounding him.
Opposite him stood a knight clad in gleaming white armor, mounted atop a magnificent white horse.
[The White Shining Armor—Lancelot of the Lake, also known as Lancelot du Lac]
Yet there was something unusual about her appearance.
A large hole had been torn through the armor covering her right shoulder.
The damage extended through the flesh beneath it, as though a powerful weapon had pierced straight through her body.
Blood stained the edge of the wound.
And yet—
Lancelot showed no sign of pain.
She simply sat upon her divine steed, her posture remaining composed.
Behind her helmet, a quiet laugh escaped.
"Fufu... Impressive."
Her gaze remained fixed upon the God Slayer.
"To bait yourself into summoning three fairies during my pursuit of you and reflecting my attacks..."
A hint of amusement could be heard in her voice.
Alec completely ignored the compliment.
"Tell me," he said calmly, "where is she? I know she sent you to stall me."
Lancelot lowered her spear in graceful defiance, her helmet facing Alec.
She knew exactly who he was asking about.
"My apologies," Lancelot replied, her tone calm yet edged. "My lady is currently unavailable. Until her return, I shall serve in her stead."
She raised her spear, its point gleaming with holy light.
"I, Lancelot du Lac, shall be your opponent—God Slayer!"
The white stallion reared with a sharp cry, its hooves striking sparks as it lunged forward.
The knight's spear leveled toward Alec like judgment from heaven, and the air itself split apart.
His yellow lightning-lit eyes narrowed, glinting like polished gold.
"I'm afraid... I'm quite busy today."
With that, he vanished.
The air cracked.
BooooooooM!!
A shockwave rippled through the square as dust exploded outward.
The clash erupted in a blinding explosion of light—holy radiance colliding with the dark fury of a God Slayer.
——
The National Gallery Museum
Far below the chaos shaking the city above, the deepest chamber of the National Gallery remained untouched by mortal noise.
Subterranean Vault: Restricted Area
Beneath centuries of art and history lay the Treasury Vault—a sanctum where artifacts too dangerous for public display were sealed away by the Witenagemot.
Tonight, that sanctum stirred.
"Sector three compromised! Intruder approaching the inner vault! Requesting reinforcement, ASAP!"
Armed guards flooded the corridors—some wielding rifles, others wands and staves, their breaths sharp with fear.
Clack. Clack. Clack.
The rhythmic sound of heels echoed against the marble floor.
Calm. Unhurried.
From the shadows emerged a woman dressed in white, like moonlight woven into silk.
She walked forward without haste.
Her pale hair shimmered beneath the dim security lights, crimson eyes scanning every relic she passed—ancient chalices, rusted crowns, shattered weapons.
The sensors along the walls flickered to life as she moved.
"Stop right there!" the captain shouted. "Put your hands where I can see them! NOW!"
"..."
She did not answer.
She did not even look at them.
For a moment, time itself seemed to hold its breath.
Then she exhaled—and the world folded.
An invisible pulse rippled outward.
Every guard collapsed where they stood, silent and unharmed, as if reality itself had commanded them to sleep.
"Sleep, children," she whispered. "This is not your war."
Defense turrets activated.
Wards blazed.
Bolts of pure magic streaked toward her—and dissolved before making contact.
"The same as always," she murmured softly. "Mortal man sure guards its past like treasure... when all it has done is bury its sins."
She stepped past the sleeping guards and entered the Treasury Chamber.
Relics lined the room—shattered crowns, divine fragments, weapons that had slain gods.
She ignored them all, drawn toward a single display at the far end of the chamber.
Encased in reinforced crystal and layered enchantments stood a lone glass case.
Inside rested a rusted sword—broken, corroded by time, yet still emanating faint traces of divinity.
——
Remnants of King Arthur Pendragon — "Excalibur"
——
The woman stopped before it.
Her gaze softened.
For the first time, a smile touched her lips.
"There you are..."
The lights flickered.
Runes cracked one by one.
With a sound like shattering glass, the case exploded outward, shards floating like frozen petals.
She reached out and wrapped her fingers around the corroded hilt.
Frost crept across the marble floor.
"Stop!"
A sharp female voice rang out.
Glowing chains of magic wrapped around the woman's limbs, binding her in midair.
She turned calmly, her expression serene—as if she had expected this.
From the opposite end of the vault descended a girl clad in royal blue, her golden hair glowing faintly with divine light and her emerald eyes cold yet resolute.
"Princess Alice of the Witenagemot," the White Witch greeted softly. "How diligent you are—to find me so quickly. I did not expect you to arrive this soon."
"Lady Guinevere," Princess Alice replied, her voice trembling but her gaze unyielding. "You must stop. I won't allow you to revive 'him.' You'll bring ruin to this country—no, to the world."
Guinevere smiled, soft and wistful.
"How earnest you are... Princess."
She brushed her fingers along the corroded blade.
"Still dreaming of peace... while I still dream of being with my 'beloved.'"
The chains shattered.
The air trembled.
Golden light rose from the ground—magic older than either of them.
"Too bad, Princess," Guinevere whispered. "Your restriction spell is not enough to bind me. Be honored—you shall witness his revival."
From within her robes, she produced a golden chalice pulsing with divine energy—the Holy Grail.
"No!" Alice cried, unleashing attack and restriction spells, but Guinevere projected a barrier with ease and used the Grail against the blade.
The moment its aura imbued the sword relic, the vault exploded in light.
A deafening roar shook the underground.
The floor trembled violently as golden brilliance surged upward, reaching through the cracks of London's streets above.
Every magus and every remnant of a Heretic God felt it—a divine presence awakening from the age of legend.
——
The ruined vault glowed with lingering golden light.
Dust drifted through the air like starlight.
Though the walls were cracked and the marble floor shattered by divine pressure, one figure still stood—Guinevere.
Her hair shimmered gold beneath the light of the Grail floating above her palms.
Radiant energy flowed into the sword at her feet—the corroded Excalibur drinking in holy light.
The sword trembled.
Then it began to sing.
A pure, resonant note—not sound, not magic, but something greater.
Rust flaked away.
Cracks spread.
The blade reshaped itself, glowing ever brighter.
From ruin to radiance.
"Yes... yes," Guinevere whispered softly. "Awaken, my beloved... awaken, my King."
A beam of light erupted from the sword, piercing the ceiling and splitting the sky above the National Gallery.
Across Trafalgar Square, every magus felt it—the unmistakable manifesting presence of a Heretic God.
From the light emerged a form—arms, armor, flesh—until a man stood reborn.
A man wearing standard knight's armor appeared.
The armor was silver in color, while the tunic was blue. He also wore a black-and-white hood fastened to his cuirass.
The white hood fell over his head.
Short blond hair and green eyes revealed a man in his twenties.
Anyone who looked at him could say that he was a beautiful man, and he appeared composed.
[King of the Prophesy, King of Knights, Holy Sword Wielder, Knight of Sky Silver, King Arthur, Artorius, Welsh Dragon, King of the Round Table, King of Camelot, Ideal Knight, Ancestor King, King of Steel—Arthur Pendragon]
Image:
When the radiance faded, King Arthur Pendragon stood once more.
"I see..."
Arthur looked at Guinevere for a moment..
"You have reincarnated."
A faint smile appeared on his face.
"I'm glad to see that you are living well, my lady."
He paused before asking,
"Did you finally find what you were searching for?"
Guinevere's expression suddenly became sad.
Hearing the king ask that question, she realized that he was indeed a king—but he was not the one she was 'looking for.'
She slowly shook her head.
"...No. After I reincarnated, I almost lost most of my memories."
Arthur remained silent.
Guinevere then gave him a faint smile.
"Then... I suppose you are not the one I was looking for."
She hesitated for a moment before asking,
"Still, perhaps you know something about him?"
Arthur shook his head.
"I'm sorry, my lady. I do not know much about him."
Guinevere looked at him quietly.
Arthur was about to continue—
"Now!"
A sharp voice echoed through the ruined chamber.
Chains of divine sealing law erupted in the air as Princess Alice quietly chanted, unleashing another sealing spell toward King Arthur and Guinevere.
WOooSH!!
Suddenly an invisible stroke of cutting force flashed through the air.
Shing!
The divine chains were severed so quickly that even the naked eye could not follow the motion.
*Crack!*
With one unseen swing, the chains shattered.
The Magic chains to seal them was shattered.
Fragments of golden light scattered through the air.
The backlash struck Alice.
"Ah—!"
She was thrown backward.
Her astral projection body was damaged enough by the shockwave from the slash.
"Witch, how blasphemous of you to interfere in our affair," King Arthur said, glancing toward the fallen Princess Alice with a neutral expression. However, his overwhelming aura pressed down upon the chamber, making his displeasure unmistakable.
Guinevere stared at Arthur and smiled faintly.
"Thank you... Your Majesty."
Arthur looked into her eyes.
He gently took her right hand in his and raised it to his lips, kissing it with quiet respect.
"If I'm not the one you seek, at least I can protect you from harm."
Guinevere smiled softly.
"
Then I believe my search must continue."
She cast a magic circle onto the ground to summon someone.
As the light appeared, Lancelot emerged beside Guinevere, mounted upon his white horse.
"My Lady."
Guinevere nodded.
"My knight."
Arthur stared at Lancelot as they greeted one another.
"It's been a while, Lancelot."
"Indeed... it has, Your Highness," Lancelot replied, bowing his head slightly.
Guinevere turned toward Arthur.
"Then, I wish you well on your journey, my lord."
King Arthur nodded.
"And I wish you well on yours, my lady. May you find the one you seek."
Lancelot guided his horse closer to Guinevere's side.
"Farewell, Your Highness."
Guinevere gave Arthur one final, sorrowful smile.
"Goodbye, Your majesty."
Then the golden light began to surround Guinevere and Lancelot.
"Then, I wish you well on your journey, my lady."
As the golden light began to surround Guinevere and Lancelot—
Then—
FLASH!Cling!
A lightning flash from the entrance of the vault quickly shot toward Guinevere and Lancelot.
BOOOOM!Ting!Ting!Block!
However, as the lightning came close to Guinevere, King Arthur, who was standing in front of them, quickly tried to slice it apart.
But the lightning managed to change its path where the blade and he would meet, allowing it to dodge the attack.
Lancelot quickly raised his shield to protect his Princess, and the lightning bounced back into the distance.
The lightning flew back and began to form a physical appearance.
Princess Alice was surprised, feeling the familiar presence.
"You look awful, Princess..." Alec said, not looking at the astral lady lying on the ground and instead focusing on the enemy in front of him.
"I don't know if I'm grateful to see you here, Black Prince," Princess Alice said, in a state where she could return at any moment.
She was surprised to see her rival had arrived.
"Is he the one?" Black Prince Alec asked, his right eye twitching slightly. He felt frustrated because he had been about to steal the Grail from her hand, but the knight had managed to block him while in his [Lightning Avatar] form.
"My..."
Before Princess Alice could explain the situation, Guinevere made a surprised expression upon seeing a familiar presence.
"It is nice to see you again, Black Prince. I was quite surprised that you almost stole my precious, Black Prince..."
The white knight nodded as well.
The magic circle began to light up as it activated.
"You must go now, my lady. I wish you to find your beloved. I shall handle this in your stead."
King Arthur stepped in front of them without looking back, instead focusing on the new enemy's arrival.
Guinevere nodded, then looked at the two.
"Very well... I'm glad to meet you two once again. Unfortunately, we bid you farewell."
Then both of them were engulfed in light.
As the light began to dim, the two were gone.
Only three remained.
"Now then, God Slayer. It seems you're not capable of fighting in your current state."
The King of Knights noticed his appearance and his unusually low magic energy.
'!...He noticed.'
Black Prince Alec thought, keeping his usual expression.
"That doesn't mean I will give you mercy as My lady's opponent... Prepare yourself."
His eyes turned cold as his aura and the sword intensified.
His fingers tightened around the hilt.
He shifted one foot forward.
The golden light surrounding the blade condensed.
Arthur drew the sword upward in one smooth motion.
The air screamed.
Golden radiance gathered along the blade until its brilliance became almost impossible to look at.
He brought Excalibur back—
Before the knight released it in a single decisive swing.
Black Prince Alec's face began to turn grim.
"Tsk... This is now or never."
"HA---!"