[Third Person Pov]
Arthur broke into a sprint across the wide, torch-lit dungeon floor, his boots striking stone as he closed the distance between himself and the two hulking trolls. The creatures paused for a brief moment, exchanging a guttural glance, before turning back toward him with snarls of anticipation. In perfect, terrifying unison, they charged, their massive frames shaking the dungeon with each thunderous step.
One troll swung its enormous club downward with crushing force. Arthur dropped low at the last possible moment, sliding beneath the sweeping arc of the weapon as it smashed into the stone behind him. Before he could fully recover, the second troll raised its foot and brought it down in a brutal stomp. Arthur twisted onto his shoulder and rolled away, the impact cracking the ground where he had just been.
Arthur sprang back to his feet, eyes darting sharply as he tracked both enemies at once. The trolls rushed him again, reckless and enraged, their clubs carving through the air in wild arcs. Arthur somersaulted backward, narrowly avoiding the deadly swings as dust and debris exploded around him.
[Tier 3 Magic: Magic Coat]
Wisps of Arthur's magic surged outward, wrapping around both of his swords like shimmering mist. The blades hummed as the spell took hold, their edges gleaming brighter, their forms reinforced with enhanced durability and razor-sharp precision. Arthur lunged forward, closing the gap in a heartbeat, and began to swing. Each strike tore through the air with a shrill, piercing cry.
He targeted their limbs—legs, arms, joints—where even their thick hides were vulnerable. Blood sprayed across the dungeon floor as Arthur carved into their dense flesh with a relentless series of slashes. The trolls bellowed in pain, staggering under the assault.
"Ughh! Arghh!" they roared, their fury only growing stronger as pain sharpened their instincts. Their retaliation came swift and brutal. Clubs slammed into the ground with sickening thuds, each blow powerful enough to shatter bone.
Arthur reacted instantly.
[Tier 3 Magic: Barrier]
A translucent, hexagonal shield manifested around him just in time to block a crushing strike. The barrier held—but only barely. A second club slammed into it, spiderweb cracks spreading across its surface.
Arthur's eyes blazed as magic surged through him, the edges of his swords flaring with radiant light.
When the third blow descended and shattered the barrier entirely, Arthur stepped forward instead of retreating. He slashed downward, meeting the attack head-on.
[Tier 3 Magic: Flying Edge]
A crescent-shaped blade of pure magic erupted from his sword, slicing cleanly through the incoming club. Splintered wood and fragments of enchanted force scattered through the air. Arthur pivoted and swung his other sword toward the second troll to keep it at bay—yet, to his surprise, the massive creature twisted aside, narrowly avoiding the strike.
"Woah…" Gwyneth muttered in awe as she watched Arthur hold his ground against two trolls at once.
Merlin smiled faintly, her gaze shifting to Lance, who stood with his fist clenched tightly at his side, eyes locked on the whirlwind of flashing blades and bleeding monsters.
"A knut for your thoughts?" Merlin asked lightly.
"This is… humbling," Lance admitted calmly. A faint smile tugged at his lips as he continued, "I was proud of how far I'd come with my magic. I truly believed the gap between us had shrunk—but it seems it's just as wide as ever."
"And yet," Merlin said with a knowing grin, "you don't look discouraged."
"Quite the opposite," Lance replied. "I'm more motivated than ever. Arthur is someone I'm proud to call my rival."
Merlin laughed softly, while Ron muttered under his breath, "That bloke is not human… I don't know what he is, but he's definitely not human."
Back on the battlefield, Arthur moved with fluid grace. Every swing of his swords was deliberate, the rotation of his wrists calculated to maximize speed and control. His pirouettes as he evaded fists and sweeping clubs were smooth and practiced, like a deadly dance refined through countless battles.
'Although my magic isn't high enough for the move I originally wanted,' Arthur thought as he rolled aside to avoid a fist that slammed into the ground and sent tremors through the dungeon, 'I can adapt it. That's precisely why I created this spell.'
Arthur suddenly released one of his swords. He slapped his gloved hand against the stone floor, channeling magic into the ground.
Steel blades erupted upward from the dungeon floor as his alchemy took effect, jagged swords jutting out in a vicious cluster.
As one troll attempted to follow up with a stomp, its foot came crashing down into the forest of blades.
"ARGHHH!" it howled, staggering backward in agony and crashing into its companion.
[Tier 3 Magic: Telekinesis!]
Arthur raised his swords and moved them as though conducting an orchestra. At his command, the blades embedded in the floor trembled—then tore free, rising into the air.
Arthur thrust both swords forward.
The flying blades shot ahead in a coordinated barrage, impaling themselves into the trolls' bodies. Arthur advanced steadily, his movements calm yet forceful, his swords weaving precise commands through the air. The floating weapons obeyed without hesitation, darting and striking in perfect formation as the trolls roared under the relentless assault.
The trolls glanced around warily as the swarm of enchanted swords circled them like predatory birds. Arthur brought his blades down in sharp, repeated slashes, and with each decisive motion, the floating swords responded in perfect synchrony. They pierced into the trolls' bodies from multiple angles, drawing out guttural screams of agony.
The trolls thrashed wildly, attempting to swat the blades away, but every desperate swing only worsened their condition. Steel sliced into their palms and fingers, carving deep gashes that sent blood spraying. Roaring in pain, they raised their arms to shield their faces and heads, but their limbs were already ruined—muscles shredded, bones fractured, hands trembling and useless. Thick streams of blood ran down their massive frames, pooling beneath their feet as their breathing grew labored and uneven.
Despite their state, both trolls lifted their gazes toward Arthur, eyes burning with pure hatred and resentment.
"Tenacious creatures…" Arthur muttered under his breath, recognizing the resolve in their stance. Even now, broken and bleeding, they were preparing to throw everything they had into one final attack.
Arthur answered that resolve with his own.
He leaned forward and took a deliberate step, crossing both swords over his shoulders. His breathing slowed, his mind sharpening as he focused every ounce of magic and intent into a single point. He exhaled slowly, and when he opened his eyes and saw the trolls charging toward him, he whispered calmly,
["Tier 3 Magic: Photon—"]
Using Caliburn's special skill, Arthur vanished in a flash of light. In the next instant, he reappeared high in the air between the two trolls. His blade shimmered brilliantly, glistening like a prism as light fractured and danced across its edge.
["—Cutter."]
Arthur slashed.
A radiant trail of light carved through the air, faster than the eye could follow. The result was immediate and absolute. Both trolls were cleanly decapitated, their heads launched skyward as fountains of blood erupted from their necks. The light faded as their massive bodies froze for a split second—then collapsed.
Arthur landed heavily, driving both swords into the stone floor as blood rained down around him, drenching his clothes, and his hair in crimson. Behind him, the headless bodies toppled backward with thunderous crashes, shaking the dungeon as their severed heads rolled across the stone before coming to a stop.
Blood continued to spill across the floor in an almost endless pool, creeping toward Arthur's boots. He straightened, pulling his swords free from the ground, and only then did he glance back.
The golden trio stood frozen, staring at him in sheer terror.
Nearby, Gwyneth and Lance watched in stunned awe, their expressions caught between fascination and disbelief.
Arthur wiped the blood from his face with the back of his hand before grimacing and casting a quick cleaning spell. He released the duplication on Caliburn, letting one sword dissolve into light, and extended his now-free hand.
Merlin tossed him his scabbard with a knowing smirk. Arthur caught it smoothly, sheathed his sword, and rested it at his side before casually walking over with his hands slipping into his pockets.
"So," Arthur asked lightly, a faint grin tugging at his lips, "are you guys ready to continue?"
The trio immediately shook their heads, too stunned to form words.
"Arthur…" Gwyneth finally spoke, stepping forward slightly. "Can I ask you a serious question?" Her tone was firm, her gaze locked onto him.
Arthur raised an eyebrow before smirking. "Sure. Though I might not answer—depends on the question."
Gwyneth nodded, her expression sincere. "Who are you… honestly?"
Arthur paused, considering her words. After a moment, he smiled softly. "You know, that's a good—and difficult—question. Since you asked sincerely, and I don't want to lie to you, I'll answer in earnest."
Merlin tilted her head curiously as Arthur rested a hand on the hilt of his sword and spoke with quiet conviction.
"My name is Arthur. I come from a house of sword and magic. I can't share much more than that… except that I'm the last surviving member, as far as I'm aware. And as things stand, that makes me the current head of that household."
Every set of eyes widened at once.
Disbelief washed over them as the weight of his words settled in. None of them had expected an answer like that—and in that moment, a chilling realization took hold.
They barely knew anything about Arthur at all.
And suddenly, they were seeing him in an entirely new—and far more frightening—light.
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