In the midst of battle, there was no time for prayer.
Camelot's banners were burning.
The Church's army did not ring the cathedral bells—
instead, war horns sounded.
Holy words clashed with the ringing of steel.
Arthur gripped Excalibur with both hands.
With every swing, the earth split apart.
With every step forward, soldiers were forced back.
Faith was flowing into him.
The more people feared, the longer Arthur stood.
And that…
was something the Church could never accept.
"Fall back!" Arthur shouted.
"The line is breaking!"
Only one of the knights he trusted most stood beside Arthur.
The rest were facing the demonic creatures unleashed by the Church,
while Arthur alone defended the front lines.
The man at his side
was someone who had shared the same table,
spilled the same blood.
The moment Arthur turned his back, the strike came.
The blade did not pierce his spine.
It pierced the seal.
For a single moment, the world fell silent.
Arthur dropped to his knees.
"W-what have you done?" he asked, struggling to breathe.
The knight did not raise his sword again.
He simply stepped back.
"Everything is for our god," he said.
"If we killed you, you would become a legend."
Arthur's vision darkened.
At that moment, the sky split open.
The Church's spells activated all at once.
Contracts were triggered.
Sacred chains burst forth from the earth.
Arthur could not move.
"Arthur Pendragon," said the High Priest, walking across the battlefield.
"This world can no longer bear you."
Arthur laughed.
A tired, bloodstained laugh.
"A world that cannot bear me…" he said,
"has yet to pay its price."
The ground collapsed.
The earth split open, roots rising to the surface—
alive, pulsing, like veins.
The Sacred Forest.
Excalibur did not fall from Arthur's hand.
But its light faded.
As Arthur was pulled down, he locked eyes with the knight who had betrayed him.
"You will remember," Arthur said.
"Not me… but what you did."
The light vanished.
The battle continued.
But it did not last long.
Only one week after Arthur's disappearance, Camelot fell.
The Knights of the Round Table were either executed or exiled.
And thus, the Holy War came to an end.