The undead roared wildly.

  Its cry alone crushed the ground beneath it, the earth splintering as if struck by an invisible hammer. The wyvern’s hollow gaze locked onto Artoria, who stood her ground despite the tremor running through her body. Her expression was wary, but unbroken.

  For a brief moment, nothing happened.

  The wind brushed through the grass, gentle and almost peaceful, carrying the sound of rustling blades across the empty shore. It was a fragile stillness, one that felt profoundly out of place.

  Then it shattered.

  With a violent surge, the wyvern launched itself forward once more.

  Artoria moved instantly, forcing her body to respond, but pain flared through her leg as she pushed off the ground. The injury from earlier screamed in protest. Her teeth clenched as she stumbled for a fraction of a second.

  'No. Not now.'

  She grit her teeth and kept moving.

  The wyvern’s jaws snapped shut where she had been a heartbeat before. It didn’t slow. Its massive skull twisted midair, maw opening wide as it attempted to bite her in half as she leapt away.

  Artoria reacted on instinct.

  Using her smaller frame and agility, she kicked off the beast itself, planting her foot against one of its massive, jagged teeth. For an instant, the world slowed.

  Then she launched herself upward.

  Her body shot dozens of meters into the air. At the apex of her ascent, she drew on a fading remnant of her former power, just enough to harden space beneath her foot.

  The invisible platform formed for a fraction of a second.

  It was enough.

  She drove herself downward like a meteor, slamming into the wyvern’s skull with immense force.

  The impact echoed across the shore.

  The wyvern staggered backward, claws tearing into the earth as it shook its massive head violently, trying to recover. Bone cracked. Sand exploded outward.

  Artoria didn’t hesitate anymore.

  The moment her feet touched the ground, she sprinted forward, slipping beneath the beast’s towering form and racing toward its tail.

  The wyvern noticed.

  With a furious screech, it leapt skyward, its ruined wings beating hard enough to send shockwaves through the air. In a single motion, it gained dozens of meters of altitude.

  Artoria narrowed her eyes and looked up, her expression conflicted, but resolute.

  She crouched.

  Then she jumped.

  The sand beneath her erupted into a hurricane as she launched herself upward after it, both figures tearing into the sky. The wyvern twisted midair and swung one of its massive wings.

  The blow struck her squarely.

  Artoria braced herself, but the force was overwhelming. She was hurled across the air and flung into the vast ocean beyond the shore.

  The water swallowed her,

  but she did not sink.

  Not yet.

  Her momentum carried her forward, her body skimming across the surface. She twisted mid-motion, regaining balance, and ran across the water itself, feet striking the surface faster than gravity could pull her down.

  She turned, deliberately baiting the beast.

  It worked.

  With a furious hiss, the undead wyvern dove after her, slamming into the ocean in an attempt to crush her beneath its bulk. Artoria narrowly evaded it, forcing the creature to plunge deep into the dark water.

  For a moment, there was silence.

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  Then the water churned violently.

  From below, the wyvern surged upward at incredible speed, wings driving it through the depths as it chased her from beneath the surface.

  Artoria hissed, pushing herself faster, running farther from land, farther from safety.

  Then the beast erupted from the water.

  Roaring, it charged her head-on.

  Artoria leapt.

  She passed over the wyvern’s skull, landing back on the water and continuing her run without slowing. The creature twisted and pursued again, then suddenly pulled back.

  It ascended.

  Artoria slowed slightly, watching it warily.

  Then her eyes widened in horror.

  The wyvern turned midair and rushed back toward her, its body igniting with a strange, unholy glow. Dark light crawled across its bones as its speed increased tenfold.

  It slammed into the water again, skimming across the surface toward her like a living catastrophe.

  Artoria dodged narrowly, forcing herself forward, but the wyvern adjusted its course with terrifying precision.

  In seconds, it was on her.

  Her teeth clenched.

  She realized the truth then.

  She had lost her advantage.

  Her speed, her only edge, was gone.

  Still, she didn’t stop.

  She kept running, narrowly avoiding the beast again and again as it passed her in blinding streaks of motion. Then it halted.

  The wyvern grounded itself upon the water, impossibly standing without sinking.

  Its maw opened.

  Unholy energy gathered within, swelling until the light nearly consumed the beast itself.

  Artoria tried to push faster.

  Her body refused.

  And then,

  The beam fired.

  Artoria vanished in white.

  Her body was incinerated in an instant, scorched beyond recognition as it fell lifelessly into the ocean below.

  Yet her mind lingered.

  As she sank through the dark water, her thoughts drifted, not to pain, but to doubt.

  'Did I succeed?'

  'Did someone survive?'

  Her thoughts turned to the infant she had saved.

  The child she had carried.

  She had never given it a name.

  She was now alone, just like she had been after her rebirth.

  The water grew darker as her body sank deeper.

  Then realization struck.

  She never wanted someone else to save those people.

  She had wanted to do it herself.

  She had wanted to be a knight again.

  But she hadn’t been strong enough.

  Her fist clenched.

  Her teeth ground together.

  And with her final breath, she spoke, her voice barely a whisper as the ocean swallowed her.

  “I-I want to be a knight.”

  Something answered.

  Far away, on the other side of the world, something she had long since parted with stirred.

  On the far side of the earth, at the edge of the fallen Pendragon Dynasty, a fair knight stood atop the colossal corpse of a dragon.

  He was clad in armor of pure white, unmarred despite the battle that had just ended. Beneath his boots lay the remains of a once-magnificent dragon, its scales were covered in crimson however they had not always been red. Once, long ago, they had been white. Now they were stained by its own blood, the proof of Callum’s victory.

  The knight allowed himself a moment of rest.

  His icy blue eyes drifted across the ruined battlefield as the wind brushed past him, carrying the scent of ash and scorched stone. He exhaled slowly, until something shifted.

  A presence.

  Callum stiffened.

  A strange, familiar energy pulsed through the world, faint yet unmistakable, originating from the heart of the Pendragon lands, from the main castle itself.

  His expression changed instantly.

  Without hesitation, Callum moved.

  The world blurred as he rushed.

  In a single second, he stood before the gates of the ruined castle.

  The sight that greeted him hollowed his chest.

  His family.

  His parents.

  Once more, they stood as obsidian shells, frozen remnants of lives lost long ago. Statues of sorrow and failure, unchanged by time.

  Callum closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

  Then,

  Light came.

  His eyes snapped open.

  At the heart of the throne chamber, a golden weapon glowed violently, its radiance pulsing like a living heartbeat.

  Excalibur.

  The blade had rested there for over a month, silent and unmoving. In all the recorded history of his bloodline, it had never reacted like this.

  Callum approached slowly, awe creeping into his expression.

  “What’s happening…?” he whispered.

  As his hand closed around the hilt, the blade responded.

  The light intensified.

  The sword reformed, its shape sharpening, its presence expanding, ancient power awakening from its slumber.

  Then a voice spoke.

  A whisper, old as the dynasty itself.

  “Child of Pendragon… release me.”

  Callum’s breath caught.

  His eyes widened as realization struck.

  “…Excalibur?”

  The sword remained silent for a moment, then answered.

  “I will save my wielder.”

  Callum froze.

  Then, slowly, a smile spread across his face.

  He loosened his grip.

  The moment he released it, Excalibur vanished.

  The blade tore through stone, sky, and distance alike, leaving a golden scar through the castle roof and the heavens beyond as it departed at an unmatched speed.

  Callum stared at the gaping hole left behind.

  A deep, knowing smile curved his lips.

  “So… you chose to fight for us after all,” he murmured.

  He turned away, already preparing himself for yet another battle, comforted by one truth above all others.

  Artoria, his ancestor, had finally made her choice.

  And Excalibur had acknowledged it.

  Far away, on the other side of the planet, Artoria sank.

  The ocean was dark and endless, the surface impossibly distant. Her consciousness flickered, fading with every passing second.

  Then,

  Light erupted from the heavens.

  A brilliant golden radiance erupted from above, piercing the depths like a falling star.

  The undead wyvern, still looming atop the water, noticed it instantly. With a furious screech, it unleashed a beam of unholy energy toward the descending light.

  It meant nothing.

  Excalibur was untouched.

  The blade plunged into the sea, parting water effortlessly as it slowed, just enough.

  Just enough to stop before her.

  There it hovered.

  A beacon of hope in the abyss.

  Artoria’s eyes widened weakly.

  With the last of her strength, she lifted her scorched, grey arm. Her fingers trembled as she reached forward.

  Her fingertip brushed the blade.

  The world exploded in gold.

  Light devoured the ocean, the darkness, and Artoria herself, wrapping her in warmth and power beyond mortal comprehension.

  Reunited at last with its rightful master, Excalibur awakened fully.

  And this time,

  It would show the abomination above the sea

  its true fury.