The explosion hit the main gate of the Round Table Fortress.
When Lancelot arrived with his forces at this forward base, he was stunned to find that the once crude and ruined eastern village atop the mountain had transformed overnight into a fortress rivaling the Holy City.
No—it could only be described as a compact version of Camelot.
Massive walls, nearly impossible to construct in mountainous terrain, now stood firm at the perilous pass leading into the village, all seamlessly connected. From the Round Table Fortress, one could clearly see that what used to be a village had been completely remade into a white chalk fortress, out of place in this era.
Realizing how drastically the situation had changed, and that the balance of power might shift, Lancelot immediately dispatched an urgent message to the Holy City. Soon after, Agravain and Tristan led Enforcement Knights as reinforcements to the fortress.
But Agravain never informed the others that the king had departed—he hadn't yet grasped the full intent behind her absence.
Then, in the latter half of the night, the mountain people suddenly launched their assault.
Following a fierce magical bombardment, a large number of armed soldiers charged the already-damaged main gate of the fortress.
From atop the ramparts, Lancelot was bewildered.
"What's going on? How are the mountain people armed like this?"
"Don't think too hard. This reeks of Morgan's handiwork." Agravain slammed a fist into the wall, eyes fixed on the soldiers clashing with the Enforcement Knights at the gate.
The attackers were clearly villagers and refugees.
They wore coordinated clothing and wielded usable weapons, but they lacked the armor needed to stand toe-to-toe with Enforcement Knights.
Even so, the main gate's defense looked dangerously fragile.
The reason was obvious.
At the front lines stood the Queen of the Land of Shadows—Scáthach—leading the charge.
"This won't do. I'll intercept Scáthach. You handle the fortress's defense," Lancelot told Agravain. "The mountain people have Assassins backing them. Hassan-i-Sabbah could be infiltrating from another angle."
"...The main gate's yours," Agravain replied, then turned and headed into the depths of the fortress.
Both the eastern and western villages had been protected by a Servant of the Old Man of the Mountain.
The one who had protected the western village—captured after its fall—was now the fortress's sole prisoner: the other Hassan-i-Sabbah.
Hassan of Serenity.
Such an overt midnight assault on the main gate, with Queen Scáthach personally leading the offensive, made their strategy clear as day—a feint, a diversion.
As Agravain's figure disappeared from view, Lancelot watched for his opening. The instant Scáthach's spear pierced an Enforcement Knight's throat, he drew Arondight with a roar and leapt into the fray.
His heavy blow missed Scáthach, but the violent shockwave from the Holy Sword's impact scattered the advancing soldiers momentarily.
At the sight of a Knight of the Round Table, the attackers instinctively recoiled in fear and hesitation.
Scáthach showed no reproach. After all, it was thanks to guidance from the refugees that she, Morgan, and the Hassan-i-Sabbah had been welcomed by the one guarding the village.
It was precisely to prepare for the eventual alliance that Morgan used the Leylines and her own power to construct this fortress, protecting the village within.
Now, the ordinary people who were meant to be protected have instead chosen to risk their lives in a raid against the Round Table Fortress. It's an act of courage—worthy of praise.
"Queen Scáthach, I, Lancelot, shall be your opponent." Lancelot stood atop the long staircase before the fortress's main gate.
In the prior desert battle, he and Gawain had joined forces to face Scáthach.
Her spear technique had already reached divine heights, yet in sheer power, she still lagged behind Gawain, who fought with the sun's blessing.
"No problem. Show me what you've got. Let's see if the title of the strongest Knight of the Round Table holds up."
With that, Scáthach charged in, thrusting her spear at Lancelot with deadly precision.
Though he couldn't say for sure whether he could defeat Scáthach alone, one thing Lancelot was certain of—he had the terrain advantage.
For some reason, Scáthach wielded only one red spear this time.
Even so, she lost nothing in terms of pressure. If anything, Lancelot found her technique even faster than when she wielded two spears.
The whirlwind around the fortress gate echoed with the clash of spear and sword.
An evenly matched battle unfolded, neither side gaining the upper hand.
"Urgh—!"
Lancelot quelled his restlessness.
The blessing his king had given him was called Gift [Ferocity]—a power that let him remain unmoved by distractions and always see the battlefield with clarity.
Be it the larger situation, or the clash before him.
If he could defeat the Scáthach standing in his way, the soldiers who followed her into the assault would naturally break and retreat.
This clash had long since surpassed the realm of ordinary human warfare. Not even the Enforcement Knights dared to intervene. Only the archers stationed atop the walls continued raining down arrows.
The soldiers under Scáthach's command could do nothing but defend against the barrage and retreat into blind spots behind mountain rocks, cautiously watching a fight they couldn't participate in.
None of the arrows aimed at Scáthach ever hit. Instead, she used her spear to swat them mid-air, redirecting them toward Lancelot.
"Ugh—!"
Lancelot gritted his teeth as he dodged the incoming arrows, his breath ragged.
"What's wrong? I can see hesitation on that Holy Sword. Do you not understand why you're fighting, Sir Lancelot?"
After her strike failed, Scáthach took several steps back, stopping on the stairs. She pointed her spear at Lancelot as she spoke.
"Hesitation? As long as my king's Gift remains with me, such a thing doesn't exist."
Dismissing Scáthach's words, Lancelot raised his sword and pointed it at her—not merely in defiance, but as a signal.
Seizing the moment as the enemy forces fell back, the Enforcement Knights who had held back until now surged from behind him, charging at the isolated Scáthach.
"Abandoning single combat? Have the Knights of the Round Table forsaken their chivalry?" Scáthach sneered, dodging their attacks and skewering three knights from the side with a single thrust.
"Leaving an enemy like you alive would only hinder our king." Lancelot raised his sword, seizing her spear as she withdrew it, and charged into the fray alongside the Enforcement Knights. "On the battlefield, there's no need to choose your methods!"
"Well said!"
Gripping the spear still lodged in a knight's body, Scáthach kicked another, sending him crashing into Lancelot.
Lancelot ducked low to evade and pressed forward—just as a glimmer of light flared across the steps.
Rune script.
This is bad—!
Scáthach had taken advantage of her soldiers' retreat and the lull in combat to inscribe rune characters on the stairs, laying a trap to activate Magecraft.
By ordering the Enforcement Knights to charge en masse, Lancelot had walked right into it.
Caught in the blast of the area-effect spell, the Enforcement Knights fell like wheat before a scythe.
"Incidentally, this is my beloved disciple's favorite tactic."
Scáthach calmly spun her red spear.
...
(100 Chapters Ahead)
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