Chapter 498: The Real Show Is Just About to Begin

*Whoosh!*

With a faint whooshing sound, a white meteor flew from the other end of the sky and hovered above the massive crater in front of the royal palace before coming to a stop.

Lancelot’s figure appeared within the white meteor, looking down at the crater below, and after a moment, she began to descend, landing at a certain spot.

Over there, a massive piece of rubble lay.

Lancelot stared at the rubble for a while, then reached out and grabbed it, lifting it with a loud crash.

It had to be said that the sight of a petite girl hoisting a slab of debris nearly ten times her size created quite a striking contrast.

Yet Lancelot remained perfectly composed as she casually tossed the enormous rubble aside, sending it crashing to the ground with a heavy thud.

Done tossing the rubble, Lancelot spoke.

"You’re still alive, right?"

As soon as her words fell, a fit of coughing came from before her.

Gawain lay there, her body covered in gruesome wounds, blood flowing onto the ground beneath her, making for a miserable sight.

"Ugh..."

At this moment, the blood-stained Gawain had returned to her original form—even the snapped horn on her head had grown back, but her injuries remained severe, showing no signs of healing.

Especially her chest, where a gaping wound pierced through from front to back, shocking to behold.

"...Lan...celot?"

Gawain seemed unable to see clearly anymore, as her blood-soaked eyes lacked focus, showing just how bad her condition was.

"It’s me." Lancelot’s gaze flickered as she answered calmly. "You’ve lost, Gawain."

Hearing this, Gawain stared blankly at the sky for a moment before finally speaking.

"Yeah, I’ve lost..." Gawain admitted this without hesitation. "Even after giving up my reason and entering the state of atavism, I still lost to him... He’s really strong..."

On her face was a mix of relief, acceptance, and even a hint of satisfaction—everything but regret.

Needless to say, this time, she was convinced of her defeat.

Lancelot seemed to understand how Gawain felt.

Riezel was very strong—this much she also acknowledged.

However...

"You haven’t completely lost, have you?" Lancelot narrowed her eyes. "After all, you haven’t reclaimed your true name. Your power is still limited by the name ’Gawain.’ If you had revealed your true name and fought at full strength from the start, the outcome might’ve been different."

Hearing this, Gawain shook her head with difficulty at these words, which could hardly be considered comforting.

"It was Gawain who challenged him, not the sealed demon hound..." Gawain said calmly. "I wanted to defeat this strong opponent as Gawain. Unfortunately, I failed."

"But you seem to be in better shape than I thought." Lancelot glanced at the wound on Gawain’s chest. "Gawain is known as the Knight of the Sun and can unleash much greater power during the day. But ’he’ doesn’t have that kind of vitality. Even the Knights of the Round Table from the legends were merely human, and yet you’re already starting to recover. It must be a sign that your true power is awakening, right?"

Lancelot’s question was met with only a cold reply from Gawain.

"When he struck the final blow, he revealed my true name..." Gawain said calmly. "In other words, the bestowed name should already be starting to lose its effect. Before long, I’ll probably regain my true name."

"...I look forward to it." Lancelot said after a brief silence. "For us, Her Majesty’s bestowed name is just a limitation. Once you reclaim your true name, you’ll be even stronger. I look forward to seeing you at your full strength."

"And what about you?" Gawain’s eyes finally began to focus as she looked at Lancelot. "When do you plan to reclaim your true name? Don’t say I didn’t warn you. If you don’t, you will definitely be defeated by him. You saw it, didn’t you? The wind he used in his fight against me."

Her words made Lancelot’s gaze flicker once more.

She recalled the sight of Riezel summoning wind and the speed and mobility he had displayed.

"In that state, his speed and maneuverability already surpassed yours." Gawain spoke bluntly. "If you don’t reclaim your true name and restore your dragon power, you won’t be able to defeat him—not even in aerial combat, which you’re most proud of."

Lancelot did not argue against Gawain’s evaluation.

Even though she had always considered herself the strongest, when someone truly surpassed her, she would not cling to meaningless pride or deny the fact.

At this moment, she might not be able to defeat that man—Lancelot admitted this and had a premonition that as long as she remained ’Lancelot,’ she would not be able to defeat him.

"I... No, I can reclaim my true name anytime." Lancelot hesitated for a moment before speaking firmly. "I know it might go against the name granted by Her Majesty, but I really don’t want to lose to him."

Her implication was clear—if there was any chance she might lose to Riezel, she would immediately reclaim her true name and restore her original identity and power, and only then would she have a chance to defeat Riezel.

Even if she lost, she would not feel regret.

Hearing Lancelot’s words, Gawain felt the same.

While she, as ’Gawain,’ had already lost to Riezel once, her true self had not yet been defeated.

If there was an opportunity, she would definitely challenge Riezel again.

At that time, she would no longer fight as Fairy Knight Gawain, but as a cursed demon hound of the Fang Clan, going all out against Riezel.

"Tristan... no, Baobhan Sith, what about her?" Gawain shifted the topic and asked.

"Not sure..." Lancelot shook her head. "She probably used Opposing Mirrors to escape."

"And that little village girl?" Gawain glanced at Lancelot and asked again. "Even though I lost my reason during atavism, I still remember everything... If I wasn’t mistaken, you rescued her, didn’t you? Where did you take her?"

Her tone carried a faint hint of interrogation.

Lancelot did not meet Gawain’s gaze but turned her back.

"I was simply asked to help her a little." Lancelot answered softly. "She’s already left Camelot now, just like that man."

Gawain did not comment on this and simply gave Lancelot a cold stare as if trying to see through her thoughts.

As a Fairy Knight, under the Queen’s arrest order, not only had Lancelot failed to capture Artoria when given the chance, but she had even rescued her and taken her to safety. If this matter were pursued, it would undoubtedly be seen as an act of betrayal.

Yet Lancelot carried it out without hesitation and acted as though there was nothing wrong with what she had done, which made Gawain feel that, at this moment, Lancelot seemed somewhat unfamiliar.

"...Was it Aurora?"

Gawain guessed who had asked Lancelot to do that kind of thing.

It wasn’t hard to guess.

In Faerie Britain, Lancelot had hardly built close ties with anyone.

Her relationship with her fellow Fairy Knights was not good—one could even say it was bad.

Her relationship with the clan heads, especially those led by Woodwose, was also poor.

It could even be said that they almost outright despised her.

Only with Aurora, the head of the Wind Clan, did Lancelot seem to hold a particular fondness. Even before becoming a Fairy Knight, she had frequent, close interactions with her.

In private, the two also often came and went together.

Some of the more perceptive individuals even believed that, compared to Morgan, Lancelot seemed to listen more to Aurora, acting more like Aurora’s subordinate than Morgan’s knight.

In such a situation, for someone to ask Lancelot to help Artoria, and for her to comply without hesitation—even though it went against Morgan’s orders—one could only suspect that it had been the head of the Wind Clan who made the request.

At Gawain’s guess, Lancelot did not deny it.

"Take care of your injuries. I’ll take responsibility and report to Her Majesty."

After speaking, Lancelot once again turned into a white meteor and flew toward the royal palace.

Gawain watched Lancelot leave, then whispered after a moment.

’A fairy like you... Why are you bound by Aurora?’

’Aurora, the head of the Wind Clan... what exactly is she planning?’

’And Her Majesty...’

At this moment, countless thoughts ran through Gawain’s mind, but in the end, an image surfaced in her mind on its own.

’...I need to find another way to get in touch with him.’

With this decision, Gawain slowly closed her eyes as her chest rose and fell with difficulty.

If one looked closely, the wound in her chest had already stopped bleeding and was gradually healing.

===

Inside a room in New Darlington.

*Zing—*

As a faint light shimmered from a mirror in the room, a figure tumbled out of it.

*Cough!* *Cough!*

Amid painful coughing, Tristan, her body charred and completely unclothed, collapsed to the ground and couldn’t help but cough up several mouthfuls of blood.

"Damn Gawain... damn that human!"

Tristan struggled on the floor, cursing through gritted teeth as she moved.

"How dare they do this to me... I’m going to cut off their ankles... decorate my room with their feet..."

"And that wretched country bumpkin... looked down on me... I’ll kill her for sure..."

"I’m Mother’s daughter... I definitely... definitely... won’t let them off!"

It was as if she used these words to numb herself, trying to forget the pain and suffering. Tristan struggled toward the bed, dragged over the blanket, and wrapped herself in it.

With a stifled groan, Tristan then forced herself to sit up.

"Ugh, this is bad... I’m too badly hurt... I must find a way to treat this..."

Even though she said this, Tristan couldn’t use healing magecraft because the magecrafts she knew were meant for killing—either curses or offensive attacks—none of which were beneficial to anyone.

On top of that, Tristan just so happened not to be a normal fairy, as she didn’t have the vitality or regenerative ability typical of a fairy. If it weren’t for the fact that she possessed some kind of immortality that other fairies didn’t have, she might’ve already died by now, and couldn’t have endured this level of injury otherwise.

"Should I ask Mother for help...?"

Such a thought crossed Tristan’s mind, but she quickly shook her head desperately.

"No, I can’t, I can’t go to Mother!"

Not only had she failed to carry out her mother’s orders, but she also had ended up in this pitiful state. If she went to her mother for help like this, it would be utterly humiliating.

Just thinking of disgracing herself was already unbearable enough for Tristan, so the idea of making her mother lose face or disappoint her was even worse.

"I’m Mother’s daughter. I’ll figure something out, I will..."

As she muttered to herself, Tristan failed to notice a figure that had appeared behind her at some point.

"So you’re already back? Lady Spinel."

Hearing this voice, Tristan froze for a moment, then looked overjoyed.

"You’re here? Red Beryl!"

Tristan turned around with effort and looked at the man before her, her voice trembling with relief and excitement.

Yes, it was none other than Beryl Gut.

"Looks like you’ve been through quite a lot, milady."

Beryl narrowed his eyes, speaking slowly as he looked at Tristan, who was wrapped in the blanket, her battered and scorched form faintly visible.

"Let’s not talk about that, Beryl." Tristan said quickly, unaware of Beryl’s strange tone. "I’m injured. Do you have any way to help me heal faster?"

"Healing, huh?" Beryl chuckled. "Well, I do have a method—or rather, I know a magecraft that can fix this situation. If you need it, I can teach you."

"What? Really? What is it?" Tristan’s eyes lit up as she asked hurriedly. "You’ve got such a convenient magecraft? Teach me right away! I still need to report back to Mother!"

"In that much of a rush?" Beryl chuckled softly. "If that’s the case, alright, I’ll have to be a little impolite. You’ll need to bear with it, okay? Because it will hurt a bit."

As he spoke, he slowly extended his hand.

Under Tristan’s eager gaze, he pressed a finger against her forehead.

In the next moment, that finger pierced through Tristan’s forehead, driving into her brain.

*Buzz!*

A strange pattern appeared on Tristan’s forehead.

"Uhh—AAAAAAAAAAAAHHH—!!!"

Tristan’s screams echoed through the room, continuing for a long time without stopping.

===

Outside Camelot, near the edge where the central plains met the southern plains.

*Swish!*

A figure suddenly appeared here without any warning, sliding slowly to the ground against a rock.

"Hahh..."

Riezel, holding Fool, leaned against a rock, clutching his chest with a terrifyingly pale face.

Upon closer look, his body was covered in wounds.

Some looked like they were caused by flying debris and sharp rocks, while others seemed to be burn marks from flames. Blood had even trickled from the corner of his mouth, making it clear that his injuries were not light.

’As expected, I still pushed it too far, huh?’

Feeling the waves of pain coming from his body, Riezel gave a bitter smile.

In order to end the battle quickly, during his fight with Gawain, Riezel had only barely avoided a direct hit from her horn.

However, the impact and flames that erupted when Gawain’s horn struck the ground had hit Riezel completely, and he had taken all of that damage head-on.

As a result, every one of Gawain’s attacks had left Riezel injured, even if only slightly.

Even with the protection of magic like Ariel, Liv Ilusio, and Veil Breath, along with resistances against fire-attribute attacks from Pioneer of the Sun, Riezel had ultimately been unable to completely ignore Gawain’s strikes because the damage had built up little by little.

On top of that, using Ariel had left aftereffects that placed a considerable burden on his entire body.

Even though Wind Breathing helped reduce this burden, after some time, Riezel still felt a soreness he hadn’t experienced in a long while, which was why, as soon as he left the battlefield and arrived here, he immediately collapsed to the ground.

Fortunately, Riezel was not like Gawain or Tristan, who could only rely on fairy self-healing abilities or special traits to sustain their lives.

"Silent Magic - Dia Fratel."

As the top-tier healing magic was chanted, waves of light appeared around Riezel’s body, causing his wounds to gradually heal.

Feeling his body enter a healing state, Riezel let out a small sigh of relief and placed his fingers against his temple.

"Message."

Riezel cast a communication magic, connecting to Artoria and calling her name.

After a moment, Riezel’s Message was received.

[...Riezel?]

A timid voice echoed in Riezel’s mind, and the image of a blonde fairy girl, uncertain and cautious, immediately surfaced in his thoughts.

[It’s me... Are you alright, Artoria?]

Riezel let out a breath of relief, then asked a question, but it was met with Artoria’s excited voice.

[It’s really you?! Riezel, are you okay?! Where are you now?! Are you still in Camelot?! If you are, tell me right away! I’ll come get you!]

[No, I’m not in Camelot anymore—I escaped. What about you? Where are you now?]

[I-I’m outside too! From the sound of your voice, are you hurt? I should come find you!]

[No need. My wounds will heal soon.]

Riezel replied calmly, rejecting her offer.

[You stay where you are and don’t move. By the way, keep this connection open. Once I’m done healing, I’ll teleport over to you.]

[O-Okay...]

Artoria reluctantly accepted Riezel’s suggestion.

[But hurry up, alright? Otherwise, I won’t be able to stop myself from going to you!]

[Alright.]

Riezel gave his word and lowered the fingers pressed to his temple.

"It’s over, huh..."

Gazing at the sky, Riezel murmured softly before his gaze sharpened.

"No, the real show is just about to begin."