Two hours passed, the moons now high in the sky as only the silent sound of the breeze and trees gently dancing in the sky sounded as Lancelot lay on his back, body drenched in sweat with his wounds slowly healing as he spread his arms out looking at the sky.
Surrounding his body was the dismembered and beheaded corpses of several hundred orcs which caused his level to fill—now, waiting until he returned home to level as the pain would be intense, maybe even making him scream like a baby.
[My King, are you well?]
He didn't respond, but Morgana was too good at her work and knew he was likely cooling off.
Using both his sword arts and the Phantasmal swords overworked his brain and Ether, leaving him exhausted in the mind and body.
[The situation here is finished. We took 50% of all the corpses and meat while giving the rest to Guinevere.]
{Master! Marimo killed a lot! She ranked up!}
