He felt it.
Felt the life slipping away.
The pain had begun to fade.
The sense of time stretched infinitely.
Yet, only his mind remained clear, still functioning.
"Ugh... ah..."
Lying in a pool of blood, the White Knight let out a dying groan, struggling to lift his hand.
He wanted to grasp the Holy Sword, only to remember that it had already been devoured by the true sun.
In the end, all his exhausted hand could do was clutch at the empty air.
That gesture, filled with sorrow, was like trying to grasp something lost.
Gawain continued to struggle in this state.
And then, suddenly, he saw it.
Beyond his outstretched hand, the Black King, wielding the jet-black Holy Sword, had unknowingly halted the battle, gazing at him from afar.
That figure—though wicked and ominous—was, without a doubt, the one he had pursued all along.
"My King..."
From his throat, Gawain let out a call full of longing.
Between life and death, he remembered his past life.
Like the other Knights of the Round Table, his life had been filled with regret.
Among them, Gawain stood shoulder to shoulder with Lancelot, Arthur's famed right hand. He was not only the strongest knight of the Round Table in daylight but also Arthur's shadow.
Wielding another Holy Sword and possessing the noble virtues of an ideal knight, Gawain was seen as Arthur's heir—a candidate ready to succeed the throne should the King fall. But Gawain never took such evaluations to heart.
Because, in Gawain's eyes, Arthur could never fall.
The King might not have been the strongest, but she was fair and selfless.
The King might not have shone as brightly as he did, but she had never succumbed to darkness.
During Britain's darkest days, the King had risen, leading all to victory time and again, making Britain a great and mighty nation.
Gawain was content to remain Arthur's right hand, never once considering replacing her. He worshiped her, revered her.
Unfortunately, his blind devotion made him oblivious to the King's struggles.
Unable to let go of his brothers and sisters slain by Lancelot, the so-called ideal knight fell into a vortex of hatred, tarnishing his own chivalric virtues. In the end, his resentment led to the kingdom's downfall.
Mordred was only able to seize Britain because Gawain kept urging Arthur to march against the exiled Lancelot. This campaign left the kingdom vulnerable, leading to Mordred's rebellion.
Even when Arthur was betrayed and war broke out, Gawain refused to seek Lancelot's aid. He even rejected Lancelot's offers of support multiple times, delaying reinforcements until it was too late—until Arthur fell on the battlefield.
On that final day at Camlann Hill, when Gawain was slain by an old wound caused by Lancelot which was reopened by Mordred, he saw the kingdom's fate, saw Arthur's fate—and was filled with boundless regret. His hatred had led to the King's death and the nation's destruction.
As Arthur's right hand and shadow, Gawain had not even been there to witness the King's final moments, nor could he stand by her side at the very end. That was his deepest regret.
Thus, this time—summoned by the Lion King—even knowing that his actions were unforgivable, that they went against the ideals of a noble knight, Gawain still accepted the King's blessing and became a sinner.
It was all to atone for his past regrets. No matter what, even if he had to fall into the abyss, this time, he would remain by the King's side until the very end.
And the arrival of Artoria [Alter] did not change his resolve.
On the contrary, it only strengthened it.
Because when Gawain saw Artoria [Alter] standing there, consumed by darkness, he knew—this was the fault of the Round Table.
The King had been perfect, yet because of their foolishness, everything had ended in ruin.
He should have seen the King's troubles, should have lightened her burdens, yet he had ignored her struggles and placed nothing but expectations upon her.
If Artoria [Alter] was the result of Arthur's confusion, hesitation, and despair—was that not their doing?
And so...
"Since the King has fallen into darkness, we have no reason to remain noble."
That was Gawain's belief.
Without a doubt, it was wrong.
Yet Gawain wished to uphold this mistake, to bear this sin—just so he could walk alongside Arthur once more.
But now, he realized he was wrong.
And it was an absurd, utterly foolish mistake.
"Look."
"Look at her."
"That is our King. Even in darkness, she still fight for order, for justice."
A voice in his mind reproached him.
Gawain let out a bitter laugh.
"What kind of ideal knight am I?"
"What kind of Knight of the Sun am I?"
What was a knight?
That figure—fighting for order even after falling into darkness—was a true knight.
To fixate on mere appearances, to fail to see the King's essence, to believe that her fall into darkness made her evil—how foolish.
To rise from filth, yet remain unstained—that was true purity, was it not?
"I... once again..."
As in his past life, at the moment of his death, Gawain's heart was filled with nothing but regret.
He kept reaching toward Artoria [Alter].
"My King..."
"Please, I beg you..."
"Please..."
"Hate us..."
That was Gawain's final prayer.
Only hatred could be the punishment they rightfully deserved.
"Our most revered... King Arthur..."
With those final words, Gawain's hand fell at last.
"Zing..."
The White Knight lying in a pool of blood finally dissolved into light particles, vanishing into the air.
The Knight of the Sun, Gawain—dead.
The fourth Knight of the Round Table in the Holy City had fallen.
This sight roused the Mountain People, igniting their spirits.
"The Knight of the Sun has been slain!"
"Sir Gawain has been defeated!"
"The main gate is unguarded!"
"Charge!"
"Retake the Holy City!"
The Mountain People shouted, charging fearlessly at the Knights.
Only two remained still.
"Sir Gawain..."
Bedivere's expression was complicated.
"..."
Artoria [Alter] simply watched Gawain's departure in silence.
After a long while...
"I had intended to personally judge all the Knights of the Round Table, to grant them a final send-off and restore their honor—to stop them from making any more mistakes."
Artoria [Alter] murmured.
"What a pity, Sir Gawain."
She offered a final farewell to one of her most trusted knights.
Then, raising her Holy Sword, she surged forward.
The battle was still raging.
Rozen and the others were closing in on the Holy City's main gate.