The figure of Alaric, leading the way, suddenly paused. He felt a disquieting gaze upon him, directed from across the distant sky, locking onto him with unnerving familiarity.
'Is it the Lion King—?'
Alaric turned to the majestic city of Camelot in the distance, its central spire faintly aglow, casting light over the entire city. He hadn't anticipated that the Lion King would notice his return.
'What has drawn her attention?' he wondered, glancing at Sanzang. If not him, then perhaps Sanzang.
Without further hesitation, Alaric led Sanzang and the others to the gates of Camelot. By now, a crowd of refugees had gathered outside, which puzzled Sanzang.
"Why haven't they entered the city?"
"They haven't undergone the Holy Selection, so they're forbidden to enter Camelot."
Ignoring the refugees, Alaric walked straight to the main gate, guarded by the impassive Enforcement knights. As he approached, the knights, statuesque in their stillness, reacted accordingly.
"Open the gate," Alaric commanded, his tone decisive.
The heavy gates creaked open slowly. Unbeknownst to anyone, the sun had risen. Inside Camelot, it felt as though a different realm existed, where dusk and noon coexisted.
'It seems Sir Gawain is still here—'
Alaric squinted towards the spire at the city's center.
"Why did it suddenly get so bright?"
Sanzang exclaimed, shielding her eyes from the burst of sunlight. She wasn't alone; Alaika II and the young girl beside her did the same, wincing against the light.
This was Alaric's first time inside Camelot since the Lion King had raised her Holy Lance. The last time, after the Holy Selection, the Lion King had left him outside to gather intelligence, denying him entry.
Now, within Camelot, Alaric intended to go directly to the spire where the Lion King resided. But upon glancing at the young girl beside him, he paused.
"What was your name again?" he asked.
Alaika, standing nearby, raised an eyebrow.
"Sir Knight, my name is Nina Mills… Are we staying here?"
Nina looked at Alaric, her face tight with fear. Camelot had not only overwhelmed her but also frightened her.
"Nina, relax. The days ahead won't be as bad as you think."
Alaric glanced around. The Enforcement Knights patrolled the streets, and clusters of empty buildings stood nearby.
With a plan forming, Alaric summoned an Enforcement knight and instructed him to take Nina to the residences of those who had passed the Holy Selection.
"Don't worry!"
Alaric said, giving a thumbs-up.
With Nina settled, Alaric led the group, now with no further concerns, towards the central spire.
After a few minutes, they approached the towering spire. Alaric was about to ascend the steps when he abruptly halted, looking up.
A figure descended from the sky. Dressed in heavy armor with a blood-red helmet adorned with horns, she exuded a fierce aura. Clank, clank—the horned helmet retracted, revealing the face of Mordred, confident and wild.
Mordred grinned, seemingly ready to speak—then froze as she recognized Alaric.
"You—"
Even the rebellious Mordred was taken aback upon seeing Alaric's changed appearance. Though his form hadn't altered much and the change in hair color seemed minor, the draconic aura and the look in his eyes were unmistakable.
"Father?"
Mordred murmured, half to herself.
"Nope—"
Alaric chuckled, pulling her from her trance.
"Mordred, are you here to welcome me?"
"Hah, are you as dense as Gawain?!"
Mordred snapped, quickly regaining her composure.
She looked displeased, her gaze flicking to Sanzang and Alaika II.
"Why did you bring a Servant back?"
The frail Alaika II barely registered with Mordred; her focus remained on Alaric and Sanzang.
"I met her on the way," Alaric explained.
"But don't worry. The King allowed Sanzang's entry into Camelot; otherwise, she wouldn't have been able to enter."
Sanzang, eyes alight, examined Mordred's armor.
"Are you a knight too?"
"Of course. And you?"
Mordred replied curtly before turning back to Alaric. It was his transformation that piqued her curiosity the most.
"It's due to the King's dragon blood," Alaric said, fingering his now-white hair. By the waterside earlier, he had glimpsed his reflection, and the change—though he had anticipated it—still startled him. The white hair was bearable, but the subtle shifts in his face, especially his eyes and eyebrows, were jarring. He almost looked like…
"Alright, Mordred," Alaric said, brushing past her.
"I have important matters to report to the King. We can talk later."
Mordred quickly followed, not willing to let him slip away so easily. His brief explanation hadn't quelled her curiosity.
As they climbed, Mordred continued to question him, and Alaric answered as best as he could, though whether she believed him was uncertain.
"Oh? Sir Alaric?"
As they neared the main hall, Gawain, the Knight of the Sun, stood outside, staring at Alaric with astonishment. Alaric's transformation was striking enough to unnerve even the Knights of the Round Table.
"Sir Gawain, aren't you going in?"
Alaric asked.
"Only Sir Agravain, the King's adjutant, may meet with the King directly. We stand by," Gawain replied, subtly suggesting that Alaric refrain from entering.
But Alaric pressed on.
"Sir Gawain, I've gathered intelligence that may interest the King. Let's meet her together."
The doors opened in the next moment.
"My King—"
As soon as Alaric stepped into the hall, an immense pressure pressed down upon him, radiating solely from the Lion King's gaze.
"Sir Alaric?"
Agravain, stationed at the foot of the Lion King's throne, spoke, his surprise visible. Alaric's transformation was so dramatic it unsettled even the stoic Agravain.
Alaric didn't notice Agravain's reaction, as his entire focus was on the Lion King. Her golden hair pulled up elegantly, lent her a mature, regal presence distinct from Mordred's youthful fierceness.
Her cold gaze fixed upon him.
"Sir Alaric, what have you uncovered?"