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FATE: The Man with Divine Keys

This is the end of the Age of Gods, the beginning of the Age of Man. This is... Britain. In order to save Britain from its fated destruction, the adopted son of Scathach embarked on a path known as a hero with his Divine Keys. "Next, I'm going to unleash a badass attack. Let's see who's the lucky one to face it." Arkhan wore an innocent smile on his face as he held the burning Might of An-Utu in his hand and looked at the trembling gods before him. === The MC is a reincarnator with a non-sentient system. This story is an Alternate Universe (AU) in Nasuverse with a mix of Divine Keys from Honkai Impact and Norse Mythology. Don't expect the lore to remain identical to Nasuverse. Think of it as a new story infused with Nasuverse elements, since some of the lore has somewhat modified. === This is a translation. I'm translating as I read and making some modifications to the story if needed. Original: https://wap.ciweimao.com/book/100197196 The cover image is not mine. === Support and read advanced chapters at: patreon.com/VALRRR

VALRRR · Anime & Comics
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484 Chs

Chaotic Lucanmont

Lucanmont was Camelot's border and defense.

Once it fell, the enemy could roam freely inside, posing an immeasurable threat to Camelot. Moreover, this Northern army wasn't just composed of regular soldiers; there were many Phantasmal Species and Dead Apostles. These monsters could easily massacre a city. If they breached the defenses, the consequences would be unimaginable!

"Contact every king of the allied nations for me. Tell them that as long as they are willing to send their armies to help us through this crisis, I will compensate them tenfold afterward!" Arkhan ordered Merlin.

Half an hour later, Merlin's voice echoed helplessly in Arkhan's ears again.

"No good. Only three kingdoms are willing to send troops to help us, but their combined forces amount to only twenty thousand. It's impossible to stop the Northern army."

As Arkhan had predicted in the past, these people were all talking about becoming vassal states of Camelot, pledging allegiance, but when trouble arose, they scattered faster than rabbits.

"Where's the King of Deheubarth? He should have enough soldiers at his disposal." Arkhan inquired.

"The King of Deheubarth said he won't help the King of Gwent or us this time. Whether we survive this crisis depends entirely on our own fate." Merlin explained.

"..."

After a moment of silence, Arkhan opened his mouth.

"I understand."

He ended the communication and sought out Artoria.

"Teacher, is there something you need?" Artoria, clad in silver armor, entered Arkhan's tent and asked with a solemn tone.

"Vortigern has sent fifty thousand soldiers to attack Camelot. Duke Benedict is still resisting fiercely, so I need to go back as soon as possible to rescue them." Arkhan got straight to the point.

"This..." Artoria widened her eyes in surprise.

"That army will break through Lucanmont in no more than three days. There's no time to send reinforcements, and the allied nations are unwilling to help us. So, the only way is for me to personally go back and rescue them. I'll leave things here to you for now."

After saying that, Arkhan patted Artoria's shoulder.

"Can I count on you?"

"Are you suggesting I command the upcoming war?" Artoria took a few steps back, her azure eyes showing a hint of panic. "But, Teacher, you're the king! If you're not here, problems might arise!"

"Haven't you all handled wars on your own before? With my mother, Big Sis, Nidhogg, and the Knights of the Round Table, everything will be fine."

"Teacher, maybe you should send them instead of yourself..."

"The enemy is powerful this time. Relying solely on them may not be enough, and I'm concerned the enemy might set up a trap. It's safer for me to go back personally."

"Then... Can't we wait for you to return before starting the war?"

"No! Vortigern is clearly trying to delay time. It indicates he's in a crucial moment. We can't keep waiting!"

"B-But I..." Artoria hesitated and stuttered.

Arkhan approached, opening his arms to embrace the bewildered Artoria.

"Lily, do you remember what I told you before? After this war, you will be crowned as the king, bearing the fate of a kingdom. So, believe in yourself, just like how I believe in you." Arkhan whispered gently into her ear.

Feeling the familiar and warm breath lingering on her nose, Artoria's azure eyes gradually showed a determined expression.

"Yes, Teacher! I won't let you down!"

"Good, you're starting to look like a king." Arkhan let go of Artoria, smiling as he patted her shoulder.

He then gathered Nidhogg, Scathach, Morgan, and the others, briefing them on the current situation and the following arrangements. After everyone nodded in agreement, he set off for Lucanmont.

===

Lucanmont.

This fortress city on the border of Camelot gained fame in recent years as the first stop for knights and bards eager to witness the rising glory of the Chosen King. Countless admirers of the king's deeds flocked to this place, hoping to bask in the radiance of the emerging monarch.

However, at this moment, the city had been completely engulfed by the flames of war.

The magic formations on the city walls emitted only a faint glow, resembling fireflies. Everywhere, there were dark scorch marks and corrosive traces. Under the enemy's relentless onslaught, the city teetered on the brink of collapse.

"Hold on, everyone! His Majesty will send reinforcements soon! As long as we endure, victory will be ours!"

Benedict stood on the city wall, vigorously waving his sword to boost the morale. He was a far cry from the elegant and composed figure of yesteryear. His armor was in tatters, his face blackened like the bottom of a pot, and his hair burned on one side, revealing skin covered in burn marks and dripping with fresh blood.

"That guy must be the lord of this city, right? I think his name is Benedict?"

In the air, a figure with a human body and a bird's head, dressed in black with a pair of jet-black wings extending from his back, remarked.

He was the Black Wing Lord—Gransurg Blackmore.

He may be scorned by the more elegant True Ancestors due to his appearance, but his strength was undoubtedly top-tier among Dead Apostles.

Regarding power and history, Gransurg rivaled the White Wing Lord—Trhvmn Ortenrosse, even ranking higher than him among the Twenty-seven Dead Apostle Ancestors.

"Um."

Beside Gransurg, Trhvmn responded while nodding. Though Trhvmn generally disliked this eccentric man, under Crimson Moon's command, he has to put up with it.

"I heard he has a good relationship with that Chosen King?" Gransurg's head turns 270 degrees to the right, looking at Trhvmn on his left, his bird beak forming a sly grin.

Trhvmn furrowed his brow slightly and subtly distanced himself.

"He was the first one to aid King Arthur, and his brother is Bedivere, known as the King's Left Hand."

"Oh, I see..." Gransurg watched Benedict below, a hint of madness in his eyes. "What if I make him my servant? Will King Arthur be mad?"

Unlike typical Dead Apostles, humans who were fed upon by Gransurg didn't turn into Vampires but rather became bird-headed creatures with wings.

Before Trhvmn could reply, Gransurg dived, heading straight for Benedict.

Meanwhile, a sudden sense of imminent danger floods Benedict's mind. Instinctively, he looked up to see a monstrous creature with a bird head and human body flying towards him.

"Enjoy the thrill of death and flight!" Gransurg roared madly, reaching for Benedict with his arm.

However, a hand suddenly emerged from the void and firmly grabbed his arm.

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