184 Departure and Bad News

Under Arkhan's deliberate development over the years, Camelot's level of militarization far surpassed the current era. Now, his army consisted of fifty thousand soldiers, including fifteen thousand cavalry, nearly several times more than all of Britain and Europe combined.

To raise such an army required astronomical funds. Without the hefty profits from exporting grain to Europe, Arkhan wouldn't have been able to sustain them.

With the earned money, he practically depleted all of Britain and Europe's iron ore, equipping each member of the army with excellent armor and weapons, leaving other nations far behind in terms of equipment alone.

Add to that was his specially prepared modern military training program, significantly enhancing the cohesion and combat power of this army. Even without the intervention of Arkhan and the others, they alone were enough to sweep through the entire allied nations.

In addition, there was his knight order—Godslayer Knights.

After seven years of meticulous preparation, this knight order, into which Arkhan poured a considerable amount of effort and care, finally took shape. The number had reached nine hundred and thirty-one, each one among the top knights in Britain.

Each of them had crossed the path of trial known as the 'Knight Proof'.

They were true warriors with unwavering wills and formidable combat skills under Scathach's guidance. Coupled with the second-generation artificial magic circuit and the Key of Domination they carried, their combat power was terrifyingly high.

Though Arkhan hadn't tested the true strength of the knight order personally, according to Scathach, their combat power was now no less than the Knights of Fianna led by Fionn mac Cumhaill in Celtic mythology.

According to the previously established strategy, they would be divided into three routes this time, launching attacks on Essex, East Anglia, and Mercia respectively. After the three armies converged, they would jointly launch a total assault on the most powerful Northumbria.

Afterward, they would face the last line of defense in the North—the fortress city of Vortigern, Londinium.

Four years ago, when Arkhan proposed the three-front strategy, many thought he was insane, even Bedivere felt the plan was too risky. Now, four years later, they chose the three-front strategy again, challenging the entire Northern Kingdoms. However, this time, no one opposed it; instead, they felt it was only natural.

This was the confidence brought about by the increase in strength.

And so, the day of departure arrived in the blink of an eye.

Arkhan, adorned in silver armor with a cloak embroidered in gold thread, with Caliburn at his waist, symbolizing kingship. Artoria and the others followed behind him, imposing and extraordinary.

He stood before tens of thousands of soldiers, surveyed the scene, raised Caliburn in his hand, and loudly declared.

"I, Arthur, the Chosen King of Camelot, the Fated Ruler of Britain! Here, I stand before you in resolute proclamation! Behold, the hour of the definitive clash is upon us. This juncture marks the profound parting of Men and Gods. The trajectory to the morrow lies firmly within our grasp, and the luminosity of humanity is poised to illuminate this sacred soil! Oh valiant and indomitable warriors, if your spirits are steeled, then pledge unto me the very essence of your existence!"

""Arthur! Arthur!""

""Arthur! Arthur!""

""Arthur! Arthur!""

The passionate soldiers shouted, their eyes filled with fanaticism.

Arkhan looked up at the sky, raised his index finger and thumb to his mouth, and blew a loud whistle.

*Whistle—!!!*

After a moment, a tall and mighty figure descended from the sky with agile steps. It was a white horse, significantly larger than a regular horse, with a pure white mane shining brightly.

More noticeable was that the horse had a total of eight legs.

The legendary eight-legged horse—Sleipnir. Through the joint efforts of Thrud and Scathach, they had successfully hatched it.

Arkhan mounted the exclusive steed of the All-Father Odin and raised Caliburn high in his hand. The golden sword sparkled brilliantly in the sunlight.

"Everyone, follow me!"

===

Britain covered an area of around 20,000 square meters, a not-so-large land with predominantly flat terrain.

In preparation for the impending war, Arkhan had been arranging road construction for the past four years. By now, basic stone roads had been laid, significantly increasing the marching speed from Camelot to the Great Wall of the North.

After a fortnight of continuous travel, Camelot's fifty-thousand-strong army finally reached the Great Wall. They would rest and regroup here for five days before launching the offensive against the remaining four Northern Kingdoms.

However, on the fifth day, a sudden piece of news reached Arkhan's ears.

"Essex, East Anglia, and Mercia have gathered a fifty-thousand army and infiltrated Camelot?" Arkhan's brows furrowed. "Are you sure?"

"Your Majesty, though I admit that I might usually be a bit frivolous, in matters of great importance, I can distinguish urgency." Merlin said helplessly. He was communicating with Arkhan through magecraft from the royal palace.

"It's impossible for such a thing to happen..." Arkhan murmured. "With the protection of the Great Wall of the North and Hadrian's Wall, how did they manage to sneak into the South without anyone noticing?"

Hadrian's Wall had blocked Vortigern for fifteen years. While it was true that Vortigern hadn't put forth his full effort, the quality of Hadrian's Wall itself was undeniable. Now, with the addition of the Great Wall that Arkhan personally constructed, how did this army manage to infiltrate?

"It's Earl Mark and the King of Gwent..." Merlin explained. "They united, broke through the blockades of the Great Wall of the North and Hadrian's Wall, and sneakily brought this army in. Vortigern was evidently well-prepared this time and used the power of the Holy Grail to conceal them. My clairvoyance didn't see any movement from this army before."

"Mark, King of Gwent, you sure know how to pick your moments..." Arkhan muttered and clenched his teeth tightly, then took a deep breath. "Where are they now?"

"At Lucanmont. Duke Benedict is currently in the battle with them." Merlin replied.

"How long can he hold on?"

"Four days—no, I estimate it might only be three days."

'Three days...'

Arkhan furrowed his brows tightly. Even if he sent his army back to defend, it would be too late.