Next, Avalon

"Since you've said something like that, how could I possibly let you go back? Be prepared, Guinevere. Starting from now, you are officially kidnapped by me."

Arkhan spoke those words with a smile and confidence.

"Eh? Ki-Kidnap?!" Guinevere displayed a shocked expression.

"Teacher means that you can now come with us." Artoria explained patiently.

"Really?" Guinevere looked at Arkhan in pleasant surprise.

"But you're my hostage now; I can't just let you run off, right?" Arkhan smiled.

"That's great!" Guinevere cheered, happily throwing herself onto Arkhan, her arms wrapping around his neck like a koala. She had a relieved smile on her face.

Arkhan reluctantly smiled and affectionately ruffled her hair, discreetly reattaching the blue diamond-shaped earring to her ear.

Unnoticed by everyone, a crimson feather descended from the void, silently merging into Guinevere's body.

Arkhan's expression suddenly stiffened for a moment, a hint of astonishment flickering in his eyes. However, it lasted only a moment, and his black eyes returned to their usual calm demeanor.

"Alright, let's get going." He gently broke free from Guinevere's embrace and said to the rest.

"Understood." Artoria nodded and turned toward the wide road ahead.

Suddenly, a hand grabbed her collar.

"I didn't mean that way." Arkhan pointed to the left road. "This way."

"But..." Artoria tilted her head in confusion, "To get to Camelot, shouldn't we take the middle road?"

"Yes, Teacher." Kay chimed in, thinking Arkhan must have made a mistake. "The middle one leads to Garrod; It's the only way to go if you want to reach Camelot."

"I know all of that." Arkhan's face maintained a faint smile. "But I didn't say we're going to Camelot."

""What?!""

Everyone was instantly puzzled, even Merlin looked dumbfounded.

Not going to Camelot?

"But, Teacher, you must go to Camelot to undergo the coronation ceremony to become the true king of Camelot. It's a rule established by the former king." Kay urgently explained.

"Your Majesty, you're not seriously considering giving up the throne, are you?" Merlin's expression was strange.

Artoria's heart jumped into her throat, and Guinevere looked bewildered.

"Don't worry, Lily." Arkhan ruffled Artoria's hair. "I promise that when the time comes, the coronation ceremony will proceed smoothly."

"Understood, Teacher." Artoria nodded without hesitation.

If it were someone else saying those words, Artoria might have had doubts. But now, Arkhan held a place in her heart like an all-powerful deity. Whatever he said, even if it was plucking the sun from the sky, she would steadfastly believe it.

"Your way of thinking is really unpredictable, Your Majesty..." Merlin sighed while massaging his temples. "Could Your Majesty kindly enlighten us about your plans for the future?"

Arkhan glanced at the sword at his waist and smiled. "I plan to retrieve something for Lily."

"Um? Retrieve something... for me?" Artoria appeared pleasantly surprised.

"You're not planning to..." Merlin squinted slightly.

"Ahh, exactly. Where I'm going next is..." Arkhan looked toward the horizon, where the sky met the earth.

"Avalon."

===

An old man with white hair stood at the highest point of the clock tower, overlooking the entire city.

Wrinkles, like tree roots, crawled across his cheeks, yet his gray-brown eyes remained as clear as mirrors.

For fifteen years, he had observed every corner of Camelot with those eyes, supporting the nation through thick and thin—not out of love for the land.

His experiences when he was a young boy, trained by the mob and forced to beg, allowed him to display the required emotions in front of everyone. But these surface-level performances had made his emotions grow thin to the extreme.

Perhaps it was because of this that, over the years, he had calmly navigated every obstacle in his path within the whirlwind called 'power struggle' and secured his current place.

In his youth day, his acting was flawless, depicting an image of a strong but impoverished youth, orphaned, with a gravely ill sister, struggling to support his family.

The wealthy women who paused because of his act would cry and empty their pockets, oblivious to the fleeting disdain in his eyes.

—They're all a bunch of fools.

He thought so at that time and took pride in it.

But one day, his act was exposed.

Though the boy who had uncovered it appeared to be about his age, the boy's eyes seemed to possess the power to effortlessly pierce through hearts.

His seemingly clever disguise was as fragile as paper under those eyes, ready to tear with a single touch.

That was the first time he felt fear.

"My name is Uther, and I happen to be in need of a servant. Would you like to help me?" After a moment's thought, as if finding his offer insufficient, the boy named Uther added, "Don't worry, the mob won't bother you anymore, and I'll pay you much more than you're getting now."

He froze.

He, a scammer, had been extended a hand by someone who knew he was a scam.

—Is this boy an idiot?

He thought so and wanted to laugh, for this boy called Uther was even more naive than the wealthy women he had deceived before.

But he couldn't laugh at all, fearing that if he opened his mouth, the emotions he had been suppressing would burst uncontrollably.

Later on, he became Uther's servant, observing Uther's gradual rise, witnessing Uther's ascent to the limelight, and seeing Uther crowned as king amidst the people's cheers.

As the old man reminisced about the old days, a footstep came from behind him.

"My Lord, according to the latest information, the man who pulled the sword from the stone did not head toward Garrod but went in the direction of Cramond."

"...I understand. Have everyone disband."

"My Lord, aren't we going after him?"

"If he didn't head toward Garrod, it means he has no intention of going to Camelot. We have no idea where he's headed next after losing this one opportunity. If we act now, the risks we'll face will be much greater."

"Yes, I understand."

The footsteps behind him grew fainter, and the old man raised his head, his brown eyes fixed on the darkening sky.

He was an actor wearing a mask, beneath the ever-changing facade lay a heart as bland as water.

But even so, he had once given his most genuine emotions to the king he had sworn to serve for life.

"Your Majesty, please watch over this country that belongs to you. I will never allow any outsider to lay a finger on it."