The Lady of the Lake

If utopia, as described in fairy tales, truly existed, then Arkhan believed there was no place that better fit the description than the island before them.

The sky was a clear, pristine blue, and a crystal-clear stream meandered gently along the riverbed. The banks were adorned with lush, vibrant grass and colorful flowers.

Graceful white unicorns strolled amidst the scenery, while tall trees stretched toward the sky, their branches pointing straight up.

Beautiful fairies flitted through the woods, their silver bell-like laughter occasionally filling the air. A light mist carried a captivating fragrance, a single breath of which seemed to promise a longer life.

"Such a beautiful place..." Guinevere couldn't help but exclaim, her pale golden eyes showing a hint of longing.

Artoria nodded in deep appreciation. "It feels like staying in a place like this would never get old, even for a lifetime."

"You're mistaken about that."

A clear voice came from behind them. They turned to find a petite figure that had appeared unnoticed.

It was a little girl who appeared to be around seven or eight years old, wearing a soft pointed hat atop her head and a luxurious robe adorned with stars.

She sat on suspended vines in the void, her delicate features resembling a finely crafted porcelain doll. Her silver-white hair cascaded down to her bare feet, and her pale golden eyes belied world-weary wisdom as if she had already seen the end of the world.

"Greetings, esteemed Lady of the Lake, Vivian." Arkhan placed a hand over his chest and offered a slight bow to the legendary primordial fairy.

Guinevere and Artoria quickly followed his lead and paid their respects to the primordial fairy before them.

"Did Scathach send you?" Vivian's tone was calm and indifferent, like the still waters of a tranquil pond.

"No, my mother does not know my presence here. I came off my own accord for personal reasons." Arkhan replied with a smile.

"Hmph, it's been so long since I've seen Scathach, and her child has grown this big already..."

Vivian remarked with a mocking curve of her lips.

"But indeed, that's the case. For a woman of her age, no matter how radiant she may appear on the outside, it can't change the fact that her heart is gradually decaying. I wonder if being a mother can bring about a second spring in her life."

"..." Arkhan was speechless.

Whether it was his imagination or not, he felt a hint of smugness in Vivian's voice.

"Ahem, you misunderstand, I am not her biological son. I was merely an orphan she took in by chance." Arkhan cleared his throat. "But in my heart, she remains my most respected figure in the world."

"What you call respect is defying her will and sneaking out of the Land of Shadows, isn't it?" Vivian looked at him with a wry smile.

Arkhan widened his eyes in disbelief. How could anyone else know about his doing besides him?!

As if realizing something, he nervously glanced around.

"Don't bother looking, Scathach isn't here."

Vivian said calmly and shook her head slightly.

"Actually, Scathach didn't want you to leave the Land of Shadows for your own good, hoping that one day you wouldn't regret your choices."

"I already know the reasons behind Mother's actions." Arkhan admitted.

"You know?" Vivian's pale golden eyes narrowed slightly.

Arkhan chuckled helplessly. "I didn't know at first, but I eventually learned. Nevertheless, I have no regrets about my choices."

"Let's hope so..." Vivian said with an indifferent tone.

Her pale golden eyes shifted slightly and focused on a certain white-haired bastard who was trying to hide his presence.

"Merlin, it's been so long. Do you have nothing to say to me?"

"Ahem! Iyaaa~ it's been a while, Vivian~ You still look as sweet and lovely as ever. I'm happy to meet you again!" Merlin greeted awkwardly.

"For these past decades, you've certainly made me wait, huh..." Vivian said calmly.

"But for you, a few decades are but the blink of an eye—"

*BOOM!*

A brilliant bolt of golden lightning struck the ground in front of Merlin out of nowhere, creating a three-foot-deep crater, emitting faint blue smoke.

"You know, I didn't quite catch what you said earlier. Could you please repeat it?" Vivian tilted her head, asking.

Cold sweat trickled down Merlin's forehead, and he forced a dry smile.

"What I meant was, wasting the time of a beautiful lady like you makes me feel guilty. But finding the wielder of Excalibur is no easy task. I've been searching diligently for years but couldn't find them, so I decided to create one myself. You see, I just finished raising the person, and here she is..."

Countless petals rained down from Artoria's head, and Merlin, who had somehow managed to get to her side, acted like a shop assistant trying to sell discounted goods and spoke with enthusiasm.

"Here is the Red Dragon of Britain, the rightful heir to Camelot, under the guidance of I, the Great Mage Merlin. Behold, a knight who upholds justice, embodying kindness and mercy—Artoria Pendragon!"

Vivian automatically discarded the lengthy and useless introduction, focusing her gaze on Artoria.

"Do you have the confidence to wield the holy sword?"

"I..." Artoria hesitated for a moment but suddenly noticed Arkhan nodding at her and mouthing five words—"You can definitely do it!"

Her azure eyes gradually grew resolute, and the pure maiden, as delicate as a lily, took a deep breath, earnestly looking at the primordial fairy before her.

"I believe I can wield the holy sword."

"Though a bit immature, your determination is commendable." A faint smile appeared on Vivian. "Let me see if the sword will acknowledge this conviction."

With a lift of her pale, slender finger and a slight tremor, a small hill not far away bulged upward. At the top of the hill, a holy sword radiating sacred brilliance stood upright.

Suddenly, an almost imperceptible but powerful aura permeated the entire realm of Avalon.

Countless beings inside Avalon lowered their heads, paying respect to the sword forged by the will of the planet.

This was the ultimate weapon, the divine construct that stood at the pinnacle of all holy swords, bearing the title of the 'Last Phantasm'.

The Sword of Promised Victory—Excalibur.

{T/N: It seems to be Excalibur Proto.}