Fairy Round Table Realm, Poem of Eternal Mist

Suddenly, a blood-stained hand burst from the ground, gripping her throat tightly. Merlin slowly rose from the sea of ​​flowers, his severed head rejoined, leaving only a gruesome bloodstain.

"For centuries..." the witch wiped the blood from her neck, "this is the first time I've been forced to this point."

Ritsuka struggled to break free of the restraints and delivered a powerful spinning kick to Merlin's face. As he staggered backward, she hurled her spear into the air—the weapon instantly split into four lightsabers, forming a triangular formation with the illusions of the two Valkyries.

"At the cost of my entire life force—" Ritsuka roared, blood seeping from her seven orifices, "Bloom! Spear of the End!"

The lightsaber and the illusion simultaneously erupted in dazzling light, transforming into a rainbow that pierced the heavens and earth. The countless magic circles Merlin hastily deployed shattered one after another within the rainbow light, and the entire space began to tremble violently.

"Are you crazy?!" Merlin exclaimed, his face showing surprise for the first time. "If this continues, you'll—"

"Then let's go to hell together!" Ritsuka roared, and the rainbow light completely engulfed the two figures.

Meanwhile, Machia's gaze was fixed on Leonard, the devil who had beheaded Eaton before her eyes and kidnapped her son. Hatred surged through her veins like venom, yet she stood frozen in place as if under a spell.

(Use your hands... why can't I move my body...)

"Still daydreaming at a time like this!" Kalia stomped her foot in exasperation, ice crystals spreading down the sole of her boot, instantly forming a crystalline barrier. The ice wall shattered into countless prism-like fragments, which, with a flick of her slender hand, transformed into a hailstorm that shot out into the sky.

"Raise your shield!" Leonard waved his hand calmly. "Fire Squad, let this 'Absolute Zero' taste the furnace!"

A blazing wave of fire erupted from the soldiers' ranks, ice crystals vaporizing into mist in the intense heat. Kalia's lips curled into a cold smile; a winding ice path materialized beneath her feet, and she glided into the enemy ranks like an ice skater. The first soldier had barely raised his staff when his neck was already covered in ice. With a gust of wind from her fist, the ice sculpture shattered into crystalline powder.

"Second team, surround them!" Leonard shouted sharply, but Kalia spun around to avoid the slashing blade, and the ice spike she casually broke off had already slit the attacker's throat. The spurting blood froze into a scarlet spear before it even hit the ground, and with a flick of her sleeve, it transformed into a deadly rain of arrows.

Maquia finally took a shaky step, only to be forced to her knees by a sudden surge of gravity. Sekel, toying with his pocket watch, casually approached: 'Don't interrupt this good show, traitor.'

'Without Merlin backing me up...' Machia's body began to liquefy, reflecting a dangerous light in the sunlight. 'What do you think you are?' A flash of water, and Sekel was trapped in the surging water prison.

'You've been hiding your strength all along?' Seeker struggled in the churning water.

The liquefied figure coalesced into a human form under the sunlight, Maquia's eyes burning with a thousand years of pent-up resentment: 'Today I will let you experience the double curse of Ioruf and Kelby.'

As Sekel was violently thrown into the ruins from the water prison, an ominous purplish-black mist began to rise from Maquia's body. This mist, like a living thing, snaked and crawled across the ground, causing vegetation to wither, rocks to crumble, and even the magical particles dancing in the air to fall into a deathly silence.

'This is...' Kalia swung her sword to sever the mist that was trying to wrap around her ankles, only to find that the severed mist emitted a foul stench like rotting flesh. She immediately retreated, ice crystals blooming beneath her feet to create an escape path.

The soldiers in the center of the battlefield weren't so lucky. A young soldier curiously touched the mist with the tip of his sword, and his entire arm instantly withered and shrank, like a tree branch drained of its moisture. Before he could even scream, his body had turned into a hunched, desiccated corpse.

"Form ranks! Purify!" Leonard tightened the reins, but his warhorse neighed and collapsed the moment its forehooves touched the mist. He rolled awkwardly on the ground, watching helplessly as his mount turned into a skeleton covered in white fur in a few breaths.

Just then, a sharp, shattering sound like glass breaking echoed from the sky. Ritsuka, covered in blood, plummeted from the void, only to be caught by the onrushing Kalia. The Valkyrie armor on the girl was dissipating, revealing her bare skin covered in spiderweb-like bloodstains.

"Sei Shonagon!" Kalia shouted to the poet, simultaneously conjuring a giant icy hand to scoop him up. Just as the three leaped onto the tower of the Eternal Lamp, the purplish-black mist below suddenly began to boil.

Machia hovered above the ruins, her long hair dancing like seaweed in the gale. She tore open her own chest, and the extracted spirit core pulsated with a heartbeat. The instant the spirit core touched the rain, the entire rain curtain over Ensos City turned blood red.

【Curse me! You corrupt and lowly fairy kingdom, wreak havoc! The unforgivable sins of the fairies—the surging and eroding forces of nature, the earth-shattering floods, no matter how many times, will corrupt your very existence! Spreading across everything! Blood Rain—Noah's Flood!】

The trajectory of the falling blood rain began to distort, weaving into a massive magical circuit in the air. Crimson steam rose from the blood-soaked land, coalescing into a torrential downpour that lasted for forty days and nights. This was no ordinary flood, but a law-level attack that replaced the concept of 'water' with 'blood'.

The first soldier to come into contact with the flood let out a horrific scream. His armor dissolved in the blood, and his exposed skin melted like candle wax. Even more terrifying, the flood was draining his magic and life force; within the time it takes for three heartbeats, the living warrior was reduced to a dried-up corpse adrift in the current.

"Retreat! Everyone retreat!" Leonard shouted hoarsely, only to see his personal guards struggling in the blood-soaked waves. One soldier tried to evaporate the flood with fire magic, but instead, the blood coiled around his casting arm like venomous snakes, and his entire arm instantly withered into charred, dry bones.

Sekel struggled to activate his spatial magic, but the portal twisted and collapsed amidst the rain of blood. Blood flowed back into his body through the magic circuits, causing the spatial mage to swell up like an overinflated balloon before finally bursting into a cloud of blood mist.

Leonard drew his sword and plunged it into the ground, attempting to use the Wind King's Barrier to stop the flood. But the blood waves easily corroded the barrier, and the blood climbing the blade caused his entire right arm to begin to fester. In his final moments, he saw Machia hovering in the center of the blood rain, her eyes burning with a thousand years of resentment staring at him.

'This is... Ioruf's...' The knight commander's unfinished words were completely swallowed by the wave of blood.

Ritsuka weakly opened her eyes atop the tower. She saw blood flooding every corpse in the square, breaking them down into nourishment for the flood. The soldiers who had participated in the massacre writhed and screamed in the blood, eventually turning into bare bones. When the flood receded, the entire city of Ensos was covered in dark red blood crystals, resembling an unhealable wound under the light of the eternal lamps.

Side Quest: Winter War / Immeasurable - Fairy Round Table Realm, Poem of Eternal Mist

On the northern coast of the Fairy Kingdom, the Imaginary Tree, stretching upwards, still reigns supreme over the skyline. Its star-like branches whisper in the wind, scattering blue-purple dust that adorns the ruins like a dream. Mashu stands amidst the broken walls and rubble, her fingertips tracing the worn edge of her shield—this is the seventh day and night she has spent with Vivian and Totolto searching for survivors in the deathly silence.

"Miss Vivian." Mashu finally broke the silence, her voice trembling in the sea breeze, "You said the Great Calamity just swept through here... Is it really possible that any living beings will survive? I've witnessed that kind of destruction with my own eyes..."

The golden-haired prophetic child halted, her ponytail brushing against the silver armor draped over her shoulder. She gazed at the specks of light drifting down from the distant trees, as if deciphering celestial cryptic messages. 'The tides of calamity always recede,' her voice was as calm as a frozen lake, 'while ants always know how to find a crevice in the torrent.' Her fingertips lightly traced the tender shoots emerging from the scorched earth, 'The once-in-a-millennium reckoning is etched into the very blood of the elves—long before His Majesty Morgan built his walls, we eked out a living in the gaps of calamity.'

Mashu's throat tightened with more questions, but they were frozen by the surging fear in her memory. The illusion of Kornunos hovering above Norwich continued to gnaw at her sanity—a gaze different from the awe she felt towards Tiamat in Uruk, but a more ancient, colder one, as if the weight of the entire world pressed down on her retina. If such a being had just trampled across this land...

She suddenly shivered. A purplish-black slime was seeping from the barren land, and countless scarlet eyes opened in the murky swamp. A twisted Moss crawled out of the humus, its joints creaking painfully, its rotting mouthparts snapping towards the three vibrant souls.

"This is our mission." Vivian's warm hand suddenly grasped Mash's cold fingertips, the Holy Lance's radiance coalescing into the shape of a star anchor in her other hand. "Cleanse the cancerous cells left behind by the Mother Goddess. Miss Mash, can you hold the shield firmly?"

The girl took a deep breath, memories of three years of battle awakening within her. As the swarm of Morse surged forward like a tide, she took a half-step forward, the shockwave from her shield striking the ground reducing the three nearest monsters to dust. 'I am no longer a fledgling needing protection,' a burning determination blazed in her golden eyes. 'Let me be your unwavering shield.'

A faint smile played on Vivian's lips. They all knew that cleansing this land, stained by a thousand years of calamity, was like evaporating an entire ocean with a candle flame. But as the light of the Holy Lance and the shadow of the cross shield intertwined, the three tiny figures finally tore through the first rays of dawn in the purplish-black tide.

The seemingly endless mission to subdue Moss was actually incredibly tense and terrifying. Whether it was Mashu or Vivian, once injured by Moss, the [Deposited Curse of Sin] would immediately corrode their flesh and assimilate them into these disgusting creatures. Even though this daily battle seemed endless, having come this far, Mashu had to complete her mission. Because before that, her predecessor was waiting for her triumphant return! And so, Mashu wiped the blood from her body again and again, resolutely raising her shield and rising once more. Even if she was exhausted, she absolutely could not let her long-cherished wish fail here! But, this is what she was thinking…

Eternal Calendar

The city of Mecarus gleamed like gold coins under the eternal sunlight. The shouts of merchants and the sound of wheels rolling over the cobblestones wove together a harmonious melody, which, to Sherlock sitting in his ivory office, was the most melodious lullaby.

He took a deep drag of his Havana cigar, letting the smoke rings swirl in the room filled with rare treasures. He casually kicked an open chest beside him, the clinking of gold coins making him squint. Afternoon sunlight streamed through the stained-glass windows, casting shimmering patterns of light on the jade ring on his finger.

'Should I go to the East District or the docks this afternoon...' he muttered to himself, licking his yellowed teeth with his tongue. 'You can always squeeze a few more drops of oil from the bones of those poor devils...'

A knock on the door shattered his reverie. "Get in here!" he yelled impatiently, cigar ash falling onto the Persian carpet.

The servant nervously pushed open the door: "Master, Miss Jessica and the two young masters have returned..."

In an instant, Sherlock seemed to have been transformed. He abruptly stubbed out his cigar, quickly straightened his silk tie, and smoothed out the wrinkles of his previous greed with an iron-like smile. "Please," his voice suddenly became clear and resonant, "I have something important to discuss with you."

When the three figures appeared in the gilded doorway, the stench of money in the room seemed to vanish. Jessica's blonde hair shimmered like honey in the sunlight, while Lorenzo and Bassanio stood on either side. The serene smiles on their faces were a stark contrast to the gloom they had displayed in the northern countryside.

"Perfect timing, my dear children." Sherlock opened his arms warmly, subtly kicking the chest full of gold coins into a corner. "Have those experiments of the superior races brought any surprises to Her Majesty the Queen?"

Jessica and Lorenzo exchanged a smile, but the smile didn't reach their eyes.

"Father probably overestimated those remnants." Jessica fiddled with the pearl necklace around her neck. "Before the barrier left by the Eternal King, they weren't even toys."

Lorenzo elegantly adjusted his cufflinks: 'Instead of wasting magic summoning the spirits of the old era, it's better to cultivate a blade truly belonging to this age.'

Sherlock let out a low chuckle. "What's the rush? Those are just pebbles thrown out to test the waters." He strolled to the window, his gaze sweeping over the shadowy figures swaying at the street corner. "Since someone's watching us, we should at least send some gifts. But you..." He suddenly turned, a venomous glint in your eyes, "...must continue to put on a good show of this family comedy."

In the shadows downstairs, Monica covered her mouth tightly. She had only intended to gather evidence of Sherlock's exploitation of the common people, but she had unexpectedly overheard this mind-blowing conversation. Jessica, who claimed to be severing ties with her father, and Lorenzo, who claimed to have been forced into a marriage—they were now standing in the Greedy Demon's office, discussing a conspiracy to overthrow the kingdom, both wearing identical, cold smiles.

The light spots cast by the stained glass windows shimmered on the ground, like scattered gold coins or countless prying eyes.

Monica clenched her fists, her nails digging deep into her palms. 'Fine…' she forced a cold laugh through clenched teeth, 'So the miser's trunk contained the flag of rebellion.'

She swept out of the mansion like a gust of wind, her pomegranate-red shawl fluttering behind her. But in that instant of turning, four faces were vaguely reflected in the study windowpane—Sherlock's relaxed eyelids suddenly lifted, Jessica's fingertips lightly touched the corner of her lips, and Lorenzo and Bassanio exchanged glances in the shadows. The same lines appeared on all four faces: the smile of a fisherman seeing his bobber tremble.

"Since you've heard it all—" a whisper from the depths of the mansion followed her footsteps, "then prepare yourself to become a specimen, dear Monica Gitana."

In the days that followed, Monica's familiar hovered day and night above the couple. The images it brought back were always flawless: Jessica's reddened ear tips as she adjusted Lorenzo's bow tie, their clasped hands during afternoon tea, their silhouettes cuddling on the balcony under the moonlight. Every detail spoke of the couple's deep affection, which ironically made the observer feel uneasy.

One lazy afternoon, bathed in sunshine, Monica stepped into the open-air café in her military boots. Instantly, the tables and chairs creaked, and all the guests bowed like ears of wheat bent by the wind.

"Relax." Monica waved her hand casually, the armor clinking against the ceramic cup in front of Jessica. "I just envy you two for always being able to enjoy such peaceful times."

Lorenzo knocked over the sugar jar as he stood up: 'Captain Knight, you jest... Aren't you going to patrol the slums today?'

'Those lawsuits where people tear each other apart over half a copper coin…' Monica sighed, her cat ears twitching alertly under her hat brim. 'They're much easier than dealing with Sherlock's loan sharks—I heard he's recently started collecting human flesh as payment for his debts?'

Jessica's fingers, gripping the spoon handle, turned slightly white: "Father always manages to push the boundaries, doesn't he?" Her movements as she scooped up the sugar cube resembled digging a grave. "Her Majesty's decree is nothing but scrap of paper to him; after all, no one can produce the crucial evidence..."

"If only a hero could reveal his true colors," Lorenzo suddenly interjected, stirring the silver spoon in his cup. "Unfortunately, there's no fool like that in all of Britain."

Monica's tail bristled under her armor. Looking into her two blue eyes reflecting the clear sky, she suddenly remembered the wooden dummy on the training field—no matter how many times you pierced it, no real blood would flow.

"It seems we'll have to end our conversation here for today." She straightened her sword and rose, the metal heels of her boots scraping against the sunlight-dappled ground. "Have a pleasant date, both of you."

As the knight's cloak disappeared around the corner, the café once again filled with the sweet sound of piano music. Jessica picked up her cooled tea, leaving a bright red lipstick mark on the rim. In the distance, the clock tower struck the hour, startling a flock of pigeons that fluttered past their smiling lips.

Monica turned back at the corner of the alley, catching one last glimpse of the couple sharing a single scone. Her animal ears twitched violently, as if she could hear the clinking of coins in a money box—some truths, if you can't pry them open, you have to dig them out yourself.

Some truths are like thin ice beside an abyss; glimpsing them from afar is enough to stop you. If you insist on breaking through the ice to peer into the darkness, you will inevitably be swallowed whole by the surging chill.

[Since you insist on playing the all-knowing detective, Monica Gitana, we're just missing a protagonist who wakes up at the climax of the tragedy. The stage is set; please enter.]

***

At dawn the next day, before the morning mist had fully dissipated at the northern exit of Mecca, the gilded armor shattered the city's silence. A member of the royal guard staggered, grabbing for his foot on the battlements, his rapid breath condensing into white mist in the cold wind: 'Lady Monica! The carriage is heading towards Oxford; the wheels have already crossed the third boundary marker!'

The watchtower's wind flags fluttered, and Monica's fingertips traced the engravings on the sword hilt. Just as she suspected—the pair of mandarin ducks, startled, had ultimately chosen to flap their wings and fly to the safety of the bushes. After all, on Liliana's pioneering map, Oxford was still a desolate land marked by herds of beasts and swamps, the perfect cocoon to hide secrets.

'A guilty fox always leaves a foul smell.' Her armor joints clicked like a viper's tongue as she sneered. 'I thought Jessica was a lark trapped in a chrome cage, but it turns out she's a puppet willingly dancing in chains.'

"Should we deploy the hidden sentries?" The guards unfolded a map of the city's defenses. "The patrol pressure on the royal city is relatively light today..."

"Too many people will only scare the fish out of their nest," Monica interrupted, her cloak billowing in a crimson arc at the edge of the battlements. "Since they've orchestrated this elaborate escape drama, I'll naturally have the VIP seat all to myself."

As the sound of hooves faded at the end of the road, she transformed into a golden lightning bolt and leaped into the clouds. A levitation spell drew transparent ripples across the sky, and a magical barrier merged her figure into the flowing cloud shadows. However, the carriage below wandered aimlessly, like a headless fly, tracing chaotic spirals through the wheat fields of the central plains. For two hours, the ruts repeatedly rolled over the same alfalfa field, as if an unseen hand were manipulating the reins.

As the sundial's pointer veered toward noon, the strange carriage finally swayed and turned east. Monica suppressed her doubts and gave chase, but just as she passed a withered oak tree, she crashed into a transparent barrier—sparks flew everywhere, and the magical backlash made her teeth tingle.

The once open plain now stands as a towering ruin. Collapsed archways are covered in moss, and broken towers pierce the clouds; every brick exudes a decaying aura that is out of step with this era. Further away, the forbidden sea surges in the thick fog, and the dull thud of chains being dragged can be faintly heard from the gray-white mist.

The carriage had long since vanished into a misty phantom. Monica stroked the hilt of her sword, her cat ears catching the hum of her magic circuits in the eerie silence. This was no Oxford, but an intricately woven spiderweb—and she had landed on its most vulnerable thread.

The moment the white mist exploded, the ear-piercing sound of carapaces scraping together was imminent. Three pairs of chelicerae burst out of the mist, their massive pincers, covered in barnacles, aimed straight for Monica's throat with a stench—but the instant they touched her pomegranate-red hair, they were entangled by thorns that sprang up from the ground.

'A mere trick!' Monica lightly touched the ruins with her toes, incantations flowing from her lips. Thorny vines tightened like giant pythons, the sound of shattering shells intertwining with the mournful cries of the hermit crab into a cruel symphony. The instant she flicked her fingers to gather her magic, the hermit crab transformed into countless crystalline fragments, raining down a shimmering, phosphorescent shower across the ruins.

"Brilliant." Bassanio emerged from the shadow of the crumbling archway, the applause monotonous like a funeral march. "Truly worthy of Her Majesty the Queen's beloved dog."

Jessica's figure emerged atop the broken pillar, her skirt brushing against the mottled stone surface: 'But a clever hound should know that some caves are not to be entered.' The ice crystals that had formed on her fingertips reflected Monica's suddenly contracted pupils.

'After wearing a mask of hypocrisy for so long, you've even started to believe it yourself, haven't you?' Monica sneered, a surge of scorching magic power coursing through her throat. 'Fire Technique: Thousand Sparrows!'

The fiery firebirds swarmed towards the three, only to be swallowed whole by the suddenly rising gargoyles before they could reach their target. Amidst the billowing gray smoke, three ghostly figures formed a triangular formation, blocking their escape route. Before Monica could even see their movements, a shattering pain shot through her cheekbone—Lorenzo's fist, enveloped in a cloud of air, slammed down, followed by Bassanio's knee that shattered her ribs, and finally, Jessica's high-heeled boots sent her flying like a broken puppet against a stone pillar.

Cough! Blood mixed with fragments of internal organs splattered onto the ancient bricks. The witch struggled to form a hand seal, but found that the ice spikes that had formed from the tips of her hair were strangely twisting in mid-air—the shadow beneath Bassanio's feet was turning into a venomous snake and coiling around her shadow.

'Forbidden Technique: Shadow Puppet.' The black-haired boy clasped his hands together, and Monica's limbs twisted uncontrollably. 'Her Majesty Liliana shouldn't have entrusted the key to the Forbidden Technique Vault to the watchdog.'

Jessica's ice axe traced a deadly arc in the sunlight. At the critical moment, the scattered vine debris suddenly sprang up, withered branches forming a shield like loyal guards. With a dull thud as the ice blade cleaved through the wood chips, Monica bit her tongue and chanted an ancient incantation—the thorns stained with her blood suddenly bloomed into bewitching red flowers, their man-eating stamens snapping at the caster's shadow.

"Grow!" Monica roared, pouring her remaining magic into the earth.

The blood-stained vines, like a dying python, suddenly raised their heads, screeching as they slammed into Bassanio. The shadow's restraints crumbled instantly, but the icy axe's chilling edge had already torn through the air—her left arm flew off her torso, blood blooming into a ghastly red mist at the severed point. Before the pain could fully engulf her senses, four rusty iron chains pierced through her limbs, nailing her shattered body to the altar like a specimen.

Lorenzo's boots crunched over the rubble, and Sherlock emerged from the depths of the ruins, wielding his gilded cane. At that moment, the same golden halo shimmered in the pupils of all four, and even the twisted curve of their lips mirrored each other like a reflection.

'Such a stubborn observer.' Overlapping voices spilled from four mouths simultaneously, like the tolling of ancient bells echoing through ruins, 'But the nightingale, overly curious, will eventually have its throat pierced by thorns.'

The excruciating pain shattered Monica's vision, and fragments of memory churned wildly in her mind—the worried faces of her bodyguards just hours before, her resolute declaration of "investigating alone," all now felt like ice spikes piercing her heart. She stared at those inhuman pupils, her voice filled with a heart-wrenching question: "What...what kind of monsters are you?!"

Shadows rose and coalesced beneath the four figures, solidifying into a pale dragon's silhouette in the void. 'I am the embodiment of the British self-destruct system, the lowly king Vortigern, gnawing at civilization.' The dragon's roar sent shards of rock scattering. 'Thank you for your splendid performance; now it's time for the curtain to fall.'