Fairy Round Table Realm, Poem of Eternal Mist

"Pfft! Pfft! Pfft—!!!"

The muffled sounds of sharp blades slicing through flesh and breaking bones rang out one after another, sounding particularly clear and cruel in the empty and deathly silent hall.

Morgan didn't even have time to react. Her body jolted violently, and she staggered forward before collapsing to the ground, powerless and heavy, as if all her bones had been removed. Warm blood gushed from several deep, horrific wounds on her back, quickly pooling beneath her into a growing, viscous, crimson stain.

She lay on the cold ground, her face turned to the side, her icy purple eyes slightly wide open, gazing at Bavanshi, who was being carried like a tattered doll by Lipkaner not far away. Those eyes, which always held authority, wisdom, or cold calculation, were now filled only with boundless despair and emptiness, as if capable of swallowing the world. Fragments of the past flashed rapidly through her fading consciousness like a revolving lantern—

[Initially... when I awoke from the ice... I was merely a delicate flower in a greenhouse, carefully protected. I was not a witch, not a savior, just... a 'little princess' who was endlessly pampered by His Majesty and knew nothing of the world's dangers.]

Her Majesty Liliana… she never told me that such a heavy fate and endless betrayals awaited me.

[It wasn't until that 'fairy queen' from pan-human history entrusted everything to me... that I first learned of the cursed fate that the name 'Morgan' carried.]

That woman who has no place in the pan-human history... I am different from her.

I love this place. I love this land of Britain, I love the skies of the fairy kingdom… I love it more deeply, more desperately than Her Majesty Liliana.

I chose to live a life that defies the trajectory of 'Morgan' in pan-human history... I have fought for two thousand years for the entrustment His Majesty entrusted to me, for this land I love so deeply...

I...cannot abandon...

The shattered consciousness sank and floated in the excruciating pain and the chilling cold of blood loss, finally coalescing into a faint, almost vanished, lament and resentment emanating from the deepest recesses of the soul:

"I...don't want to..."

Perched atop the jade throne steps, Nocnarria, who had been admiring this "spectacular" scene, had a gleam of near-maniacal excitement in her eyes. She abruptly stood up, her shrill voice piercing the deathly silence of the hall like a poisoned dagger:

"Oh? She's still alive! Quick! What are you waiting for?! Go up there! Kill this damned witch! Finish her off!!!"

"What do you want to do to her?!"

The furious roar, like the howl of a wounded lioness, carrying a chilling aura and destructive wind pressure, shattered the deathly and bloody atmosphere between the thrones!

"boom--!!!"

With a deafening crash, the heavy palace doors were smashed and shattered by an overwhelming force! Immediately following, countless sharp-edged ice spikes, gleaming with a deadly light, shot through the broken doorway like a blizzard, their piercing shrieks instantly engulfing the several righteous knights attempting to finish off Morgan inside the palace, as well as Nocnarria, who was excitedly rising from the steps of the throne and shrilling his urging!

"Puff puff puff puff—!!!"

The muffled thuds of blades piercing flesh echoed one after another! The Knights of the Righteous Order didn't even have time to raise their shields before being pierced through their armor by a dense barrage of ice spikes, pinned to twisted, bloody heaps, and falling to the ground screaming in agony. Noknarria's maniacal laughter froze on her face. She tried to retreat in horror, but several ice spikes still grazed her arms and cheeks, leaving trails of blood and torn fabric. Had she not instinctively turned to the side and activated her protective magic, she would likely have followed in the footsteps of those knights.

Immediately afterwards, an even more violent and invisible force pressed down like a collapsing sky!

"Whoosh—buzz—!!!"

That was pure wind pressure, compressed and condensed to the extreme, like an invisible giant hand slamming down! The remaining righteous knights and throne fairies who were surrounding the spot where Morgan had fallen didn't even have time to utter a scream before being crushed and burst by this terrifying force in an instant! Their hard armor twisted and deformed, and their flesh and blood exploded like water-filled balloons!

"Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang—!!!"

The dense, muffled explosions were like the drumbeats of death! Crimson blood, shattered entrails, and broken bones gushed and splashed outwards like fountains! In an instant, the area within several meters of Morgan seemed to have been thoroughly washed and painted over by buckets of thick blood plasma! The walls, the floor, the pillars, and even the high-hanging curtains were covered with dripping blood and indistinguishable chunks of flesh. Limbs and severed bodies rolled all over the ground, and the pungent, nauseating stench of blood instantly filled the entire space, as if transforming it into the deepest part of a slaughterhouse.

The smoke and blood mist slowly settled.

Two figures, like vengeful goddesses returning from hell, stood at the entrance to the broken temple gate.

The fairy knight Gareth-Kalia, with icy blue eyes burning with a fury and grief strong enough to freeze the soul, exuded a chilling aura, and the ground beneath his feet quickly froze into a thick layer of frost.

The fairy knight Mordred-Sylph, her emerald eyes raging with fury, her usually nonchalant face now radiating only a chilling killing intent, and chaotic, dangerous air currents swirling and whistling around her.

However, when their gaze passed over the chaos and corpses, it finally landed on the figure they had risked their lives to protect—

Time seemed to have been completely frozen.

Their queen, Morgan, lay silently in the center of the thickest pool of blood. Her magnificent black robes, soaked with her own and others' blood, clung to her already lifeless body. The crown, a symbol of her royal power, had rolled aside, shattered into pieces, and lost its luster. The wand that had accompanied her for two thousand years lay forlornly not far away, the gem at its tip now extinguished. Her face was turned to the side, her icy purple eyes half-open and lifeless, filled with the despair, resentment, and unfathomable pain of her final moments, staring blankly into the void, no longer reflecting any light or shadow.

The body was already cold and stiff.

At the edge of that pool of blood, Lipkaner carelessly tossed the dying, barely recognizable red-haired girl, Bavanshi, onto the ground as if discarding trash. The girl's faint gasps were like a candle flickering in the wind.

The culprits behind all this—Aurora, Lipcanl, and Nocnarria—stood leisurely a short distance away, their bodies shimmering with magical energy, clearly having already set up defenses. Far from showing any panic, their faces wore expressions of near-pleasure, as if they were watching a captivating drama come to an end.

Aurora gracefully smoothed out non-existent wrinkles on her cuffs, a perfect yet utterly wicked smile curving her lips, her voice as light as if she were discussing afternoon tea:

“Oh dear, what a touching display of loyalty. It’s a pity…” She deliberately drew out her words, her gaze sweeping over Kalia and Sylph’s ashen faces, “You’re late, Queen’s most loyal head maid and… captain of the Royal Guard?”

She chuckled softly, a sound like a silver bell, yet more chilling than any curse.

"Hehehe... It seems that your loyalty has ultimately failed to change anything."

Lipkaner let out a disdainful sneer, his withered fingers stroking his chin, his cloudy eyes filled with smugness and mockery: "Hmph, only now? What's the use? Your 'His Majesty' is already a cold corpse. This Fairy Kingdom is now in our pocket. What? Are you trembling with anger, yet helpless?"

Nocnaria covered the cuts on her face from the icicles, her eyes still gleaming with excitement and greed. She stepped forward, as if she had already reached the pinnacle of power, and declared in a declarative tone: "Face reality! From this day forward, I—Nocnaria—am the only Queen of Britain! The woman you so desperately longed for, the woman you swore to serve to the death… is no more!"

Every word was like a poisoned ice pick, piercing deeply into the hearts of Kalia and Sylph, which had almost stopped beating after witnessing the horrific scene!

Anger, grief, regret, and the fury of being utterly fooled exploded in their chests like lava!

"Unforgivable...unforgivable!!!" Kalia's voice trembled and tore with extreme emotion. She stared intently at the three men, her icy blue magic surging wildly like a runaway blizzard. "So...that traitor Melusin! She was in cahoots with you all along! It was you! You orchestrated everything! I will make you—pay for His Majesty's life!!!"

Sylph didn't speak, but the storm in her emerald eyes had materialized, and the surrounding air shrieked under the strain. Her killing intent was colder and calmer than Kalia's, but also more terrifying.

However, faced with the impending outburst of vengeful fury from the two, Aurora showed no fear; instead, she revealed an even sweeter, more cruel smile. She gently raised a finger and shook it.

"Oh dear, you want to make a move? Too bad..."

Her gaze swept across the entire hall, as if she were admiring a meticulously arranged work of art.

"...It's too late. Haven't you realized it yet? From the moment you stepped into this palace, you can forget about ever getting out."

As soon as she finished speaking, Nocnarria and Lipcan burst into unrestrained, twisted laughter.

"Hahahaha—!!!"

“A ‘cell’ tailor-made for us…?” Sylph suddenly realized something, her emerald eyes instantly sharpening like knives as she scanned the surrounding walls and ceiling.

“That’s right.” Aurora’s smile deepened. “Stay here. With your ‘beloved’ Queen…”

Accompanied by the three men's undisguised, arrogant, and malicious laughter, their figures blurred and became transparent like ink drops thrown into water, before completely dissipating into the air—clearly a pre-prepared spatial teleportation magic trick.

And at the very moment they disappeared—

"Buzz—!!!"

A massive, heavy magical barrier, imbued with an absolute will to isolate and seal, instantly enveloped the entire hall, centered on the jade throne, like an inverted giant bowl! The barrier was a translucent dark gold, its surface flowing with countless complex and ancient sealing runes, radiating an indestructible and powerful aura that isolated the inside from the outside.

Sealing Barrier!

Moreover, it is a top-level, absolute sealing barrier specifically designed for powerful individuals, virtually impossible to break from the inside with brute force! In the entire Britain, perhaps only Morgan himself, with his unparalleled understanding of magic, could find a way to break this level of barrier.

but……

Kalia and Sylph turned sharply to look at the already cold body lying in the pool of blood.

His Majesty... is no longer here.

The last hope was extinguished completely as the body grew cold.

"No...no...Your Majesty...Your Majesty!!!"

Kalia staggered toward Morgan, her trembling hand trying to touch his pale, cold face, but recoiled violently as if burned. Overwhelmed by grief, she collapsed to her knees in the pool of blood, her icy blue eyes blurred with tears, emitting a desperate and helpless sob like a cub losing its mother.

Sylph stood frozen in place, her emerald eyes fixed on the dark golden barrier that blocked all hope and escape, then slowly moved to Morgan's corpse on the ground, and then to the dying Bavanshi not far away... Finally, she slowly, slowly knelt down, her hands weakly supporting her on the cold, sticky ground, her shoulders trembling violently.

There was no roaring, no howling.

Faced with an absolute disparity in power and a meticulously planned conspiracy, faced with the reality of witnessing the tragic death of those sworn to serve to the death, yet being powerless to reverse the situation, faced with the desperate predicament where even revenge is blocked by this damned barrier...

The two elf knights, who had once struck fear into the hearts of countless enemies, could only now, amidst the blood-soaked hall and the cold corpses of their companions, utter their suppressed, broken cries, drowned in endless despair and regret…

sobbing.

Tears mingled with blood, yet could no longer warm anything.

Darkness completely enveloped this former center of power, swallowing up the last glimmer of light.

-

"Uh...where is this...?"

Consciousness, like fragments rising from a sunken ship, slowly pieced together. The first sensation was not the coldness or emptiness one would expect in the land of death, but rather a... soft touch, carrying the unique, slightly astringent fragrance of grass.

She struggled to open her eyes, and her vision gradually cleared from blurry.

Above me stretched a pristine, almost unreal, azure sky, with wisps of white clouds drifting lazily by. Beneath me lay soft, dense grass, slightly damp and cool. A gentle breeze caressed my face, carrying a refreshing and invigorating scent that dispelled the heavy, lingering smell of blood and gunpowder from my memories.

Where is this place...?

Am I... dead?

She tried to move, but excruciating pain immediately shot through her limbs, especially from the deep, bone-revealing cuts on her back, which nearly made her faint again. The grass beneath her was stained crimson with blood seeping from her wounds, a horrifying sight.

Just as she gritted her teeth, enduring the excruciating pain as she tried to prop herself up—

A hand steadily and gently supported her arm.

The touch of that hand... was warm and dry, carrying an indescribable, instantly reassuring power. The touch was so familiar, so familiar, that Morgan shuddered violently, as if an electric current had instantly surged through her spine, even the excruciating pain in her body strangely blurring and receding at that moment.

She turned her head slowly and incredulously.

What came into view was a beautiful face with a gentle smile, yet tinged with helplessness and heartache. Her long golden hair swayed gently in the breeze, and her purple eyes, like amethyst crystals filled with starlight, gazed at her quietly and intently.

"……His Majesty……?"

Morgan's voice was dry and hoarse, almost out of tune, and his eyes were filled with extreme shock and bewilderment, as if he were seeing a phantom that could never possibly appear.

“It’s me.” Liliana—the first child of Paradise, Morgan’s creator and mentor—responded softly, gently supporting Morgan’s arm to help her sit up more comfortably, her movements as tender as if handling a fragile treasure. “Don’t move around too much, Ash. You’re badly injured… I need some time to help you fully recover.”

"Your Majesty! It really is you...you..." Morgan desperately wanted to confirm, her icy purple eyes fixed on the other person as if they would disappear in the blink of an eye. Too many questions and too many emotions were stuck in her chest, leaving her speechless for a moment.

Liliana's gaze carefully swept over Morgan's face, inch by inch. When her eyes fell on Morgan's long hair, which had turned silver and was streaked with dry strands, her brows furrowed imperceptibly, and her eyes revealed deep incomprehension and sorrow.

"Your hair...why did it become like this?" Her fingertips gently touched the strand of silver hair that Morgan had tied into a ponytail, her voice filled with confusion and a barely perceptible tremor. "I remember...when I froze you and sent you into the River of Time, your hair...was clearly still the same golden color as mine. What...did happen?"

She supported Morgan, letting her lean on her shoulder so she could better tend to the gruesome wounds. Gazing at her so closely, she could see more clearly the subtle lines and weathered marks etched on Morgan's face by the long years and countless hardships. Those once clear, bright, curious, and hopeful ice-blue eyes now held a deep, unfathomable weariness, a sense of vicissitude, and an inescapable sorrow.

Liliana's heart felt as if it were being gripped tightly by an invisible hand.

She raised her hand, her fingertips trembling almost imperceptibly, and gently stroked a few stray strands of silver hair on Morgan's forehead, her gesture filled with tenderness and... a deep sense of guilt.

"Fan...I'm sorry..." Her voice was soft, yet heavy as a thousand pounds, as if each word carried a weight that transcended time and space, "It seems...I still made you...bear too much, too much that you shouldn't have to bear..."

She paused for a moment, a deep pain and regret flashing in her purple eyes.

"If I had done better back then... if I had foreseen further, perhaps..."

"His Majesty……"

Morgan opened his mouth, as if to say something. Did he want to tell Her Majesty about the hardships and perseverance of the past two thousand years? Did he want to recount the loneliness and betrayals he had endured along the way? Did he want to defend himself, saying he had not failed her expectations? Or did he want to ask her why she had appeared at this moment?