I, Guinevere, am going to crush you, you curry stick, today!

Click!

The crisp snapping sound came belatedly, but the sword, still coming down with overwhelming force, was aimed directly at him. A distance of one or two hundred meters, covered in a single step… such explosive power was almost at the level of a king…

Despite the looming shadow of death, Bedivere still had the composure to make this judgment, because he knew he would not die so easily—

"Lord Betty, it seems you're going to get nagged by Steward Kai for ages again, really..."

The sound of the zither suddenly began!

The sound flowed like a spring, and the magic intertwined and changed with the invisible musical notes, transforming into several crystal clear and shiny silver threads, like a spider web, which blocked the powerful slash of the attacker at the critical moment!

"...How sad."

The silk thread was soft and resilient, making it the perfect counter to swords and other sharp weapons. Although the sword was clearly exceptionally sharp, after it had already severed a spear, it was unable to continue tearing through the silver net with overwhelming force. Instead, it was jolted backward and nearly slipped from the sword's grasp.

Bedivere seized the opportunity to retreat, drawing his spare longsword and placing it in front of Tristan. The red-haired knight's eyes were slightly open, his fingers moving incessantly, weaving more strings into threads, circle after circle, until in an instant the girl was completely enveloped: "Put down your weapons and surrender, these threads are..." sharper than you think.

Before he could finish his persuasion, the girl took another step forward without hesitation, as if she hadn't even noticed that she was trapped. Bedivere's expression changed upon seeing this. As his partner, he knew how powerful the sound string was: "Sir Tristan, spare her!"

"I know!"

Tristan's tone grew agitated. This man clearly had some connection to the king, and even if it was just a coincidence, he didn't intend to kill a minor girl so easily. But before the red-haired knight could retract his strings, the girl moved even faster, her raised arm already colliding with the tangled web of silver threads—

A flash of light!

The cloak wrapped around her arms shattered into countless pieces, scattering like butterflies in the wind. The iron arm armor beneath also fell apart. But the last exposed half of her fair wrist easily ripped open the net of sound strings with a flick of her wrist, leaving no mark or bloodstain on her fair skin.

"This……"

A startled cry, a bellyful of questions, and in a flash, the girl who had broken free of her restraints swung her sword. Just as it was about to whistle and strike, Bedivere gritted her teeth, held the sword horizontally, and prepared to use her body as a shield, hoping to at least slow down her opponent and give Tristan a chance to escape...

"what?"

Eyes facing each other.

The girl suddenly paused, startled: "You are... Bedivere?"

His gaze passed over his shoulder, and he seemed to pause for a moment: "That's Tristan...you...are good people, I..." Before he could finish speaking, he sheathed his sword and turned to flee!

The turn of events happened too quickly and too suddenly. Bedivere hadn't even had time to lower his sword before he watched helplessly as his opponent vanished like an arrow at the other end of the woods. A moment later, a wave of fear washed over him.

He lowered his longsword, feeling his arm trembling uncontrollably: "That was..."

"Unleashing magic is my king's specialty."

Tristan behind him breathed a sigh of relief.

"Sir Tristan, I'm sorry... if I hadn't stopped you just now..."

“This has nothing to do with you. You saw it yourself, my attack couldn’t hurt her at all. We were both going to lose the fight anyway. At least we can lose like this, like knights.” With a casual wave of his hand, the harp rang out, carrying a strange magic that slightly calmed Bedivere’s surprised and doubtful feelings.

"……Thanks."

Tristan chuckled, but the laugh sounded somewhat dry: "Although I don't know who she is, I suddenly feel... I can understand the rumors on King Lyons' side now."

"What rumors?"

"Even if you wrestle bare-handed with a brown bear, never encounter King Arthur when you are alone. Because the former might have a slight chance of winning, but the latter... unless you believe you can kill a dragon."

"Ah……"

"Anyway, let's go back and tell Wang and Merlin about this first."

"it is good."

Bedivere nodded, but he was puzzled.

The girl knew me and Lord Tristan... Could it be that she really had some connection with the king?

……

“Bedewell…Tristan…Niemann, Lily…”

So many faces, so many names, surface in my memory—things I've never personally experienced, lands I've never set foot on, yet they feel so real, so real that I would never doubt whether they actually happened…

"I……"

Her mind was a jumbled mess; the more she tried to think, the more confused she became, and a sharp pain surged through her. The girl clutched her head, staggering as she ran, oblivious even as she was about to crash into a tree—

boom!

Magic coursed through her body, and she slammed her head against a tree that would take three or four people to encircle. Half of the tree snapped in two and was sent flying through the air by the impact. But the girl herself was not unharmed: thick blood streamed down her face, and the physical pain mixed with mental anguish made her even more agitated and restless.

Boom boom boom boom boom!

More trees snapped and flew into the air, birds and beasts scattered in panic, and the girl continued to run, as if trying to escape from something... The arm armor, foot armor, and skirt armor that had been torn apart in the battle had all disappeared without a trace, leaving only a close-fitting garment that outlined the curves of her still-developing body.

suddenly.

The figure rushing forward came to an abrupt halt. Amidst the swirling dust in the forest, the disheveled girl, her face covered in blood, stopped and reached out to grasp the trembling hilt of the sword—as she had been running wildly, the sword had seemed to be alive, constantly chasing after her.

The strange power vanished abruptly once it was grasped, the sword's edge sinking as its heavy weight returned to the girl's palm. She wiped the blood from her face with her free hand, squinting one eye as she warily watched ahead.

next moment.

A dusty gray cloak emerged from behind a tree.

“I was discovered.”

The crystal cane tapped lightly on the ground, and beneath the worn wide-brimmed hat, a pair of beautiful eyes observed the girl with keen interest. Her face bore a striking resemblance to Artoria's, and the sword she held…

If I'm not mistaken, isn't this the Sword of Victory that Merlin mentioned was just stolen?

"you……"

Just as Guinevere was pondering whether to ask about the other person's relationship with Artoria first, or to treat the other person's wounds and wipe away the blood, the girl opposite her, who had been wary and seemed to be hesitating whether to fight or continue to run away, also saw her face clearly.

At that moment, as if ice and snow were melting and flowers were blooming, an incredibly joyful smile appeared on the girl's blood-stained face.

"Fina! I knew you'd be here!"

With a loud shout, she casually tossed what appeared to be the Sword of Excalibur in her hand, and it hurtled towards her like a small cannonball, hitting Guinevere squarely—and this was not just a metaphor.

With the magic release continuously enhanced, the power of the girl's flesh-ball impact is probably no less than that of an Italian cannon.

Even more than that.

"Pfft!"

At least, that's what Guinevere herself thinks.

……

Chapter Thirteen: The True Form of the Illusion

"You are... Never mind, come over here first."

As winter approached, although it hadn't officially snowed yet, the temperature was getting colder day by day. Even though Guinevere had tried to be gentle, when the towel soaked in the stream touched the wound, the golden ahoge that had stood firm still trembled and stood up.

"Does it hurt?"

Her hands paused, and she looked at the familiar face so close to hers, asking softly.

The other person shook their head: "No..." They probably wanted to answer that it didn't hurt, but this action unexpectedly aggravated the pain. The blonde girl couldn't help but gasp, and the rest of her sentence came to an abrupt halt.

"It must hurt a lot, right? I feel like it hurts just looking at it."

While saying this, Guinevere used one hand to hold down the struggling blonde girl, suppressing her weak resistance, and continued to clean the various small wounds on her face and body: "But you have to bear the pain... If you don't clean it now, it will hurt even more if it gets infected later."

"Infect?"

The girl, who looked remarkably like Artoria, repeated the sentence, seemingly without understanding. She then tilted her head, her eyes sparkling as she looked at her: "You even know such profound words, Fina, you're so smart."

“Fina…”

Hearing this name from this person again, Guinevere couldn't help but frown slightly—this was originally her nickname in the dream world, and only a few close friends would call her that.

Back in reality, only a handful of people who remembered the dream knew the name Fina, such as Merlin, Morgan, or a certain young king. It was obvious that the person in front of them was none of them.

Even though at first glance the other person seemed exactly like Artoria, as the distance closed, Guinevere saw a hint of naiveté in the girl's eyes, and compared to the current King Arthur, she lacked the composure and confidence cultivated through years of experience and battles.

For a fleeting moment, she felt as if she had seen again the village girl from long, long ago, hesitating whether to draw her sword and bewildered after the sword in the stone "accidentally" broke.

However, time never returns, and people can never go back to the past.

The person before her was not Artoria, but had a face that was remarkably similar to hers, wielded the Excalibur lost from Avalon, and for some reason knew her nickname, and her attitude was excessively intimate.

Reason told Guinevere that this was definitely a trap, and perhaps even a scheme targeting her or Artoria.

But looking at the girl's innocent and trusting eyes, she inexplicably couldn't muster much wariness.

Perhaps out of affection for the girl, or perhaps because she instinctively felt that the other party meant no harm, Guinevere hesitated for a moment, then swallowed back the question that was already on the tip of her tongue, and continued to carefully clean the girl's wound.

But she didn't speak, while the girl kept talking to herself: "...When I woke up, I found that everyone was gone, and I couldn't find them anywhere...Fina Fina, I have something to tell you. I just ran into Bedivere and Tristan, but for some reason they attacked me for no reason. We were all companions...Were I affected by some kind of magic they used?"

Her muttering voice carried a deep sense of grievance, but then she suddenly laughed: "But it's okay, I know they're both good people, so I didn't attack, I just ran away... Fina Fina, did I do the right thing? Hiss—"

Did I hurt you?

"No, no, it doesn't hurt at all!" Despite tears welling in her eyes, the girl stubbornly insisted, "Knights don't feel pain!"

"Who said that."

"Ah...it was Mother who said that. Is there a problem?"

"Of course there's a problem. Knights are human too, and humans get hurt, and when they get hurt, they feel pain... That's perfectly normal."

The girl blinked, her gaze seemingly somewhat confused: "Is...that so?"

"That's right. So just say it when you feel pain, no one will laugh at you. Just like King Arthur of Calion, don't be fooled by his serious and dignified appearance, he was actually..."

As expected, she reacted to a certain word: "King Arthur...?"

"Yes, the son of King Uther, the mistress of South Wales, the wielder of the Holy Lance and the Sword of the Kings—you should have heard of her."

A gentle tone, a soft wiping motion, and a subtle gleam from the fingertips through the handkerchief—an invisible magic, like a gentle stream, gradually calmed the other person's anxious heartbeat.

Guinevere guided her thoughts: "Alto..."

"...Artoria Pendragon."

The name the girl murmured was not the well-known Altos, but a more feminine one, known to very few: Artoria.

“Your name is Artoria, that’s right.” Guinevere nodded, then asked in a relaxed tone, “And you, what’s your name?”

“I…” This was a question that anyone could answer easily, but the girl suddenly frowned, her expression showing struggle: “My name… Artoria Pendragon…”

"Indeed, that was King Arthur's name. What about you?"

"...King Arthur, I..."

What she had firmly believed suddenly became contradictory in those few words: she was Artoria Pendragon, she was Lily, a knight... whose mission was to save the country.

--wrong.

Another voice seemed to be refuting this from within.

—You are not King Arthur, and you could never be King Arthur.

Then I...

—Because of you…

If it weren't for King Arthur...

……who I am?

Before the girl could finish her self-talk, filled with confusion, she felt a chill between her brows as a slender, snow-white finger, glowing faintly, reached out to her.

With this simple action, the doubts and confusion that had filled her mind vanished instantly. She stared blankly at the white-haired woman in front of her: "Fen... Fenna..."

Yes, just like Artoria's name, the memories related to the person in front of her were also fake. The evidence was... Fina's gaze at her now, though as gentle as in her memories, held a hint of scrutiny and a lack of trust—the girl, realizing this difference, suddenly felt a little uncomfortable.

“I…” She didn’t even dare to look Guinevere in the eye, lowered her head and whispered, “I… don’t know, I don’t remember.”

"Don't you remember your own name?"

"Mmm, mmm..."

In a way, this was a predictable response. Guinevere thought for a moment: "Well, you probably don't have anywhere to go anyway, so why don't you come with me first..."

"do not want!"

The girl, who had been behaving very well, suddenly exerted force, catching Guinevere off guard. In addition, she was now using the relatively "gentle" Caster class, and was pushed back several steps.

She tapped her cane on the ground to steady herself, only to see the girl had already stood up and turned to leave. But after running a few steps, she suddenly turned back, giving her a strange, angry look: "Don't... don't look at me like that!"

After saying that, he really staggered and ran into the woods.