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

“I’ve heard rumors about the Sword of the Chosen King. It’s said that whoever can pull out this sword from the stone will become the King of Britain… It sounds so interesting, could I try to pull it out too?”

Facing a large group of restless knights, she asked.

Naturally, no one would agree to this "absurd" request.

"What a joke! Even we can't draw our swords, and you, a woman—"

"Besides, a little girl like you who hasn't even grown her first hairs yet, you think you can be the Queen of Britain? Hahahaha, that's hilarious!"

"Does Your Excellency mean that you do not think I am qualified to be king?"

"of course!"

"So--"

It is said that the young girl then gave a gentle smile and said, "Verbal arguments are meaningless. Since you think so, let's settle things with swords. If I lose, this sword—" referring, of course, to her own precious sword—" will be my apology gift. But if, by any chance, you gentlemen lose to a mere girl like me who hasn't even grown her hair yet..."

Only those who possess the power to save Britain can be acknowledged by this sword. These were Merlin's own words. Having said this, the knights, whatever their true feelings, at least nodded in front of the others. "If we lose to you in swordsmanship, we will leave immediately, and from now on we will treat you with utmost respect. We will agree to whatever you say, and if you go east, we will never go west!"

Under the watchful eyes of everyone, the bet was made.

As for the result...

"As you can see, all seven of them, without exception, had their swords broken on the very first strike. Their pitiful state was almost unbearable to watch," Kai said, shrugging.

"Is it because of... that sword?" Artoria asked.

But Kai just scoffed: "Al, you think you can lose to a complete novice with a sword? Losing is losing, what's there to make excuses for? Honestly, can't women learn swordsmanship? Short-sighted..."

"Hey Kai, why are you looking at me when you say that? I'm a guy..."

Artoria felt a little guilty.

Kai simply shook his head: "Fine, whatever you say."

"It's not that I'm saying it or not, it's that I really am..."

Before the words were even finished, on the other side, the middle-aged knight, whose face had turned a deep purplish-red from the girl's last sentence, finally spoke up in a muffled voice: "You took advantage of the sword..."

"What a shame."

Kai muttered something under his breath. Artoria looked at him helplessly, then looked at the arena, only to see the girl nod seriously: "That makes sense."

"Hey?"

Seemingly surprised by the other party's response, even the middle-aged knight himself was taken aback.

The girl then said, "To ensure fairness, how about we have another match using ordinary iron swords? But let me make this clear: the second time is different from the first. If there's any bleeding or injury, don't blame me." With that, she curled her lips into a smile, her small, white canine teeth flashing briefly in the sunlight.

A moment of silence.

The middle-aged knight snorted, "No need!" He took a step back, then another, glared fiercely at the girl, picked up his broken sword, turned and left, quickly disappearing into the crowd.

"Ah, sir, your sword..."

Seeing the broken sword on the ground, she raised her hand as if to shout, but the figure disappeared with incredible speed. The girl could only shake her head, swinging the sword as if to sheath it. But then, as if remembering something, she glanced around and asked, "Is there anyone else who disagrees?"

"..."

"Then I'll go up and draw my sword."

"..."

"I'm going to pull it out!"

No one answered. For a moment, even the whispers ceased, and the silence was so profound you could hear a pin drop. The girl spoke a few more words, and after obtaining the "silent agreement" of those around her, she sheathed her sword and walked briskly to the sword in the stone, reaching out her hand while glancing back at her surroundings.

"By the way..."

Suddenly, his sworn brother spoke, his voice barely audible, almost as if he were talking to himself: "Why is it that even though I know it's impossible, I still have this feeling..."

Artoria knew what the other person meant.

In that instant, as she watched the girl slowly extend her hand toward the hilt of the sword in the stone, a strange and absurd thought arose in her mind: perhaps this person really could pull out the sword from the stone.

Without reason or basis, it was just a sudden thought that inexplicably brought to mind the image of the girl pulling the sword from the stone and becoming a king. But at that moment, Artoria suddenly met another gaze.

Surprise, confusion, and a sense of utter helplessness as if the sky had fallen. The emotions contained in that gaze were so rich that she was first stunned, and then she realized that the owner of that gaze was none other than the girl standing in front of the sword in the stone.

The girl's hand was already on the sword hilt.

But as she stood before the large, square rock, she turned around and stared intently in that direction.

Their eyes met, as if it had only been a fleeting moment.

It felt like decades had passed.

The girl slowly, slowly widened her eyes, as if she were trying to say something, making several strange mouth shapes. However, Artoria had no idea what those mouth shapes meant; it didn't seem to be any language or dialect she had ever learned.

She subconsciously repeated it once.

"You...f***ing...are...you...joking...with...me...?"

P.S.: New book launch, please recommend, vote, and add to your favorites!

Chapter Four: He Discovers He's on the Moon!

Having transmigrated to this era, Guinevere harbors some doubts about certain things. This is because the world and the era she lives in differ significantly from the knowledge she gained from books and various media in her previous life.

Around the fifth century AD, the people of Great Britain had already begun eating potatoes and attempted to create a notorious reputation for culinary culinary disasters 1,500 years ago through various imaginative and bizarre methods. For example, a man from a neighboring country named Gawain, who later became a famous figure, was best known for his method of mashing whole potatoes without peeling them, skin and all, steaming them, and eating them directly. He proudly claimed that this was a dish that could definitely fill one's stomach.

If Guinevere hadn't known she couldn't beat that hearty, muscular gorilla, she would have really wanted to say that people who eat this stuff aren't actually full, they're practically choking to death...

With a miracle crop like the potato already established, things like chess pieces and paper—though not yet mass-produced and circulated only among the upper classes—seem insignificant. According to the court tutors, these things were originally introduced by the Roman Empire; apparently, in this timeline, Rome even conquered the Americas—how terrifying!

Besides all that, what surprised Guinevere the most was that this world truly, genuinely possessed so-called supernatural abilities. There were magical boars as tall as two or three buildings, wyverns flying through the sky, knights who could unleash powerful, heavy sword strikes, and druids playing on the grass…

She didn't know why, but she had a strange sense of familiarity. Especially when she learned that the former king who had been defeated by the King of the West and disappeared, and who was theoretically Arthur's father, was actually named Uther Pendragon, that feeling of déjà vu became even more pronounced.

It's important to understand that at this time in Britain, from the king to the beggar, virtually no one had a surname. Therefore, the legends of the Knights of the Round Table only mention names, perhaps with a nickname like Lancelot of the Lake, never specifying surnames or given names. In this context, the fact that only King Uther has a surname, and even then, it's a rather juvenile term like Pendragon, which seems quite out of place.

More importantly, she was certain she had seen the surname Pendragon somewhere before. But where exactly? Over a decade had passed, from an adult to a crying baby, and then back to adulthood. She couldn't quite remember what she had seen, heard, or played with in her previous life. Because of this, even though she constantly thought about it, Guinevere couldn't recall why she remembered the surname Pendragon.

Until now.

She was rather carefree and impulsive. Although she seemed quiet and reserved, she often caused quite a stir among those around her. Therefore, when the King of Scotland heard about the selection ceremony, he hurriedly sent his daughter away. On one hand, he trusted the child's abilities and hoped that she could bring some benefits to the kingdom. But more than that, he just wanted some peace and quiet.

Guinevere readily accepted and traveled south alone. She had learned swordsmanship from the chief knight of Scotland since childhood and had also made connections with the druids by chance. Despite the chaotic times, she was cautious along the way and did not encounter any major problems. When she arrived in this town, although she had no interest in the position that should have belonged to King Arthur, she couldn't resist taking the challenge and experiencing the atmosphere of the event.

As for the argument with a few people along the way, and the sword fight that silenced the onlookers, those were all just spur-of-the-moment things, done on a whim, and shouldn't be taken to heart. But to her utter surprise, just as she was about to draw her sword, she suddenly saw someone in the crowd.

A short boy with blond hair tied in a ponytail and a stubborn ahoge sticking up on his head...

More accurately.

That must be a girl dressed as a man—she noticed that the girl didn't have an Adam's apple—this appearance was all too familiar.

And so, in that moment of eye contact, some things resurfaced from the depths of memory, and many questions from the past ten years were answered one by one.

Why do people respectfully address Merlin as "The Magician" instead of the more common "Wizard"?

Why does King Uther have the surname Pendragon, and why does the name Pendragon sound so familiar to me?

Why did potatoes, chess pieces, and other things that shouldn't exist appear so many years ahead of schedule?

All of this has an explanation.

Because this is—

Oh, the moon!

……

Having lived for fifteen years since her transmigration, Guinevere finally discovered the "truth" of this world. She had actually transmigrated into the world of a game... Transmigration itself was already a fantasy, so any changes seemed less unacceptable.

Although ever since she learned she was a figure from the Arthurian legend, she had been contemplating how to change her fate—perhaps by eliminating a certain King Arthur's legacy, or even replacing him and creating a magnificent legend as Queen of Britain, so as not to embarrass her predecessors who had transmigrated before her… Thinking about it was exhilarating, but actually doing it was far from easy. First of all, the throne of the King of Scotland was not hers to hold, and any talk of future "ambitions and conquests" was even more out of the question. All the anxiety she had felt for over a decade vanished the moment she saw that domineering ahoge (cowlick) on her head, leaving her with a bittersweet feeling.

If she had known this was lunar history, and that King Arthur, the chosen one she had worried about for so long, was actually the knight-king Artoria, she would have…

Hey, wait.

It seems like the moon's history hasn't changed much?

The Queen was caught having an affair, Lancelot stormed the execution ground, Mordred rebelled, Arthur died in the Battle of Camlann... It seems like everything that was supposed to happen has happened!

Guinevere blinked.

I suddenly realized that I might have let my guard down too soon.

But before she could even catch her breath, she suddenly felt a chill on her left fingertips. The coldness instantly brought Guinevere back to her senses. They were still on their way to the king-selection ceremony; she had just caused a scene and was currently the center of attention. She could think about her troubles later when she was alone. In short, she needed to get out of there first.

Guinevere, having recognized the leading lady of a certain Type-Moon series, had long lost her initial enthusiasm for joining the fun. She only wanted to give it a quick tug or two as a token gesture before turning away to contemplate her life's most important matters. Specifically, she wondered if she should ask someone for an autograph later, though she didn't have any paper on her. Perhaps she could ask the person to sign it on her back? But wouldn't starting like this be a bit too intense? What if she scared the person away? She definitely needed to think things through more carefully...

A jumble of thoughts raced through Guinevere's mind as she took a deep breath. Suddenly, she noticed that the girl with the ahoge (cowlick) seemed to have shifted her gaze, now staring wide-eyed in a certain direction, her eyes filled with astonishment. That direction... seemed to hold the sword in the stone.

She suddenly had a bad feeling. When she looked over nervously, she saw that her five fingers were gripping the hilt of the holy sword stuck in the center of the stone—so far there was no problem, after all, she had originally come to try to pull out the sword.

The problem is that.

I don't know when, perhaps in the midst of my confusion, my left hand, gripping the sword hilt, unconsciously trembled a few times. And after those few gentle shakes…

The hilt is now positioned slightly higher than it was initially.

It's really just a tiny difference, the kind of difference you wouldn't notice unless you looked closely.

But Guinevere's heart was in turmoil.

She swallowed hard, shifting her body to try and block the view of the girl with the ahoge (a cowlick-like hair sticking up) and others, while cautiously raising her left hand.

Under her gaze, the sword in the stone also emerged halfway out.

The bright blade reflected a still somewhat immature face—an expression as if he had seen a ghost.

"..."

Guinevere and her reflection exchanged a silent glance.

With a sudden burst of force.

……

He sheathed the sword again.

……

P.S.: I have a slight fever, took some medicine but couldn't sleep in bed, so I typed some more on my phone... Anyway, a new book, a new beginning, please recommend, vote, and add to your favorites! Also, please post more reviews and comments if possible~

Chapter Five is different from what's written in the script!

After swiftly and decisively sheathing the sword, Guinevere wiped the cold sweat from her brow. Her first thought wasn't one of surprise, "Wow, I actually managed to pull this sword out!" but rather a shock, "How did I even manage to pull it out?!"

Even though Merlin spoke sweetly, saying that bloodlines didn't matter and only strength mattered, in her heart, she had long believed that only King Arthur—in this case, only Artoria herself—could pull the sword from the stone and become the knight king as everyone expected. This was an indisputable "historical fact." No matter how brave and skilled others were, they simply didn't have a chance. As for the possibility of her pulling the sword herself, she hadn't even considered it to be a fraction of a percent.

Moreover, to be fair, for a transmigrator who once lived in an era of information explosion, the so-called enjoyment of this era is actually not very satisfying. Even as a queen, the food, drink, clothing, and entertainment are nothing special. She can't have a hearty KFC family bucket meal, nor can she get a computer connected to the internet to play for three days and three nights. In other words, even if she pulls the sword from the stone in front of these people and is recognized as a woman to ascend the throne—which will undoubtedly cause a lot of trouble—she has no benefits to speak of other than this empty title.

Furthermore, Britain is currently beset by internal and external troubles. Externally, there is the invasion of the Saxons, and internally, there is the tyranny of the King of Britain. Being a king inevitably brings a lot of responsibilities and burdens, which is far less than being a princess of a country now, carefree and leisurely. Originally, I was worried about what would happen if I was forced to marry King Arthur in the future, but now this problem is no longer a problem. Although the living conditions are still not as good as in my previous life, compared with most people in this era, it is a life like that of a god.

Various thoughts surfaced in her mind, successfully pouring cold water on Guinevere's somewhat feverish mind and calming down this rather attention-seeking little princess.

For a fleeting moment, she genuinely wanted to draw her sword without thinking and see what kind of expressions the others would have—that would certainly be interesting. But when she thought that this "others" included a certain girl with a cowlick, Guinevere abandoned the idea. After all, she was a fan of the King in her past life, and now that she had been reincarnated, let's call her a "reincarnated King fan." How could she possibly brazenly steal the opportunity that belonged to the other person right in front of them... That would be far too shameless.

It's a long story, but from the moment she noticed the look in the eyes of someone who resembled a certain knight king, to the moment she forcefully pulled the sword, which had been partially pulled out, back into the stone, it was only a matter of a few seconds. Guinevere reacted extremely quickly and intentionally blocked the view of the onlookers. Most of the people present had not yet noticed what had happened, except for Artoria, whose eyes flickered with surprise and uncertainty.

But Guinevere had already released her sword hilt, pursed her lips, and tried to put on an expression of sulking because she couldn't draw her sword. She stomped out of the crowd in her little leather boots. The momentum from breaking the weapons of seven knights in one fell swoop was still there, so no one dared to mock her for a moment. They silently parted to make way for her. Only after she disappeared from sight did they start gossiping again.

Artoria listened for a while, but the topics were meaningless. They were either mocking the other woman for being presumptuous and wanting to be a queen, only to slink away with her tail between her legs, or they were lowering their voices to laugh at the seven knights for losing to a mere woman. The seven knights seemed to have heard her or not, their expressions varied. They clearly wanted to leave but didn't want to give others something to say about them. They were dejected, looking somewhat like little dogs that had been caught in the rain.

She handed the horse and lance to Kay, and then walked for a while, the two chatting idly. This was a typical scene, and after a while, the knights around them had reached a consensus in their debate: "Even if Merlin is King Uther's advisor, we don't necessarily have to choose a new king according to her methods!"

"With so many knights gathered here, there are countless ways to choose a king. Simply demonstrate your strength as a knight, and the most outstanding one will inherit the mantle of the late King Uther, and we will all recognize him as the new king."

Unbeknownst to them, people ignored the sword in the stone that had not been chosen and began to discuss other competitive methods that were more advantageous to them.

"First up is mounted combat!"

"If one is a true knight, then it is a simple matter to duel on horseback with a lance and win!"

Artoria looked at the noisy knights, then looked up at her sworn brother standing to the side, who, for some reason, was looking unhappy.

"Brother Kai, are we just going to leave King's Sword like this?"

“It’s none of my business,” Kai replied in his usual tone. “Since no one can pull it out, that sword is just an obstacle. The real battle for the throne is about to begin. Now that everyone has made their decision, there’s no room for a novice knight like you to interfere. And it’s good that this matter ends here. Although no one is showing it, I’m sure many people are secretly cheering and laughing to themselves.”

"He wasn't even chosen as king?"