Having understood her own heart and her own principles, without any of the heaven-shaking omens or cascades of radiant light described in novels, Thea felt only a sense of lightness. She vaguely realized that perhaps this sword was what the Lady of the Lake truly wanted. After all, offering a blade from Greek mythology and a demonic sword from Hell to a Celtic deity was a bit absurd.
The Merlin Sword shared the same origin as the Lady of the Lake. Returning it to Her was the proper course—wasn't it?
Thea sniffed lightly, silently apologized to her ancestor Merlin, reached up and snapped the necklace, enlarged the sword to its proper size, held it with both hands, and gently cast it into the lake.
Unlike the previous swords, the Merlin Sword did not sink straight to the bottom. It emitted a faint white glow as it slowly descended. The siren song and the sound of waves striking the shore vanished in an instant.
All that remained was a single howl from Morgan le Fay's clone—"Awooo!"—before she disappeared without a trace.
Somewhat tense, Thea fixed her gaze on the lake's surface. The water parted smoothly to either side. What had once been shallow enough to barely cover her feet visibly deepened. A magnificent goddess rose slowly from the water, clad in a sky-blue peacock-sleeved gown and wearing long emerald-crystal earrings.
A true god. A true god had used some means to briefly connect the present with a past timeline. The Lady of the Lake's divine might was not overwhelming, yet the feeling She gave off was utterly natural. Simply standing near Her filled one with incomparable calm and hope for the future.
Thea had only once before experienced standing face-to-face with a true god at the height of Their power. Back then, the Moon Goddess had shot an arrow from the distant past to sever the mark on a stag. At that time, however, Thea's level had been too low—her inner power like rootless water. She had merely watched the spectacle, and any talk of insight or comprehension would have been self-delusion.
Although Thea had not yet reached the stage where she could openly challenge Horus as she had that day, this was her own timeline, and the world did not reject her. Her perspective and understanding far surpassed that earlier empty shell possessed only of strength. The Lady of the Lake before her now allowed her to perceive many things. Though the goddess's temperament and inner path were not what Thea sought to follow, this close encounter with divine authority still benefited her greatly.
The Lady of the Lake spoke not a word. She merely raised Her hands, as if holding something, and walked slowly toward Thea.
Voices echoed in Thea's ears—encouragement, support, and also doubt and questioning.
She did not know whether these voices were real or born of her own mind. Straightening her clothes, she stepped steadily into the lake.
Thea clenched and released her fists several times. In a tenth of a second, she recalled her experiences over the past five years, took a deep breath, and reached toward the Lady of the Lake's seemingly empty hands.
There was substance.
When Thea's fingers touched the place at the outside of the goddess's left wrist—where a sword hilt should have been—the solid sensation told her that all her sacrifices had been worth it. This holy sword of myth and legend had crossed time and space and was about to reappear in the world.
As she touched it, the sword's form gradually emerged.
The hilt was deep blue. On closer inspection, it was crafted from starstone—material that could emit a faint glow even in the abyss.
The crossguard was crescent-shaped, forged from a metal ancient mages called Earth-Core Adamantine. Thea's demonic sword also contained trace amounts of adamantine, but only in minute quantities. This crossguard, by contrast, was a single solid piece, refined with the Fire of the Blazing Sun.
Yet these precious materials were merely embellishments. The true marvel was the blade itself, measuring 1.2 meters in length.
Neither gold, nor copper, nor iron—the blade was thin and light. With a flick of Thea's wrist, multicolored light burst forth. Near the base of the blade was an inscription in Old English: Excalibur. In ancient Celtic, the meaning was "steel-sunderer," though in the modern age the sword was known by a more evocative name—the Sword of Victory and Oaths.
Ancient mages could not identify the blade's material, but Thea recognized it instantly. It was of the same origin as the material used to forge Lantern Rings—only of a higher order and far more magnificent. This was the ultimate holy sword, forged with the emotions of intelligent beings as its foundation and imagination as its means.
Unlike Lantern Rings, which embodied a single emotion, the emotions contained within this sword were extraordinarily rich. At the very least, the ones Thea knew—rage, greed, fear, willpower, compassion, hope, and love—were all present.
Its use mirrored that of a Lantern Ring as well. Channeling one's emotions into it would unleash light countless times brighter than the sun, capable of destroying all things. This was the aggregate will of sentient beings. To reach such a level, Thea's path was still long. To fully wield the holy sword's power, one had to master all emotions.
One's own and those of others; the good and the benevolent, the vile and the evil. Facing all intelligent life, a single strike that gathered the will of all beings—at that point, even those existences whose names could not be spoken would likely retreat.
Having bestowed the sword, the Lady of the Lake brushed past Thea's cheek like a spring breeze. Her hands were warm and soft, like a gently rising evening wind, carrying away all of Thea's anxiety and smoothing her slightly furrowed brow.
From beginning to end, the Lady of the Lake did not utter a single word. Smiling, She slowly stepped back. The lake's shimmering light parted once more, and gentle ripples carried Her back to that tranquil homeland.
Watching Her disappear beneath the water, Thea bowed deeply. At that moment, words had lost all meaning. The goddess had said nothing, yet Thea understood Her intent. As it had been with King Arthur, this was both fate's choice and her own.
"So… has that one left?" The previously solemn atmosphere was instantly shattered by Morgan le Fay's blonde clone. The absurd woman had actually conjured a wall inside the empty chamber and was peeking around it with great caution.
Thea couldn't be bothered to respond. She casually swung the sword twice. Simply holding it was fine, but the moment thoughts of battle arose, the blade became extremely heavy.
She tried channeling fear into it. The sword grew only slightly lighter—still far from being wielded freely.
Where Thea surpassed King Arthur was her knowledge of the Emotional Spectrum and the Seven Lantern Corps. If she could wear seven Lantern Rings, she could unleash at least half of this sword's power.
"Big Sister Morgan, do you know where the scabbard is? I can't exactly keep carrying this thing around," Thea asked, having confirmed that the sword could not be stored in a spatial ring.
"The scabbard is far more important than the sword. Back then, when the main body discussed matters with that one, the scabbard never came up," the blonde Morgan replied after stroking her chin in thought. The "that one" she referred to was clearly the Lady of the Lake.
So it wasn't going to be that easy. The gods weren't fools either… Thea knew perfectly well how important the scabbard was. She had hoped she might obtain it as well, but the surprises she'd already received today were more than enough. In excellent spirits, she chose not to dwell further on the matter.