A lively noise echoed from afar, and it was obvious—even without much intuition—that it had already begun.
"Another failure. How many has it been now?"
As Arthur followed Morgan toward the site of the royal selection, which was surrounded by a group of knights, they saw one of the knights leaving with a dejected expression on his face.
"I've already lost count of how many people have tried… Is there really anyone capable of doing something like this? Could the prophecy be wrong or something…?" one knight muttered to himself.
"How could that be possible? There will surely be a true king who will pull the sword from the stone and lead everyone in driving out the Saxons!"
"That's right! Someone will definitely do it; Merlin's prophecy will not fail!"
Morgan silently observed everything before her, including Artoria standing within the crowd, and said in a low voice, "Go ahead. Staying by my side right now will only cause unnecessary misunderstandings."
"If I pull the sword from the stone, will they deny my right?" Arthur asked.
"No," Morgan shook her head, "but if you fail to draw the sword, people will avoid you because you're close to me."
Her tone was completely different from usual; it sounded calm and entirely devoid of any frivolity.
"That's good," Arthur said. "I don't need to care about what they think of me. Why should it matter if they're afraid of you?"
Morgan stared at Arthur, and after a moment, suddenly laughed. "If you keep acting like this… I might not allow you to return to the Land of Shadows."
Another sigh came from afar, followed by the heavy voice of a knight: "What a shame, I was just a hair's breadth away!"
The knight had clearly already shaken the sword in the stone—almost… well, probably more than a little. In short, he had managed to move it slightly.
With that glimmer of hope brought by the knight, the passion that had just died down was instantly reignited.
A handsome knight stepped forward, and the crowd parted for him.
The Knight of the Sun, Gawain.
The commotion immediately subsided, and people held great expectations for this knight. He was the embodiment of integrity and humility. His radiant smile always won everyone's favor. It could be said that among all the knights, Gawain was one of the most anticipated candidates to pull the sword from the stone.
Watching Gawain slowly approach the sword, Arthur looked at his gentle smile and couldn't help but sigh.
"He's really handsome."
Then he felt Morgan's strange gaze.
"What is it?" Arthur asked, confused.
"Nothing… I was just wondering why you weren't attracted to my advances, but it turns out you like this type—"
"What are you thinking, Morgan?!" Arthur interrupted her, rolling his eyes.
Who would have thought Morgan was a fujoshi?
While the two were talking, the ceremony of drawing the sword had already begun. Gawain's smile faded slightly as he firmly grasped the hilt and, using all his strength, tried to pull it from the rock.
Unfortunately, Gawain failed.
He couldn't even make the sword in the stone budge.
Gawain let out a bitter, helpless laugh. "It seems I am not the true king after all."
After saying that, he glanced in Morgan's direction with a helpless expression, then turned and left the crowd.
Soon, another knight stepped forward. Arthur watched Gawain leave and, out of the corner of his eye, was drawn to two figures not far away.
Merlin and Artoria.
Even without hearing their conversation, Arthur could imagine what was being said.
Artoria's expression was twisted with fear; there was no doubt Merlin was saying something to influence her.
"The moment you wield that sword, you will cease to be human until the end. Moreover, if you draw that sword, you will be hated by all of humanity and face a miserable death."
Merlin's voice reached Artoria's ears. If words alone could not convey tragedy, then when such a scene is presented before one's eyes, even the most resilient person would likely feel fear.
A scene appeared before the girl's eyes. It was a vision of the future that Merlin had constructed within Artoria's consciousness through images. It was the final outcome she would face after becoming king.
No matter how she struggled, once the sword in the stone was drawn, she would inevitably face a lonely and tragic death… that would be her fate.
This was a prophecy—and also a destiny that had already been predetermined.
Despite her fear, she nodded firmly.
Even as she nodded, her face was filled with terror.
She would pull the sword from the stone, become king, build a more peaceful nation, and reclaim the lands occupied by the Saxons… Perhaps there were others who could do better than her.
She had the same thought.
But—
That person did not exist yet, at least not now. King Uther was dead, and someone had to take up this burden, draw the sword, overcome the fears of the past, and live for the people… even if it meant fighting alone in the end.
Her body, which had been trembling slightly, gradually calmed, and Artoria's emotions slowly stabilized. Then, she took a step forward and walked toward the Sword in the Stone.
Merlin looked in her direction, scratching his head in distress. "This is a rather difficult and treacherous path, but since you've made your decision, exchange it for what you value most—"
Merlin suddenly stopped, and even Artoria, who was walking toward the sword, was surprised.
No matter what you do, everything is predestined. The so-called struggle is merely a link in the chain of fate. You think you are fighting against destiny, that you have deviated from the predetermined ending, but in reality… you are only taking a different path, and that path still leads to the same result.
This is a fate that breeds despair.
But now, the threads of fate had become tangled, as if shrouded in mist.
"You're even more determined than before," Morgan said in a low voice.
"Because I saw something very moving," Arthur replied. "I think I understand why you want me to pull the sword from the stone."
"Can you do it?" Morgan asked.
"I don't know, but it's my responsibility," Arthur answered.
"Arthur?" Artoria exclaimed softly, seemingly not understanding why he was involved in this royal selection as well.
"And who is that person?" the knights whispered among themselves.
"I remember he used to train with Kay every day when he was a squire, right?"
"Even he wants to pull the sword from the stone?"
"Maybe it's possible?" one knight who had a good relationship with Arthur replied, though unconvinced.
Whether someone could become king had nothing to do with whether they were a knight-in-training.
The knights whispered among themselves, while Kay watched the scene in silence, without saying a word.
Not only Kay, but also his father, Sir Ector, as well as Agravain, Bedivere, and others, silently observed in that direction.
Merlin stared at Arthur for a moment, then shrugged. "Very well. Since you didn't believe me, you may try."
"No matter what you do, you will only face failure; that is fate—"
In the next instant, Arthur grasped the hilt of the sword and pulled it from the massive stone.
The commotion from moments before fell into stunned silence, leaving not only Morgan, but even Arthur himself, completely bewildered.
What is going on here?!
(End of Chapter)