The commotion from moments ago had completely subsided, and a gentle breeze carried a refreshing sensation from afar.
The mere fact that the sword had been removed from the stone would not have been so surprising, as Merlin had long prophesied that a true king would draw the sword and lead the knights to repel the Saxons.
But to their astonishment, someone had truly managed to "pull" the sword from the stone in such a manner.
If Merlin's prophecy foretold that only the one who could draw the sword from the stone would become king, then what this apprentice knight was doing now was breaking that prophecy and retrieving the sword in his own way.
Whether one chooses to believe in fate or to defy it, as long as there is spirit in the heart and passion running through the veins, the choice will be the latter.
Arthur looked at the group of knights who had fallen silent. Not a single sound could be heard around him. He noticed someone's gaze and followed it through the crowd until he found Morgan.
This is the fate you must fight against. If the threads of destiny lead us to a predetermined end, then cut them down!
All the knights cast fervent gazes upon the apprentice before them. They remained silent, but their eyes conveyed a deep understanding.
Merlin stayed quiet, simply observing Arthur.
Arthur glanced at Merlin, giving him no chance to speak, ignoring the stunned man beside him. Then, he pulled the sword from the ground.
The light of runes radiated from the blade. Arthur raised the sword high, and a pillar of ice shot into the sky. The glow of fire seemed to transform into a massive dragon that followed closely behind him. In that moment, there was no trace of childishness left on his face.
Under the gaze of all present, his voice resounded in everyone's ears.
"I am King Arthur!"
When that voice echoed, the knights looked at one another in astonishment. After a few seconds of silence, it was as if a flame ignited within their chests.
The first knight raised his longsword, his eyes burning with intense fervor as he stared at Arthur, and roared:
"King Arthur!"
A dazzling light, brighter than the sun, appeared in the sky like a war chant.
It was Gawain, who also raised his sword at that moment and shouted:
"King Arthur!"
Sir Ector glanced at the knights around him, who still seemed stunned. A relieved smile appeared on his slightly aged face as he unsheathed his sword.
"King Arthur!"
With the arrival of the Knights of the Round Table, the other knights also raised their longswords, and countless beams of light erupted from the ground, including those of the Round Table knights.
They chanted the name of the new king in unison.
"King Arthur!"
Merlin's eyes widened slightly as he looked at Artoria beside him, watching her step forward and raise her sword.
"King Arthur!"
A beam of golden light shot into the sky from her blade, seemingly piercing both heaven and earth. The leaves around them rustled and trembled, as if paying homage to the birth of the new king.
Arthur took a step forward. The sword shone brilliantly under the runic light, like an aurora. He slowly closed his eyes and accepted the cheers of the crowd.
"King Arthur! King Arthur! King Arthur!"
The thunderous cries echoed throughout all of Britain. From knights to commoners, everyone chanted the name. In the end, even the bishop—who had initially been somewhat bewildered—joined the frenzy.
The Saxons who had conquered that land looked up toward that direction, where countless lights shone, their radiance surpassing even the blazing sun.
Never before had such unity existed since the death of the former king, but in that moment, it seemed as though all of Britain had become one, without a shadow of doubt…
—A new king had been born.
Scáthach stepped out from the castle in the Land of Shadows, her gaze fixed on the distant horizon, as if she had witnessed everything. After a long silence, she spoke slowly:
"You've truly grown."
The shouts were like war drums echoing in his heart. Arthur tightly closed his eyes, feeling the unrest within him and the blood boiling through his veins.
He had never considered himself worthy of being king, but he hated Merlin's words so much that it felt as though something inside him was roaring with fury.
Fate, fate… since you believe everything is predetermined, then I'll show you how to trample destiny!
"So, will you continue to follow fate, or will you trust in it, Merlin?" Morgan turned to the silent Merlin and asked.
The man's smile had disappeared. His gaze was fixed on the boy, his eyes narrowed. After a moment of silence, he spoke:
"He is the new King of Britain."
Yes, Arthur carries the blood of the white dragon in his veins. He is the new white dragon. Though the white dragon represents the will of Britain, he is a dragon of rebellion.
No matter what he does, he is a dragon of defiance… The true king should be Artoria.
"Are you saying he is unworthy of being king because of his lineage?" Morgan stared intently at Merlin.
Merlin looked at Arthur for a long time before finally speaking:
"He did not draw the sword from the stone."
Yes, he simply used another method to reclaim the sword. Only the red dragon could draw the sword from the stone, and only Artoria could do so.
"Yes, you're right. He didn't pull the sword from the stone—at least not the second time…" Morgan nodded slightly, then suddenly smiled.
"But so what?"
"Does it really matter whether the sword can be drawn from the stone? Why is it that only the one who draws the sword can drive out the Saxons? Why is it that only that person can bring prosperity to Britain? Is that your decision? Or is it fate's, as you claim?"
"That is something the future will decide," Merlin said.
The future is already foreseen, and no change can alter it—that is fate.
"You see Artoria's future, so you believe she will be king." Morgan pointed toward Arthur. "Then can you see his destiny?"
Merlin fell silent.
"He did not draw the sword from the stone," he repeated.
"Then why don't you listen to public opinion now? See whether they approve of Arthur," Morgan said slowly.
Arthur suddenly opened his eyes, his green pupils now completely transformed into a brilliant gold.
He raised his hands high, and the knights and the crowd below roared, chanting only one name—
—King Arthur!
(End of Chapter)