Deep within the royal palace.
Kayneth, his slicked-back blond hair catching the sun, sat in a garden, gazing toward the distant battlefield.
The golden pillar of light that pierced the heavens, just the residual tremor from it—made even this Lord of the Clock Tower feel a chill in his chest.
Reines, too, lifted her head to peer into the distance, her eyes filled with awe and longing as she whispered:
"The Sword of Promised Victory… a divine construct forged by the planet itself, using humanity's collective belief as fuel… Looks like a formidable enemy managed to infiltrate the palace, and King Arthur detected it in time?"
Even for those not particularly attuned to magical energy, the moment Artoria unsheathed that Holy Sword, the terrifying golden radiance it released could be felt by every mage.
"Thank goodness King Arthur is a wise ruler." Reines' tone was tinged with genuine relief.
After all, the King had previously issued an order to arrest all transmigrators.
It was frightening to imagine what kind of price would have to be paid if the transmigrators had truly become enemies of King Arthur.
Surprisingly, Kayneth didn't argue this time.
He was often praised as a once-in-a-century magecraft genius, but even the greatest genius would find his brilliance overshadowed in this mythic Camelot Empire.
Just as the scorching sunlight now paled in comparison to the brilliance of the Holy Sword.
Still… what kind of enemy had King Arthur faced?
One must remember, Camelot wasn't just ruled by King Arthur.
There were also the Twelve Knights of the Round Table… and the court mage, Merlin.
Who would dare storm the palace under such circumstances?
"I wonder how Alvin and Gray are doing…" Reines murmured suddenly.
Hearing this, Kayneth replied blandly,
"I don't know about your little friend, but Alvin… he's much smarter than you think. When something like this happens, he's the type to run as far as possible."
"Besides… anyone bold enough to force their way into the palace wouldn't go out of their way to target a kid who can't even be called a proper mage."
Hearing that, Reines seemed to relax a bit. "You're right. Alvin's always been clever."
Kayneth, however, couldn't help but frown at her reaction.
Because he felt that this girl… as a classmate, she seemed a little too concerned about Alvin…
Though Alvin had once taught Kayneth how to cheer up a girl, and it had actually worked, this only made Kayneth even more wary of him.
Especially now, seeing Reines' reaction, a silent alarm blared in his mind.
As one of the few "geniuses" in the El-Melloi lineage, Reines was a potential future heir to the family. Therefore, any romantic prospects for her, if not of equal status—should at least carry noble blood.
And Alvin... met neither of these criteria.
Reines, of course, had no idea her casual remark had sent her brother spiraling into a dramatic internal monologue.
In fact, her thoughts had drifted to Alvin only because of the white-masked youth she'd seen beside King Arthur earlier.
According to the King, Alvin should already be in the palace by now.
Yet, from the moment she entered until now, Reines hadn't caught a single glimpse of him.
Had he been confined? Or... did King Arthur have special plans for him?
"If all the transmigrators can return to the modern era once the countdown ends... word of today's battle will spread through the Mage's Association within a day," Reines mused suddenly.
"Naturally. This is King Arthur, after all."
Kayneth gazed solemnly out the window. "And I suspect we won't even need to wait that long. Every transmigrator near the capital has likely sensed it by now."
Unlike Heroic Spirits, this was the Age of Gods—even its twilight.
The current King Arthur stood at the peak of her power.
This battle was destined to become legend, a story transmigrators would boast about for years to come.
Just as Kayneth predicted, they weren't the only ones who'd noticed the commotion at the palace.
Transmigrators scattered throughout the capital had sensed it too.
As magi, their sensitivity to mana was razor-sharp.
The moment Artoria channeled her power into Excalibur, the overwhelming surge of magical energy had blanketed half the palace.
Even from a distance, it left the people trembling.
Most magi were prideful beings, confident in their own abilities.
Yet, from the instant they arrived in Camelot, that confidence had been steadily eroded.
And now, witnessing the terrifying mana radiating from the holy sword, a profound sense of inadequacy settled over them.
At the same time, a question burned in their minds:
What kind of enemy had King Arthur faced... to warrant drawing Excalibur?
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"What in the world is happening...?"
In a small tavern within the capital, a man with a neatly trimmed, "elegant" mustache stared toward Camelot's palace.
Though he had maintained the composure befitting a noble since his arrival, anyone who knew him could see that, at this moment, his carefully cultivated poise was crumbling.
As the current head of the Tohsaka family, whose Jewel Magecraft had been passed down by none other than the Wizard Marshal himself—Tohsaka Tokiomi had always carried himself with aristocratic pride.
However, from the first day he crossed into this world, Tohsaka Tokiomi's mentality had undergone a subtle change.
This was an era brimming with danger... and Tokiomi had realized it the instant he stepped into it.
After barely managing to sneak into the legendary capital from the surrounding forests, he now found himself witnessing King Arthur's clash with a mysterious powerhouse.
At first, Tokiomi had even considered demanding an audience with the King to question her harsh treatment of otherworlders.
However, when he saw the magical power released by the holy sword that symbolized the 'king'...this resolve was completely shattered.
No wonder King Arthur had ordered the indiscriminate capture of all transmigrators... To her, in this Age of Gods, their combined strength was likely negligible.
Unless, of course, one happened to be the "old man" who had bestowed the Tohsaka family with Jewel Magecraft... But how many magi of his caliber could there possibly be?
"Fancy running into familiar faces here."
Just then, a youthful voice spoke up beside him.
"You don't look so good. Are you alright?" The tone was laced with genuine concern.
Tohsaka Tokiomi's instincts flared, and he turned sharply—
Only to relax slightly upon seeing the black-robed youth standing before him.
From his attire, the boy was likely another transmigrator, wasn't he?
The Magic Circuits of Age of Gods magi were fundamentally different from modern ones, and Tokiomi sensed none of that overwhelming mana from him.
That left two possibilities: either this boy was an ordinary person, or a modern magus.
Still, Tokiomi frowned. "What did you mean by 'familiar faces'? Do you know me?"
"Also… why do you look so pale?"
Even Tokiomi was speechless for a moment.
This boy had just remarked on his poor complexion, yet now that he looked closer… wasn't the other's face even paler?
"Aren't all transmigrators 'familiar faces' in a sense?"** The boy grinned.
Tokiomi didn't respond.
The logic wasn't wrong, meeting a fellow outsider in a foreign land did evoke a certain camaraderie.
But this kid was way too forward. "Your name?"
"Alvin."
The boy now lounging in this tavern was none other than Alvin himself.
Fresh from his visit to King Marco's estate, he was on his way back to the palace when that spectacle unfolded—
The golden pillar of light.
The terrifying mana heralding the drawing of Excalibur.
"I wonder what kind of enemy forced King Arthur to wield that sword,"
Tokiomi muttered grimly.
Not that he was worried for the King.
But between being hurled into this world without explanation and now witnessing a battle of this scale, his nerves were frayed.
If he got caught in the crossfire…
His own safety was one thing, but he still had a wife and two children to protect—
"In Camelot, few can compel King Arthur to draw her sword. T
he Round Table is loyal, so aside from Merlin, only she could provoke this reaction," Alvin mused.
"She…?"
Tokiomi's eyes narrowed. "You've guessed who's fighting the King?"
"Who else could it be…"
Alvin sighed. "Besides Merlin, only Morgan le Fay."
He'd known trouble was brewing since last night, when Morgan's magecraft triggered the Return of the Age of Gods.
Having only recently arrived in Camelot, Alvin wasn't ready to face his charming elder sister yet, he'd hoped for more time to prepare.
But clearly… Morgan was sharper than he'd anticipated.
The moment he'd felt Excalibur's pulse, he'd known: game over.
He wanted to find a quiet spot to strategize, but he just happened to bump into someone unexpectedly familiar from his past life.
—Tohsaka Tokiomi.
He'd known transmigrators hailed from different eras and regions, but to cross paths with him so soon…
Alvin exhaled inwardly.
Creak—
The tavern door swung open.
A knight in armor strode in, his expression grim.
Tokiomi tensed, his gaze snapping toward the entrance. His breath hitched.
"Agravain…"
The Iron Knight, Agravain—a member of the Round Table and the most prolific captor of transmigrators in recent days.
Hadn't he just patrolled the city yesterday?
Why was he back?
The tavern's transmigrators stiffened, the chatter dying instantly.
Agravain's eyes swept the room—then locked onto Tokiomi's table.
The magus's fingers twitched toward the jewels concealed in his sleeve—
But then he realized: Agravain wasn't here for him.
The knight's focus was on the black-robed boy beside him.
'Here for him?' Tokiomi discreetly pocketed the gems.
"Tokiomi."
Alvin stood, straightening his robes, before he glanced back at the man.
"When you return… keep an eye on your prized student."
"Student?" Tokiomi blinked. "What do you—?"
But Alvin was already walking away, flanked by Agravain.
As the tavern door closed behind them, Tokiomi turned the words over in his mind, his frown deepening.
How did this stranger know about his apprentice?
…Was he from Fuyuki?
But why sow discord between him and Kirei?
Preparation for the Holy Grail War?
Or—
His thoughts screeched to a halt.
Wait.
Alvin?
Recognition flickered in Tokiomi's eyes. He stared at the long-empty doorway, murmuring under his breath:
"The Night Watcher… Alvin?"
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Alvin and Agravain walked along the street leading to the royal palace.
Silence lingered between the two along the way.
"…Sorry."
After a long while, Agravain broke the silence.
"I already told you, even without you, she would have noticed sooner or later."
Alvin smiled nonchalantly, pretending to be relaxed: "In the end, it's something I would have to face sooner or later, no need to worry so much."
As he spoke, he changed the subject: "How did you find me?"
"Someone had already reported to me when you entered the city gates."
Agravain said, "Such a big event happened, I wanted to come notify you as soon as possible… but from the looks of it, it seems I don't need to anymore."
At the end, he looked up toward the direction of the royal palace, his gaze full of concern.
Although he had known from the beginning that nothing good would come from a meeting between Morgan and Artoria, Agravain never expected that the King would draw the holy sword without a word…
The current Camelot Empire is no longer what it once was.
The appearance of the transmigrators brought numerous variables.
If the King and Morgan both end up severely wounded, it could very well affect the stability of the Empire.
"Don't worry."
As if seeing through the concerns in Agravain's heart, Alvin quickly revealed a gentle smile.
"I'll stop them."
"Can you really do it?" The latter blurted out instinctively.
"I can."
A victorious declaration upon his return sounded from the boy's mouth, his tone filled with determination and confidence.
…
Camelot Royal Palace, the entire ground seemed to be trembling, golden sword-light shooting straight into the sky.
Centered around the holy sword, golden brilliance layered upon layer, surging like a tide.
It was a sacred radiance formed from condensed magical power, blazing hot and dazzling.
Facing the light of the holy sword, Morgan raised her head, the black veil fluttering in the wind, faintly revealing that noble and beautiful face.
"The holy sword, huh? Besides the white dragon at its peak, it seems no one has ever directly withstood this sword, right?"
Morgan spoke softly as if muttering to herself, then extended her right hand.
"It is indeed a troublesome weapon, but… it's not entirely without a way to deal with it…"
A staff nearly twice the size of Morgan quietly condensed in her palm.
Highly concentrated magical energy from the Age of Gods silently gathered in Morgan's staff.
Seeing this scene, Mordred's pupils slowly widened.
It was as if she realized something—her heart pounded to the point of almost being uncontrollable.
To bring forth a true 'Age of Gods' and use that staff to open a 'special attack domain' targeting the Knights of the Round Table and fairies… this was a unique authority belonging only to Morgan le Fay.
Artoria was both King Arthur and the "Knight King."
In a certain sense, the domain that Morgan deployed would be Artoria's greatest nemesis.
Only…
Once it reached that level, not only those few Knights of the Round Table, but even Merlin, who had been slacking off in the "Tower"—would no longer be able to sit still.
One must understand, in the Age of Gods, the strength of the magic used by magi was directly linked to magical energy.
Previously, the magic Morgan released did not affect the Camelot Empire.
However, the authority she was preparing to use now would transform a vast area into a true "Age of Gods."
By that time, things really wouldn't be able to be wrapped up.
Gareth also realized this, and with a trace of hesitation, cast a glance toward Morgan.
She opened her mouth, seemingly wanting to say something.
"You all step back."
However, Morgan's voice was the first to ring out.
Though a faint smile still hung on her face, the arrogance and chill in her voice felt as if they could freeze someone to the bone.
Gareth instinctively swallowed hard, and beside her, Mordred, who had also intended to speak—forcefully swallowed her words back down.
"Lily, do you think I came to the palace just because of him, or merely out of jealousy for everything you possess?"
Within Morgan's staff, "True Ether" was gathering madly.
Highly concentrated magical energy formed beneath her feet, then slowly began to spread outward.
At this moment, Morgan seemed to have become a goddess.
Her dress fluttered in the air, and in her beautiful eyes was a glow like starlight etched into them.
Artoria silently stared at the woman before her.
"What truly chilled me was that after the night of the White Dragon Battle, nothing changed."
Morgan spoke softly: "Even though nine of the twelve great noble houses have already fallen, the remaining nobles still crave and covet power and wealth just like before."
"Even now they continue to slander him, and the name 'Watcher of the Night' has become a filthy label in the Empire… He did so much in the past, yet it's as if nothing remains, because no one ever cleared his name."
"I'm very happy he's returned, but I don't want past tragedies to happen again."
Facing the holy sword Artoria slowly swung toward her, Morgan's expression remained calm.
"You can only give him companionship. But if it were me, I would clear his name… not a knight of the shadows, but a hero who returns to Britain."
"That's why I will replace you and become the Queen of Britain."
Morgan lifted her head.
In the instant when the blazing golden light released by the holy sword was about to engulf her, she raised her right hand.
With elegance, she snapped her fingers.
The domain of the Age of Gods unfolded!
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