Simulator in Type-moon, Starting with becoming Morgan husband!

Chapter 81. Excalibur Galatine: Sword of Revolving Victory vs. Arondight: The Unfading Light of the Lake!

[You never expected that at this moment, a knight would request an audience.]

[Even less did you expect that the knight would come from across the sea, from France.]

[You sense that this matter is far from simple.]

Ian and Artoria exchanged a glance, immediately understanding each other's thoughts.

Avoidance held no meaning; meeting face-to-face was the only right choice.

"Let him in."

The young king spoke decisively.

"As you wish."

Thus, in the atmosphere brimming with the aroma of food and the laughter of knights, a man appeared before them.

He was tall, with purple eyes and purple hair.

A single glance was enough to discern that this knight possessed extraordinary bearing.

"Greetings, I am Lancelot, a knight from France."

[You noticed that his gaze was fixed entirely on Artoria beside you.]

[This was different from Percival and Palamedes—knights who, to some extent, had mistakenly thought you were the true king of knights.]

[You realized that this man was far from ordinary.]

[You sensed that his strength was likely formidable.]

Seeing no response, the knight who called himself Lancelot spoke again:

"If I am not mistaken…"

"You—"

Lancelot looked directly at Artoria.

"Must be King Arthur."

"And you—"

Lancelot turned to the other figure.

"Are the king's shadow."

Though Ian had anticipated all of this, it didn't leave him pleased.

"So then—"

Ian met Lancelot's gaze.

"Knight from France, what brings you across such a vast distance?

"Could it be that you came merely to inform the king and me that you can distinguish between us?"

Though Ian, in private, could be a scoundrel entirely capable of manipulating Artoria's emotions, in public, he always maintained absolute respect for her.

The king could be corrupted in the shadows, but never humiliated in the light.

If anyone dared to insult Artoria's dignity, Ian would be the first knight of the Round Table to draw his sword.

"Of course not."

Lancelot smiled, shaking his head.

"If that were the case, wouldn't I have overstepped?"

"Then what is your true purpose?" Ian pressed.

"It's quite simple."

Lancelot placed his hand on the hilt of the sword at his side.

It was a round hilt crafted from some unknown material.

Even under the sunlight, it retained an absolute stillness, as though untouched by the light.

"Across the ocean, I heard tales of the King of Knights undefeated victories after pulling the sword from the stone," Lancelot began.

"Those heroic deeds have even been immortalized in songs sung throughout France, resonating in the halls of palaces."

"And I—"

Lancelot drew his sword with a deliberate, steady motion.

"Am the one often compared to those songs."

"I have often wondered, can I truly accept such comparisons?"

"Not until I set out on this journey, crossing rivers and mountains to meet the true Knight King, did I begin to understand the choice my heart was ready to make."

Lancelot raised his weapon, pointing it directly at Artoria.

The heavy blade, like the weight of a still lake, aimed unwaveringly at the young king.

"King Arthur, accept my challenge!"

[You fully understand Lancelot's intentions.]

[He is a knight from France, unwilling to endure the daily comparisons to Artoria's legendary valor. Driven by this, he resolved to step foot on Britannian soil.]

[This explains why his gaze from the beginning had been fixed entirely on Artoria.]

[His purpose was entirely different from the two knights who came before.]

[Knights seeking fame often unconsciously merged the image of the invincible King of Knights with your towering stature, leading to misunderstandings.]

[For Lancelot, however, he sought to wash away humiliation.]

[Thus, the image of the King of Knights in his mind naturally corresponded to someone he deemed easier to defeat—Artoria.]

[You realize that Artoria has been underestimated.]

[You feel deeply dissatisfied.]

"Lancelot."

Ian placed his hand on the hilt of Excalibur Galatine: Sword of Revolving Victory at his side.

"You are a knight from a distant land; there is no justification for immediately challenging the king."

"Oh?"

Lancelot shifted his gaze from Artoria to Ian.

"Are you saying you wish to stand in front of King Arthur?"

"Precisely."

Ian unsheathed Excalibur Galatine.

"If you cannot defeat the shadow of the Knight King, what right do you have to face him?"

"Fair point."

Lancelot offered a polite smile.

"Then—"

"Let me defeat the shadow that bears your name first."

[A duel between you and Lancelot was inevitable.]

[For the knights gathered for the victory feast, this was an unexpected but delightful spice to the day.]

[The site of the duel between you and Lancelot was arranged in the center of the camp.]

[All eyes were on the two of you.]

[Only Artoria worried for your well-being.]

[She decided to prepare a few things outside the arena.]

"Brother Gawain," Gareth, nibbling on a piece of roasted meat, spoke to Gawain beside him.

"Who do you think will win this duel?"

"Is that even a question?" Gawain said, still engrossed in his mashed potatoes.

"Of course, Father will win."

"Gareth, since the day you were born, have you ever seen him lose?"

"Never!" Gareth bit into a large chunk of meat.

"Father seems to have never lost to anyone."

"Umu." Gawain nodded. "So, this time will be no exception."

"... Makes sense."

As the two siblings were conversing, Artoria appeared behind them.

"Gareth, Gawain."

Hearing the Knight King's voice, both immediately turned and straightened up.

"Your Majesty," Gawain quickly said, "I failed to notice your presence. My apologies."

"No need to be so tense."

Artoria reassured them.

"I only came to remind you of one thing."

"What is it, Your Majesty?" Gawain responded at once.

"It's this—"

Artoria glanced toward the arena not far away.

"If possible, I hope you will remain ready at all times."

"If anything unexpected happens, you must be able to react immediately."

"Understood."

"Good."

Watching Artoria walk away, Gawain felt a twinge of unease.

Could something unusual occur in this duel?

"Gareth, stop eating! The king has ordered us to be ready."

"Huh?! Oh... understood!"

[You have no idea what Artoria is silently preparing.]

[All you want is to focus on the duel with Lancelot before you.]

[However, you faintly sense that something is amiss.]

[The sword in the hands of this knight from distant France seems to resonate strangely with your Excalibur Galatine.]

"Then—"

Lancelot raised his weapon high.

"Before the duel begins, let us agree on a few terms."

"I did not cross mountains and seas to ignite war—I came only to prove to the people of France that I am no lesser than King Arthur."

"Thus, I propose three conditions."

"No mortal injuries to the opponent."

"No harm to any knights not participating in the duel."

"And acknowledgment of one's defeat if beaten."

Lancelot looked at Ian.

"Can you accept these conditions?"

"Of course," Ian replied without hesitation.

"These are very reasonable terms."

"Indeed," Lancelot smiled faintly. "Knights of France are always courteous."

"Then—"

"Let us dispense with the formalities."

Lancelot raised the mysterious sword in his hand, pointing it directly at Ian.

"Next, it's time for the duel between two knights."

"Indeed."

The atmosphere grew tense in an instant.

Lancelot and Ian each held their swords, their eyes locked in cautious scrutiny.

This was entirely natural.

When two individuals of equal strength faced each other, a knight's duel could often be decided in a single move.

To attack recklessly would only expose one's weaknesses to the opponent.

Even from this initial standoff, Ian confirmed his earlier judgment—Lancelot was no ordinary man.

The sunlight struck their swords, casting radiant and pure auras.

The knights in the camp, experienced warriors themselves, quickly realized this would not be a one-sided match.

Silence fell over them; the rowdy atmosphere dissipated.

Some even softened their breathing, fearing that any sound might disrupt the duel's outcome.

Suddenly—!

Lancelot launched the first attack.

He swung his broad, thick blue blade with ferocious force at Ian.

Ian, of course, was not to be outdone. Gripping Excalibur Galatine firmly with both hands, he moved to intercept the strike.

Clang!

The clash of the two swords rang out like thunder.

To the onlookers, it might have seemed like a standard exchange of blows between two blades.

But to Ian, the moment of impact revealed something extraordinary.

[Mana surged from both your sword and Lancelot's, bursting forth with energy.]

[You both immediately recognized that your weapons shared the same origin.]

[This realization left both of you deeply astonished.]

"Shadow of the Knight King," Lancelot remarked during the clash, unable to conceal his surprise.

"You also wield a sword from the lake?"

"Of course," Ian replied without hesitation.

"Knight of France, isn't the blade in your hand the same?"

"Hah."

Lancelot suppressed his amazement.

"Then, may I ask its name?"

"Excalibur Galatine: Sword of Revolving Victory," Ian declared without reservation.

"And yours?"

"Arondight: The Unfading Light of the Lake," Lancelot revealed without hesitation.

Clang!

The two swords clashed once more and rebounded apart.

Yet, after this exchange—

Both Ian and Lancelot understood that direct confrontation would yield no decisive result.

The two swords, both gifts from the Lady of the Lake, were matched in durability.

The only way to determine a victor—

Would be to measure the mastery each knight had achieved over their respective weapon.

This was the true test of skill.

Almost instantly, a radiant light illuminated the camp sky.

More precisely, it was a translucent brilliance, reminiscent of moonlit lake water shimmering in the night.

The spectators felt as though they were standing amidst a tranquil lake under a full moon, where all sound and motion had dissolved into an all-encompassing serenity.

Ian recognized this was no illusion.

This was the power of Arondight: The Unfading Light of the Lake, the sword in Lancelot's hand.

For an ordinary knight, this scene would have meant certain defeat.

But unfortunately—

Ian was no ordinary knight.

The stillness of the moonlit lake was beautiful, yes, but it was a phenomenon of the night.

And now—

The sun reigned in the sky!

Excalibur Galatine: Sword of Revolving Victory was a blade blessed by the sun.

This was its moment to shine at full strength.

Ian raised his sword high.

The blazing light of the sun converged on the blade, weaving strands of golden brilliance.

The searing heat of the sun poured into Ian, merging with his sword.

Knights who had just been lost in the moonlit tranquility of Arondight's power now found themselves swept up in the blistering radiance emanating from Excalibur Galatine.

Clearly—

The battle's conclusion seemed imminent.

When the manifestations of two legendary swords clashed, their strength would etch the outcome into the environment itself.

But the situation took an unexpected turn.

["Curse of the Princess+++" has activated: The mana flowing through your body, focused on Excalibur Galatine, has provided an opening for the curse to invade.]

A searing pain stabbed through Ian's chest.

He clutched at his heart as black blood dripped from the corner of his mouth.

Lancelot noticed the anomaly.

But it was too late to stop.

From their initial exchange, he already knew Ian's strength was a match for his own.

The tide of battle shifted abruptly.

Though Ian tried to hold his ground, the image of Morgan's vengeful face flashed before his eyes.

Was this the fate I was destined to meet?

The thought flickered in his mind.

At that critical moment—

Artoria cast aside her royal cloak.

Grasping the Sword of Promised Victory, she stepped forward to shield Ian!