Chapter 369: The Knights’ Banquet (6)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 369: The Knights’ Banquet (6)
The night view of London, spread out beneath the sky, was nothing short of breathtaking.
But not anymore.
“Kyaaaaaah!!”
“H-Help me!!”
“Someone’s trapped under here! Can anyone help?!”
“Mommy...!!”
From every corner of the city, which held thousands of years of history, came only screams, and through it flowed only crimson blood.
London’s landmarks—Big Ben, Tower Bridge, and countless other buildings—were burning like logs in a winter fireplace.
“Th-The corpses are moving!!”
“It’s the undead! Call for a priest, quickly!”
“Hold the line! Just use holy water on your weapons to deal with them!”
The army of hundreds of thousands of undead that had swept through Cairo now crashed over London like a tidal wave.
The sight of citizens being brutally slaughtered as they fled in panic was captured in its entirety by the cameras of news station helicopters.
Hunters and mages sent from the Association and the Magic Towers managed to form a defensive line and fight back, but they were gradually being pushed back.
There were no high-level undead, but their sheer, overwhelming numbers were crushing.
For every ten they took down, dozens more swarmed in.
They couldn’t use large-scale magic in the middle of the city, and more importantly, the sight of their fallen comrades and fellow citizens rising as corpses to attack them was enough to shatter their morale.
To make matters worse, terrorist attacks were occurring simultaneously all across the UK, so they couldn’t expect any reinforcements.
Amidst the echoing screams of countless people, the fiercely rising flames and the thick, dark smoke showed no signs of abating.
Slowly but surely, the city was being swallowed by red flames.
And there was one person looking down on this scene, watching London as if enjoying a play.
“Hmm, hmm-hmm, hmm~”
On the rooftop of a skyscraper that seemed to touch the sky.
A hummed tune scattered into the air, carried by the wind.
An unknown woman, perched precariously on the railing, watched the fall of the city as it was consumed by red flames, laughing with glee.
There was no sadness, no worry, no pity in her eyes.
Only a quiet, unreadable madness flickered within them.
“As expected of a big city. It even burns beautifully.”
Suddenly, the woman’s eyes flashed red.
A dark red demonic energy rose around her like a heat haze.
The moment the woman’s delicate hand gently caressed the air…
KABOOOM!!!
A massive explosion erupted in the heart of London, sending flames soaring into the sky.
The aftershock caused a barely standing building to begin to collapse.
It was a catastrophe that must have killed thousands.
Yet, an unconcealable smile was etched clearly on the woman’s face.
“This time… shall I try burning that arrogant palace?”
While all of London was plunged into a living hell, Buckingham Palace alone maintained its noble stature.
Even though sixty percent of the undead army’s forces were concentrated there, the barrier erected by Duke Winchester and the holy barrier from the Church easily held them back.
This was also why the Duke of Rutland could leave the palace and rush around London, dealing with the undead.
“I wonder how long that barrier will hold.”
The woman smirked.
Just as her slender, flame-wreathed hand turned toward the protected Buckingham Palace…
Gurgle-
A mud puddle formed in a corner of the rooftop, and someone emerged.
A hideous appearance, a half-severed neck, and a hunched back.
It was Kargasan.
“Flema… that’s… enough… play,ing.”
“Playing? Can’t you see I’m working hard?”
At Kargasan’s words, Flema withdrew her hand as if nothing had happened, feigning innocence.
“Duke… Win,chester… will be… here soon…”
“…Is that so?”
Flema’s gaze grew a little more serious. The rings covering her fingers glittered, reflecting the city’s flames.
They were top-tier artifacts prepared for this operation.
Each one possessed abilities specialized for survival and defense.
“Do not… be arrogant. Our opponents… are monsters… who can cause… natural disasters… on their own.”
“I know that. That’s why He gave me this.”
Flema gently caressed the ornament around her neck as if it were the most precious treasure in the world.
But its appearance was too bizarre to be called a ‘necklace.’
Instead of a jewel, a living person’s eye was embedded in it, and in place of a smooth chain, strands of someone’s hair were woven together.
The ownerless eye blinked ceaselessly, sending a silent signal.
…K, ill, me.
It was Morse code, repeated in desperation.
But no one would have ever noticed its meaning, or even tried to.
And no one ever would.
“Do not… blindly trust… a holy relic… It is… nothing more… than a tool…”
“Stop nagging.”
Nazar Boncuğu.
That was the name of the object around her neck.
Its origins traced back to ancient Mesopotamia, a type of talisman meant to protect its owner from evil spirits.
In an era when the Church’s influence had not yet reached the remote villages, it was used as a means to ward off magical beasts like banshees and wraiths.
Normally, it should have been made from a deep blue bead symbolizing purification and divinity, but the one around Flema’s neck was different.
It emanated an ominous, dark light, as if a terrible grudge, born from eons of suffering, had become a curse and been enshrined there.
It was not fitting to call it a holy relic.
A Cursed Object.
That is what it should have been called.
“More… importantly… hundreds of… the finest un,dead… prepared for… Duke of Rutland… have been… subjugated.”
“They’re just corpses. If they bought even a second of time, they did their part.”
“Among… them… was a Death… Knight… made from the… corpse of an S-rank… hun,ter.”
“…Really?”
The moment Flema looked at Kargasan with a somewhat surprised expression…
—!!!!!
““?!””
As an immense wave of magic power swept over all of London, the flames that had been greedily devouring the city were extinguished all at once.
At the sight, Flema swallowed dryly and forced a smile.
“…Does it even make sense to extinguish the flames of Flauros with magical pressure alone?”
Flema’s red eyes trembled, her common sense utterly shattered.
And that wasn’t all.
As if they had exchanged some kind of signal, the Duke of Rutland, who had been silently moving through the city dealing with the undead and demon worshippers, also began to move.
The two villains watched the two dukes flying toward them from the south and north with incredible momentum, and their demonic energy began to rise.
Rumble—
Space itself trembled under the immense power, and soon, a formidable shockwave shook the skies above London.
*
After Duke Winchester’s departure, the banquet hall was thrown into chaos.
“S-Sir Lancelot! Please, dispatch the knights to our territory! This year’s harvest is at stake!”
“Sir Gawain…! Please, for the sake of our ancestors’ bond, help our territory…!!”
Returning to the banquet hall, Gawain and Lancelot had to break a sweat calming the nobles who swarmed them.
“Everyone, please calm down!”
“At times like this, we must maintain our dignity as nobles!”
Despite their impassioned pleas, the terror of the attacks, etched deep into the nobles’ bones, did not easily subside.
After a long struggle, the two had no choice but to forcefully push the nobles away.
“Damn it, where the hell did Tristan go?”
“Probably off chasing some woman again. For now, we have to get out of Avalon and respond to the attacks ourselves.”
Gawain nodded silently at Lancelot’s words.
But the unease that had taken root in his heart would not go away.
Questions kept swirling in his mind, confusing him.
‘Why did the Duke leave us behind…?’
If this was a large-scale terrorist attack happening simultaneously across the UK, they would need every person they could get for a swift suppression.
In such a situation, Gawain couldn’t understand the Duke’s decision to leave them in the banquet hall.
However, he didn’t think the Duke had made the wrong decision.
Those who inherited the title of Merlin had always served as advisors to the Round Table, and Gawain, who had received countless help from Duke Winchester over the years, trusted him more deeply than anyone.
‘…What if there’s a reason we have to stay in the banquet hall?’
With a meaningful expression, Gawain scanned the hall.
It was night, so he couldn’t receive the Blessing of the Sun, but the instincts he had honed his entire life hadn’t vanished.
But he couldn't sense the nauseating energy unique to demon worshippers anywhere.
‘…Am I wrong?’
Gawain quietly grimaced.
Logically, it was impossible for an unauthorized person to infiltrate the banquet hall.
To reach the entrance of Avalon in the Magic Tower’s basement, one had to get past heavy security and also pass through the barriers set up all over the Duke’s mansion.
Though it felt a little unsettling, Gawain decided to dismiss the anxiety in his heart as a groundless fear.
The top priority right now was to get out of Avalon as quickly as possible and suppress the terror attacks.
Just as he was about to leave the hall, avoiding the nobles…
“David!”
“…Tristan?”
Gawain’s eyes met with Tristan, who had disappeared while being lectured.
He was walking into the banquet hall with a relaxed smile, as if nothing had happened.
“Where have you been all this…!”
As Gawain approached with a stern expression, Tristan waved his hand with his usual good-natured smile.
“Haha, sorry, sorry. I tried to come back quickly, but a beautiful lady just wouldn’t let me go.”
“Huuu…”
Gawain let out a deep sigh, a mix of many emotions.
“So, did something happen? The atmosphere in here seems terrible.”
“There was a terrorist attack.”
“…Terrorism?”
The smile vanished from Tristan’s face at the serious news.
“The Duke has already headed to London. But this is happening all over the UK simultaneously, so we need to go and provide support before it’s too late.”
“…”
Tristan nodded with a serious expression.
Gawain watched him for a moment, then immediately turned to call for Lancelot.
He planned to entrust the command of the hall to another noble and have the three of them return to London quickly.
“By the way, David, did you know?”
“What is it? If it’s just some pointless chatter, save it for…”
Shunk—
A sound that should never have been heard pierced his ears.
Gawain stared blankly at the white blade that had pierced through his lung, then slowly turned his head to look at Tristan.
“I’ve always liked you, you know. As a friend, of course. You nagged a little too much, but your serious attitude in everything made you seem like a true noble. I found myself admiring you without even realizing it.”
Gawain’s golden eyes trembled precariously, and dark red blood began to trickle down from his lips.
“But I guess our little game of friendship ends today.”
“L-Leonar…”
Slice!
Tristan’s sword cut across Gawain’s chest, splattering blood across the pristine white banquet hall.
“Kyaaaaaah!!!”
“S-Sir Tristan has gone mad!!”
“Call the guards, now!!”
Screams and chaos spread like a plague among the nobles who witnessed the scene.
Tristan watched them for a moment, then slowly began to walk toward them.
A heavy, sunken killing intent flickered in his red eyes.
Thud—
“Hm?”
“…L-Leonar.”
At that moment, Gawain, who had collapsed to the floor, grabbed Tristan’s ankle.
The blow to his right chest had saved him from instant death, but judging by the amount of blood, it was clearly a fatal wound.
Crrrack—
But even with such an injury, the grip tightening on Tristan’s ankle was unnervingly strong.
“…So you really are the possessor of the Blessing of the Sun. To have this much vitality in the middle of the night.”
“Why…!!”
Gawain’s eyes blazed like the sun.
His intense fury materialized, rising like a heat haze.
“Why did you betray us…?!”
The moment Tristan’s sword pierced his body, Gawain realized he had been corrupted.
It was the filthy, nauseating energy of a demon worshipper.
“Is the reason really that important right now?”
Tristan offered no excuse.
He simply looked down at the wounded, fallen Gawain with his usual familiar smile.
A friendship of nearly twenty years came to a quiet end atop a pool of dark red blood.
“Don’t drag this out. Finish it quickly, Leonar.”
At that moment, a familiar voice reached Gawain’s ears.
Slowly turning his head, he saw a face he couldn’t believe.
“…Richard?”
The man who had inherited the title of Lancelot was looking down at the wounded Gawain with cold eyes.
The good-natured neighborhood friend who had spent his childhood with Tristan was nowhere to be seen.
Only the form of a hideously corrupted demon worshipper was reflected in Gawain’s eyes.
“I was about to finish him without you nagging. By the way, what about my request?”
Instead of answering, Lancelot pointed somewhere.
He saw the bodies of the murdered escort knights and Lady Ophelia, asleep on a sofa.
Beside the lady lay a maid, bleeding and collapsed.
“O-Ophelia…!!”
Thwack!!
“Keuk!!”
“That’s what I like to hear.”
Tristan stomped on Gawain as he tried to get up.
A vile lust for Ophelia gleamed in his red eyes.
“The target?”
“Hm? Ah, don’t worry about that. The others went. By the way, can I grab one more guy before we leave?”
“What do you mean?”
Lancelot’s gaze grew even more murderous.
His usual kind and gentle demeanor was gone, replaced by a cold, ruthless expression.
“There’s that guy, Kang Hyun-woo, right? I have a debt to repay him.”
“…Do as you please. But if you’re late, I’m leaving without you.”
With Lancelot’s permission, Tristan gave a wicked smile.
At the sight, Gawain, with his dying body, mustered his fighting spirit.
“You call yourselves knights, yet you would trample a young bud…?!”
“Knights? Please.”
CRUNCH!!
“?!!”
Tristan scoffed at Gawain and stomped on the wrist that was gripping his ankle.
Gawain’s face contorted in pain.
“By the way, the power of a demon is pretty amazing. To put all those soldiers and knights in the Duke’s mansion to sleep at once.”
Except for the nobles pounding on the locked banquet hall doors and screaming, the Duke’s mansion was utterly silent.
Tristan frowned as he looked at the nobles.
Lancelot stopped him as he reached for his sword hilt.
“He asked us to leave them, so don’t touch the nobles if you can help it.”
“That Crow Mask? He’s something else. Hasn’t he killed dozens of nobles with his own hands? At this rate, there won’t be any countries left in Europe.”
Tristan burst into a flippant laugh.
But it was short-lived.
He looked down at Gawain with cold eyes and gripped his sword hilt.
Vwooom—
A red aura rose from the white sword.
“It’s been fun, my friend.”
With those final words, the sword fell toward Gawain, tracing a red arc.
Feeling no hesitation in the strike, Gawain squeezed his eyes shut.
To be betrayed and meet his end at the hands of his closest friend, and to be unable to save the granddaughter of the master he revered.
It was too pathetic a life for a knight.
Slice—
“…?”
But no matter how long he waited, the pain never came.
Gawain cautiously opened his eyes.
He was speechless at the sight before him.
“…Tsk, so this was a clone, too?”
There, Tristan lay on the floor, his body split in two.
Slowly raising his head, Gawain saw the man who had greeted him alongside Lancelot, standing over Tristan’s corpse with a dark sword in hand.
It was the mage named Kang Hyun-woo.