The Knights of the Round Table
“Knights of the Round Table…!”
Thud!
Yet the woman who had reached the fourth stage collapsed at once.
Serengeti.
Known as the Pure White Knight and Wilhelm’s closest confidante, she had fainted, her face drained of all color.
Who were they?
The Knights of the Round Table.
They were the powerhouses gathered under the Knight King Wilhelm. Captivated by his strength and honor, they had flocked from every corner of the continent—men and women who would leap smiling into a thousand-fathom blaze if it served him. Gender, age, even species did not matter. The sole qualification for a seat at the Round Table was absolute loyalty to Wilhelm.
Thirteen in all, they wrote myth after myth. Little of their true exploits ever reached the public ear, for every glory was laid at Wilhelm’s feet alone. They poured themselves into burnishing the Knight King’s name, and that was only natural. Still, they did not mind. They had surpassed the incomprehensible, overturned wars that no one believed could be reversed, and accomplished what no one else even dared attempt. Those who faced the Knights of the Round Table could only click their tongues in dread.
“The group I least want to face again? Wilhelm’s inner circle, without question.”
“The Knights of the Round Table were monsters, every last one of them. I’ve spent a lifetime on battlefields, yet I’ve never seen a pack so unnatural.”
“You kill them and they still don’t die. A sword through the heart and they keep thrusting. I still see their eyes—those blood-red eyes staring at me. They visit me in my dreams even now.”
“…They would do anything at a single word from Wilhelm. Most of them were outcasts—cast out by society or by their own races. Talented yet abandoned, skilled yet scorned. Perhaps that is why their camaraderie was something else entirely.”
“Not a single normal soul among them. The vice-captain wasn’t even human. Ah, the Pure White Knight Serengeti? You think she was normal? Heh. You have no idea. On the battlefield she was a nightmare. She played with her enemies’ very souls.”
“I don’t know what answer you want, but the truth is this: even the demons of the Demon Realm look gentle beside the Knights of the Round Table. Keep that to yourself. I fear they’ll haunt me even after I’m dead.”
After the Tower of the War God and the Wilhelm craze that followed, reporters tracked down those who had once faced the Knight King and his Round Table. The interviews were shocking. Almost no one wished to face them again. One could hardly print that demons seemed kinder by comparison.
What was certain was that every Knight of the Round Table had been formidable. Serengeti, the Pure White Knight, had been the youngest and weakest among them. Ruthless beyond measure to their enemies, they were boundlessly gentle to all others—and “enemy” meant only one thing: anyone who opposed Wilhelm.
Yet even those mighty knights had fallen during the Great Expedition, smiling as they sacrificed themselves for the sole purpose of slaying the Demon King.
“……That’s impossible.”
Reporter Kim Hana held the interview transcripts, her expression growing more vacant with every line. With the appearance of God’s Island and the dawn of the Great Awakener Era, public curiosity about Wilhelm had soared. With the help of first-generation Awakeners she had conducted extensive interviews across Pangenia, intending to shape the answers into a proper article. Yet every reply was unprintable as written.
“They really died smiling?”
The accounts of the Great Expedition were the most outrageous of all. In the Demon Realm every Knight of the Round Table except Serengeti had perished. Survivors of the expedition, without a single word of difference, all said the same thing: every one of them had smiled. They had smiled because their deaths brought the conquest of the Demon Realm one step closer. Living beings feel terror at the moment of death; it is impossible for an entire company to die truly laughing. And yet the witnesses claimed they had never seen smiles so radiant with joy.
“Everything for the Knight King Wilhelm…… Even if they themselves were forgotten, so long as the Knight King’s honor shone, they did not care……”
It was easy to romanticize: knights who gave their entire bodies for their king. How honorable. But what of each of them as individuals? Kim Hana found herself wondering.
“Not a single knight’s name is known. Except for the Pure White Knight Serengeti. Does that make any sense?”
That was the part she truly could not accept. Aside from Wilhelm and Serengeti, no one knew the names of the other Knights of the Round Table. Speculation ran wild, yet not a single person could identify them with certainty. Despite countless battlefields and countless achievements, every one of them had hidden themselves. To say it was merely for the Knight King’s sake felt incomplete. It was as though none of them had ever wanted their names known—as though they wished their identities, their very existence, to remain buried, to be called only “Knights of the Round Table.”
And so Kim Hana’s curiosity only deepened. She wanted to dig further—not merely into Wilhelm, but into the followers who had walked behind him.
Tap. Tap-tap-tap.
Her fingers flew across the keyboard.
Immediately after Serengeti collapsed, Hudson hoisted her onto his back and carried her away. Watching them, Saintess Seia curved her lips into a soft smile.
“They’re still as close as ever.”
The other saintesses around her immediately began to chatter.
“You mean Hudson and Serengeti? I heard they broke off the engagement.”
“Oh my. Family pressure, perhaps? I heard he’s a merchant of no pedigree.”
“He does look rather beneath the Pure White Knight.”
“The picture they make is a little…… off, isn’t it?”
The gazes the two saintesses cast toward Serengeti and Hudson were far from kind. The Pure White Knight was famous; as the sole Knight of the Round Table to return alive from the Great Expedition, there was no one who did not know her name. Of Hudson, almost nothing was known beyond the fact that he had once been a merchant.
“I heard he ran a gambling house in Arcana.”
“……How vulgar. That makes them even less of a match.”
“There’s also a rumor that he waits on monsters in the Labyrinth City.”
“How dreadful……”
Their meddling knew no bounds. Yet what Seia had meant had nothing to do with Hudson and Serengeti’s relationship.
The Knights of the Round Table are still as close as ever.
She had seen it. The honor of the Round Table still walked beside Serengeti. They had been so close it made others envious, and even in death they continued to protect her.
And the saintesses? What of them?
“Saintess Seia, won’t you set the example first?”
“That’s right. You’re the holiest among us, after all.”
They competed in quiet ways, and they envied Seia most of all. Far from blessing her return to life, they watched her with something colder. Only then did Seia remember why she had left for the Great Expedition in the first place.
I was sick of the Goddess Sect.
She had envied the Knights of the Round Table—their freedom, their unbreakable bonds. Perhaps she had wanted to belong among them. That was why she had left the Goddess Sect without a backward glance and joined the Great Expedition, walking boldly into the place no one else would go and everyone begged her to avoid.
……And yet she had returned.
The Goddess Sect is rotting.
Whatever else she was, she remained a saintess, bound by duty to serve the Goddess Sect. She could not simply watch it crumble. Now that her memories had returned, now that she still lived, coming back had been the only natural choice.
“Very well. I shall go first.”
Seia did not care. Not their envy, not their jealousy, not even the gazes that hoped she had fallen and become something dishonorable. All she needed to do was prove herself. That was the only reason she had come this far.
To prove it.
Saintess Seia stepped forward.
“High Druid. Fifteen individuals possess ‘Honor’ of the third stage or higher.”
Once the World Tree’s verification was complete, Great Elder Albino brought me the results.
“More than I expected.”
I nodded lightly. It truly was unexpected. I had thought four would already be a generous number. To find so many who held more than twenty thousand Honor……
“The World Tree’s appearance drew out many who had long kept themselves hidden. Among them, three even reached the fourth stage or higher.”
Three with more than thirty thousand Honor. From these I would have to select a party for the Forgotten Dungeon of Honor. I had already ordered Hell, the Orthodox, to bring Serengeti and her companions here, yet whether they met the Honor threshold remained uncertain.
“May I see the list?”
“Of course you must.”
Albino turned the pages. There lay the full roster of those whose Honor had been confirmed, and the fifteen names that exceeded twenty thousand, each with notes attached.
……White King?
The very first name already presented a problem. The White King? That haughty White King had come to the World Tree to have his Honor verified? The creature that rarely even showed its face had made a grand appearance. Perhaps receiving the fang and recovering its power had given it confidence.
Saintess Seia is here as well.
Third stage. As expected, it was Seia. I had been certain she would possess at least twenty thousand Honor, or an equivalent grade of presence. The surprise was the other saintesses. The finest among them had surely come together, yet none of their names appeared on the Honor list.
So the rumors that the Goddess Sect’s honor has hit rock bottom were true.
I had seen the Holy Capital myself, but the situation was even more wretched. A saintess’s Honor is inevitably bound to the Honor of the Goddess Sect. Their absence was proof that the Sect’s name had been driven into the dirt. That Seia had still proven herself under such conditions only made her more impressive.
……Serengeti at the fourth stage?
Even more surprising was Serengeti. Even for her, holding more than thirty thousand Honor was unexpected.
Serengeti, the Elf Queen, and the Giant of Evil’s Annihilation—those three stand at the fourth stage. But why is Dramut here?
The Old King’s domain. Dramut, the guardian of the first star I had ever obtained, had also come. Not only Dramut—star guardians had arrived in force. When they moved together there was always a reason: the appearance of the Death King in Cramdel, for instance. Star guardians acted only in matters tied to the Goddess’s stars.
The star guardians moved as a group…… yet there is no other star here.
Why? The question itched maddeningly.
I must complete a party of seven. Whom do I choose?
More important still was finishing the party. I needed to consider who would make the clearest path forward.
Then—
“Ah……”
Great Elder Albino broke the long silence.
“Great Elder. What is it?”
“Please speak comfortably. I do not mind.”
“You are my master’s senior. How could I possibly speak casually?”
“……”
Albino closed his mouth. We would have to discuss this sooner or later. Addressing Raiga with casual speech while using honorifics toward me made for a strangely inverted picture. Yet something more urgent seemed to press him, for he spoke again.
“……About the World Tree’s dungeon.”
“Does the Great Elder wish to join us as well?”
“Yes. I believe it is only right that I do.”
He had guarded the World Tree for long ages. He was claiming that right. It sounded reasonable enough, yet I shook my head.
“No.”
“……Why not?”
Albino’s expression hardened. My refusal, however, rested on solid ground.
“You have not yet had your qualification verified, have you?”
“……Pardon?”
“Go to the World Tree and confirm your qualification first.”
“……”
I smiled brightly.
“I did it. So should you, Great Elder.”
Druid of the Golden Rule
After being recognized as head of the Palga, Raiga left Hyun in the sanctuary and departed for the Empire, entrusting the acting authority of the family head to his disciple. When Raiga returned, the Eight Houses Knights came with him, bearing a massive coffin. They had run without rest; every one of them was soaked through with sweat.
……Master.
The sky was dark. Though it was early morning, thick clouds hid the sun. A fine rain fell, and mist hung heavy. On such a day Raiga carefully set the coffin before the World Tree. To either side the knights of the Palga stood in ranks, while Great Elder Albino and ten elders watched in silence.
Dantalian, previous head of the Palga and Raiga’s master, had died without ever receiving the World Tree’s blessing.