In the midst of this burning village, the former Black Knight was constantly swinging the greatsword in his hands, cleaving the Mors pouncing at him directly in two. However, every time he did this, he would hide and rest for a little while. After all, at this moment, he could no longer compare to his younger self; physical decline was his greatest enemy now.
Furthermore, existences like Mors were indeed the fairies' greatest enemy and nemesis. They could practically be called the zombie virus of the Fairy World, and the kind that couldn't be completely eradicated—unless every single fairy in Fairy Britain died.
This created a catch-22.
[Darling, we want to know how to eliminate the Mors.]
[Good, that's a good question. As long as all the fairies die, the Mors will naturally disappear.]
[But we want to eliminate the Mors to protect the fairies!]
Known: To eliminate the Mors, one must kill all the fairies.
Simultaneously: Eliminating the Mors is to protect the fairies.
Therefore, the conclusion drawn from this logic is—in order to protect the fairies, let's kill all the fairies.
Preposterous. This mindset was even more Berserker than a Berserker. It was even more crisp and efficient than a certain "Iron-blooded Nurse" (Nightingale) who would chop off a head to cure a headache or chop off a foot to cure foot pain. However, for this island, wouldn't exterminating all fairies be equivalent to removing a chronic disease? Rather, one could say these Mors were like white blood cells killing a virus, only these white blood cells possessed a certain replicability.
Look, just look at this. They forced the island's defense cells to look like cancer cells. One could imagine just how trashy these fairies were—more stubborn than a stubborn virus. However, to some extent, this island had already successfully "committed suicide" once, but it just had to be saved back then by Morgan using the Tree of Emptiness.
If this island could still retort now, it would definitely try every means to curse the Tree of Emptiness for tens of thousands of years, right? Or perhaps give Morgan a good scolding: If I'm destroyed, let me be destroyed; why did you have to save this terrible Britain?
Aslan strolled through the burning village, a faint smile on his face. The wailing of the fairies around him sounded more like a melodious ensemble to him. However, Aslan soon noticed a small, special figure—it was precisely that Black Knight. Rarely enough, Aslan didn't smell that nauseating scent on this fairy.
However, this fairy didn't have the island's blessing either. Thinking about it carefully, it was incomparably normal. After all, this fairy had once wanted to save this island together with Morgan. Although he hadn't done anything disgusting in this life, the island's own wish was destruction. However, being able to live in seclusion in such a place meant that he had probably despaired of this island and the fairies as well.
He could give this fairy before him a ticket to the new world.
Similarly, Aslan also noticed that the fairy before him didn't seem to be trying to break out, but was going to look for something. Was he looking for some precious object, or looking for some surviving fairy?
Aslan curled the corners of his mouth, a smile of interest appearing on his face. He then waved his hand gently, letting the Mors gathering here disperse for the time being, prioritizing turning those warriors who arrived later into their own kind.
When those fairies of the Fang Clan turned into Mors, it would definitely be a significant help to the strength growth of the entire Mors Legion. Then, using this village as a base point, they would radiate outward rapidly, reproducing the Mors Calamity in a short time.
After all, hearing that the Clan Head of the Fang Clan wasn't in the clan and couldn't carry out military deployment immediately—that was the best opportunity.
Black Knight Ector naturally also noticed that the Mors attacking him seemed to have decreased significantly. The current situation was naturally excellent for him. Although he didn't quite understand why such a situation would occur—after all, it made no sense for these Mors, who had him as a target, to suddenly change their minds.
Actually, in the original plotline, after flames ignited in this village and all the fairies turned into Mors, in order to save the Child of Prophecy, this old knight practically risked his conviction, exchanging his own life for the possibility of the Child of Prophecy living on. From then on, the entire Mirror Clan was left with only one last person.
And in the stable, Artoria... the Fairy of Paradise of this world, Artoria Caster, was clutching her staff and curling up in the corner of the stable. She barely managed to use some small magecraft taught to her by the person claiming to be Merlin back then to block the spread of the fire. But this was not a long-term plan. Having suddenly become the Child of Prophecy, she couldn't let others discover her identity...
The fire here would definitely attract more fairies.
This girl, who shared the same name as King Arthur, was vastly different from the King Arthur of the normal world. The King Arthur of the normal world received noble education from childhood, was guided by Merlin even in her dreams, successfully pulled out the Sword of Selection, and then embarked on a journey through Britain. She unified the island in the posture of a Savior, and likewise ended the Age of Gods of this island as a sacrifice.
Perhaps there was some fragility in that King's heart, but that fragility would absolutely not be revealed. She was firm, courageous, and the King who brought victory to this land!
But for this girl, her different environment determined that while she might wear a smile on the outside, the helplessness, timidity, and bitterness in her heart would become even richer. But no matter what, she was King Arthur's isotope in another world, so she would also try her best to fulfill the expectations of the "righteous people."
Compared to that King who recognized her responsibilities from a young age, this girl was more like an ordinary girl.
"What should I do next? How should I leave from here?"
The girl paced around in circles holding the staff, looking at the raging fire outside, thinking about the magecraft she mastered. If it were just fire, she could still think of a way to avoid burns, but there seemed to be other existences within that fire.
This was a very headache-inducing matter. That person claiming to be Merlin back then hadn't taught her many spells yet before her staff was snatched away by those fairies. This resulted in her being basically a rookie with a combat power of 5. Moreover, she had seen with her own eyes a fairy who fled toward the stable being infected by the blackness.
This made the girl even more certain that going out now was an extremely dangerous thing. However, just when the girl felt this matter was extremely difficult to handle, the sound of knocking on the door rang out.