Just as everyone thought it was about to attack, the spirit suddenly stopped, as if it had encountered something that made it hesitate. Its eyes, once wild and filled with killing intent, locked directly onto Arthur… and, to everyone's surprise, there was fear in them.
This wasn't ordinary hesitation.
It was genuine apprehension.
After staring at Arthur for several long seconds—far longer than they should have felt—the creature slowly took two steps back, never taking its eyes off him, as if afraid to turn its back. Then, in the blink of an eye, it vanished completely, dissolving into the darkness as though it had never been there at all.
The others remained around Arthur in a defensive formation, alert and vigilant for any suspicious movement. Silence once again dominated the surroundings—heavy and suffocating. Only after some time, when it became clear that no immediate attack would follow, did Lamorak finally relax slightly and lower his spear.
"It escaped."
That single statement broke the tension.
Everyone let out a collective sigh of relief—some quietly, others more visibly.
When facing human enemies, no matter how numerous or well-armed, they fought without hesitation, using all their strength. But that creature was different. Even seasoned warriors found themselves holding back, hesitating in the heat of battle.
On top of that, its agility made any attempt to strike extremely difficult.
But still… why did it retreat?
Did it simply decide to flee?
Or did it foresee that a direct confrontation would go badly and choose to avoid unnecessary risk?
Arthur remained silent, carefully analyzing every detail of that strange encounter.
It was Lamorak's voice that pulled him back to reality.
"My king, inform Bedivere to return to Camelot as soon as possible. Someone has opened a portal to the afterlife. We need to completely rethink how we deal with the Saxons."
Arthur blinked, snapping out of his brief train of thought, and nodded firmly.
"Yes. Let's leave this place as quickly as possible."
For now, that was all they could do. Staying any longer wouldn't yield useful information. Later, they could send specialized teams to investigate the area more thoroughly.
However, as soon as the group returned to the entrance, a new problem presented itself—
All the horses tied to the trees were dead.
The scene was brutal.
Each animal bore deep claw marks and precise, lethal cuts, clearly indicating that the spirit not only possessed intelligence… but had also acted with deliberate intent—almost as if taking revenge before leaving.
"All we can do now is wait for Bedivere's troops to arrive," Lamorak said heavily.
Without the horses, returning to Camelot on foot would be extremely difficult and dangerous. Even with reinforcements, there would still be limitations—two men per horse was far from an ideal solution.
Honestly… is this a victory or a defeat?
When they arrived, all the Saxons were already dead. The territory had, in theory, been reclaimed without cost.
But in practice… they had done absolutely nothing.
This is completely different from what I expected… Arthur sighed inwardly, feeling a faint sense of discomfort.
At that moment, the sound of hooves broke the silence.
Arthur turned his head and saw a white horse gracefully approaching Artoria, nuzzling her face with clear affection.
It was the same horse they had found near the dry well.
It had survived.
"What is this…?" Lamorak asked, surprised.
"This horse was near the dry well," Arthur explained, still observing the animal with curiosity and a hint of astonishment.
Did the spirit not see it?
Or… did it choose to ignore it?
Lamorak studied the horse for a few moments, carefully examining every detail before declaring:
"It's an extraordinary animal. Your Majesty, it's already getting dark. Why don't you and Lady Artoria depart with it? We'll regroup later."
He then looked directly at Artoria.
"Can you protect the king?"
Her answer came without hesitation.
"Of course."
Arthur: "???"
So… no one's going to ask for my opinion?
Before he could say anything, Artoria had already mounted the white horse and extended her hand toward him.
"Come. I'll escort you back to the capital."
"The others will arrive soon, don't worry," Lamorak added, noticing Arthur's hesitation.
"Or does the king not trust in our strength?"
Since you put it that way… Arthur sighed inwardly.
"How could I say I don't trust you?"
Besides, there was nothing more he could do here. Waiting for the main force wouldn't bring any immediate benefit.
And there was something else bothering him—
The "other world."
If someone had opened a portal, then Morgan would likely know something.
After mounting the horse, Arthur nodded.
"Let's go."
Artoria cast one last glance at the group before setting off.
Before leaving, however, she shot a cold, indifferent look in Milo's direction.
The response came in the form of a faint smile.
"What a pointless provocation…"
But behind that smile, her fist slowly clenched, and a dangerous glint flashed in her eyes.
---
As they rode back, Arthur watched the scenery blur past.
His arms were around Artoria's waist, but his mind was elsewhere.
A spirit… alone… wiped out all the enemies?
And still fled when it saw us?
That doesn't make sense…
Something is wrong.
I need to ask Morgan when I get back.
Even so, he frowned slightly.
For some reason, the idea of an "other world" unsettled him deeply.
But that wasn't the worst part.
I really don't want to face Morgan right now…
Arthur sighed inwardly.
Ever since that dream…
Even knowing that Morgan always teased him without crossing the line, that had been different.
And worst of all… he had enjoyed it more than he cared to admit.
Just remembering it… makes me feel guilty.
Lost in these thoughts, they soon arrived at the capital.
The white horse was incredibly fast—far faster than Arthur had expected—and responded only to Artoria's commands.
Strange… this is definitely no ordinary horse.
The guards opened the gates immediately upon seeing them, allowing them to enter without any obstruction.
"Are you going to see my sister now?" Artoria asked.
She had clearly picked up on his intention.
"I'll prepare myself mentally first," Arthur replied.
Now, whenever I think of her, that dream comes rushing back…
"You need to prepare yourself mentally to see my sister?" Artoria tilted her head slightly, confused.
"Well… it's necessary. After all, the night before last—"
Arthur stopped abruptly.
Just barely.
"What happened that night?" Artoria pressed.
"It was nothing," he replied quickly, changing the subject. "Take the horse to the stables. I'll talk to Morgan later."
Artoria didn't press further.
"Alright. If you need anything, let me know."
She left with the horse.
Arthur watched until she disappeared from sight.
Right… first, I'll prepare myself mentally…
He turned to enter the palace.
"Were you thinking about me?"
The voice came from behind him—soft, languid… far too familiar.
His body stiffened instantly.
Perfect timing…
For a moment, it felt as if she had never left his side.
Morgan watched him with a faint smile.
"I know what you want to ask. Come with me."
She lightly touched his shoulder.
"This isn't something to discuss here."
Arthur turned, surprised.
"You know what I want to ask?"
Her smile deepened, mysterious.
"Of course I do."
---
(End of Chapter)