161. With Su Ye around, Saber can charge headfirst all day long.

At Saber's shout, a tremendous golden radiance suddenly surged from the Excalibur she held high.

Centered on this golden light, a massive tempest whipped up around her, blowing away several gargoyles that attempted to close in.

Even the dark mist in the sky was pierced through by the brilliant glow, which illuminated the surrounding hundreds of meters as bright as day.

Then, the golden light crashed down with a momentum capable of destroying everything, directly engulfing the Dreadlord.

Boom!

Like the impact of a missile, blinding gold light and a violent explosion erupted, eliciting agonizing shrieks from the Dreadlord trapped within.

"Aaaah!"

The harrowing screams sent a collective chill through the surrounding gargoyles, causing them to shiver in mid-air and dulling their attacks against the stray fighters.

"Incredible! So powerful!"

"Is this the true strength of the King?"

This was probably far more formidable than the superheroes in New York.

Seemingly, aside from that guy Electro who could discharge electricity, there were no other superheroes capable of unleashing such immense energy attacks.

Until now, the illustrious Thor of Asgard remained merely a figure of myth. While some people knew of him, he was not as widely renowned as in the original timeline—at least, not as famous as Electro.

Yet, even Electro and Thor could not possibly unleash such a devastating strike.

All the stray fighters who witnessed that flash of golden light felt a collective surge of exhilaration, sharing the exact same thought:

"Such a mighty warrior, this blonde girl with the little hair-antenna on her head—from now on, she is our hero."

"No, not just a hero, she will be our King from now on, the King of all Britain!"

At the very least, these people had unilaterally arrived at this conclusion.

The glory of Britain ought to be restored by King Arthur, who possessed such formidable martial prowess, rather than by some septuagenarian elders who only inherited the throne in their twilight years.

Across the battlefield, having unleashed her ultimate move, Saber leaned heavily on her sword with both hands, panting laboriously.

She had somewhat overestimated the capacity of this physical vessel while underestimating the toll taken by her ultimate technique.

Consequently, after that single blow, she was plunged into a state of extreme weakness. Her magical energy was severely depleted, and she could barely maintain her physical existence.

Faced with such a powerful adversary, she had only been able to trade blow for blow.

"Hah!"

"Huff!"

Leaning on her blade, Saber raised her head to look toward the Dreadlord's location.

That last strike should have been enough to finish off the bulky brute. As long as he was dealt with, it wouldn't matter if she dissipated immediately afterward.

The remaining gargoyles and skeleton army would soon be utterly eradicated under the attacks of the Knights of the Round Table.

This immense crisis, which had enshrouded the entirety of London and nearly escalated to engulf the whole of Britain, would thus be successfully resolved.

"Even if I cannot witness the future of this world, being able to do something for it may be considered the fulfillment of my wish," Saber murmured softly in her heart.

Simultaneously, the smoke and dust ahead gradually cleared.

Amidst the haze, the Dreadlord was likewise half-kneeling on the ground, his body covered in charred and battered marks.

The previous ultimate attack had indeed dealt catastrophic damage to him. Even a physique capable of withstanding Mjölnir could not endure it; he was now on the brink of death, hanging on by a single thread.

"My King! I must take my leave. The day when this world is veiled in darkness and returns to the hands of us Dark Elves—I fear I shall not live to see it."

The Dreadlord reached out a hand toward the depths of the dark mist, as if wishing to impart his convictions to Malekith in his final moments.

Then, through the dark mist, he seemed to see a man with flowing hair, riding a tall skeletal goat, slowly emerge.

"My King, is this an illusion?"

The Dreadlord raised his head and saw Malekith raise his glowing blue greatsword toward him.

"No, I have come to retrieve you!"

With that, Malekith swung his greatsword at the Dreadlord, and a blob of light resembling excrement instantly landed upon the Dreadlord's body.

Immediately following, the wounds on the Dreadlord began to rapidly knit together, and his overall mental state experienced a tremendous recovery and boost.

Meanwhile, Malekith continuously hurled more of those excrement-like blobs at the Dreadlord as if they cost nothing.

In a mere dozen seconds or so, the Dreadlord rose to his feet once more, resurrected at virtually full health.

Although Malekith the Death Knight possessed only the semblance without the inner essence, this skill, 'Death Coil', could be executed through the power of Aether particles and the dark mist.

'Death Coil' was originally a Death Knight ability capable of restoring health to undead units or inflicting damage upon enemies.

It happened to be perfectly suited for healing the Dreadlord's injuries.

The moment Malekith appeared, Saber's heart sank heavily.

This fellow riding the tall goat, exuding the steady aura of a master, likely possessed a strength no less inferior to the Dreadlord's.

Yet her own magical energy was completely exhausted, and she ran the risk of dissipating at any moment, rendering her utterly incapable of unleashing another Excalibur.

Furthermore, when Malekith restored the Dreadlord's wounds using Death Coil, despair gripped Saber's heart.

She had exerted herself to the utmost, believing she had traded her life for her opponent's, only for the enemy to easily recover to peak condition. How was this battle supposed to be fought?

Could it be that failure was destined once more?

Back then, Britain had fallen into ruin under her own hands.

Today, would this Britain of a thousand years later perish before her eyes once again as well?

Saber was unwilling—truly, bitterly unwilling.

She could not accept failing twice in this manner.

Clenching her teeth, Saber forced herself to stand up once more, gripping the hilt of Excalibur tightly.

Her previous attack had consumed her magical energy; once exhausted, her physical form would dissipate, but her soul would return, awaiting another summons.

This time, however, she resolved to strike with her very soul.

Waging everything—even if her soul disintegrated, even if she never laid eyes upon this land again, even if her existence was forgotten by all—she would resolve the disaster before her and vanquish the enemy entirely.

"My King!"

In the distance, Merlin acutely perceived Saber's intent and screamed out in terror.

"You mustn't do this!"

"Your magical energy is completely spent. If you do this, you will die! Your soul will be annihilated, disappearing without a single trace left behind!"

"Cease your actions! It is not worth it. At worst, we can retreat for now and wait for the next opportunity!"

Merlin's words instantly made the stray fighters realize what the blonde-haired girl intended to do.

To save them, to save Britain, was she truly willing to sacrifice everything she had, including her soul?

"Is this the spirit of a King? This is what a true King is!"

"King Arthur! This is our King Arthur, this is the spirit of Britain! Oh, our King!"

"Our King!"

Cries of lamentation erupted amidst the crowd.

Whether the legends of King Arthur and the people she led shared the exact same lineage as the modern Britons was completely irrelevant at this moment.

Before their eyes, Saber was their sole object of faith.

Faced with Merlin's obstruction and the cries of the populace, Saber turned her head, a smile appearing on her face for the very first time.

"The glory and faith of Britain require someone to pass them on. You have done better than us in the past, and I ask that you continue to uphold them henceforth!"

With those words, Saber hesitated no longer, instantly beginning to unleash her final stubborn defiance.

Opposite her, the Dreadlord's terrifying and ugly visage twisted into a mocking grin.

"You could not kill me once, and you will not kill me a second time!"

"Foolish human, go to hell alongside your foolishness!"

With a roar, the Dreadlord beat his wings, lowering his head as he charged directly toward Saber.

With resolute determination, Saber raised Excalibur once again, the radiance of her blade illuminating the dark mist anew.

And this time, whether it was an illusion or not, Merlin and the stray fighters all felt that the golden light upon the sword was larger, longer, and more magnificent than before.

Yet Merlin and the Knights of the Round Table could not help but shed tears at this sight.

This was, after all, their King, delivering her final strike fueled by her burning soul.

Prompted by them, the eyes of the stray fighters grew moist as well.

They had only just come close to obtaining a King capable of leading them back to glory.

Yet in the blink of an eye, they were about to lose this King forever.

This immense emotional plummet drove many to the verge of a breakdown.

The blinding golden light made it impossible for everyone to keep their eyes open, and through tear-blurred visions, double images seemed to appear.

Or perhaps it was a hallucination?

At that exact moment, everyone fancied they saw a tall figure materialize behind the petite maiden.

Their hands grasped the hilt together, causing the brilliance of Excalibur to shine even brighter and more intensely.

"Excalibur!"

A resonant shout, echoing with overlapping male and female voices, rang out. The massive golden sword descended, cleaving straight down upon the forehead of the charging Dreadlord.

Boom!

A powerful shockwave akin to a nuclear explosion blasted the surrounding gargoyles away, scattering the stray fighters in disarray. Fortunately, protected by the Knights of the Round Table, none of them were blown into the air.

Even so, everyone's hair was whipped into the shape of sweeping brooms, and a few individuals had their outer coats blown clean off.

Yet no one cared about such trifles. Opening their eyes wide, they stared fixedly in Saber's direction.

They wanted to see if their King was still there, wanted to know whether their belonging and glory would return.

Then, upon the battlefield, they beheld Saber standing tall with her sword lowered. Far from showing the exhaustion of moments before, her expression and composure bore not the slightest trace of a recent battle.

Her relaxed demeanor seemed to say: I could keep fighting a battle like this all day long.

Behind her, however, there was no one at all. The shadow and overlapping voice of the man from moments prior truly seemed to have been nothing more than a shared hallucination.

"What... what on earth just happened?"

Perplexed, the stray fighters turned their gaze toward Merlin.

At some point, Merlin seemed to have transitioned into a battlefield commentator. Much like the expository characters in literary works, she popularized the techniques and willpower of the Saber King for everyone present.

"Lord Mage, what is the current status of our King?"

Many people asked anxiously.

In truth, Merlin's mind was filled with question marks as well.

She could see more clearly than these mortals, keenly aware that Saber currently showed no signs of burning her soul whatsoever, and her magical energy had even recovered entirely to a state of abundance.

Most likely, all of this was connected to the man who had appeared behind her earlier.

Behind every successful queen stood a supportive man!

'Who was that man? Is he our King's Master?'

Merlin and the others were heroic spirits, summoned due to the nation's peril and Saber's call, but they differed from Saber.

They were summoned solely for the sake of this war, whereas Saber possessed a Master within this reality.

As long as the Master was willing, she could receive an infinite replenishment of magical energy and persist indefinitely.

Earlier, failing to spot a Master, Merlin had assumed some mishap had occurred—perhaps Saber's Master had fallen in battle, leaving her unable to recover her mana and forcing her to fight alone.

Now, it appeared the Master not only lived, but possessed a terrifyingly vast reservoir of magical energy.

That last sword strike, even without burning her soul, was even more powerful than the previous one.

However, such matters concerning a Master could not be directly disclosed to the populace; doing so might tarnish Saber's image in their hearts.

With that thought, Merlin rapidly concocted a falsehood in her mind.

"Our King—her sincerity, her conviction to save the nation, and her heroic feat of rescuing the people have moved the gods! This is the mighty power bestowed upon her by ancient deities who have existed since time immemorial!"

With a single statement, Merlin neatly obscured Su's existence, attributing all the credit entirely to Saber's sincerity and willpower.

Besides, since that Master had merely appeared for a brief moment before vanishing to parts unknown, Merlin figured that since he laid no claim to the glory, it might as well all be credited to Saber.

In any case, this glory rightfully belonged to her—it was the respect the British people owed her, delayed by over a thousand years.

"Our King is the Savior! Demon or alien, get the hell out of here!"

"Might to our King!"

"Long live our King!"

The lively and stirring cheers contrasted sharply with the gloomy atmosphere of moments before, as if they had already won the battle and eradicated the dark mist and its denizens entirely.

In reality, Saber had merely defeated one Dreadlord, while Malekith, who appeared no less formidable, still loomed opposite them.

The Dreadlord had collapsed to the ground, his body shattered and broken. Even Malekith's Death Coil could sustain the living, but it possessed no power to resurrect the dead.

Ultimately, they were not true undead.

No expression could be read upon Malekith's zombie-like face, but his crimson eyes brimmed with murderous intent.

Saber had slain the Dreadlord—not only his confidant and beloved companion of thousands of years, but also his primary reliance for restoring the glory of the Dark Elves.

Yet she had dispatched him so casually.

Looking at Saber's current composure, describing it as casual was entirely accurate.

Naturally, Malekith could not accept such an outcome.

At his command, the entire skeleton army instantly converged, along with all the gargoyles. The entirety of the Scourge forces gathered here, surrounding Saber.

Simultaneously, the expanse of the dark mist rapidly receded, streaming continuously into Malekith's body.

Malekith realized that when facing such formidable individual might, foot soldiers and territory were useless; only by augmenting his own personal strength and removing this stumbling block could he proceed with the next phase of his plan.

As the dark mist poured into him, Malekith's body visibly swelled, rapidly growing from a height of over two meters atop his mount to tower over ten meters tall.

Both rider and mount transformed into gigantic, terrifying monster forms.

"You—deserve death!"

Malekith roared, his voice reverberating across the heavens like the tolling of the Big Ben.

The greatsword in his hand likewise expanded to seven or eight meters in length, resembling a massive door panel as he brought it crashing down toward Saber.

Saber side-stepped and vaulted, dodging the heavy cleave. However, the ground where she had stood was instantly gouged into a trench a dozen meters deep and a hundred meters long.

It seemed as though the entire earth was about to be split in half by his blow.

Such immense physical strength surpassed Malekith's previous state, and Saber had no way to block it head-on.

Nor did Saber intend to match strength with Malekith. Her body continuously leaped agilely in all directions, dodging his attacks.

Yet Malekith's greatsword acted like an indestructible siege weapon; wherever it passed, buildings and steel infrastructure alike were reduced to rubble.

A dozen-story building could be shattered to pieces with a single swing, and a vast parking lot was blown apart entirely by one strike.

When the Dreadlord was present, everyone had failed to witness the full extent of his attacks, leaving them without a visceral appreciation of his power.

But once Malekith let loose, everyone realized that even without those skeletons and gargoyles, this single knight alone could raze the entirety of London—demolishing every structure across its nearly 1,600 square kilometers—in less than an hour.

This was true terror; this was what genuine fear felt like.

Could Saber successfully defeat her opponent once more against such overwhelming and terrifying power?

As the dark mist contracted, the skyline of downtown London came back into view before everyone's eyes.

This time, not only the stray fighters on the scene, but nearly everyone witnessed the gigantic black monster wreaking havoc in the city center.

That formidable destructive capability cast a pall of gloom over the hearts of all who saw it.

Meanwhile, they also caught sight of the agile blue figure dodging the black monster's onslaught while seizing opportunities to launch counterattacks.

Soon, official helicopters took to the skies, their cameras zooming in from afar on the pair.

Saber's image was broadcast once again through the camera lenses to people all across the globe.

"It's that protestor practicing reverse-marching, that cringe-worthy cosplayer!"

Only then did everyone realize that this person was none other than the girl who had previously led people against the tide straight into the dark mist.

The hero who had slain a skeleton with a single sword stroke, after which the skeleton never rose again.

"What cringe-worthy cosplayer? I've been saying it all along, she's a hero, the savior of Britain!"

"Exactly, that is our pride!"

"That is King Arthur! Our legend, our pride, our King!"

"She defeated the monsters in the dark mist, willing to burn her very soul in the process. Such a great hero tolerates no blasphemy from anyone!"

"Praise our King! If not for her presence, not only us survivors, but even you people outside the dark mist would sooner or later have become victims to those dark mist monsters."

"Our King is named Artoria Pendragon, the legendary King of Britain. Now, she has returned once more to save our Great Britain."

As the stray fighters following Saber finally reconnected to the internet and uploaded the footage they had captured inside the dark mist, along with accounts of their experiences, the public finally learned Saber's true identity.

"Artoria Pendragon? King Arthur? That legendary British hero who pulled the sword from the stone?"

"Why is she a woman? How could a woman..."

"Who says a woman cannot be a king? Are you trying to deny decades of British history?"

"The history of King Arthur exists only in legend; legends get distorted by word of mouth, so gender discrepancies are completely normal."

"Then do you believe that person really is King Arthur?"

"If Thor can appear, why not King Arthur!"

"Indeed, that is King Arthur! Regardless of whether she is male or female, the abilities and convictions she has displayed are more than enough to earn the admiration of us all!"

With Merlin's explanation in the video and Saber's own stellar performance as corroboration, the identity of King Arthur was swiftly accepted by all.

And everyone, joining hands with the surviving stray fighters, raised their voices in slogans praising Saber!

"Long live our King!"

"Might to our King!"

Similar cries and praises instantly flooded the entire internet, spreading outward to every corner of the world.

And when Excalibur in Saber's hand once more blazed with golden light reaching up to the heavens, descending in a single slash to cleave the black monster—which had nearly flattened the entirety of central London—neatly in two,

These praises reached an unprecedented crescendo.

To the extent that every single Briton at that very moment harbored a singular thought: they wished to have King Arthur continue to lead this nation.