583 Isll Be Back in a Momen (2/2)

But the process of splitting of the metal required it to absorb aether, just like how a water-absorbing material falling into the water would expand rapidly, and drain all the water completely.

Not only that, but once the disintegration of the metal was complete and it had absorbed enough aether, the stability of the structure would plummet. The material would become difficult to preserve and hyper-sensitive to the stimulation of sound.

There wasn't even a need for movement. A bit of sharp noise would be enough to excite the material, which would then produce high temperatures.

Armored knights were protected by their armor and didn't fear the corrosion of the high temperature. Furthermore, the resulting turbulent aether flows would only exert pressure on the aether furnace and cause no harm to the knights themselves.

But for musicians, once the material had accumulated to a certain amount, the environment would become a quagmire for them, as if they were deeply trapped in mud and could hardly take any actions.

The special metal, which had been completely banned by the Sacred City, its use and study prohibited, was called solder. All along, countries could only keep a small number of samples in private and dared not conduct research and development for military purposes with great fanfare.

When the Sacred City could no longer exercise control over the nations, the countries that were freed from the shackles spared no time in putting the research of it back on the agenda. Even Anglo was no exception.

In a short span of time, the sea of aether corresponding to the area had become thinner than ever, and couldn't be replenished in time. The more of a behemoth something was, the more it would need to depend on the external environment. It was especially so as the Dark Sovereign was weaker than ever, and didn't even possess sufficient power to open up the sea of aether to directly draw energy from the realm of aether.

After the Knights of the Round Table robbed him of the aether in the shadow of Avalon, the scepter of hell could hardly be sustained. It was especially difficult for the Dark Sovereign when four Knights of the Round Table were leading fierce attacks against him at the same time, disregarding their own safety.

The large number of armored knights used the human sea attack tactic to separate the rest of the musicians from the Dark Sovereign, keeping them at a distance. The higher ranking forces were concentrated in one place, and they instantly stifled the faceless principal conductor.

The principal conductor had once almost completely dissolved into the realm of aether. Under backup measures and with the emergency aid of others, most of him managed to be pulled back and was reshaped. Since then, the principal conductor lost his face and his past aura and became a half-oddity being. His own movements also became very strange and couldn't be understood with normal logic.

Even though four Knights of the Round Table were attacking him ferociously with little regard for their own safety, he was able to keep his defenses up, and even counterattacked several times, taking control of the situation every time. However, his attempts were suppressed again and again by the constant and unrelenting attacks of the Knights of the Round Table.

The battle had entered a feverish stage.

In the distance, Lancelot sighed softly. He turned back, looked at the squire that had grown old along with him, and said, ”Put my armor on for me.”

The squire did not appear to be as shocked as other people, nor did he stop Lancelot hurriedly. He merely nodded dully and put the iron box he had been carrying on his back onto the ground. Reaching out, he felt around the hinge of the iron box and forcefully pulled out the copper ring.

In the sharp sound of steel scraping against each other, the gears hidden in the box was activated. Innumerable gears rotated, circlips extended, and the iron box that had been passed down for centuries slowly opened, a stream of biting cold air gushing from it.

In the terrifyingly low temperature, the steel armor slumbering in the box slowly rose. After decades of not setting foot on the world, it displayed its stateliness.

Lancelot stepped forward, towards the innumerable pieces of steel that had unfolded, and walked towards the armor. The armor was like a living thing. Steel stretched and shrank again, covering him inch by inch. In the end, the silver helmet covered his pale blue eyes. He was finally Lancelot once more.

The war god of steel, the unparalleled knight—the real Lancelot!

Coughs and wheezes no longer came from him. The armored knight moved forward, towards the core of the battlefield, the besieged principal commander and the Dark Sovereign. He reached out and pulled out the silent long sword at his waist. The sword was like a mirror reflecting the dark city, the blood and the fire on the battlefield.

The aged squire went down on one knee and bid him farewell earnestly, ”My Lord, may the victory be yours.”

Facing the raging wind and the metallic fire, Lancelot slowly raised his long sword and brought it close to his forehead, performing a sword salute. He examined the mirrored image of the blade of the sword, which resembled the surface of a lake. The mirror-like sword blade reflected his face, which was covered in steel. The other side of the blade reflected his enemy's…scepter from hell.

”Be patient.” Lancelot's voice was hoarse. He said, ”I'll be back in a moment.”

There was a flash. In the short span of an instant, a light seemed to flash across everyone's eyes. Illusion-like light descended on the battlefield. In the momentarily paused time, the light flitted deftly and gracefully over everything and soared in the sky.

The light possessed a thrilling beauty.

But in the next moment, it dissipated.

It lost interest in the battlefield, and God knew where it went.

It did so because everything had come to an end.