601 Welcome Back (1/2)

”Excellent. Your Royal Highness is indeed a good boy.” Lancelot patted the prince on the shoulder and said softly, ”Then open the box, open it and you'll be able to protect your mother.”

”Shut your mouth!” At the moment, Maxwell roared like a lion. His eyes were lit up with a flare as brilliant as gold. He grasped his sword and moved forward, as the heavens and the earth roared. A brilliance as bright as the sun gathered around the blade.

Lancelot put himself between Maxwell and the eldest prince. He looked at Maxwell indifferently, his hand already pressing against the hilt of the sword at his waist. As they brushed past each other in an instant, countless sparks flashed.

It was as if endless time had been compressed into an instant.

Then, the sound of steel shattering rang out. The stone sword was pressed against Lancelot's neck, making a bloody wound.

In Lancelot's hand, the long sword that had accompanied him for many years broke. Lancelot was silent for a moment, sighed, then threw the hilt down. What remained of the long sword fragmented on the ground and shattered into iron sand.

”You're really fast, faster than I expected.” Lancelot whispered, ”Fortunately, I've come prepared.”

He raised his head and looked at Maxwell.

Maxwell said nothing. He couldn't move. As if he had been frozen by time in that very instant, he became transfixed at that moment. All his movements stopped dead, from eyes to fingertips, every part of his body was unable to move.

Lancelot reached out and pulled out the stone sword from his hand. The stone sword felt like a scorching hot branding iron in his hand and instantly charred his five fingers, but all of its glow dimmed rapidly. As he loosened his grip, the sword landed on the ground, and returned to its original state of dullness and normalcy, no longer possessing any unusual magical powers.

”I spent the first half of my life preparing to inherit the sword, and although it did not pick me... I know where its power lies better than anyone else.” Lancelot walked up the steps and pulled out the Lance of the Dragon Slayer that had been wedged into the throne, letting Elizabeth's body slip off the throne and onto the ground.

He turned back and continued looking at Maxwell. ”Surely you didn't think that I would confront it without making any preparations?”

Bang! The Lance of the Dragon Slayer broke through the air. Thrust by Lancelot, it pierced through Maxwell, pinning him to the ground, but no blood came out of his wounds. As if scorching hot molten copper was pouring into his body, Maxwell convulsed in pain. The violent power of the lance burned his blood vessels and the flesh around his wounds. His skin cracked inch by inch, and his bones whined forlornly.

”You shall witness it just like this.” Lancelot looked down on him indifferently. ”Witness how your nightmare returns.”

At that moment, the cowardly boy finally opened the iron box.

A hoarse laugh seemed to come from within the dark iron box.

The eldest prince was stunned for a moment and raised his head, wanting to look at Lancelot. But at that moment, a shrill voice burst out from the iron box, rose up high into the sky, and swept towards all directions.

The ocean shook. It was a mighty roar resembling that of a dying dragon.

A terrifying pressure was born from the air.

Then, a seemingly endless tide of darkness spewed out from the tiny iron box, flooding the entire throne room. Countless illusions of hurricanes, storms, thunder, and lightning emerged from within. In the depths of the darkness, a pair of dim red eyes lit up, filled with supreme joy.

The day had finally arrived! The boundless darkness surged.

In the darkness, only the shrill scream of the eldest prince could be heard. ”It hurts, mom, it hurts.! Save me! Sister, sister... Arghhh!!!!” The mad scream lasted for tens of minutes.

Across the thick darkness, it seemed as if a furious behemoth was pounding on the ground, causing the entire floor of the throne room to fall apart. In the end, countless masses of darkness swirled inwards, drawn by the terrifying pull, and collapsed towards the center.

Clouds of dust swelled. The opened iron box was thrown onto the ground, already distorted during the prince's painful struggles and vents. In the center of the hall, on the ground covered in cracks, the thin body panted exhaustedly, sweating profusely.

It was as if, in a flash, the boy had suddenly grown up. The boy slowly lifted his head, revealing the dark, elongated, beast-like pupils, and rose from the ground slowly.

”Thin, too thin.” He frowned, examining his hands, and croaked in a hoarse voice that sounded like steel scraping against each other, ”Lancelot, this body could hardly be of good use!”

Lancelot went down on one knee and kept his head low. ”Please pardon my incompetence.”

The 'boy' moved his body. With his subtle movements, the dragon scales emerged faintly from under his skin, the grotesque bestiality restrained in the cage within his five fingers. But for some reason unknown, a forbidding scar appeared on his chest. It was like an old wound of his past that had already healed, yet had almost torn his entire body apart once.

”In the end, it still can't be patched up.” He asked, ”Where is Mordred, that useless scum? He can finally be of some use.”