Volume 1: The Fourth Holy Grail War
Chapter 21 — Twilight Before Dawn
A year passed.
Then another.
Time flowed quietly across Camelot.
The kingdom continued to prosper, but beyond its borders…
Britain was beginning to change.
The forests had become quieter.
Ancient beasts that had lived peacefully for centuries either disappeared without a trace or became unusually aggressive.
Several fairy clans abandoned their ancestral homes for reasons even they could not explain.
The rivers no longer flowed with the same vitality they once possessed.
To most people…
These were merely strange occurrences.
But to Ren…
They were warnings.
Standing atop Camelot’s western wall, Ren overlooked the endless plains stretching toward the horizon.
Golden wheat swayed beneath the afternoon breeze.
At first glance…
Nothing seemed unusual.
Yet his instincts told him otherwise.
“…It’s getting worse.”
A familiar voice answered from behind him.
“It is.”
Morgan walked to his side, carrying several scrolls beneath one arm.
Her expression remained calm, though there was unmistakable concern in her eyes.
“The latest reports arrived this morning.”
Ren accepted the documents.
Most were requests for aid.
Villages attacked by monsters.
Fairy settlements consumed by mysterious black creatures.
Trade routes that had become too dangerous to travel.
As he read further…
His expression gradually hardened.
“…Twice as many as last season.”
Morgan nodded.
“And they’re spreading.”
“They no longer appear only in the north.”
For the next several months…
Neither of them remained in Camelot for long.
One day…
They rescued a human village surrounded by corrupted beasts.
Another week…
They settled a conflict between two fairy tribes before blood was spilled.
Months later…
Ren personally escorted hundreds of refugees across dangerous forests to Camelot.
The journey never seemed to end.
Each time one disaster was resolved…
Another awaited them somewhere else.
Despite that…
Ren never complained.
To him…
Every life saved mattered.
Whether human…
Or fairy.
One evening…
A young knight approached while Ren cleaned Excalibur beside a campfire.
“My lord.”
Ren looked up.
“What is it?”
“They said…”
The young knight hesitated before smiling.
“They said the King of Knights arrived just when they had lost hope.”
Ren let out a helpless sigh.
“I’ve told everyone before…”
“My name is Ren.”
The knight scratched his cheek awkwardly.
“I know.”
“But…”
“Nobody listens anymore.”
Both of them laughed.
Weeks later…
The two returned to Camelot.
The city remained lively.
But Morgan headed somewhere different.
Deep beneath the castle…
She entered a chamber filled with ancient rune circles.
Shelves lined the stone walls.
Books gathered from every corner of Fairy Britain rested neatly beside scrolls written during Odin’s era.
At the center of the chamber…
A translucent crystal floated quietly above an elaborate magical formation.
Within it…
A tiny blue light gently pulsed.
Like the heartbeat of something asleep.
Morgan stepped closer.
“Mélusine…”
The light flickered once.
Almost as if responding.
Morgan smiled faintly.
“I’ve finally completed it.”
She carefully unrolled a large blueprint across a stone table.
It depicted a humanoid body.
Every magical circuit.
Every spiritual pathway.
Every rune.
Every dragonic organ.
Had been calculated countless times.
“This vessel…”
“…should be able to contain Albion’s consciousness.”
She slowly sat down.
“…Not today.”
“…Perhaps not even tomorrow.”
“But…”
“When the time comes…”
“You’ll be ready.”
Later that evening…
Ren entered the workshop carrying two cups of tea.
“I figured you were still here.”
Morgan accepted one with a grateful smile.
“You know me too well.”
Ren noticed the countless notes scattered across the room.
“You finished?”
Morgan nodded.
“The theory.”
“The actual process…”
“…is another matter entirely.”
She looked toward the floating crystal.
“I don’t know when she’ll awaken.”
“But now…”
“There is finally a path.”
Ren quietly looked at the sleeping light.
“You’ve worked harder than anyone.”
“So have you.”
Days became months.
Months became another year.
The burdens on Camelot continued increasing.
Yet…
So did the people’s faith.
Travelers crossing Britain shared stories wherever they went.
“I saw him defeat an entire horde alone.”
“They say his spear never misses.”
“I heard his holy sword shines brighter than the sun.”
“They say even dragons bow before him.”
Each storyteller exaggerated the tale a little more.
Until eventually…
The stories became legends.
One evening…
A traveling bard arrived at Camelot.
As the city gathered around him…
He began to sing.
> “When darkness swallowed Britain’s skies…”
> “A knight clad in white answered the people’s prayers.”
> “He carried a holy sword…”
> “A divine lance…”
> “And a spear that never failed.”
> “Thus arose Britain’s King of Knights…”
The crowd applauded.
Children listened with sparkling eyes.
Even seasoned knights smiled.
Ren, standing near the back, rubbed his forehead.
“…That sounds nothing like me.”
Morgan couldn’t suppress her laughter.
“No?”
Ren shook his head.
“I don’t remember half of those things happening.”
“They didn’t.”
Morgan smiled knowingly.
“But that’s how legends are born.”
She looked toward the cheering crowd.
“They don’t remember every detail.”
“They remember how someone made them feel.”
Ren fell silent.
Morgan continued.
“A person’s name belongs to themselves.”
“…But a legend belongs to everyone.”
Ren looked at the people celebrating below.
For the first time…
He realized something.
Perhaps…
His story no longer belonged only to him.
That night…
Far beyond Camelot…
A black mist slowly spread across the distant mountains.
Countless crimson eyes opened within the darkness.
Watching.
Waiting.
As though the island itself had begun counting down the final days of the Age of Fairies.
The peaceful dawn that Camelot had fought so hard to build…
Was slowly giving way…
To the twilight of Fairy Britain.
End of Chapter 21