Volume 1: The Fourth Holy Grail War
Chapter 22 — The Legend Takes Root
The passing of time never stopped.
Another year quietly slipped away.
Ren was now twenty-three years old.
Morgan had reached twenty-five.
The youthful faces that had once trained beneath Odin’s watchful gaze had long since disappeared.
In their place stood two figures whose names had spread across every corner of Britain.
One was hailed as its greatest knight.
The other as its greatest magus.
Together…
They had become the pillars supporting Camelot.
The morning bell echoed across the city.
Citizens gradually filled the streets.
Blacksmiths reignited their furnaces.
Merchants arranged their goods.
Knights changed shifts along the city walls.
The city moved with practiced rhythm.
Peace had become normal.
Something almost unimaginable in Fairy Britain.
Within Camelot Castle…
The Round Table had finally been completed.
It wasn’t merely a magnificent piece of furniture.
It symbolized the ideals upon which Camelot had been founded.
There was no distinction between noble and commoner.
Between human and fairy.
Only those who truly wished to protect others could earn a seat.
Several knights had already gathered inside.
Some were human.
Some were fairy.
Each wore armor bearing Camelot’s silver dragon emblem.
One knight spoke first.
“Our patrol encountered another refugee caravan.”
Another nodded.
“They’re requesting asylum.”
A third smiled.
“When have we ever turned anyone away?”
The room filled with quiet laughter.
At that moment…
The doors opened.
Ren entered.
Conversation immediately ceased.
Every knight rose.
“My King.”
Ren sighed helplessly.
“How many times do I have to say it?”
“You can just call me Ren.”
One of the older knights smiled apologetically.
“We could…”
“But no one outside this room would agree.”
Another added with a grin,
“The King of Knights shouldn’t worry about such small things.”
The room erupted in laughter.
Even Ren couldn’t help smiling.
After the meeting ended…
Ren left the castle alone.
As always…
He preferred walking through the city rather than remaining inside.
The people greeted him naturally.
Children ran toward him without hesitation.
A little fairy girl tugged on his sleeve.
“Look!”
She proudly held up a wooden sword.
“My father made it!”
Ren crouched beside her.
“It’s a fine sword.”
“Will you become a knight one day?”
She nodded enthusiastically.
“I want to protect everyone!”
Ren gently patted her head.
“Then train hard.”
“I’m looking forward to seeing you.”
The girl beamed before running back to her friends.
Watching from nearby…
Several elderly merchants smiled.
“That’s why everyone follows him.”
“He never acts like a king.”
“No…”
Another corrected.
“That’s exactly why he deserves to be one.”
Outside Camelot…
The legend continued growing.
A traveling bard performed before a crowded village.
His voice echoed across the square.
> “He wandered Britain carrying three sacred treasures.”
> “A spear bestowed by the Allfather.”
> “A holy sword that represented humanity’s hope.”
> “A divine lance that upheld the world itself.”
> “Where darkness gathered…”
> “The King of Knights answered.”
The audience listened in complete silence.
One child suddenly asked,
“What was his name?”
The bard smiled.
“There are many stories.”
“Some call him Ren.”
“Others…”
“…call him Arthur.”
Far away…
Ren sneezed.
Morgan glanced at him.
“Someone must be talking about you.”
Ren rubbed his nose.
“I’d rather they stop.”
Morgan laughed.
“I don’t think that’s possible anymore.”
The two continued walking through Camelot’s gardens.
Bright flowers bloomed on either side of the stone path.
Birds perched peacefully among the branches.
It was difficult to believe Britain was slowly falling apart beyond these walls.
Morgan eventually spoke.
“I’ve made more progress.”
Ren already knew what she meant.
“Mélusine?”
She nodded.
“The vessel has stabilized.”
“I’ve also begun adapting Primordial Runes into the construction.”
Ren looked surprised.
“Odin’s runes?”
Morgan smiled.
“They’re the only runes capable of maintaining something connected to Albion.”
She looked toward the distant tower where countless research materials were stored.
“I still have a long way to go.”
“But…” This chapter is updated first at g.com.
“I’m getting closer.”
That evening…
Ren visited the chamber beneath Camelot once again.
The magical formation continued glowing softly.
At its center…
The crystal floated quietly.
Inside…
The tiny blue light flickered peacefully.
Ren stood silently before it.
“…Still sleeping?”
The light shimmered once.
Almost as though it had heard him.
A faint smile appeared on Ren’s face.
“Take your time.”
“We’ll be waiting.”
As he turned to leave…
The light pulsed again.
This time…
Slightly brighter than before.
Neither Ren nor Morgan noticed.
Elsewhere…
Beyond Camelot’s borders…
A different story unfolded.
Two fairy clans fought over territory.
By the time Camelot’s knights arrived…
Nothing remained except ruined homes and silent forests.
No victor.
Only loss.
The commander lowered his head.
“…We’re too late.”
The report reached Camelot several days later.
Ren read it without speaking.
One report became two.
Then five.
Then ten.
Each carried similar news.
Conflict.
Disappearance.
Corruption.
The peaceful kingdom they had built remained untouched.
But the rest of Britain…
Was steadily crumbling.
Late that night…
Ren stood alone atop Camelot’s highest tower.
Below him…
The city glowed warmly beneath countless lanterns.
Laughter still echoed through the streets.
It was beautiful.
Exactly the future he had dreamed of.
Yet beyond the distant mountains…
Dark clouds slowly gathered.
A storm was approaching.
Ren quietly rested a hand upon Excalibur’s hilt.
“I don’t know what lies ahead…”
“…but I’ll protect this place.”
The wind answered with a gentle whisper.
As though Britain itself…
Had heard his vow.
End of Chapter 22