NOVEL WEB Chapter 340: Lancelot Was Beaten to Tears by the Child of Prophecy
"Reconcile? You think that's possible?"
Staring at Artoria, who was forcing a sheepish smile, the fairy Lancelot touched the dark bruise swelling under her eye—she wasn't sure which version of Artoria had punched her—and slowly clenched her fist.
At this point, no matter what anyone said, she was determined to beat this so-called Child of Prophecy today. Even if she had to surrender afterward and hand over the famed blade Siming, she was still going to get her punches in first.
Yet just as she charged at Artoria, sword scabbard ready to give her a thorough thrashing, her warrior's instinct abruptly screamed a warning, urging her to retreat.
The next instant, a dark silhouette crashed into the ground between her and Artoria. Blinding, frenzied flames erupted in a torrent, carrying an aura that could drive people mad.
Although Lancelot hadn't been directly burned, the mere gust of heat that brushed past her sent a stabbing pain through her skull. Her thoughts scrambled into chaos.
At that moment, she realized something and tried to open her mouth. But under the delirium fire's assault, the agony in her head was so excruciating she couldn't form proper words—only fragments tumbled out of her lips:
"Y—Yser... I..."
Unfortunately, Gwenhwyfar had no intention of listening to anything she tried to say. He simply leapt back, sprinted to Artoria, hoisted her up like a kitten, then spun around and dashed straight for the water mirror behind them.
Ahead of the water mirror, the rest of their team was already assembled, waiting. Seeing that Gwenhwyfar had retrieved Artoria, they wasted no time: they turned as one and dove into the mirror. Only Oberon glanced back and shouted:
"Sorry, Myrien—we have something urgent. We'll come back for afternoon tea another time!"
And with that, he, Gwenhwyfar, and Artoria disappeared into the water mirror together.
"No—Yser—wait—wait for me!"
At last, Lancelot shook off the delirium fire's influence. The first thing she saw was Gwenhwyfar about to vanish beyond her reach. With all her strength, she launched herself toward him, determined to grab hold—if she couldn't stop him from leaving, she'd at least follow him to the other side.
But the instant she passed over the smoldering ring of delirium fire on the ground, her brain convulsed in pain again. It slowed her by a heartbeat.
By the time she reached the water mirror, Gwenhwyfar and Artoria had already slipped through. And as soon as they vanished, Bavanci closed the portal without hesitation. Lancelot lunged forward with everything she had—only to clutch at empty air, then slam face-first into the floor in a puff of dust.
She didn't bother getting up. Instead, she stayed sprawled there, pounding her fist against the floor in frustration as sobs wracked her body.
"Uuuu... Yser... Couldn't you at least let me say one thing... just one chance to explain..."
But her tear-choked mumbling was so faint no one around her heard it. All the auction spectators could see was the strongest knight of the Fairy Nation sprawled miserably on the ground, weeping in humiliation. They began to whisper among themselves:
"Wait... is Lancelot...crying? Am I hallucinating? The Lancelot of the Fairy Nation—actually crying?"
"I mean, it kind of makes sense. She just got pounded into the floor by the Child of Prophecy. Lancelot's been the strongest for two thousand years—when has she ever had to suffer like this?"
"Exactly. And when she finally got the chance to strike back, the Child of Prophecy just gave up and ran away. Who wouldn't lose it? If it were me, I'd be furious—though probably not crying, to be fair."
"I never thought Lord Lancelot had such a...fragile side."
"But uh...think about it—seeing Lancelot like this...isn't there a chance she'll silence all the witnesses?"
In an instant, all the excited chatter cut off. The entire hall went dead silent.
At that moment, Lancelot wiped her tears and slowly lifted her head to scan the crowd. Every fairy her gaze passed over felt a cold shock in their gut, sweat trickling down their backs.
Meanwhile, in a private chamber, Myrien watched the scene unfold via her monitors and felt her scalp tingle.
Especially when she noticed that the auction guests were starting to slip out, one by one.
To be honest, she couldn't even blame them. Even she, for the briefest instant, had considered whether Lancelot might come after her to tie up loose ends. But she was confident Lancelot wouldn't dare make a move inside her city of Gloucester—so she stayed unbothered. Still, letting Lancelot mope around here was going to be terrible for business.
"These idiots... Always leaving me with a goddamn mess to clean up..."
Myrien couldn't help but mutter.
Well, she supposed it was still good news in a sense. If they were that strong, they'd probably make quite the headache for Woodworth.
Just as she was thinking this, she saw Lancelot wipe her face again, then soar into the air with a gust of wind and streak out of the venue.
"Phew...looks like that was a false alarm..."
Everyone breathed out a collective sigh of relief—until another blast of wind slammed through the hall. They looked up in horror to see Lancelot returning, her face set in grim determination.
Was she so enraged she'd come back to wipe them out after all?
As the crowd braced for disaster, Lancelot flew straight to the auction stage, stopped in front of the trembling auctioneer, and held out her hand:
"Anyway... in the end, I still technically won, right? You forgot to give me my prize. Hand it over."
It was only then that the petrified auction fairy seemed to wake from a nightmare. Shaking, they held out the famed blade Siming.
Lancelot took it without another word, launched herself skyward, and disappeared for real.
"...Wait,"
Only after she'd gone did the auctioneer suddenly blurt out:
"She didn't pay!"
[At the Gloucester auction, you challenged the fairy knight Lancelot. Although you didn't win outright, you managed to suppress her for a time, leaving her thoroughly humiliated.]
[After this battle, rumors spread throughout Britannia: that the great fairy knight Lancelot was publicly beaten to tears by the Child of Prophecy.]
[While the tale's credibility is questionable, your reputation and renown have soared.]
[For a while, the Child of Prophecy once again became the hottest topic in the Fairy Nation.]
"What the hell? Lancelot was beaten to tears? Couldn't whoever started this rumor at least try to make it believable? Anyone with half a brain would know that's impossible."
Lying on her bed in the real world, "Artoria" couldn't help but complain as she read the news on the system's screen.
"Agreed,"
Beside her, "Bavanci" nodded.
"Though I'd love to see that dumb lizard bawling her eyes out...I seriously doubt she'd actually cry."
"Right? She's insanely strong. If I couldn't summon multiple versions of myself, there's no way I could have taken her." Artoria nodded vigorously.
While the Round Table Army had arranged individual "open-air" rooms for Artoria, Bavanci, and Gareth, after night fell, Artoria had come over to Bavanci's room to team up for some gaming—and she'd dragged Gareth along too.
This way, if their simulated selves needed to act, they could coordinate more easily.
"By the way," Artoria said, squinting at the simulation's environment, "where exactly did you open the water mirror? This place feels...familiar."
"Yes, just what you're thinking," Gareth chimed in, "Bavanci and I discussed it and decided to open the exit right in Lancelot's Glasgow stronghold."
"What?" Artoria's eyes widened. "You dumped us in Lancelot's home base? That's insane—are you trying to get us killed?"
"Hmph—shows how little you know!" Bavanci raised a finger triumphantly. "Lancelot is still far away in Gloucester. Glasgow only has her jailers left behind. They're not weak, but with our current strength, we can break through."
"And don't forget—Gawain the Big Ape is imprisoned here. If we bust her out fast enough, fighting Lancelot will be a breeze!"
"As the saying goes, the most dangerous place is the safest. That stupid lizard would never expect us to go straight for her lair. Even if her men tip her off, by the time she rushes back, we'll already have rescued Gawain!"
"Then you can use your Sovereign transformation, I'll flatten people with my scrying orb, and Gawain—who could survive an island falling on her face—can tank everything. Us three against Lancelot? That's an easy win!"
Bavanci puffed out her chest, brimming with self-satisfaction.
Artoria was tempted to poke holes in her plan, but after thinking for a few seconds, she honestly couldn't see any obvious flaws.
"How did you convince Gwenhwyfar, Oberon, and Rhedra to go along with this?" she finally asked.
"Simple," Bavanci folded her arms. "We have Gareth. All she has to do is tell them that, as a Mirror Clan fairy, she foresaw it. They believed her instantly."
Artoria went quiet for a moment.
"...Are you actually a genius?"
"Hmph! You finally see the light!"
Artoria would have given her some genuine praise, but seeing Bavanci's smug face, she worried that even one compliment would make her inflate like a balloon. So instead, she turned her attention back to the simulator—only to find a fresh update:
[After stepping through Bavanci's water mirror, you arrived in Glasgow. Once Bavanci explained her plan, you began the mission to rescue the fairy knight Gawain.]
[You looked around to get your bearings. Judging by the stinking sewage and occasional bones, Gareth identified this place as Glasgow's underground tunnels—guarded by a great fairy jailer named Black Annis.]
[Cautiously, you advanced, searching for Black Annis's whereabouts—until an ambush struck.]
[After trading a few blows, you realized the attacker...looked oddly familiar.]