King Arthur Won't Die by Accident

Miss Jeanne Alter was very unhappy. Very, very unhappy.

She remembered three days ago—when the sun was bright and the air was filled with promise—she had charged eagerly to Britain's gates, ready to lead her troops into the city, brimming with energy and pride.

When she saw the city's commander, she laughed loudly.

Black clothes, white hair, red eyes, and that familiar massive sword.

"Hey~ Isn't this the guy who challenged me at sea some time ago? Turns out you're not dead? Now that you're here, let me make this simple: Open the city gates and let me in. You're just a defeated general—know your place and don't make me do this myself."

Jeanne Alter had mocked him with scorn dripping from every word.

Back then, during the fierce battle off the coast, she had acknowledged the opponent's strength—but that ominous, destructive power filled with malice? No matter how terrifying, she believed she could contain it. Even without using her magic release or her treasure in close combat, his swordplay—tailored for giant beasts—couldn't defeat her.

Then—

Reality dealt her a ruthless blow.

The worst part?

When her troops were blasted by the enemy's magical cannons from the walls, the firepower obliterated nearly her entire force in an instant. She was beaten to the brink of death, powerless, facing the threat of beheading... but then the enemy simply let her go without hesitation.

And that woman had the nerve to say, "You're too weak. Go away. We knights of Britain disdain bullying the weak."

That insult sent Jeanne Alter straight back to square one.

Seriously—too weak? She was no weakling! If anyone was weak, it was those Roman soldiers killed by British artillery fire!

Though burning with resentment, the harsh truth remained: she could not defeat Skadi.

"That woman... damn her. I'll break her neck someday!" Jeanne Alter muttered fiercely as she drifted to sleep that night.

Reality always forces people into a corner. Pride can't be maintained forever; the only options are to yield and live, or break and die.

Most people try to abide by the old saying: If you endure, peace will come. If you retreat, horizons will broaden.

But a few—like Jeanne of Arc Alter—only grow angrier with every injury, every humiliation.

The next day, she half-forced herself to muster the weary Roman troops, starving and demoralized, and led them to seize another coastal city.

"I can't beat you, Skadi... but surely I can beat others!"

Then she met Gawain.

"······"

Well, Jeanne Alter experienced another crushing defeat.

But this time...

Gawain seemed merciful—at least after persuasion from a knight named Gareth, he grudgingly spared half the Roman soldiers instead of wiping them out entirely. Feeling sorry, he even had the Romans perform a few shows and handed out food like charity cases.

Compared to the first day's battle with Skadi, the Romans suffered less damage—but the humiliation they endured was unbearable.

It was bullying, pure and simple!

That night, Jeanne Alter sat by the campfire with a few Roman soldiers, tears in her eyes, eating beef in bitter rage.

It was then that something within Jeanne Alter shattered.

After two straight defeats, she finally adjusted her mindset and stepped outside—only to notice the strange looks her soldiers gave her.

Helplessness and defensiveness, as if afraid their unruly leader might cause more trouble, cut deep into her heart.

She recalled when she first led the Roman army onto British soil—how the soldiers had looked at her like a goddess, filled with respect and admiration.

Though she outwardly scorned the praise, she secretly felt joy.

Who doesn't like hearing good things about themselves?

But now? The way they treated her was a wound that refused to heal.

"Hey! What are you staring at, scum? Disgusting! Want me to burn you to ashes?" Jeanne Alter snapped, glaring at some soldiers.

They immediately calmed down and went back to their duties.

Just then, the Roman general approached.

"Ahem! Good morning, Miss Jeanne. You must be tired from yesterday's battle."

"Huh? Laughing at me? I lost yesterday, and the time before! Now you think I'm useless and want to test my skills?!" Jeanne Alter's voice shot up like a whip.

Suddenly, every soldier stopped what they were doing and gave the general strange looks.

Old man, you wish we were dead, don't you? Why bring up irrelevant things?

They had started with over ten thousand men.

After two battles where they were British artillery practice, only about four thousand remained.

Another fight like this and they'd all die.

Yesterday's charity from the British kept them barely alive until reinforcements arrived.

But the general insisted on provoking this witch and forcing them to become deserters?

If the general agreed to send troops again, he'd be the last man standing—attacking the city alone with Jeanne!

"Ahem, no, no," the general stammered, his face falling as he sensed the soldiers' resentment. "I saw your strength long ago. Without you, we'd still be adrift at sea. Besides, even the Knights of the Round Table lost to you—"

"You mean I only won because that woman showed mercy?!" Jeanne Alter's voice rose even louder.

"No, I didn't mean that!"

"You did! Your eyes say it, you fat pig!"

"Fat pig?!"

The general was stunned—mainly because he wasn't fat.

Reasoning with a woman whose pride was wounded was clearly foolish.

In the end, the general discouraged Jeanne Alter from leading the army again—though not before she slapped him twice in frustration.

"Hmph! That's humans for you—physically and mentally disgusting as the sins you commit. Don't show your face in front of me again, or I'll chop your head off next time."

After hurling those harsh words, Jeanne Alter stormed off in anger.

She couldn't wait to leave this Roman position behind.

At least until dinner tonight, she was sure she didn't want to return to this miserable place.

Relax, wait for that even more disgusting Sword Emperor to arrive. Maybe then the situation would improve.

Complete the task quickly and say goodbye to this unpleasant era.

But just as she turned to leave the camp, Jeanne Alter noticed something odd about the soldiers nearby.

Her gaze was suddenly drawn to a figure inside a tent.

This guy... is so handsome.

-End Chapter-

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