Simulator in Type-moon, Starting with becoming Morgan husband!

Chapter 63. The Challenge Born from the Father Sword

A knight's sword cannot be drawn from its sheath carelessly.

Because once someone responds to that blade, it signifies the start of a duel.

And now—

Artorius had not only drawn her sword but pointed it directly at all of Camelot.

This meant that her target was not one or a few individuals but every single knight.

To put it in simpler, even somewhat vulgar terms—

It was essentially saying:

"If you're not convinced, come at me."

Under normal circumstances, Ian would consider someone doing this to be truly arrogant.

And the outcome awaiting them was obvious.

That was to suffer the wounds of blades and ultimately pay the price for their arrogance.

But in Artorius's case, it seemed impossible to interpret it that way.

[Talent "Blessing of the Lake +" Activated: With enhanced magic resistance, you recognize the mysterious power emanating from Artorius.]

[You realize that she is absolutely not as weak as she appears.]

[But you also don't want to miss the chance to see her single-handedly challenge all the knights of Camelot.]

[You decide to stay on the sidelines for now, waiting to see how the situation unfolds.]

[However, you are unaware that among the crowd, another pair of eyes is thinking similarly to you.]

"This is how things turned out, huh."

Merlin, hidden in the crowd, watched the young girl wielding the sword drawn from the stone as she challenged the knights, his face full of amusement.

"Truly beyond imagination."

"To witness so many possibilities at once, it's truly worthwhile."

"But, that being said—"

Merlin's gaze shifted toward Ian, standing at the forefront of the crowd.

"Artoria clearly knew long ago that he is a man with a family, didn't she? Yet she can still choose to ignore all of that."

"Is this what they call 'love' especially when it's for one person alone?"

"How fascinating."

Merlin's words were heard by no one and were not meant for anyone else to hear.

He would never allow himself to become the target of countless blades.

[Artorius's words momentarily stunned those present.]

[But the shock did not last long.]

[After all, her appearance was too small and frail. Without witnessing it firsthand, it was hard to associate her with pulling the sword from the stone.]

[Soon enough, the bolder ones began to harbor peculiar thoughts.]

"I'll go!"

From the crowd emerged a bald man.

This man, with his burly frame, shoulders like a bear, and a fierce, menacing look, reeked of cheap wine.

It was clear he wasn't what one would call a knight but merely a thug from the Camelot.

However, the bald man made no effort to hide that fact.

"Hey! Brat, I'm not a knight! Am I qualified to challenge you?"

"No problem."

Artorius coldly eyed the bald man standing before her.

"Anyone who comes forward will not be turned away."

"Good! You said it yourself!"

The bald man glanced around and borrowed a longsword—many people were here just to enjoy the spectacle, so this was an easy task.

"Ha—!"

Gripping the borrowed longsword tightly, he let out a loud shout and charged straight at Artorius.

It was an intense scene.

But facing the thug rushing toward her, Artorius made no defensive move at all.

"Incorrect grip."

"Stupid sword angle."

"An attack full of openings."

"Not worth the effort of countering."

After delivering her assessments, the bald man reached Artorius.

The borrowed sword, glinting faintly silver under Britannia's brilliant light, thrust directly toward her.

It seemed like a sure hit, and the thug's eyes gleamed with excitement.

But that wasn't the outcome.

Artorius merely tilted her head slightly; the blade grazed past her, not even touching a strand of her hair.

The entire process occurred in a split second, as though she had anticipated every move.

The bald man froze momentarily in shock.

He prepared to recklessly launch a second strike.

But before he could act, Artorius snatched the sword from his hand and reversed it, pointing the blade straight at him.

"Admit your defeat," she commanded.

Staring at the sword mere inches from his throat, cold sweat trickled down the bald man's forehead.

"I... I've lost... Please don't kill me!"

"You're not a knight; of course, I won't kill you."

Artorius tossed the borrowed sword to the ground.

"Go."

"Th-thank you!"

The bald man scurried away, stumbling in his haste, as though terrified that Artorius might chase him down.

In reality, Artorius paid him no further attention—her victory seemed utterly unremarkable to her.

"Who's next?"

Her cold gaze swept across the crowd, but when her eyes landed on Ian, a faint softness appeared, one that befitted her age.

[It was a brief but revealing encounter.]

[You realize that Artorius is absolutely not as fragile as she appears.]

[However, this is hardly surprising.]

[As the heir to the throne chosen by King Uther, it would be far more shocking if she lacked such ability.]

[Yet this realization doesn't change your predicament.]

[However, the appearance of one person brings a turning point to everything.]

"Father."

A familiar voice echoed from behind Ian.

Ian turned around to see Gawain standing there.

"Gawain, why are you here?"

Ian suppressed his emotions, attempting to appear composed.

"I heard that Artorius is challenging all the knights here, so I came immediately."

"You're very clever, my son."

However, the compliment didn't ease Gawain's expression.

On the contrary, after glancing at Artorius and the sword, his face grew even more serious.

Ian, of course, didn't miss this subtle change.

"Gawain, do you have something on your mind? Tell me."

Gawain nodded.

"Father, I want to participate in this challenge!"

"..."

[You haven't forgotten Gawain's words from before.]

[At that time, he had no doubt about Artorius, who pulled the sword from the stone—and certainly wouldn't come here for personal gain, like the bald man earlier.]

[You recognize that he has a different purpose.]

[And you quickly deduce the answer.]

"Gawain, do you want to personally gauge Artorius's strength?"

Gawain appeared slightly surprised but quickly regained his composure—having his thoughts guessed by his father was nothing new.

Besides, he hadn't intended to hide his intentions.

"Yes, Father."

Gawain's gaze turned toward Artorius, her figure reflected in the deep blue eyes he had inherited from Morgan.

"I want to know if my assumptions are right or wrong."

[You realize that under the influence of the recent rumors and the events at the barley field outside the city, Gawain has started to waver in his thoughts.]

[He needs an opportunity to bring about clarity.]

[However, knowing Artorius's strength, you recognize this as an incredibly risky action.]

[Yet you also understand that this is an excellent chance to glean more insight into Artorius—after all, the bald man earlier was far too weak.]

[You silently approve of Gawain's decision.]

[Gawain begins his approach toward the stone pedestal.]

As the eldest son of Ian and Morgan, Gawain's high status had been predetermined from the moment of his birth.

Moreover, he always conducted himself with the propriety his father exemplified.

Thus, as soon as Gawain stepped forward, he immediately became the center of attention—he was one of the most elite knights of the city.

Tap—

Tap—

Tap—

The sound of the knight's boots echoed crisply against the ground of Camelot.

Gawain stopped in front of Artorius.

"Greetings, wielder of the sword. I am Gawain," he introduced himself politely.

Artorius didn't respond immediately; instead, she gave Gawain a slow, deliberate once-over, as if evaluating him.

"Polite words."

"Proper attire."

"A body tempered through training."

"Gawain, you are an excellent knight."

"Then—"

Artorius unfastened the sword at her side and held it out to Gawain.

"Use this sword to duel me."

"..."

Gawain was completely taken aback by Artorius's gesture.

"This is your sword, isn't it? Using your own sword to fight you... isn't that somewhat unconventional?"

"It is," Artorius admitted without hesitation.

"This is indeed my sword."

"But—"

"It is also the sword your father gave me."

"What?"

Gawain was utterly stunned.

"This is the sword my father gave you?"

"Yes." Artorius nodded. "Now, you should have no psychological burden, right?"

"..."

Gawain looked at Artorius again, then glanced at Ian in the crowd.

He realized that this might be true.

The Artorius standing before him clearly had an extraordinary connection with his father.

"I understand."

Gawain accepted the sword from Artorius's hands.

"Then—"

"I shall begin."

"Come at me."

[Artorius gripped the Sword in the Stone firmly with both hands.]

[This was a sign of her seriousness.]

[You could feel that this sword, ever since she drew it, carried a heavy weight of understanding, changing the aura she projected entirely.]

[You realize that Gawain is about to face an arduous battle.]

"My father's sword..."

Gawain tightened his grip on the sword, emotions surging within him.

But those feelings didn't linger for long.

For he noticed that the sun was nearing its zenith, symbolizing midday.

"I'm coming!"

Gawain declared his intent to strike and launched forward.

This time, Artorius didn't wait passively.

She charged as well.

Clang!

Though it was broad daylight, the sparks flying as their swords clashed were vividly visible.

It was an absolutely stunning spectacle.

Gawain, whose frame was many times larger than Artorius's, was held in place by her attack!

The crowd buzzed with excitement and disbelief.

"Did you see that? That person looks so frail, yet they're going toe-to-toe with Lord Gawain?!"

"Yeah… Just how strong is he?"

"It's terrifying! Even a gorilla would be stopped in its tracks by him!"

"Hey! Watch your mouth! Be careful, or Lord Gawain might come back to settle the score with you!"

But at this moment, Gawain had no attention to spare for the chattering crowd.

His entire focus was locked on the duel before him.

This was unlike anything he had ever experienced.

Yet—

He felt as though he understood something.

Yes.

This was the strength that a king ought to have!

If one could not wield such power, how could they have the right to be called king?

A king's strike must be this resolute!

"Haaah—!"

Gawain raised his father's sword high and delivered a powerful downward slash—a strike brimming with sheer might!

Clang!

The clash between his father's sword and the Sword in the Stone was thunderous.

In that instant, everyone present felt the reverberation of the collision, so much so that even small children began to cry.

But the outcome was unmistakable.

Fractures gathered sword.

Crack—

Crack—

Fractures began forming along the blade of the sword in Gawain's hands, snaking their way across the weapon like creeping vines.

The fractures deepened.

The sword shattered.

All that remained in Gawain's grip was a broken shard of the blade.

The crowd fell silent.

In the context of a knight's duel, shattering an opponent's sword—especially one used in a ferocious attack like this—was the ultimate symbol of superiority.

This duel was over. Gawain had lost.

"I've lost." Gawain admitted his defeat openly.

"You are indeed very strong."

"It's nothing special," Artorius replied coldly, her gaze steady.

"As a knight capable of delivering such a powerful strike, you've left me quite impressed."

"But—a loss is still a loss."

"Then kill me." Gawain's tone was calm. "Earlier, you said you wouldn't kill someone who wasn't a knight. But now, I am a knight. You're free to finish me."

"Kill you?"

Artorius sheathed the Sword in the Stone.

"I have no interest in doing so."

"I only wanted to prove that I do not fear any of your challenges."

"Return that sword to me."

"Huh?" Gawain looked at the broken blade in his hand.

"But it's already like this."

"It doesn't matter. Just return it."

"… Understood."

Artorius took the broken sword from Gawain's hands.

While Gawain wondered what she intended to do with it, Artorius turned and walked toward Ian.

Then—

She pointed to the broken sword in her hand, said something to Ian, and suddenly embraced him.

Gawain was utterly stunned.

Just a moment ago, Artorius had been as imposing as a lion, and now she was gentle and compliant, leaning into Ian's arms like a docile kitty.

This contrast was jarring—not just because of the apparent shift in demeanor but also due to the bizarre nature of the situation itself!

Father, just what have you done?!