The Greece Antagonist

Elf City, Albion.

Buzz! Buzz! Buzz! Buzz!

One magic node after another was activated, forming an intricate root system, a giant golden array rose into the sky, like a spear of light piercing through the mortal world's veil, welcoming the arrival of the True God.

Creak...

Under the gaze of tens of thousands of knights and elves in the square, the purple sandalwood door, embossed with intricate golden patterns, slowly opened.

Inside the hall where light and darkness interweave, rose-shaped stained glass windows carved with phoenix birds gleamed with sacred radiance.

Accompanied by the friction of armor plates and solemn footfalls, everyone's vision gradually became clear.

In a blaze of golden light, twelve Round Table Knights lined up in two rows, escorting the verified identity of the Red Dragon's son out of the hall and onto the platform.

With a slight exertion of magic power, the silver lion mane helmet and knight armor automatically detached and withdrew, revealing her true appearance.

The legendary Savior of Britain had silky, smooth waist-length golden hair as dazzling as the afternoon sun, neatly coiled at the back with circular clips, stray bangs falling diagonally in front of a straight and alluring nose, two locks cascading over jewel-like, rounded shoulders, and under thick, long eyelashes were emerald green eyes more transparent than icy jade.

Slender eyebrows arched high and gracefully, lips as moist as cherry flesh gently pressed together, complementing a fair, jade-like perfectly contoured cheek, all appearing so pure and flawless.

Upon closer inspection, there seemed to burn a golden-green flame in the depths of those eyes, casting an authoritative cold light over the beautiful features.

The slight imperfection was a strand of hair atop her head, like an exceptionally striking stalk of golden wheat sticking out defiant from a harvested field, slightly undermining the divinity and connecting her to the mortal world.

A pure white cloak fastened at slender shoulders, with a high-raised collar resembling a lion's mane, added an aloof chill of coldness and the dignity of a conqueror.

But tracing down the figure, past the snow-white alluring swan neck and collarbone, first catching every male eye was the prominent rise and fall.

The blue gown, after the chest plate was removed, was filled entirely at the top, the pale fat piled up like snowdrifts exposed to air, embroidered gold designs at the bodice somewhat out of shape from the extreme tension.

Beyond two towering peaks, a slender, tender waist not fitting in one hand, cinched with a silver metallic belt for ease of movement.

Silver-white and glossy leg armor encased long and full legs, the metallic hues and skin's arc gleaming with a unique beauty.

—Like a knight, like a king;

—Like a saint, like a goddess!

Clad in white robes, holding a magic wand, the Great Mage solemnly asked the figure in front, in the capacity of Great Druid and entrusted minister of King Uther:

"Oh Red Dragon of Britain, fate has illuminated your path: Your fangs must tear apart the mist shroud of Avalon, your breath must forge the old covenants of Britain anew! Do you wish to heed the call of all people, adhere to this guidance, smooth over the calamities stirred by White King Vortigern, and bring eternal salvation to the Celtic?"

"So sworn, nine deaths without regret!"

Altria pledged solemnly, hand resting on her chest.

Luo En nodded with satisfaction, and from a velvet box took out a delicate gold crown, placing it on the devotee's head, proclaiming the official arrival of a new king for Britain.

And as the coronation ceremony concluded, twelve Round Table Knights, who had long reached consensus, stepped forward, reciting oaths to the new king:

"I swear to protect the weak;

I swear to challenge all tyranny;

I swear to fight all injustice;

I swear to fight for the defenseless;

I swear to aid those who seek my help;

I swear not to harm women and children;

I swear to stand by my comrades;

I swear to be sincere towards my friends;

I swear to remain loyal unto death to all I love!"

Their king is a King of Knights, walking the Knight's Way.

And these nine oaths are expectations for the subordinates of this Knight King.

Beyond that, there are eight more specific virtues and thirteen constraints.

To gain this Majesty's approval, become a qualified knight, join this Majesty's forces, and campaign against the Vortigern, requires strict adherence to the oath's content.

Elves and humans in the square felt the unique magic within those words, emotionally stirred.

This is Geis.

The sacred vow of Celtic warriors, whether pledged voluntarily or set by others through spells or oaths, basically inviolate, otherwise the wrath of fate surely follows.

This means the knights' oaths are not mere words but will be enacted in practice.

Such an army, adhering to this creed, is so noble, so pure!

—Their hearts, their actions clear as a mirror, all they do is just!

Indeed, they could bring everlasting glory and salvation to Britain.

Under the gaze of countless expectations, Knight King Altria drew the Sword in the Stone from her waist, touching it to each of the twelve Round Table Knights' shoulders, formally accepting and enlisting them as monarch.

"Boom!"

At this moment, the earth shook violently, a stream of red-black light burst forth from the earth veins, like ignited beacon flames.