When the plot-skips players into the game world

The knight huddled in the corner, shivering uncontrollably, his heart pounding with fear.

He had never seen such a massive, such a terrifying magical beast!

Mere footsteps on the ground caused vibrations that were enough to make the knight's entire body go numb!

After fleeing from Mr. Thunder, he had been searching for the Holy Lance.

The knight's thoughts were simple.

Compared to the Antlers, he was the weaker party. The Path of Dusk excelled in prolonging life, while the Path of Adaptation was good at hiding. If he were to find two dead among the three of them, the knight believed he should be one of them.

So what he could do was find the Holy Lance.

—If the Holy Lance could defeat the Giants, it should also be able to defeat Alistair!

Although obtaining the Holy Lance would reveal his position to others... if he could confront Alistair, then he wouldn't fear his attack; if the Holy Lance wasn't enough to defeat him, he would eventually be caught and killed.

And if the Antlers and the assassin who killed Mr. Dark Cloud sensed the Holy Lance and came over, he could try to kill one of them, or let Alistair, who would be drawn over as well, kill them!

He had no doubt he was the weakest among them.

Therefore, the knight harbored no illusions of luck—being weak, he had to resort to the most risky methods for a chance to win!

That's when the question arose.

—Where would the Holy Lance be?

The knight's way of thinking could even be described as naive:

Since the ritual was constructed by the Silver-Crowned Dragon and the Serpent Father without the presence of the Great Sage and the Hourglass, the Pillar Gods who favored the clever, it meant the puzzle of the ritual should not be complex and should be attainable by all.

—If the puzzle is so complex that even I can't think of the solution, then the others might not be able to either! The Silver-Crowned Dragon and the Serpent Father wouldn't favor those on the Path of Balance and the Path of Wisdom, so the riddle must be simple!

From this perspective, the knight began to interrogate himself: Intuitively, what should the clue be?

He quickly determined a plan: The Path of Devotion is about light and fire, which means candles and brightness.

Since the goal he was searching for was the Holy Lance left by the Apostle of the Path of Devotion, and everything around was shrouded in darkness... then all he needed to do was to head toward the light, and he would undoubtedly be right!

This must be the hint left by the Pillar Gods!

And indeed, the knight found the right direction.

Following the light, he quickly arrived at a hall, brightly lit and filled with giants.

In the center of the hall there was an enormous cauldron.

There was no fire beneath the cauldron, yet the food inside was bubbling fiercely.

A vast amount of stew was simmering in the cauldron, with an abundance of overcooked vegetables being pushed out of the boiling cauldron onto the floor. The knight saw eggplants, carrots, onions, corn, cabbage, potatoes, as well as apples and grapes. The food kept emerging from the cauldron, growing more and more, piling higher and higher.

The relentless cooking from the cauldron caused the surrounding air to become blurred. The steam rising made the whole room humid and hazy.

This must be the Magic Cauldron!

Thought the knight.

But as he planned to move closer to see, he suddenly heard a thumping sound.

"Ah..."

A deep, somewhat aged voice resounded: "What on earth is going on..."

The voice sounded slightly annoyed.

But soon, with a creak, a pair of red-furred giant feet stepped onto the ground.

The moment he stood up, it was like an eclipse—

A massive shadow cast down, completely engulfing him. Like the sky collapsing and a behemoth falling, the knight's legs turned to jelly in an instant.

He could barely see the face of the giant, as the lights were positioned too low. When the giant stood up, its visage turned pitch black.

Still, the knight distinctly smelled a stench.

He couldn't quite articulate why, but he could distinctly detect that it was the unique odor of a furred beast.

Frozen with terror, he was petrified in the corner.

Luckily, the giant seemed to have poor static vision. Since the knight didn't move, it didn't see him.

It simply lit a lantern and clomped out of the hall with bare feet.

It wasn't until a long time after the giant had left that the knight faintly felt the ground still vibrating. He didn't know if it was an illusion caused by the initial shaking numbing his body, or if it was indeed shaking from a far distance that reached him... In any case, it took him a long while to finally recover.

—Can such giants truly be killed by us?

The knight woke up to reality all at once.

The ambition to obtain the Holy Lance and slay the giants now seemed clownish.

And the "part of the real history" he had heard from Mr. Dark Cloud now made his feelings even more complicated—how did the ordinary human Knights of the Round Table manage to defeat such a powerful army of giants?

Were they too weak, or were their ancestors too strong?

In any case, he couldn't just wait here—

Although the giant didn't see him when it left, it might discover him on its return.

With legs still tingling, he searched the hall for the Holy Lance.

—At least, find a drawer to hide in!

Unconsciously, the knight had changed his primary goal. After seeing the giant, he immediately realized that even Alistair probably couldn't defeat such a giant. Conversely, if he could hide under the giant's nose, then he might survive to the end.

As long as he could survive to the end, victory was possible for him!

But ironically,

As the Knight searched for a drawer he could crawl into… he unexpectedly discovered the location of the Holy Lance.

"What is… that?"

The Knight looked up, murmuring in a somewhat despairing tone.

Though he had not touched it, the Knight could still tell at a glance—it was the Holy Lance.

It was a golden lance over ten meters long, its shape resembling a folded umbrella. The outer ring was densely inscribed with black runes, ancient text that the Knight could not comprehend.

It appeared to be solid. Even if the lance were shortened to a tenth of its length, he feared it would be difficult to lift.

No wonder only the Holy Lance could shatter the Magic Cauldron—that cauldron, which looked taller than a human house, would be a joke if it could be broken by a lance used by humans!

A human spear before that Magic Cauldron would probably seem like a needle for sewing clothes compared to a pot for cooking soup.

Without a doubt, this was a lance used by Giants.

And the Giant holding this lance was likely taller and larger than the one who had just left the bed!

—How could a mere mortal wield such a lance?!

"Need help?"

It was at that moment that a deep, hoarse voice rang out.

Accompanied by a chilly breath, it surprisingly invigorated the Knight, who had been scorched by the terrible heat from the cauldron to the point his skin tightened and his mind felt hazy.

He turned around to look toward the direction from which the voice came.

There stood Aleister, quietly at the entrance of the hall. That was where he had come from, shortly after the Giant's departure.

Noises that could attract the Giants appeared in the distance, and now Aleister was in front of him…

The Knight realized—he was probably the last one.

"Are you going to kill me?"

To Aiwass's surprise, however, the Knight seemed relieved and raised his hand to signal that he did not intend to resist, "May I say a few words?"

"I don't intend to kill you."

Aleister watched him calmly, "You said it yourself—at the final moment, you would cooperate with me and Mr. Grey Hood.

"Now is that final moment. To prevent others from interfering… aside from us three, everyone else is already dead.

"Or are you suggesting… Sir Knight, that you were merely bluffing to deceive me?"

At that point, another figure emerged silently from the shadows, glanced at the Knight quietly, and then disappeared without a trace.

"So you're not dead?!"

The Knight blurted out.

He had thought for sure that the assassin was dead!

At that moment, he felt somewhat bewildered—this Demon, who was so honest.

Compared to Antlers and the others, he was undoubtedly weaker.

Yet Aleister preferred to work with him… was it just because he had shown him true goodwill?

"External identities and rituals are unrelated; we are competitors, opponents, and potential allies… that's what you said yourself, right?"

Aleister smiled darkly, "I took it very seriously. Wasn't it you who advised me not to talk to them?"

"…So you believed me then."

Sir Knight felt a warmth in his heart and murmured softly.

All the secrets of the Path of Authority, the established history of Avalon… all of it was a lie, history that had been altered.

Now, as a Demon of Transcendence… Aleister showed him what sincerity meant.

The past and current misconceptions interwove, leaving the Knight momentarily bewildered. He did not know who to trust, who was right, who was just.

"Mr. Alistair," the Knight couldn't help but ask, "are you a good person?"

"Maybe I am, maybe I'm not."

Aleister smiled but did not provide a direct answer.

He countered, "Do you care so much about this question? Is a good person always good, and a bad person forever unable to be good?

"Who defines what good and bad people are? Is it the morality in your heart, or the laws of Avalon?"

Hearing Aleister's response, the Knight opened his mouth.

He fell silent for a while, then suddenly made up his mind.

"My name is Barton. People call me 'Restless Barton'."

The Knight, known as Barton, spoke seriously, "You have never hidden your real name, and if I continued to engage with you as 'Knight,' I would feel ashamed. At the very least, I should tell you my last name.

"You can call me Barton, Mr. Alistair."

Barton finally couldn't resist asking, "There's something I want to ask you…

"—How did you step onto the Path of Transcendence in the first place? Do you think it's possible for me?"