novel bin Chapter 12 The Return Journey
Chapter 12 The Return Journey
Another cycle has ended.
Arthur sat on the bench in the training room, holding the stone that was already covered with runes in his hand.
That was the "Guardian" rune that Scáthach gave him.
A pale golden light flickered faintly in the dimly lit room, like some kind of silent promise.
Scáthach stood by the window, her back to him.
Her long, deep purple hair reached her waist, gleaming with a cold luster in the grayish-white light.
She had been in this position for so long that Arthur thought she had turned into a stone statue.
"Scáthach," Arthur broke the silence, "What are you thinking about?"
Scáthach did not answer immediately.
Her wine-red eyes gazed out the window into the eternal darkness, as if looking into a very, very distant place.
"How long have you been here?" she asked softly.
Arthur thought for a moment.
The marks on the wall were countless, but judging from his physical sensations...
Muscle memory, improved swordsmanship, faster wound healing...
He must have stayed in the Land of Shadows for at least a few months.
But he had no idea how much time had passed in the present world.
"I don't know," he said. "It's been a long time."
"One hundred and twenty-seven cycles." Scáthach turned around, her wine-red eyes looking at him:
"According to current time, approximately forty days have passed."
Arthur was stunned. Forty days? It felt more like half a year had passed.
"Your rate of progress surpasses that of all my disciples."
Scáthach walked up to him and looked down at him:
"You have mastered the core techniques of 'Godslaying' and learned the basics of runes, enabling you to hunt down corrupted undead alone in the wilderness."
Your current strength is no less than that of those long-established knights.
She paused for a moment.
"You should go back now."
Arthur's heart skipped a beat.
"go back?"
"Britain," Scáthach said, "your country, your knights, your...family, you have been gone too long."
Arthur was silent for a moment. He thought of Camelot, of Kay, and of the knights who knelt on one knee at his coronation.
He recalled the scenes he had seen in front of the sword in the stone.
A burning palace, a shattered round table, and dead people.
"I'm not ready yet," he said.
No one can be "ready".
Scáthach's voice turned stern:
Do you think you'll be "ready" after practicing for another hundred cycles?
No, becoming a king is not about 'preparation,' but about 'facing' the situation.
You already have the strength to face it; the rest is up to you.
Arthur looked up, his emerald green eyes meeting her gaze.
"I will come back."
Scáthach's lips twitched slightly.
"Whatever." She turned and walked towards the door. "The gates to the Land of Shadows are always open. You can come anytime you want."
She walked to the door and stopped.
"Arthur".
"Um?"
"Don't die."
Her voice was so soft, almost inaudible. But Arthur heard it.
"I won't," he said.
Scáthach did not answer and disappeared into the shadows of the corridor.
Arthur stood up and began packing his things.
There's really not much to tidy up.
The sword in the stone, leather armor, several runestones, and the new cloak Scáthach gave him.
The deep blue cloak, embroidered with silver stars along the edges, was sewn by Scáthach herself.
Although she said it was "just a practice piece, I'll throw it away if I don't want it anymore".
He tied his cloak over his shoulders and walked out of the room.
The magic flowers on both sides of the corridor are still blooming.
Deep purple, dark red, pure black.
They swayed gently in the grayish-white light, as if bidding him farewell.
Arthur reached out and gently touched a deep purple flower.
The petals were cool, like morning dew, or like the temperature of Scáthach's fingertips.
"Thank you for being with me," he said softly.
Then he walked toward the castle gate.
Scáthach stood atop the castle, her wine-red eyes watching the blond boy cross the wasteland and head towards the gate.
She held a "Guardian" rune in her hand, a pale golden light pulsating in her palm, like some kind of silent prayer.
"One hundred and twenty-seven cycles..." she said softly, "shorter than I expected, and shorter than I hoped."
She remembered how Arthur looked when he first stood in the training grounds—trembling all over, but with a determined look in his eyes.
She recalled his clumsy attempts to hunt shadow wolves in the wasteland.
I remember his finger being cut by the carving knife when he was carving runes.
I remember him kneeling on the ground, panting heavily, after slaying the corrupted undead.
In forty days, he went from being unable to withstand even a single shot from her to being able to hunt down Heroic Undead level enemies on his own.
A slight smile played on her lips as she turned and walked back to the castle.
On the terrace, the deep purple magical flowers swayed gently in the magic.
Arthur passed through the door and returned to the forests of Britain.
The sky was blue, and sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dappled shadows.
The air was filled with the scent of grass and earth, and the smoke rising from the distant village.
The chirping of birds echoed in his ears, as if welcoming his return.
He took a deep breath.
Forty days have passed; he has been away from this land for forty days.
Although the flow of time is different in the Land of Shadows, his body has indeed undergone forty days of training.
He had grown taller and his shoulders had broadened; a calm light had appeared in his emerald green eyes.
"I'm back," he said.
Deep in the forest, a silvery-white figure emerged from the shadows of the trees.
Mary leaned against the tree trunk, holding a wildflower in her hand, a hint of a smile in her amethyst eyes.
"Oh, you're back?" she said, her tone light as if she were saying, "The weather's nice today."
"I thought you died in there, and I was planning to build you a cenotaph... No, you didn't even leave your clothes behind."
Arthur walked up to her and looked down at her.
"Merry, how long have I been gone?"
"Time in the present world? Three days," Meryl said. "And in the Land of Shadows?"
"One hundred and twenty-seven cycles, approximately forty days."
Meryl raised her eyebrows:
"Forty days? Scáthach actually let you stay for forty days? Looks like she likes you quite a bit."
Her previous disciples were expelled within thirty days at most.
Arthur didn't reply; he turned his head and looked in Camelot's direction.
"I'm going back," he said. "Camelot needs me."
Mary walked over to him and tilted her head to look at him.
"You've changed," she said, his reflection shimmering in her amethyst eyes. "Not in appearance, but here."
She stretched out her finger and tapped his chest.
"She's more stable now, and gentler too." She smiled. "That old woman Scáthach actually managed to train a disciple like this."
"Merry."
"Um?"
"Thank you for letting me go find her."
Mary paused for a moment, then turned her face away.
"...Don't thank me." Her voice sounded a little unnatural. "I just didn't want to see you die too soon. Go now, your knights must be missing you."
Arthur smiled slightly, turned around and walked out of the forest.
"Arthur," Mary called out to him.
He stopped and looked back.
Meili stood in the shadow of the trees, her long, silvery-white hair gleaming softly in the sunlight.
Her expression remained the same playful smile, but in her amethyst eyes, there was a tenderness he had never seen before.
"Welcome back," she said.
Arthur smiled.
"I'm back."
Then he turned and walked into the sunlight.
The walls of Camelot were faintly visible in the distance.
The new king has returned, bringing with him forty days of hellish training, the "god-slaying" technique bestowed upon him by Scáthach, and a heart even more resolute than when he left.
He didn't know what awaited him.
Morgan, Guinevere, the Knights of the Round Table, the British nobles...
Everyone has their own thoughts, and everyone could become part of a "destined tragedy".
But he was no longer afraid.
Because he knew that no matter what happened, he had the ability to face it.