Chapter 17: Journey Through Britain -6-
The journey had already stretched to a year.
It had been half a year since Bedivere’s mercenary company joined them. Artoria’s party had overcome countless hardships and finally reached the Slith Peninsula on the Isle of Skye in northwest Britain.
Jagged cliffs, carved by savage waves, loomed before them, while an ashen mist cloaked the coast like the very edge of the world.
They set up camp in a small fishing village called Tokabeig.
“Brother! Look at these pretty shells!”
“Got it, Lily. I’ll pick them up for you in a bit.”
It was their first real rest in a long time.
Artoria and her sisters were busy resupplying their dwindling provisions under the warm welcome of the villagers, while also gauging the local sentiment.
Bedivere and his soldiers, polishing their gear, reveled in a rare moment of peace.
Seizing the lull, Kay quietly slipped away from the group, cradling Gareth—who was just starting to toddle—in his arms.
“Gareth, how about some sea fishing with Uncle today? Let’s catch something big to roast for your sisters.”
“Wheee! Meaties!”
Kay settled on the rocky shore of Roc Eashot.
The
He cast his fishing line and smiled as he watched Gareth playing in the sand.
It was an utterly peaceful moment, a rare reprieve from a daily grind defined by war, childcare, and cooking.
But that peace was merely the prelude to the storm about to break.
“Hey there, wet-nurse knight. Slacking off again?”
A familiar voice drifted from behind, but it carried a strangely dry, chilling resonance, far different from its usual playful tone.
Merlin approached him slowly.
“Slacking off? Hardly. I’m securing provisions. Gotta catch some fish to feed the kids.”
Kay responded gruffly without even turning around.
Silently, Merlin came to stand at his side. Tapping his staff, he pointed toward distant ruins on the foggy cliff above.
“Do you know what those castle ruins are, Kay?”
“No idea. Just a pile of crumbled stones. Are you telling me they're worth something?”
Merlin’s voice dropped to a low timbre, laced with an inexplicable, uncanny mana.
“That is Dún Scaith. In ancient Gaelic, it means ‘Fortress of Shadows.’”
Merlin paused, his gaze empty as he stared off into the void.
“This place was once a training ground in the distant Age of Gods, where Celtic champions like the Prince of Light Cú Chulainn, Fergus, and Ferdiad risked their lives to hone their martial arts. Of course, that was merely the location; it wasn't in this world. The key point is…”
Merlin fell silent, his vacant eyes fixed on nothingness.
“The boundary between life and death, the Mystic Realm. It was the site of a gate leading to the Shadow Realm.”
“…So? Why am I getting a history lesson all of a sudden?”
Kay yawned as if bored. Legends were worthless compared to a single fish to feed Gareth.
“That fortress was originally the palace of the Scythian king. But when his daughter and heir was exiled into the Mystic Realm, the castle fell to ruin, leaving only myths behind. Now it is forbidden ground, untouched by human feet, where the back side of the world meets our own.”
“Cut the fairy-tale crap. If you're hungry, I'll give you some bread…”
As Kay turned to reach into his pocket for bread, everything changed in an instant.
An indescribable shock slammed into Kay’s solar plexus.
Defense? Evasion?
There was no time to think of such things. It was raw violence of colossal force, delivered with a speed that far transcended human reaction.
A strike from a staff, propelled by a strength that dwarfed Kay's own.
“Ugh, huff…!!”
Kay couldn’t even cry out. His breath was knocked from his lungs, the air forcibly squeezed out. His body flew backward like a projectile and smashed into the sand.
The metallic taste of blood surged in his mouth. The sound of ribs shattering echoed dully in his ears.
“Guh, cough….”
Clutching his chest with trembling hands, he forced his head up.
His vision blurred, but set against the haze, Merlin still stood there.
No smile, no anger. No emotion at all.
Like a person crushing an ant without a second thought, he merely looked down at Kay with absolute indifference.
“Sorry, Kay. But you… are too much of an obstacle.”
“You… you son of… what… did you….”
“You are the biggest blot on the king’s growth, the greatest flaw in the birth of a perfect, ideal king.”
Merlin dusted off his staff and walked toward him slowly.
“A king must be lonely and merciless. They must sacrifice the few for the many and kill their emotions for the greater good. But with you at their side, those girls will remain forever as doting little sisters. As long as they have you as a warm refuge, they will never become the Iron King.”
“What… bullshit are you… talking… cough!”
Kay tried to push himself up, but Merlin slammed his staff into the ground once more.
An immense weight pressed down on Kay’s entire body. He couldn't move a single finger.
“This is your fault, Kay. You were born mediocre, yet you dared to try and stay by the side of geniuses.”
Merlin smiled with a cruelty that masqueraded as kindness.
“A talentless man daring to stand among heroes, trying to bridge the gap with nothing but effort. Your arrogance and devotion, which blind you to reality, are only making them weaker. If you want someone to blame, blame yourself for being born ordinary.”
“You… you demon…!!”
Kay spat bloody saliva, but Merlin ignored him and began chanting an incantation.
Behind Kay, the air above the sea began to tear open in black rifts.
This wasn’t mere teleportation. It was a dimensional isolation spell, opening a gate to the back side of the world.
From within blew a cold wind, reeking of death and things not of this realm.
“Oh, and by the way, unlike in the past, this place has become a space that no one can easily enter. Neither fairies nor spirits can enter or escape on their own. I’ve drained quite a bit of my mana just to open this crack.”
Merlin smiled broadly and scooped up Gareth, who had been toddling toward Kay.
“No! Gareth!! Leave the child alone!!”
Kay shrieked, his bloodied hands reaching out in desperation.
But Merlin, cradling Gareth, waved Kay away as if sorting through trash.
“Don’t worry. I’ll raise this child into an excellent knight—a perfect Knight of the Round Table, now that the impurity that is you is gone. Morgan le Fay wouldn't care if it wasn't you anyway. She views her children as tools; she maintains a stance closer to that of an ideal king. Just like a true disciple of mine.”
“Merliiiiin!!!”
“Farewell, wet-nurse knight. May you find… eternal rest there.”
A tremendous suction force pulled Kay in. He could not resist—an eddy of magic that defied gravity.
In his final sight, Merlin’s expressionless face faded, and beside him, Gareth looked on, utterly unaware of what was happening.
“Aaaahhh!!!”
His scream was swallowed by the jet-black void.
The rift sealed instantly, and only the sound of waves remained on the shore.
“…Whew.”
Merlin turned away as if nothing had happened, gently soothing Gareth.
“Now then, it’s time to return and deliver the sad news: that Kay accidentally stumbled off the cliff, fell into the sea, and was swept away to another realm. It will be sad, but even that sorrow will serve as the foundation for the king-to-be.”
The inhuman mage hummed a tune and strolled back toward the village.
“Gasp! Gasp!
Kay opened his eyes on a cold, stone floor.
Every breath felt like his lungs were being torn apart.
He looked around.
The sky was ashen, with neither sun nor moon. The air was heavy and murky, bereft of any living pulse—a land of death.
This was the boundary between life and death, the Shadow Realm.
“Damn… damn it!! You cursed incubus!!”
Kay slammed his fist into the floor. It bled, but he barely felt the pain.
Rage surged through him, his body trembling with the weight of betrayal.
But what terrified him more was the thought of Gareth left behind and the sisters who would be waiting for him.
“I have to get out. Somehow… I have to get back!”
He staggered to his feet.
His legs shook and his vision blurred, but he refused to stop.
Surely there was an exit somewhere. He vowed he would survive and return to tear out that mage’s hair strand by strand.
Then—
A red meteor plummeted from the sky.
No, it wasn’t a meteor. It was a human-shaped red light.
“Grrk?!”
The light struck Kay square in the abdomen.
Like being hit by a massive siege engine, he was flung to the ground again. His barely gathered strength shattered anew.
Through the cloud of dust, a figure emerged.
“…Weak.”
A voice cold yet irresistibly absolute.
Kay forced himself to look up through the pain.
Before him stood a woman exuding a palpable aura of death.
She wore skin-tight, dark purple attire, her long hair deeper than the night sky.
Her eyes were a blood-red glare more vivid than any dye.
She held a crimson spear—Gáe Bolg.
Resting the spear’s tip against Kay’s throat, she looked down with chilling composure.
“The living have no place here.”
Scáthach.
Queen of the Shadow Realm, instructor of countless heroes, and the Celtic greatest Godslayer who could kill even the gods.
“I don’t know how you entered, but forget any thought of leaving alive. This is the garden of the dead.”
The spear pressed into his windpipe, a single drop of blood crawling down.
She was a being of death incarnate, devoid of any malice beyond the phenomenon of death itself.
Yet Kay’s eyes did not dull.
“Don’t be ridiculous….”
He clenched his teeth, glaring up at the queen.
“I have to go back. My sisters… my family is waiting!”
At that desperate, yet unexpected cry, Scáthach’s brow twitched.
“Oh?”
An intrigued smile curled at the edge of her lips.
Many had fallen here over the centuries begging to be saved, but none had ever shouted like this.
“That look… not bad. For a man of middling talent.”
Scáthach kept her spear poised and declared coldly:
“Very well. Let’s see how far your persistence takes you. Welcome to Hell, stranger.”
After sending off her last disciples centuries ago, the witch had fallen into a cold indifference toward human hearts. But today, she felt something akin to interest.
“I shall take you as my disciple.”
“What?”
“Do not disappoint me.”
Comments (0)
Please log in to leave a comment. Login or Register