The young girl's hand gripped the sword hilt before her, and it felt as though she had simultaneously grasped the hearts of every spectator.
In the final stage of this monuntal King Selection Trial—one fraught with unexpected twists even at its climax—the sole remaining candidate, a girl nad Livia Wilde, was finally about to draw the blade!
Limping slightly, she inched her way over to the Sword in the Stone. Amidst the roaring of the Demon, the whispers of King Arthur, and the rapt attention of countless onlookers, she pulled the weapon free.
At that mont, no blinding brilliance descended from the heavens, nor did golden lotuses spring from the earth. It was as if she had simply, plainly, pulled a sword from a rock. Nothing more.
True Transcendence required no one's promise or permission; its re existence was extraordinary in itself!
Livia looked down at the blade in her hands. An ancient line of text was engraved upon the steel. She did not recognize the script, yet the words slipped naturally from her lips. "Dream Weaver?"
The instant she spoke those words, the longsword humd. An extraordinary power seed to swirl around her as ethereal silhouettes materialized by her side.
There were flocks of sheep, stalks of wheat, ravens, and heavy snowfalls. Everything that had shaped her life rged into supernatural manifestations, softly chanting in an ancient tongue beside her ear.
"When you grasp the sword, your hand holds a shepherd's crook, Cleaving is but driving the flock back to the fold—
The sword's wind sweeps up Dandelions, carrying away human terror, A stomp unearths earthworms, loosening soil to enrich the fields.
Your scolding strikes fear into all within the halls of parliant, You are a Knight of nature, and the King of life!"
Were these things not the girl's most primal, weighty, and cherished dreams? The so-called Dream Weaver was spinning the very fabric of her own hopes!
Her dreamscape had manifested into reality before her eyes, and upon this wind, it was heard by many. She was still that farr, that shepherdess, only now the flock she tended was the nation's people, and what she protected was the future of this Realm!
Those ancient words transford into the clearest breeze, blowing gently over her. The original stone dissolved before her eyes, leaving behind only faint glimrs of light that spiraled around her, causing several parts of her body to radiate with Light.
Her la foot—a permanent affliction caused by severe frostbite in her childhood—slowly healed beneath the soothing touch of this radiance. The comforting warmth smoothed away the permanent furrow in the young girl's brow.
She gently lowered her foot, planting her sole firmly on the ground for the first ti in years. Yet, to the astonishnt of everyone watching, this simple act brought forth another Divine Miracle!
A patch of lush, verdant grass slowly sprouted right beneath her feet.
It was as if the world itself recognized the pain she had endured and rose up specifically to cushion her steps.
"This is a token of gratitude from the land of Britain; it is the earth's Eulogy..."
So of the elderly spectators were moved to tears. After all, tales of such druidic blessings were exceedingly rare, confined to local folklore. But now, it had beco reality!
Did this not an that the druids and Gods they believed in were truly watching over them?
"What have we done!" these people groaned silently in their hearts. They had practiced other religions for so many years. Now that their ancestral deities had returned, would they still be worthy of their protection?
The overwhelming awe did not stop there; the miracles cascading upon Livia continued.
The woolen Cloak draped over her shoulders began to glow. As the light flickered, ravens descended from the sky, swooping down to rge with the fabric.
What had originally been a crude garnt, woven by the girl herself from raw sheep's wool, now shimred with starlight.
At that very mont, Stonehenge, located on the Salisbury Plain in Wiltshire, England, suddenly erupted with intense radiance. Vast swathes of starlight plumted from the heavens, casting a wondrous illusion over everyone present.
Streams of starlight surged outward from the ancient monunt, hurtling straight toward Tintagel Castle. They ford a tangible ribbon of light across the sky, wrapping majestically overhead for the entire region to witness.
This miraculous spectacle seed to declare to the masses that the birth of this new King had earned the Praise of the very land itself!
The descending starlight showered upon the young girl. As she stood with her sword raised, her figure appeared unimaginably tall and resolute.
She leveled Dream Weaver at the Demon before her. "You are Evil, and you must be dealt with!"
Hearing this, the temporarily stunned Demon suddenly burst into laughter. "Such crude words... This is your King?"
He mocked the girl's rustic, unrefined accent, then unhesitatingly bared his fangs and claws, lunging straight at Livia!
He had run out of choices long ago. From the very mont he offered his Soul to the Demons for the sake of a so-called "future," he had severed his own path of retreat. He figured he might as well assassinate this new King of Britain. Even if he died here today, it would please Satan, ensuring him far better treatnt once he descended to Hell.
Therefore, the Demon beca even more ferocious and tyrannical. The flas covering his body surged higher and higher, monstrously eclipsing even the aura of King Arthur beside them!
The monstrous inferno lood right in front of Livia. Against it, the young girl who had just grasped the Sword in the Stone and received her Divine Gifts looked terribly lonely and insignificant.
Many spectators had their hearts in their throats. As descendants of Celtic bloodlines, they naturally refused to see the King of their people beco another's prey before even being officially crowned.
This newly rising King had garnered trendous goodwill from the public. After all, on the continent of Europe, only the son of a monarch could ever beco a monarch; even Napoleon had to rely on peerless military achievents to cross the boundaries of class.
But who had ever seen a farr's daughter beco a King?
It was precisely because she shared a background so similar to their own that she resonated so deeply with the masses, earning their fervent support and instilling them with a profound sense of Expectation for the future.
They hoped that under the banner of this new King, they could finally live in peace and work with dignity, rather than struggling on the poverty line as re playthings for capital and Nobles.
They all desperately hoped that Livia would win this battle and lead them into a new era:
"You have to win! Our new Queen!"
"The hope of Britain, the pride of Great Britain! You will win this battle!"
"Queen Livia, you will erge victorious! We offer our blessings to you!"
The words and prayers of the masses materialized in the air as pure strands of Wish Power. They converged upon Livia, fortifying the young girl's presence and making her stand ever firr.
Clutching Dream Weaver tightly, she felt a genuine surge of strength welling up within her body. With a fierce cry, she swung her sword forward!
The phantom of a massive raven manifested behind her before instantly transforming into a long, sweeping blade of light that cleaved toward the Demon.
This strike—carrying the young girl's dreams and bolstered by the Wish Power of countless people—was finally revealed to the world in all its true glory.
"I won't be hit by such a simplistic attack!" the Demon hissed hoarsely. Yet, when he flapped his wings to take flight, he realized he couldn't leave the ground.
The patch of green grass had crept all the way beneath him. Two seemingly fragile blades of grass had suddenly beco tougher than steel cables, forming an unbreakable Binding around the Demon and locking him firmly in place!
"Damn it! I can't move!"
As the gleaming blade of light rushed toward him, stark terror flashed in the Demon's eyes. Utterly powerless to defend himself, he could only watch helplessly as the sword completely pierced his body.
A massive fissure split the Demon wide open, cleanly slicing him in two!
In stunned disbelief, the Demon tore his own Soul from his ruined flesh, leaving behind a vicious threat. "You win this ti, but the dark glory of Satan will surely bathe this land once more! There's Still Plenty of Ti for us!"
His Soul shot up into the sky. A peculiar vortex had ford overhead, hungrily sucking his essence inward—it was the gates of Hell!
"There is no need for plenty of ti! You shall stay right here, right now!" King Arthur's calm voice rang out. "In the na of the Lord of Wales, I seal your Soul!"
She raised Excalibur high. The holy sword cast down a majestic brilliance. Under the watchful eyes of the crowd, the strike severed the phantom gates and forcibly anchored the fleeing Soul down to the mortal plane!
Hearing those words, Livia instantly understood. She hurriedly echoed the decree, "In the na of the new King of Britain, I seal your Soul!"
Within Livia's grasp, golden scales running along her blade flared upward one by one. They opened and closed like breathing fish scales, violently drawing the Demon's ruined corpse on the ground toward the sword.
Dragged along with the flesh was the demonic Soul that had nearly escaped into the sky!
"Upon this land, you have defied the Gods, worshipped False Gods, and even dared to attack a God-Chosen! You have committed an unforgivable Sin!"
Under the Demon's horrified gaze, King Arthur handed down her absolute judgnt!
Rather than a trial conducted by the new King, it was more of a hands-on lesson. The ancient sovereign was personally teaching the new King how to face the impending supernatural invasions!
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