Lancelot was a figure of great prominence in the legends of King Arthur.
He was the ideal knight—brave, loyal, disciplined, and virtuous.
And yet… he was also a traitor.
According to Muggle myths, Lancelot had fallen in love with Queen Guinevere, King Arthur's wife.
When their affair was exposed by the Knights of the Round Table, Lancelot betrayed his king, fled Britain, and escaped to France—where he started a new life.
"That is not the true history!"
Lancelot's voice rang out, filled with frustration.
"Yes, the Queen was a survivor of Rodtabh's great seal. And yes—she eventually did beco a nun.
"But my ancestor had no affair with her!
"That was a lie—a deliberate slander!"
His fists clenched in fury.
It was clear that this distorted version of history tornted him deeply.
His eyes burned with hatred.
"This was rlin's curse upon the Lancelot bloodline!" he spat.
"A restraint—a punishnt!
"Our family can never abandon our duty.
"Because only by breaking Rodtabh's seal—only by awakening rlin—
"Can we finally clear our ancestor's na!"
He let out a long, shaking breath.
Then, regaining his composure, he slowly extended his palm toward Nolan.
"Now," he said, his voice steady, "hand over the Philosopher's Stone, vampire.
"Let ancient Lancelot fulfill his final mission.
"Let him restore Rodtabh—the school that has been lost for a thousand years."
"That's great news!" Ligeitoli bead with excitent.
"This ans our Elven Forest will be saved, right?"
Priestess Lúthfa hesitated for a mont.
Then, after deep contemplation, she chose to trust Lancelot.
"Prince Von Draugr," she turned to Nolan. "No matter what… we must at least try.
"Our people are out of options.
"This forest is dying—withering away into rot and decay.
"I refuse to let the swamp consu all of Ireland."
"I feel the sa way, Priestess," Nolan said calmly.
"The extinction of the elves is not sothing I'd rejoice over.
"After all, I doubt I'd ever find another race as beautiful and noble as yours.
"Veela may share your alluring appearance, but their essence is completely different.
"They lack your grace… your dignity.
"And for that reason, I've never found them particularly likable."
He paused for a brief mont, then slowly raised his wand.
"But that being said…"
His crimson eyes locked onto Lancelot.
"I don't trust you, Sir Lancelot."
Lúthfa tilted her head in confusion.
"And why not?"
Nolan's lips curled into a faint smirk.
"Vampires have many abilities," he explained.
"The most well-known are shapeshifting… hypnotic eyes… immortality… magic resistance…
"And one more—sothing rare—a skill that only the most powerful vampires possess…
"Emotional Manipulation."
Lancelot's expression darkened.
"We can sense the emotions of other intelligent beings," Nolan continued.
"And if we so desire… we can even influence them."
His eyes glowed faintly in the dim light.
"And right now, Sir Lancelot… I can feel you.
"You are seething with anger and hatred.
"Your emotions are so overwhelming—so all-consuming—that there is no room for anything else in your heart."
He narrowed his gaze.
"I don't know who you hate more…
"rlin?
"Perhaps.
"You resent your family's mission.
"Because it was rlin who forced this fate upon you."
Then, Nolan turned to Lúthfa.
"Priestess," he said smoothly, "I'd be willing to bet that when this man gets his hands on the Philosopher's Stone…
"His real goal won't be to break the seal.
"He'll use it to kill rlin."
Lancelot let out a slow, asured breath.
His grip on his sword tightened.
"You think so, Nolan Von Draugr?"
The crystalline blade in his hands began to glow.
A soft, ethereal green light radiated from its surface, illuminating the misty air.
Tiny fragnts of shimring light drifted from the blade's edge, dissolving into the damp wind.
Lancelot raised the weapon, his expression unreadable.
"This sword…" he murmured.
"You may be a powerful vampire, skilled in battle.
"And I admit—not many wizards can best a vampire."
"But I highly doubt…"
He lifted the blade high, and the green glow intensified—its brilliance reflecting in the murky lake below.
"…that even you can stand against this sword."
Nolan's lips curled into an intrigued smirk.
"Oh?"
His crimson eyes glead.
"Excalibur?"
Lancelot let out a dark chuckle.
"I'm afraid the legendary Sword in the Stone has long since been broken."
He raised his blade, the ethereal green glow pulsing from its crystalline edge.
"This sword is but a replica—a re imitation of the original.
"I do not know its true na… perhaps it has none at all.
"But I do know this—"
His grip on the hilt tightened.
"It was forged by an elf.
"The elves believe this blade will guide to Avalon…
"A path that will bring my family—the House of Lancelot—eternal rebirth!"
As he finished speaking, a surge of raw magical energy erupted from the blade.
A powerful gust of wind roared through the battlefield.
Lancelot's hood was ripped from his head, exposing his twisted, snarling expression.
His eyes burned with fervor. His face contorted with obsession.
Nolan scoffed, unimpressed.
He was just about to cast a Disarming Charm—
Then suddenly—
His sharp instincts scread at him.
His crimson eyes narrowed, and his voice rang out like a whip:
"Watch the lake!
"Sothing is climbing up!"
At his warning, the rangers—led by Shafa—imdiately raised their bows.
Their arrows were aid at the murky, stagnant water, tense and ready to fire.
Seconds passed.
Then—
Sothing erged from the depths.
"By the Gods!"
Priestess Lúthfa, usually composed and dignified, cried out in shock.
Even the ever-stoic Shafa stared in disbelief, her breath catching in her throat.
Ligeitoli let out a strangled gasp, her fur standing on end.
She nearly collapsed onto the ground in terror.
Nolan arched an eyebrow.
"So… this is the Lady of the Lake?
"The spirit worshipped by the elves?"
His tone was laced with dry amusent.
The creature before them…
Was anything but divine.
She was filthy.
Her entire body was covered in gri and sludge.
Slimy leeches and barnacles clung to her rotting flesh, tangled in strands of decaying seaweed.
Her hair—long, pitch-black, and matted with filth—hung over her face like a curtain of shadows.
Beneath the tangle of hair, her eyes were nothing but hollow, black voids—
Empty. Lifeless.
A monster.
A horror.
If not for the long, pointed ears poking out from her tangled hair, Nolan would have mistaken her for a re drowned corpse.
"See?"
Lancelot's voice carried an eerie glee.
"I have an ally."
His grin twisted further into sothing almost manic.
"This so-called Lady of the Lake—"
"She is powerful."
"The swamp has already corrupted her…
"But her magic remains just as vast as it was in the olden days!"
Lancelot's eyes glead as he gestured toward the wretched creature.
"Legend has it—"
"The elves of Rodtabh once wielded magic just like wizards.
"They interbred with humans…
"And beca a part of Arthur's kingdom."
He let out a cruel laugh.
"The modern elves have lost that magic.
"But this one…
"She is a relic of that era.
"A true remnant of the past.
"Do you wish to test the extent of her power?"
Nolan's expression turned serious.
"That does sound intriguing."
The atmosphere grew tense.
The rangers held their breath.
Even Lúthfa seed hesitant.
Then—
"Fire!"
Shafa's voice rang through the air.
The elves loosed their enchanted arrows—
A shower of glowing projectiles sliced through the misty air, all aid directly at the corrupted lake spirit.
The arrows struck.
A violent explosion erupted around the creature.
A surge of magical energy tore through the battlefield.
For a mont—
There was only a cloud of dust and debris.
Then—
With a single gesture, the lake spirit swung her arm.
A pulse of imnse power surged outward—
And the enchanted arrows were shattered to dust.
"Useless," Lancelot sneered.
"This is a true being of magic.
"Your feeble little tricks an nothing to her."
Nolan remained unshaken.
Instead, he turned slightly, glancing at the sleek black cat perched on his shoulder.
"Miss Nancy," he said smoothly.
"In your expert opinion…
"What exactly are we dealing with here?"
The black cat's golden, slit-pupil eyes glead with eerie amusent.
Her tail flicked lazily.
"Hmm…" she purred, studying the wretched creature.
"Half-demon?
"Devil?
"Ancient god?"
She blinked.
"I can't quite tell.
"But her essence is… muddled.
"Her energy is chaotic, impure—a mixture of many things.
"She is no longer an ordinary elf."
"How fascinating," Nolan murmured.
He smirked.
"Would you like to eat her?"
Miss Nancy's ears twitched.
She stared at the monstrous elf for a long mont—
Then let out a small, exaggerated sigh.
"Hmm…
"She looks filthy."
Her tail flicked again.
"I don't think she would taste very good.
"And if I swallowed her whole…"
She tilted her head playfully.
"I might get a stomachache."
With that, the small black cat leapt off Nolan's shoulder—
And landed gracefully on the ground.
Then—
Her sleek black fur began to ripple.
Darkness spread outward, expanding—
Her entire form began to shift.
Stretch.
Grow.
The elves watching from the ground gasped.
Within re seconds, Miss Nancy was no longer a small, delicate cat.
Instead—
A massive, monstrous black shadow lood over the battlefield.
It towered over the stunned elves.
Its sheer size was unfathomable.
No one could see its true form—only the shifting, writhing mass of darkness that spread across the field like a living nightmare.
And then—
Nolan turned back to Lancelot.
His expression unreadable.
His gaze cold.
"Now then—"
His lips curled into a slow, deliberate smirk.
"You, Sir Lancelot."
He calmly rolled up his sleeve.
A sleek, white serpent coiled around his wrist—its crimson eyes gleaming like blood.
"Shall we begin?"
~~~----------------------
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