Imp to Demon King: A Journey of Conquest-Chapter 344: Galatine’s Shadow, Gawain’s Dawn

While the Erinyes sought their target, who enjoyed travel hidden within a festive boat, a spatial portal opened in an ancient tower.

Stacks of papers filled with magical symbols ruffled, swirling and falling like snowflakes. Candles fluttered, resisting the gales to illuminate a white-haired youth, who stumbled forward amidst the chaos.

His blue cape barely covered the blood gushing from his lacerated chest to coat his robed clothes a bright scarlet. Before he could reach his chair, he collapsed as the portal closed. Yet, he shrugged, finally catching his breath.

He remained sprawled for a few minutes as clear lake water flowed under his squirming flesh. With a soothing cold sensation, his burning wounds closed. But he slammed his fist on the ground, dissatisfied with his lack of progress after ten long years.

Taking support on the table, he rose, then passed his hand over a list of names, causing a deep scar to cross one of them. Many others looked like this one, but even more were still carved into the solid oak wood.

"Not in Ea’s realm," he muttered, his eyes darting to a fragmented piece of red metal the size of his palm.

He had risked his life to snatch it from a tower filled with powerful archmages the moment he recognised the pentangle engraved on its surface. With him, he would definitely find it soon: the holy grail.

After all, the pentangle owner gave this symbol associated with magic and demonic rites a whole new meaning. Sadly, it was lost in the meander of time. But he remembered—as did the old Britain and the enemies who crossed this man’s path.

Without wasting a second, Merlin teleported in front of Adam’s Gate. He waved his hand, making the metal hover gently into the door frame as he smiled.

"You who aimed to be faultless in your five senses; never to fail with your five fingers; to be faithful to the five wounds of the man you believed in; to be strengthened by the five joys that the Virgin had; You who embody the brightness of the rising sun and unmatched virtue, walk this land with me once more."

As if to answer him, a golden light erupted from the Gate.

Solar flames, nurturing yet hiding a destructive power, swirled in the doorframe. Tongues reshaped themselves into a round table and an immaculate sword.

Overshadowed, forgotten, this sword’s sky-blue and golden pommel encrusted with ruby and extending in a long blade was no inferior to the legendary Excalibur he had offered Arthur. Named Galatine, it was its shadow sister rewarded by the lady of the lake in person to this incredible man.

His eyes sparkled, memories of how the man had cleaved thick hauberks and chainmail like mere paper. How renowned knights fell at his feet, their livers and lungs in full display, and how unstoppable he was at midday.

He opened his arms wide as a white armored boot pierced the flames. "Come out, Sir Gawain!"

Metallic greaves clinked, and a spotless breastplate adorned with dark flourishes contrasting its brilliance emerged. A blue cape, fastened at the neck with gray pelts, and blond hair, fluttered as keen blue eyes in a handsome face returned Merlin’s gaze.

"Royal mage Merlin?" He clenched his fist over his chest and offered him a solemn nod. "It’s good to see a familiar face in this chaotic world. Where is my royal uncle, Sir Perceval, Tristan, Galahad, and the others?"

Before answering, he gripped Gawain’s shoulders. Space shifted around them, the Gate fading. The paper-laden ground met their boots with a crutch the next second as they reappeared in his tower.

"No one will bother us here." Merlin picked up a tumbled chair, gesturing for Gawain to sit.

Once the man did, he sat across from him and continued. "I don’t know where the others are. They might wait for someone to stumble on them or in adversary armies."

His eyes narrowed, his voice echoing with solemness. "We’re at war, Gawain, and I summoned you on the side with the least chance of victory. I won’t impose anything on you, but today, you must make a choice: to shift your allegiance and risk fighting your former brother-in-arms or join us to rid the realms of those pagan gods that threaten your faith."

Gawain crossed his arms but remained silent. He knew Merlin. Even if he had committed mistakes, his only goal had always been to establish durable peace and a fair political system in which the wealthiest noble faced the same judgement as the poorest commoner.

Summoning him on the losing side suggested only this lord could achieve those goals. Still, he had no guarantee, considering Merlin’s tendencies to manipulate events from the shadows.

However, his frown deepened with Merlin’s following words.

"There is no manipulation, no plans—this is your choice." Merlin’s voice wavered, Adam’s accusations pounding at his mind. "I-I trust you."

Gawain leaned forward, his eyes widening. "What calamity did you face to change so much?"

Merlin lowered his head, then sighed. "A friend just shed light on my shortcomings. Times have changed, Gawain. Mysteriousness, grandeur—they’re all irrelevant in the eyes of my new lord. He only sees trust and camaraderie, something I’m sure will appeal to you. But again, this is your decision to make, not mine."

Gawain leaned back against his chair, a pensive frown creasing his brows. Back then, no one had fostered a true relationship with Merlin except for Arthur. He was indeed a mysterious figure who prophesied battles, called the rain to bog their enemies in mud or compelled them to search for the holy grail.

But since he was browsing his memories, he also had to admit they had grandly failed on every front. Arthur closed his eyes when Lancelot, that deceitful viper, saved his unfaithful wife from the pyre. Gone was the fairness.

Then, his bastard son, born from his own sister, defeated them all, marking the end of the peace. As for the grail? They had never found it either.

When the weight of failure stacked into mountains of bloody regret, why should he continue with the same cards? If he forgot about his loyalty and friends, that is.

"That’s quite a complex decision you offer me there, isn’t it?" He pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh.

Merlin offered him a soft smile. "Aren’t they all complex? In the end, we can only follow what our hearts deem best."

Gawain grumbled, acknowledging his words. "I want guarantees about this new lord. He must be better, wiser, and more upright than my uncle."

Merlin chuckled in amusement. "If you expect an honorable knight, I’m afraid I’ll disappoint you. He has the mercy to offer surrender to his enemies but doesn’t shy from utterly annihilating them. Infiltration, poisoning, assassination, nothing is too dirty to win. Do you know why?"

Gawain’s cheeks twitched, his jaw clenching. "Isn’t it because he’s as devious as this accursed Mordred?"

However, Merlin’s eyes narrowed into slits, mana flaring into dense wisps around his eyes. "Don’t insult him, Gawain. He’s a better ruler than Arthur will ever be. Think about it! His only obligations are towards his people. To let them die because of chivalry when he could have avoided it is utter nonsense. Where is the peace we advocated for when we sent innocent youths to get butchered like lambs on the battlefield? Where is the fairness when mothers, spouses, and brothers can’t even bury the corpse of their loved ones?"

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AN: As always, I won’t delve into any religions. I hope you’re eager to discover what Merlin plans.

I have an appointment to the doctor, so I probably won’t release a Chapter tomorrow.