21st Century Necromancer

At the base of HMS Victory's massive hull, Yu Chen and Hiromi Jounouchi stood, with Knighthood and Morgan le Fay facing each other in a shadowy confrontation before them.

By now, the trio atop HMS Victory's prow was quite familiar with Morgan le Fay; and though the giant Angel and blue dragon above them seemed somewhat alien, they could still recognize that it was Yu Chen and Hiromi Jounouchi. However, the appearance of the knighthood, led by a crown-wearing girl whom they understood to be made up of the dead, puzzled everyone, whether it was Sherlock Holmes, Lord Nelson, or Professor Moriarty.

"Are those people sealed here? Who are they?" Professor Moriarty felt an immense irritation. Revering order, he loathed those who did not adhere to it, and the knighthood's presence shattered any semblance of that order, inevitably causing him great displeasure, his tone filled with discontent.

Lord Nelson produced a brass telescope and, with the help of a service soldier, set it up to inspect the group of knights, seemingly sealed for a millennium, and the girl draped in a blue cloak standing before them, searching for any sign that might indicate their identities.

Regrettably, however, time had been too extensive. King Arthur and her Knights of the Round Table had been sealed for so long that people only remembered their legend; even standing before them, they were unrecognizable.

Putting down the telescope, Lord Nelson shook his head, "I found nothing that discloses their identity; they appear to be knights, but their gear is far too archaic, almost like something from the Romans' era."

"Romans? That would mean they are from the era of King Arthur!" Sherlock Holmes exclaimed upon hearing Lord Nelson's words and borrowed his telescope to look at the knighthood that emerged from history.

Through the telescope, Sherlock Holmes finally spotted a somewhat clear pattern on a knight's shield—a white shield with three red diagonal stripes, the fabled banner of Lancelot.

"My God! That emblem! They really could be the Knights of the Round Table!" Sherlock Holmes cried out in astonishment, the legendary detective unable to contain his surprise. What could be more shocking than witnessing the most famous knighthood from myth appearing before one's very eyes?

"The Knights of the Round Table? Impossible! King Arthur cannot be a girl!" Professor Moriarty also refused to believe it and snatched the telescope from Sherlock Holmes to look at the Knights of the Round Table, hoping to find evidence to refute this.

While they sought evidence to prove the identity of this band of knights, a knight wearing a blue robe adorned with two indistinct silver keys approached the girl and asked, "My King, what should we do? Shall we seek vengeance against the wicked witch?"

At the mention of vengeance, all the knights roared in anger.

Although they had just awakened and Morgan le Fay had reincarnated several times, losing her original form, the essence of that Celtic goddess from mythology returned naturally with the breaking of the Seal, and inevitably, the knights of the Knights of the Round Table recognized it.

As for the hatred, being loyal to King Arthur, Morgan le Fay was the one who caused Mordred's revolt and led to King Arthur's demise—the reason was sufficient for the knights to pursue Morgan le Fay to the end of time.

However, King Arthur lifted her steel-encased arm, adorned in armor that Celtic's finest craftsman had forged from the hardest steel, covered in scratches as if telling the tale of the battles the sovereign had fought throughout her life.

Seeing this hand rise, all the knights ceased their roars, silently awaiting their king's command, just as they had one thousand five hundred years ago, when they charged against their foes under the king's lead.

However, this time, the command of the king was not to charge.

"One Thousand and Five Hundred Years have passed, and I am tired. The slaughter brought by hatred ultimately brings us nothing but pain," King Arthur shook his head, turned to face the loyal Knighthood that would follow him even as skeletal remains, and spoke softly to them, not like a monarch issuing orders, but like an old friend persuading, "We should have turned to dust One Thousand and Five Hundred Years ago, but this Seal and your loyalty allowed us to meet again after One Thousand and Five Hundred Years."

All the knights were silently listening to the king's speech. One Thousand and Five Hundred Years ago, she was their standard, leading them forward valiantly, and even before the Round Table that symbolized equality, she was the one commanding everyone.

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But now, she seemed to have shed the part of her that was the king, and was simply expressing her thoughts to her knights as any ordinary person might.

"One Thousand and Five Hundred Years ago, I should have fallen into an eternal slumber, but your loyal call eventually awakened me." Although the knights before her had long since lost their past forms, reduced to withered and decayed bodies, the king still saw them in their former glory.

The guilt-ridden Lancelot who was bowing his head before her had once been so refined and courageously loyal. He had misunderstood her once, but he had repented for that misunderstanding for a full One Thousand and Five Hundred Years...

Geraint, the laziest knight under her command, so lazy that even after his marriage, his wife complained about his slothfulness; yet, when her standard pointed towards the enemy, he was the bravest vanguard of the Knighthood...

Bedivere, not as renowned as the other knights but always faithfully at her side, and in the end, not forsaking her, handing back Excalibur to The Lady of the Lake was perhaps the cruelest order she had ever given him in her lifetime...

Gaowen, the elegant gentleman, who was once such good friends with Lancelot, ended up at odds over the death of Gaheris...

Kai, her elder brother, although always verbose, had always cared for and protected her like when they were children...

Bors, Galahad, Percival, Lan Mallock, Ector...

The king's gaze swept over each knight's face, she remembered each of their names clearly...

They were her dear friends, her brothers, her elders, her nephews; among them were the loyal and the traitors, but none of that mattered anymore. They had waited for her for One Thousand and Five Hundred Years, time that rusted sharp swords, withered sturdy bodies, and left handsome faces to decay...

But no matter how much time passed, their loyalty only became more brilliant and steadfast throughout those One Thousand and Five Hundred Years.

How could she, for that so-called hatred, drag them back into war and strife again?

"One Thousand and Five Hundred Years, even the once idyllic Avalon has turned to ruins, and our homeland has long since turned to dust; it's time to let go of this hatred." The sovereign took off her crown and held it in her hands, she was now just a girl yearning for peace.