Be cursed, be cursed—
May the Curse of the Clan of Fangs cling to you.
Soon among you, a beast will appear—immensely powerful, a black hound with humanlike form will be born.
An entity endowed with the Law of the Wild, one that thrives by the rule of the strong devouring the weak.
Surviving by consuming what it holds most dear—a terrifying fairy whose existence defies imagination.
"Nothing special—this is merely the reward for the one who vanquished the King of Morse. Don't be polite; just accept it."
—A thousand years ago, when the King of Morse, labeled as the "Great Calamity," was defeated by the young hero Woodworth, he cursed thus.
Centuries later, that fairy was born.
—The Black Hound, Bagster.
…
After parting ways with Artoria, Guinevere fled with all his might.
To make his act convincing, he sacrificed one arm, ensuring the fairies would no longer suspect Artoria.
However, by doing so, his own strength was drastically reduced—down to the point where even those fairies could pose a serious threat to him.
The one small mercy was that Artoria's released magical energy was still scorching hot; it had completely cauterized Guinevere's severed arm, sparing him from bleeding out.
Yet now another problem remained.
If Artoria stayed among those fairies, Guinevere could never rest easy. For the moment, it was the only option he had found. But going forward, he had to find a way to keep Artoria safe.
As Guinevere strained his mind for a solution, the corner of his eye caught a flash of crimson mane.
Without hesitation, he skidded to a halt, altered his course midstride, and swung his longsword toward the location of that Clan of Fangs fairy.
To his surprise, in a lightning-fast counter, the fairy blocked his blow with a long weapon held horizontally.
A sharp clang of metal echoed; the reverberation shot up Guinevere's sword hilt, numbing his grip and tightening his heart.
From that single exchange, it was clear this fairy was no novice. In his current weakened state, a fight against her would be extremely taxing.
Before he could press the attack, a voice he recognized called out:
"Hey—wait! Stop! It's me!"
Hearing that voice, Guinevere paused and created distance between himself and the fairy.
Only then did he see clearly: the Clan of Fangs fairy before him was no one else but his old friend, Redra Bitt.
A year ago, after Aurora's death, Redra had pledged himself to Fairy Gawain, becoming a guard in Manchester. Over the past twelve months, he had frequent dealings with Guinevere's family and had become a trusted friend.
But among all the fairies in Manchester—especially the neighbor who Artoria had just slain—could Guinevere truly rely on Redra Bitt?
Guinevere took two steps back. Though he lowered his sword, his body stayed tense, ready to parry any attack from Redra.
"I thought you were dead, Will!" Redra exclaimed, then threw his arms around Guinevere, crying bitterly. Caught off guard, Guinevere was enveloped in Redra's tear-streaked embrace.
"Stop—stop! You're going to break my ribs!" Guinevere moaned, pounding Redra's back until he released his grip.
Though inexplicably drenched in tears and snot, Guinevere now felt certain he could trust Redra. A weight lifted from his chest.
At this moment, he desperately needed a fairy friend like Redra to watch over Artoria for him.
"No problem! Don't worry—leave Artoria in my care! When you return, I'll deliver to you a perfectly unharmed little darling!"
"She may not stay little forever…" Guinevere murmured, the tension in his heart easing as Redra spoke.
"Huh? What do you mean?" Redra looked puzzled.
As Guinevere hesitated, trying to explain human pregnancy, a roar like an ancient monster's shattered the air—so ominous it sickened Guinevere with dread.
"What's happening?" Guinevere asked reflexively.
"…Over there."
Redra pointed, his voice hushed as though he were struck speechless.
A dreadful premonition rose in Guinevere's chest. He took a deep breath and turned his head.
"—What is that?"
Even though he had steeled himself, seeing it still stole his breath away.
In the direction of the lord's manor, a colossal black beast reared up, roaring to the sky.
Dozens of meters tall, its massive frame alone exuded an overwhelming sense of oppression. Its ink-black mane clumped around its body like storm clouds, while its crimson eyes burned with infernal hatred toward the world.
Then, right before Guinevere and Redra's eyes, the dark magic hound inhaled storm clouds and flames into its maw. With a single bite, it crushed the lord's mansion.
Simultaneously, in reality, Guinevere saw the display flicker.
["Great Calamity" Initiated]
Just as before when the system announced the start of a calamity, the screen's brightness dimmed sharply. Static crackled over it like an old television. It resembled moldy parchment… but more than that.
A black diamond silhouette appeared, engraved with the image of the colossal beast. Then another line of text emerged:
["Calamity of the Beast" Descends]
Behind the screen, fierce fire erupted from the beast's image, consuming the parchment-like overlay until it was ashes—revealing once more the roaring monstrosity within the flames.
And now, the name burned into the inferno:
[Bagster]
Amid ominous crackling, the scene disintegrated into fire, leaving only the giant beast howling in the burning wreckage.
At this very moment, the black hound fixed its blazing gaze on Guinevere.