Holy City Camelot: Part 4
The workings of fate were fickle, like grains of sand blowing amongst a desert in which no road was set in stone.
He who searches, and she who waits.
A paradise beyond reach, striving forth for that which was unseen yet told would one day produce a miracle transcending time.
The sight in front of him was one that he hadn't seen in an innumerable number of years, and yet still it was one that left him breathless. A disposition that spoke of no lies or deceit, and a will purer than any ruler or individual.
It was the gentle solemnity and earnestness that had been captured before his eyes on the day of that eventful night.
My Sword is your Sword, and your Sword is Mine.
The sight of the Ideal King.
"By honour and by glory, to arms Knights of the Round!" A shout loud yet not, weak yet strong resounded out. "The enemy stands before you."
An unseen pressure descended on the area, like a snake coiling around its prey, strangling Dillan and the others until they felt as if it was too difficult to breath.
With a single command, the entire disposition of the Knights standing before their King altered. Swords, bows, and shields were held at the ready, the ominous noise of clinking steel sending shivers down one's back as the regal mantles of blue lined with gold created an imposing image akin to a waving flag. The flag of a Kingdom ruled by a King long since forgotten in history yet immortalized in Legend, and the Knights who stood with her through thick and thin.
Peerless Knights.
One of the Lake and Betrayal.
Others of the Sun, and the Sorrow.
And a Shield that encompassed the entirety of the Kingdom, its people, its King, and its remaining Knights.
The Field Bosses of Asgard's Holy Kingdom of Camelot.
"For the King."
It was all that needed to be said, the only motivation required for the Knights to act.
Handsome visages and stern expressions were suddenly overshadowed as ominous helms were donned with the single gesture of the hand. Faces of expressionless steel, horned, sleek, robust, the contrast in appearances was enough to cause Marteo and the others to falter much less Dillan whose senses from the forest were screaming 'Danger' at him.
Even the half-hazard looking Merlin's expression shifted, eyes narrowing into slits as his arms overlapped together, carrying a simple sword in one hand and a black staff in the other. Skirt-Chaser as he may have had been, none in the Round Table had ever questioned his status by the King's side.
Teacher, and Wizard of the Court.
He wasn't sure who acted first, whether it was the launching of an arrow by a man who'd lost his nerve or the provocative action of Mordred, it didn't matter. All that did was that the clashing of the two sides began.
Lancelot was the first to meet the enemy, his strikes heavy yet graceful, Arondight's unfading light cutting a path single-handedly through the enemy's ranks. Swords, arrows, spears, nothing mattered as the enemy's lesser weapons could hardly even damage Lancelot's armour let alone touch him with his sheer skill.
It was an unmatchable might that caused Marteo's expression to stiffen let alone Dillan and the others associated with warrior classes. They couldn't understand it. The kind of level Lancelot was at to go unhindered against a crowd of hundreds.
He was the Unparalleled Knight of the Lake.
A child raised by Lady Vivian, the bearer of the Sacred Sword.
He who was the Greatest of all the Round, and the Field Boss that Players in YGGDRASIL dreaded running into. In fact, YGGDRASIL's official forums speculated that should Lancelot, an NPC, ever participate in Asgard's tournament to determine a new World Champion, then the winner of the event would be difficult to predict using the skills of the warrior classes alone.
Lancelot of Camelot was a nightmare not in terms of overwhelming power, but overall ability and adaptability. In general game mechanics, bosses weren't normally designed to fight like players with their massive pools of health and superior skills, however, the bosses of Camelot and the other expansion packs were an exception in YGGDRASIL. Lancelot was the foremost example.
They fought like players, conserving their skills and awaiting opportunities; worse was when they acted as a party alongside the Raid Boss of Camelot.
Such was the current case with Lancelot taking the lead.
His path was one that was evident, a line of cleanly departed corpses making way for a continuous slaughter.
The hired mercenaries were the first to go, used as canon-fodder while the Ranger and Knight Classes of the profession tried and failed to stop Lancelot's charge. Swords and shields splintered, Arondight's edge unimpeded, forcing the mercenaries to do nothing more but dodge an attack that was too swift to even see.
"…What kind of monster is this?" Dillan muttered while backing away step by step, eyes wide in alarm.
Moreover, he could feel from his Forest Stalker Job-Class that fighting the Knight before him was akin to fighting with the will of a force of nature itself.
The blessings of a Child of the Lake.
By Dillan's side, he could already determine the fact that Elanor dared not even breathe too loudly with the situation as it was. What was occurring right now was an impossibility that she couldn't possibly wrap her head around much less quell the fear in her eyes when she eventually noticed the odd look Merlin was giving her from a distance.
C-Could he see her?
No NO! It was impossible. Although she was using simple tier one and two spells, they were possibly the most advanced types throughout the Roble Kingdom. She refused to believe that she had been found and adamantly slowed her breathing. Keeping still was her greatest defence at the moment as she was invisible. Moving would only create signs of her presence.