"What kind of nonsense logic is that?! You think you're Lü Bu or something, going around calling every guy you see 'Dad'?!" Guinevere's face darkened in utter disbelief.
"Ah… y-yeah, now that you mention it…" Mordred scratched her cheek in embarrassment and turned her head away. But at that very moment, Guinevere suddenly felt someone tugging gently at the hem of his shirt.
He looked down—and saw little Jack gazing up at him with big, teary eyes, all pitiful and fragile:
"Does Papa... not like Jack?"
"I already told you—I'm not your dad…"
He wanted to say that. Really, he did.
But as he stood there, faced with the imminent threat of a child bursting into tears versus a slight dent in his already-battered reputation, Guinevere hesitated for half a second… and gave up the fight with a sigh:
"Fine… if you say so."
"Yay!" Jack beamed, wrapping her little arms tightly around Guinevere's waist. "Now I have a papa too!"
"..."
Listening to Jack's joyful cheers, and feeling the collective gaze of everyone around them stabbing into his back like a thousand needles, Guinevere was overwhelmed with helplessness.
But really—what could he do?
Just then, out of the corner of his eye, Guinevere noticed the front door of the station swing open again. A flustered officer burst in, shouting:
"Ghost sighting near Buckingham Palace and Halley Lake! Suspected Nightmare Incarnation!"
"A Nightmare Incarnation?"
Guinevere blinked, then turned toward Mordred.
"Didn't that guy earlier say we just had to clean up the rest of those Nightmare Incarnations?"
"Yeah… that sounds about right."
"Well then," Guinevere pointed toward the door, "shall we?"
After getting the detailed location of the reported sighting from the officer, Guinevere was ready to dash off with Mordred.
Not just because they had to deal with the Incarnation—but also because of how the witness had described the entity:
"It looked like a female ghost… She had this huge top hat and was dressed in a tattered white gown. Oh, and she had three pairs of claws on her back. Wherever she went, there was blood everywhere… But weirdly, she seemed to be killing those fog beasts indiscriminately, not on their side or anything."
Hmm. Female ghost. Big hat. Shredded white dress. Three pairs of claws...
The more Guinevere heard, the more it sounded exactly like Bavanzi.
And if it was her—then there was no way he wasn't going.
"Oh—wait!"
Just as he was about to leave, Guinevere slapped his forehead.
Looking at the officers passing by, each wearing steam-powered exoskeletons cobbled together from parts of fog beasts and mechanical soldiers, he suddenly had a realization.
Back when Will saw this gear, he hadn't thought much of it—probably because their enhancement limits were clear. At most, they boosted officers' combat stats to somewhere between C and D rank…
But he wasn't Will.
As of now, Guinevere's physical attributes had just barely reached C-rank in Strength, while Endurance and Agility still hovered around D.
If he equipped one of those suits, he'd get a real stat boost.
And if he combined that with his own combat training and Hunter's Runes…
Guinevere didn't even want to imagine how powerful he might become.
At the very least, he'd be a bit harder to mistake for cannon fodder by passing Heroic Spirits.
No time like the present. After quickly calling out to Mordred to find a safe place in Scotland Yard to leave Jack, Guinevere turned and bolted straight for Adonis's equipment workshop.
After getting permission to use the tools, he immediately got to work.
Grabbing a heap of monster materials, he began hammering away—like a Monster Hunter blacksmith crafting gear for a hunter. After a flurry of clangs and sparks, he forged himself a massive sword sheath.
Then, he snagged a full suit of the steam-powered exoskeleton armor used by the officers. As he looked it over, a new idea sparked in his mind—and he went right back to hammering.
First, he installed a pair of heavy gauntlets and arm blades.
Then, he added spiked ramming plates to the shins and knees, and reinforced the soles of the boots with added weight and shock absorption.
"What the hell are you doing now?" Mordred asked, watching him with a baffled look.
"You'll see soon enough," Guinevere replied with a mysterious wink.
Once finished, he marched out of the workshop, practically glowing with satisfaction.
And as a final touch, he "borrowed" a machine gun salvaged from one of the Chaos Automatons and mounted it to the exoskeleton on his left arm.
After all, it wasn't like he was taking a lot. Surely someone as wealthy and powerful as Prince Adonis wouldn't mind.
"See that werewolf up ahead?"
A little ways into their journey toward Buckingham Palace, Guinevere spotted a fog creature pacing in the street ahead. He tapped Mordred's shoulder and gestured toward it.
"Remember that thing? We took one down together back then."
"Oh!" Mordred nodded. "Yeah, that was the first time we met, wasn't it? Hmm… I was still kind of green back then. That really was a tough fight..."
"Well, things are different now," Guinevere shot her a playful wink. "That was then—this is now. Just watch how I deal with it!"
"Huh?" Mordred blinked.
And in the very next second, she saw Guinevere slam his foot into the ground.
A burst of flame exploded from beneath him. With a loud bang, he launched forward like a rocket, closing the distance between him and the werewolf in an instant.
This was a new move Guinevere had come up with: using Rune—Explosive Barrel to enhance mobility.
According to the rune's description, it allowed him to enchant an attack with an explosive magic burst, which increased both damage and speed—kind of like a gunpowder blast propelling a strike forward.
So then, if attacks could be enchanted…
Wouldn't stepping or running, when wearing weaponized armor, also count?
If that logic held, then—technically—he'd just given himself a pair of magic-powered rocket boots.
And sure enough—it worked.
Rounded up, it was basically his own version of Mana Burst.
The werewolf never saw it coming.
Its yellow eyes widened in surprise—but too late.
Guinevere's gauntlet-encased fist, wreathed in flame, drove straight into its abdomen with a sickening thud. The werewolf doubled over like a shrimp.
"ARRROOO!!"
But it didn't die.
If anything, the blow only enraged it further. With a furious growl, the beast lunged at Guinevere, jaws wide.
But just before it could bite, Guinevere calmly raised his left arm and pulled the trigger.
The rune-enhanced bullets blasted out of the barrel, each one hitting the werewolf's vital flow points with surgical precision. Its motion faltered immediately, energy flow disrupted. The beast slumped, knees hitting the ground, exposing its chest wide open.
Guinevere wasn't about to waste the opportunity.
He stepped forward, formed a knife-hand strike, and drove it toward the creature's chest. Oddly, the werewolf's fur—normally tough as armor—seemed to part for his hand, as though yielding. His fingers plunged in deep, seizing something soft and writhing inside.
"I've been dying to try this—Visceral Attack!"
With a cry of triumph, Guinevere yanked his hand back—ripping the beast's innards clean out in a fountain of blood and gore. He danced back just in time to avoid the arterial spray.
The werewolf collapsed, twitching.
Even then, it wasn't fully dead—just clinging to the last threads of life.
But Guinevere was already drawing his sword.
Instead of slashing, he slammed it into the massive sheath strapped to his back.
Now, this wasn't your average sheath. Forged from monster materials, it was heavy. One end locked the blade in place—the other was polished smooth, not sharp, but built to smash.
Guinevere gripped the weapon with both hands, aimed the blunt end of the sheath at the twitching werewolf—
And swung.
Flames burst from the runes along the blade's back, magnifying the impact.
CRACK!!
The sheer force of the blow crushed the werewolf flat in one brutal strike, splattering the pavement in a gory mess.
"Well?"
Turning back to Mordred, Guinevere beamed, utterly smug:
"I'm way stronger than before, right?"
"…I'll admit it."
Mordred nodded, looking impressed.
"You've gotten pretty badass. Probably don't even need me to protect you anymore... So, why don't you go ahead and take care of the rest of the werewolves sneaking up behind you?"
Guinevere froze.
He slowly turned his head… and saw several towering figures emerging from the mist.
Multiple pairs of glowing green eyes stared straight at him.
"Oh…"
In the blink of an eye, Guinevere made his choice.
He turned and screamed:
"Mordred! SAVE MEEEEE!!"