"Pfft."
As they walked along, Mordred couldn't help but let out a snort of laughter just from recalling what had just happened.
"What? You're still laughing?" Gawain shot her a glare. "You've been laughing this whole way. Is it that funny?"
"Jackie~ Could you do that thing you said again, just like before?"
Trying to stifle her amusement, Mordred cleared her throat and feigned seriousness as she mimicked:
"'Times have changed. The past is past. Watch how I crush it now! I'm way stronger than before—'"
She even threw him a wink at the end.
Seeing her so excited, Gawain sighed and, with no small amount of resignation, replied on cue:
"'Mordred, save me.'"
"Pffft—BAHAHAHAHA—!"
That did it. Mordred could no longer hold her expression and doubled over laughing, clutching her stomach and wheezing with laughter.
"...Sigh."
Gawain watched her practically convulsing with laughter and couldn't decide if he should be annoyed or not.
Sure, having his most embarrassing quotes parroted back at him on loop was mortifying... but seeing Mordred laugh so freely and joyfully made it feel almost worth it.
Whatever. She was Artoria's kid after all—if making a fool of himself made her happy, then maybe it wasn't such a bad thing. He'd just consider it making silly faces to cheer up a daughter.
"But... playtime ends here. We've arrived."
Gawain looked ahead at the increasingly familiar buildings and spoke with quiet resolve.
After many twists and turns, they had finally reached the area near the palace.
Despite the title "palace," what came into view was far from the golden splendor its name might suggest. Instead, what stood before them was a cluster of aged, plainly adorned structures...
Just like the rough-hewn architecture Gawain had first seen when he awoke in the dream, these buildings carried a kind of imposing grandeur born of their massive scale—but utterly devoid of ornamentation, worn and decayed, and steeped in a rotting air of antiquity that clashed harshly with the splendor of modern London.
This cluster of buildings, known in the dream world as the Iti Palace, corresponded in the real world to none other than the famous Buckingham Palace.
The two didn't bother with the front entrance, instead vaulting over the side wall casually.
"So... where do we go now?" Mordred asked as she turned to Gawain.
"Mm... good question."
Gawain scratched his head. The intel he'd received only mentioned that Bavanzi had been seen "around the palace," but not her precise location.
"Should we check by the lake?" Mordred pointed toward one side. "I think the intel said she was seen near the palace and the lake, right? If that's the case, we should probably check it out."
From the moment they'd reached the area, they could vaguely see the lake beside the palace. Fortunately, the palace sat right between central London and Lake Halley, and a straight walk through the palace's periphery would bring them right there.
But just as Gawain turned to look in the direction Mordred pointed, he suddenly recalled something the officer had warned him about before they left:
Back when they were about to leave, the same officer who had given them intel about Bavanzi had pulled Gawain aside, speaking with grave seriousness.
"Mr. Hyde, you're planning to head toward the palace and Lake Halley to look for that Nightmare Incarnation, yes?"
"Yeah," Gawain nodded. "Something wrong?"
"Be very careful with Lake Halley," the officer said, solemn and intense.
"Lake Halley?"
"Yes. It's an old legend passed down through Iti. They say a monster lives in the lake—one that awakens at nightfall to devour anyone who sets foot in the waters and dares to gaze into its depths. Those taken are never seen again. Not even their souls can return."
And suddenly, Gawain remembered—when he was first thrust into the dream, when he was being chased by those guests at the banquet, they'd fallen into the lake… and never surfaced. Only a trail of bubbles had remained.
And that deep, lightless lake… even now it made his skin crawl. He'd felt then—no, he was sure—that something inside that lake had stared right back at him.
"You're right... and anyway, it's still daylight. If we're going to investigate, now's the best time."
Snapping back to the present, Gawain nodded in agreement.
After all, the officer said the lake monster only appeared at night. If that was the case, they could avoid trouble simply by avoiding the nighttime.
Since it was an old legend from long before, it likely had nothing to do with what Paracelsus and the others had been doing recently. All the more reason to steer clear of whatever was down there.
This was a dream tied to The King in Yellow after all—who knew what kinds of unknowable horrors could manifest in a place like this?
With that decision made, the two of them quickly moved toward the lake.
Though they had arrived at the palace, they hadn't encountered anyone on their way through. Despite London being teeming with monsters just a short while ago, this palace—source of so much anomaly—was eerily empty.
Gawain briefly considered going to check the banquet hall from before, but since the lake was closer, he decided to detour there first.
Soon enough, they passed through the palace perimeter, and the deep, mysterious waters of Lake Halley came into view.
The wind stirred the lake, ripples spreading across the surface. Due to the effect of Will's Noble Phantasm, the sky—despite it being daytime—was still bathed in an ominous red hue, which turned the lake's surface blood-red in turn.
"Eh? What's this stone tablet? There's a bunch of writing on it!"
Mordred suddenly pointed, as if she'd stumbled upon treasure.
Gawain's eyes lit up too. He followed her gaze and spotted a weathered stone slab near the lake, ancient and worn, the text etched upon it almost completely eroded by time.
Something instinctual told him this was important.
He stepped forward and squinted at the slab.
"This is an ancient prophecy passed down through Iti. May those with fate come to understand it—"
That was the first line.
"Another prophecy?" Gawain frowned and continued reading.
Most of the lines had been blurred by the elements, but some remained legible:
This realm is a mirror of dreams; this lake, a reflection of illusions.
When the lost city returns, Carcosa shall meet its end.
The Deathless King prepares for war; the Lake Prophet shall awaken.
The Queen weeps on her throne, for the Deathless King and Lake Prophet shall one day clash—a war between heaven and earth, where none may survive.
When the ancient prophet awakens from the lake, they shall become a pitch-black abomination that devours all. The King of Carcosa shall march with his army and battle to the last. Tempests will howl, and tides will surge.
But the Queen's tears shall summon the radiant swordsman—he who is sun and moon, light of stars. His blade will illuminate the lost city, and shine upon the wind that cannot die and the water that cannot remain.
No matter what happens—may the long night be dreamless. May the Black Star rise as always.
And the moment he finished reading, a system prompt popped up in his mind:
[You have uncovered a fragment of truth: The Prophecy of Lake Halley.]
[You have learned of the lake's prophecy. Though its author is unknown and its meanings unclear, these words speak of the future. They may one day serve you.]
[—The Prophecy of Lake Halley has been recorded in your system log. You may revisit it at any time.]
"…The hell was that?" Gawain muttered.
Judging by this prophecy, whatever lived in this lake was no small fry.
He fell into thought.
Some clues were clear: "The Deathless King" obviously referred to the King in Yellow, repeatedly mentioned in system quests as the ruler of the undying. The "lost city" clearly referred to the City of a Thousand Towers—Carcosa… and its reappearance spelled doom?
But what about this "Lake Prophet"? Wasn't this supposed to be the King in Yellow's domain? Why was there another powerhouse lurking here—one strong enough to oppose him?
And who was the "radiant swordsman"? The description mentioned stars and light… could that be Artoria?
Gawain frowned deeply.
"Any luck? You find anything useful?" Mordred leaned in.
She'd read the prophecy too—but though she understood the words, they made no sense strung together. Her only hope was that Gawain could make some sense of it.
"Useful? It's a prophecy, Mordred."
Lacking more context, Gawain gave up on deciphering it. He scowled.
"You know why I hate prophecies? Because the people who write them are always cryptic weirdos speaking in riddles. You don't realize what they meant until it's too late."
"Ehh... is that a bad thing?" Mordred asked, scratching her head.
"It means they're useless before stuff happens. Worse, people trying to stop a prophecy often cause it to happen. How's that not infuriating?" Gawain grumbled.
"Oh, damn. That actually makes sense," Mordred blinked.
"Yup." Gawain nodded, then walked toward the lake, staring out toward its center.
But if that prophecy was right… then whatever stared back at him that day may well have been a Great Old One tier entity.
A chill ran up his spine.
And then, he noticed something else.
Sure, the sky was red—so it made sense the lake reflected that… but wasn't it too red?
Frowning, he strode to the edge, dipped his fingers in the water—and his expression changed instantly.
"What? What is it?" Mordred quickly followed, concerned. "Why the hell do you look so pale?"
"It's not the sky making the lake red," Gawain said grimly, holding up fingers stained with crimson. "This lake is filled with blood."
Mordred's face fell too.
And in the next moment, she suddenly raised her sword and stared past Gawain's shoulder.
He turned around instantly.
There, standing atop the blood-stained lake, walking across the crimson waves, was a ghostly figure in a white gown.
None other than—Bavanzi.