Artoria devised a brilliant plan to "swap roles."
But this idea was far from original.
Her Knights of the Round Table often swapped identities or donned new guises to challenge formidable foes.
... The most famous case was Gareth, who, thanks to a shape-shifting ring, concealed her identity to fight Gawain… only to be thoroughly trounced for two hours.
"It couldn't be helped."
"We're just too famous on this island. Without a disguise, no one would dare face us."
The Knights of the Round Table, despite their noble character, were not above adaptability.
The king was no different.
Ruling a nation required more than lofty principles... it demanded keen insight, effective methods, and the ability to strategize swiftly in complex situations.
"Alright, it's decided!"
"We'll make Lyon the center of an absolute defense perimeter against those wyverns and monsters!"
Artoria formulated her strategy with speed.
Her decisiveness left Martha, the saint, in awe... whether the plan was sound or not, at least she had one.
In a kingdom teetering on destruction, having a plan was a victory in itself!
"But I'll need your cooperation for this performance."
Artoria addressed Martha, though her gaze lingered on Alaric.
... She asked Alaric to join Martha in destroying buildings and sowing terror while minimizing civilian casualties and, at the critical moment, "fleeing in defeat."
"Got it~."
"It's just deifying someone, right?"
Meeting Artoria's expectant look, Alaric nodded lightly.
Another "chosen king saves the world" Act... he was well-versed in it.
That said…
"This woman… she's kind of annoying."
Alaric glanced at Martha, who looked expectant herself.
Despite her decent appearance, the Iron-Fisted Saint exuded an aura he deeply disliked.
Dragon Tamer.
Having once subdued a French wyvern, this saint gained A+-rank Riding skill, enabling her to control true dragonkind.
But Alaric wasn't mere dragonkind.
He was a True Dragon.
As a True Dragon, he instinctively despised dragon tamers... and loathed the dragonkind they dominated even more.
"I'll cooperate as best I can."
"But I'm not carrying her."
Alaric snorted, spreading his wings and taking to the sky.
"Huh?"
"Why not?!?"
Martha was surprised and disappointed.
... Damn, she'd hoped for a chance to ride this adorable white dragon!
…
France, Lyon.
Due to their deliberate stalling, it was half a month later when Alaric and Martha, disguised as a holy knight, reached the city's outskirts.
In that short time, the kingdom had undergone cataclysmic changes.
... The maddened heroic spirits were highly efficient.
With the wyverns' aid, these already powerful spirits found conquering cities effortless.
Rouen, Paris, Thiers, Vaucouleurs, La Charité… these thriving cities fell to fearsome enemies one by one.
The former paradise turned to ash, and the dead found no rest for their souls... under Jeanne Alter's power, they became horrific zombies and skeletons, wandering this hellish land, forever unliberated.
Lyon remained a sanctuary in this inferno... but clearly, it wouldn't last much longer.
"Milord, the refugees keep coming."
"Milord, our food supplies are running out."
"Milord, wyvern tracks were spotted in the southeast."
"Milord, scouts report an unidentified knight rapidly approaching. What should we do?"
"Milord…"
The clamor of voices buzzed incessantly in the ears of a man clad in silver-white armor.
He felt his head might explode.
His name was Siegfried, the famed dragon-slaying hero of Norse myth. Summoned to this land as a Saber, he bore the mission of salvation.
As a renowned hero, he wielded immense power.
But that power did not include "governing a nation."
He was the sharpest blade, but far from a competent administrator. He could save a squad of soldiers from a wyvern horde, but managing a city... especially with dwindling resources... was a task he'd rather face the wyvern Fafnir again for.
"The merchants? I thought this city still had merchants. Where are their goods?"
"Milord… the merchants refuse to sell to us, even when we offered double the usual price."
"Double? They say their goods are worth at least ten times the usual price... that's their exact words."
"Damn them, they're coveting the gold of the Rhine!"
The hero raged, yet felt powerless.
His noble selflessness prevented him from striking these selfish opportunists.
Selfishness... wasn't that humanity's most defining trait?
"I'm going to fight."
"Tell the city not to panic. Things haven't reached their worst."
"No matter what happens… just wait for my return!"
Facing the approaching swarm of wyverns, dark as storm clouds, the great hero once again took up his dragon-slaying weapon.
In that moment, his heart found a rare calm.
... If only he could die in battle.
He knew such a wish was irresponsible, but the hero, weary of humans scheming against each other in the face of apocalypse, couldn't help but think it.
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