I, the Weakest Traveler, Start by Taming the gods of the Old World.

Deep into the night.

Merlin sat in her chambers, the dim glow of a single lamp casting shadows over her desk.

Her quill moved with purpose, scratching across the page as she scribbled down intricate spells into the Book of Laviatus.

Her expression was one of pure focus, eyes burning with determination.

Ha Joon's freedom.

That was all that consumed her mind.

She had tried everything—pleading with Artoria, begging for mercy—but the queen had been unmoved, resolute in her decision. Now, Merlin had no choice but to take matters into her own hands.

Kink!

She placed her quill back in the jar, eyes scanning the pages she'd filled with spellwork.

"Is this enough?" she muttered to herself, fingers tracing the glowing runes now tattooed permanently onto the book's pages.

In this world, individuals awakened their classes at birth, but it wasn't until they faced a significant challenge that they unlocked the secret flow state—an advanced form of magic unique to them alone.

Merlin had discovered hers young. The Book of Laviatus was born from that moment. A gift from her flow state, it allowed her to craft spells—everything from simple enchantments to god-slaying magic. But it came with a price: immense mana consumption. Some spells could last weeks, others mere minutes.

The pages dimmed as the magic settled in, and Merlin's lips curled into a smile.

"It worked."

She rose from her chair, satisfied. Just as she took a single step—

Boom!

Merlin froze. Her head snapped toward the window as dark plumes of smoke filled the night sky. Flames danced, casting an eerie glow over the city.

Boom! Another explosion rocked the castle.

Boom! And another, each one louder and closer than the last.

Her heart raced. 'We're under attack?'

Without hesitation, she bolted from her chambers, sprinting down the corridor. She barely made it a few feet before colliding with a guard, panic written across his face.

"What's happening?" she demanded, gripping his arm.

"W-we don't know! The reports just came in. Guards are being found dead all over the capital. And now… it seems intruders are blowing up key infrastructure!"

Merlin's brow furrowed. *Intruders? Here?* It was unthinkable. Camelot's defenses were legendary, impenetrable. No one had ever breached them before.

"Move!" she snapped, releasing the guard and rushing towards the nearest exit to see it for herself.

---

Meanwhile…

Mordred stood amidst the chaos, her heart pounding. The bodies of fallen knights and soldiers littered the streets, and flames consumed everything in sight—buildings, camps, even civilian homes. The air reeked of smoke and death.

"Get those fires out! Evacuate the civilians! Make sure everyone is safe!" Tristan barked orders, his spear in hand as he vaulted across debris to help where he could.

But Mordred was frozen, her gaze locked on the devastation before her. Rage bubbled inside her chest, her grip tightening around her blade.

"H-how?" she muttered, disbelief thick in her voice. "How could they break through our defenses? Where the hell were the guards?! Did…did they manage to…"

The knights had always prided themselves on being untouchable, the first line of defense for Camelot. And now… this?

"We need to contain this chaos!" she growled, her eyes scanning the wreckage for any sign of the attackers.

But there was nothing—no sign of who or what had caused this destruction.

Until—

"Good evening, people of Camelot!"

The voice boomed across the burning city, drawing every eye toward its source.

Mordred's head snapped up, her gaze landing on a figure standing atop a flaming building.

His black cloak billowed in the hot wind, flames licking at the night sky behind him.

The intruders!

Scorpion stood tall, a smug grin plastered across his face. More black-cloaked figures appeared beside him, perched on the rooftops like vultures.

Lancelot, standing nearby, stared in shock. 'Why… why are the Red Wings here? Don't tell me…he's going back on his words?'.

Mordred's blood boiled. She could barely keep her sword arm from twitching as the rest of the roundtable knights stood on high alert.

In Scorpion's grasp was the military leader of Camelot's main capital force, dangling by the neck over the flames below.

"My name is Scorpion, elite member of the Red Wings, follower of the goddess of Discord herself. I'm sure you must be wondering, how on earth did these people manage to counter our military defense? Well it's simple really… I am chaos. The very thing you try to avoid. Latest chapters on mvle-mp _yr.

Consider this a glimpse of what's to come when the sun rises tomorrow. No one escapes. No one enters. A barrier has been placed around the entire capital, sealing you all inside."

Scorpion's smile widened, his red eyes gleaming with malicious glee.

"You're trapped here, with us."

Mordred's heart dropped. She gritted her teeth, her knuckles white as she gripped her sword. "Bastard," she hissed under her breath.

"You're free to play amongst yourselves on how you plan to solve this ever so dervesting problem… but you'll find it…quite useless in the end."

Scorpion released his grip on the man he was holding, dropping him into the burning flames while ignoring his screams.

"So now I tell you… with opens arms." Scorpion spread his arms apart, "Welcome to the abyss."

"Shut up."

From the crowd, Persephone notched an arrow, her magic surging through the air. The wind around her whipped violently as she released it, aiming directly for Scorpion.

Phewwww—

The arrow sliced through the air, but before it could reach its target, the flames around Scorpion seemed to warp, twisting and bending toward the arrow.

In an instant, the fire latched onto the arrow's magic trail, igniting it mid-flight.

Persephone's eyes widened in horror as the fire raced back toward her, faster than she could react.

Ahhhhh!!!

She screamed as the flames engulfed her, burning her armor and skin. Soldiers rushed to her aid, desperately trying to extinguish the fire as she writhed in agony.

"Bastard!!!" Mordred roared, charging toward Scorpion, her sword raised high.

But before she could strike, the Red Wings vanished. One moment, they were there, laughing amidst the flames—the next, they were gone, leaving behind only the sound of crackling fire and Persephone's pained cries.

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