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

Artoria raised her head and looked up at the sky, seeing the goddess hovering above them.

The goddess calmly sat in the air, her head tilted to the side, searching for someone amidst the crowd of fallen humans. Her presence alone radiated divine authority, chilling those who remained.

Scorpion and the rest of the Red Wings members all turned their focus to her, bowing their heads in submission, except for Scorpion himself, who was dragging Ha Joon's body toward the goddess with a sickening smirk.

"Give him back."

Artoria's heart twisted painfully as she saw Ha Joon's lifeless form dragged through the dirt, her chest tightening. The tears she had held back began to swell in her eyes, blurring her vision.

"Give him back."

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She reached for her sword, gripping its hilt tightly—but then she hesitated. What could she possibly do against them in this state? She was broken, her will faltering. Her knights lay scattered, the capital in ruins. Could she truly fight a god?

The thought of letting them disrespect Ha Joon's body gnawed at her. Maybe she was indeed a failure as a king, but at this moment, Ha Joon mattered more than any judgment or critique. He had believed in her. She couldn't fail him too.

"Give. Him. Back!" Her voice grew louder, more resolute, as her body began to spark with energy.

Scorpion paused, grinning, then turned to face her. His smile widened, pleased by her resistance.

"Kill her," he ordered with a dismissive wave.

At once, nearly all the Red Wings members saw this as their chance to strike down the King of Camelot. They surged toward her, weapons raised, when suddenly—

A massive surge of magic rained from the sky, obliterating everything it touched. Titans were the primary victims, while the smaller Red Wings members barely managed to conjure barriers in time.

From the street, bruised and battered but still standing, Merlin had arrived. Her outstretched hand shook from exhaustion, but her voice cut through the battlefield like a thunderclap.

"Don't you dare hold back!!! I've shattered their barrier! Reinforcements are on the way! But until then—" her voice wavered as tears filled her eyes; she pointed at Scorpion, "Kill that bastard!"

Artoria's heart raced. Her comrades were still fighting. They hadn't given up. Tristan and Gwin appeared at her side, bloodied but unbroken, their eyes blazing with determination.

"Your highness!" Tristan shouted, gripping his weapon tightly. "I swear on my life, I will not leave your side! I will die a knight, serving my king!"

"We'll buy you enough time to flee… please, leave us to take care of this," Gwin said, her voice steady, though it was clear she was barely hanging on.

Artoria felt the weight of their words crashing down on her. If her father had been in her shoes, would he have allowed his knights to die for him? Was it right to flee while her people fought and died in her name? The question that haunted her most, however, was this: Would Ha Joon be proud of that?

No.

Artoria raised her head, her eyes locking on the goddess floating above, cold and serene.

"Apologies," she whispered to herself. "I lost my way there. Never again."

She raised her blade to the sky, its tip glowing with an almost holy radiance.

Tristan and Gwin surged forward, clashing with the Red Wings members in a desperate bid to protect their king. Merlin, drained but relentless, shielded civilians with barriers, buying them precious time.

On the large screens scattered throughout the city, Artoria's image was broadcast to every surviving citizen of Camelot. They watched their King stand, battered but unbroken. For the first time in hours, a spark of hope flickered in their hearts. They began to murmur, some praying, others cheering her name in weak but hopeful voices.

"She's fighting back…"

"Our King…"

"Artoria…."

The flow state—when a warrior reaches the peak of their power—began to surge through Artoria. Her movements became precise, calculated. Calmness settled over her as she raised Excalibur higher, its glow intensifying.

"Ex—"

The blade erupted with blinding energy, a golden torrent that shot into the sky. The power was immense, crackling with an otherworldly force. Red Wings members and even the titans were thrown backward by the sheer magnitude of the magic she unleashed.

"—CALIBUR!!!"

With a single slash, the energy descended upon the battlefield, sweeping outward like a tidal wave of pure destruction.

Buildings crumbled under its force, bodies disintegrated into ash, and the earth itself scorched from the impact.

The explosion stretched for miles, wiping out nearly everything in the main capital.

The civilians, protected by Merlin's barriers, stared in awe at the devastation. Their king had unleashed a power so great, so divine, that even the mightiest of enemies had fallen before it. Cheers began to break out among them, ragged but defiant.

Merlin, who rested her back on a building, also protecting herself from the attack, looked at the damage only Artoria had caused.

And though she was dying from using too much mana, Merlin still managed to utter, "You never fail to amaze me".

The hope that had been all but extinguished began to flicker back to life, as Artoria stood in the wreckage of her capital, her hand smoking from the sheer force of Excalibur. She had done it. She had wiped out the Red Wings.

Or so she thought.

From within the smoke, Scorpion emerged, his body charred and broken. Half of his face was gone, but his eyes still gleamed with that same insidious glee.

Artoria tried to rise, but her body refused to respond. Every muscle screamed in agony. She couldn't fight anymore.

Scorpion limped toward her, kneeling down beside her. His hand gently cupped her head, his voice soft and mocking as he whispered:

"Remember this feeling, Artoria… This is what it means to be a king. Yosh… you've…done well."

With a final, rasping breath, Scorpion collapsed beside her, his body disintegrating into ash from Excalibur's devastating attack.

Artoria fell to her knees, the last remnants of her strength fading. The city lay in ruins, her knights slain, and yet… the people's voices echoed in the distance.

"Long live the King!"

She raised her head one last time, locking eyes with the goddess who hovered above. Despite everything, she was still standing. Camelot was not dead yet.

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