Trafford's Trading Club

Chapter 1314: Chapter 41: They’re Back!

The figure was running rapidly through the streets.

Despite the high-speed movement, Bedivere at this moment was still communicating timely with the two elders who were currently unscathed, hastily discussing everything that was happening.

But he quickly stopped—because he sensed a large number of active magic power sources.

Even more directly—he saw a group of people wearing black robes, their faces covered, walking swiftly.

Such an irregular lineup naturally could not go unnoticed by Knight Bedivere—he directly dashed in front of these people, blocking their path.

“Stop, I have something to ask you!”

Out of the group of cloaked black-robed individuals, one person slowly stepped forward… This person, in front of Knight Bedivere, slowly raised the hat on his head.

Bedivere slightly opened his mouth, stunned: “It’s you… Gareth? What are you doing?”

“It’s a bit of a long story…” Mr. Gareth said seriously at this time: “Come with me, I’ll tell you on the way.”

“Where to?” Bedivere raised his eyebrows sharply, considering that the Fog Capital Knight Agency headquarters had just suffered a tragedy, and yet Gareth… This inevitably raised his vigilance.

“I know you’re definitely suspecting me, but…” Gareth smiled bitterly: “Just like when I first heard it, I… found it hard to imagine, even believe.”

“Who are they?” Bedivere raised his eyebrows again.

“I am Ace… one of the four deacons of the Magician Association Secretariat Tower.” The man with a light bird on his shoulder said slowly.

“From the Magician Association…” Bedivere opened his mouth in surprise, then pondered for a moment before looking at Gareth: “Where are you… planning to take me?”

“I’ll tell you on the way…”

…

…

They eventually entered the church.

When the door opened, what could be seen was Her Majesty the Queen with handcuffs on her hands.

She was being watched over by Catherine, sitting on a chair appearing to wait—additionally, Lancelot was collapsed on the ground, motionless.

“What happened?” Caesar asked with a frown.

“This old lady seems a bit unruly. Honestly, I said long ago she shouldn’t be given too good a treatment.”

Catherine shrugged and then pointed at Lancelot on the ground: “As for this Female Knight, perhaps excess determination led her to find a way out… Then she ultimately couldn’t hold on and collapsed at the resting place of this old lady. I advised long ago, not to keep her.”

Caesar said nothing—The core members of Doomsday Myth saw their leader wasn’t speaking, naturally they didn’t continue the topic.

Her Majesty the Queen looked at the relief in front of the podium and slowly stood up, turning her back to Sir Pukins and suddenly said: “Pukins… I don’t quite like this place, can we change to somewhere else?”

“Here lies the memories of most important moments you’ve experienced in your lifetime… I think it’ll be quite fitting when your life ends here.” The old knight chuckled, “My Majesty the Queen.”

The Queen slowly sighed and turned around, frowning: “Actually, I’m somewhat puzzled, why is it you, Pukins? You are a descendant of noble King Arthur, the leader of the Fog Capital Knight Agency… Already standing at the top of the Non-Human Power Pyramid of Britannia, what more is there to be unsatisfied with?”

“Human beings need dissatisfaction to progress. I’ve always believed…” He slowly approached, coming face-to-face with Her Majesty the Queen, “Humans shouldn’t halt their steps.”

“What is it you’re pursuing?” Her Majesty the Queen looked straight into his eyes.

“Ah, now this is the gaze I’m familiar with from the Queen.”

The old knight seemed a bit fascinated as he gazed into those eyes, softly saying: “Elizabeth, what do you think is the source of motivation for people’s progress?”

“Greed, as greedy as you.” Her Majesty the Queen said sarcastically.

The old knight just chuckled.

“Actually, you’re right, the things you said I possess… Over the years, I’ve been asking myself, what more do I need, but after many nights of pondering, there hasn’t been an answer… Suddenly one day, I found the answer. I think what I need is power.”

“You can already command the Knight Agency, that is your power.”

“No… not that, it shouldn’t just be that.”

Pukins took a breath, his turbid gaze suddenly bursting with vibrancy, “It’s my own power—I’ve never understood one thing, having Arthur’s bloodline, why… why can’t I gain Non-Human power, why can’t I become Transcendent? Strong body, youth… these wonderful things are slipping away as I age.”

“I am aging too.” The Queen shook her head.

“Therefore soon, I will even replace you.”

A smile spread across the old knight’s face, he said softly: “If you were young and beautiful, that’d be wonderful. But, it’s not important… You will see the moment I am crowned as King—not a powerless king like you are now, but a true king.”

The Queen remained silent, seemingly saddened, only letting out a sigh.

Sir Pukins smiled and said: “Elizabeth, I know the reason for your calmness now… You’re probably thinking your Magician Association reinforcements should soon arrive, perhaps they’ve even reached… Right?”

Her Majesty the Queen’s face slightly changed… then quickly concealed it, “I’m just an old woman toyed within your palms, either teased like a pet daily or appearing before the cameras under your arrangements.”

“It doesn’t matter even if you don’t admit it, even if they arrive, it won’t matter.”

The knight waved his hand, “It’ll all be over soon… Well, it’s almost time.”

Speaking, the knight slowly retreated, his open arms like an embracing departure, and Ofen took the objects in his hand and walked past him, moving to the stage of the hall, putting down each item.

But just at that moment.

Creak—Aa—!

The sound of a door being pushed open.

At that moment, the sound came… And at the open doorway behind the crowd, what was seen was a thin man wearing a white suit standing expressionlessly.

Farell.

And behind him was Ms. Witch, panting, drenched in fragrant sweat.

…

As soon as he appeared, Simpson Knight barely had any hesitation or consideration, directly rushed up. The speed wasn’t slow, just a flash of a remnant shadow.

Farell seemed to swat like a fly, casually swinging his hand—and a loud sound was heard, Simpson Knight by this moment had directly been swatted into the side wall.

A mouthful of blood was directly spat out, from the first instant, he was knocked unconscious.

Caesar frowned and squinted—behind him, the members of Doomsday Myth walked forward one after another.

“You are…” Sir Pukins was slightly surprised, then as if recalling something, said seriously: “Simpson encountered, it was indeed you… Farell.”

“I seem to have heard some unpleasant things.” Farell was silent for a moment, “The king’s bloodline flowing through you seems to have become somewhat dirty.”

The old knight’s expression instantly became somewhat unnatural, then saying lightly: “I think you don’t need to stop me… After all, what you vowed to protect is merely this country, this land, not to swear loyalty to anyone, right?”

“That’s why I’ve always disliked the Knight Agency’s system.”

Farell shook his head: “Bloodline, inheritance… The king’s bloodline, means nothing to me. Actually, if someone could subdue me, anyone could.”

“I see…” Sir Pukins nodded and then said: “Caesar.”

Similarly without any hesitation… A purple-black light shone from Caesar’s body, which was subsequently the moment the Twelve Knights’ inherited powers were revealed.

“You?” Surprised by this situation, Farell couldn’t help but frown.

Due to past encounters, Lancelot was supposed to be a female—of course, he noticed the fallen Lancelot on the ground as he entered.

Confounded, Caesar had already taken action.

The Light of the Unblemished Lake instantly slashed down—but at this moment, Farell struck like lightning, pinching the sharp Treasured Sword between two fingers.

“Your speed is pretty good, better than those other little brats I encountered before.” Farael nodded, “Almost third-stage attire, did you achieve this within half a day? Very well… It’s decided, you are indeed this era’s true Lancelot. However, with this level, you’re still somewhat lacking to take me on.”

“Is that all?” Caesar responded coldly.

Farael was taken aback… but then he saw that between his fingers gripping the sword blade, blood was inexplicably seeping out.

His palm had evidently been cut open by the sword wind.

After this strike, Caesar quickly retreated… rallying himself while inwardly startled, the results of this near-sneak attack were despairingly minimal.

At this moment, Farael, after glancing at the wound on his palm, suddenly seemed to transform as a vast killing intent radiated from him.

That overwhelming, despair-inducing power… A sinister smile appeared on his thin face, as if he were a devil walking out from Hell.

“How delightful… Such combat strength is worthy of being one of the Twelve Knights.”

Under that immense and terrifying pressure, everyone involuntarily retreated… Her Majesty the Queen, being an ordinary person, had directly collapsed onto her seat, her face changing several times.

“Then let me test where your limits lie… make sure to satisfy me.” Farael stretched out his right hand, and a black light saber formed.

It was not a crafted weapon, but a blade conjured through power.

With each step he took, the pressure escalated exponentially, causing the hall’s tables and chairs to shatter as they couldn’t withstand it.

Caesar broke out in a cold sweat—but at that moment, two cold flashes suddenly shot down from above Farael!

Without even glancing, Farael’s black light saber seemed to flicker and those two flashes were directly severed—falling to the ground as two broken flying knives.

From the ceiling of the hall, a figure clad in yellow Holy Armor with a smiling visage appeared… the Clown, Dalgarno.

“Dalgarno, you’ve come too.”

Sir Pukins seemed unsurprised, merely nodding towards Mr. Clown.

Mr. Clown casually threw a sphere to Sir Pukins, then chuckled, “It took a bit of time to deal with Geraint, so I’m late. Here you go, old man… The entire headquarters of the Fog Capital Knight Agency, including a Round Table member and several Elders.”

Ofen received the orb with outstretched hands.

Next.

“Thanks for looking after me yesterday!”

At the instant of throwing the orb, the Clown dashed out like a wraith, “I’ve been wondering when I’d see Mr. Farael again… I didn’t expect the reunion to be this soon. Such a delightful meeting!”

“A clown is always a clown, no matter the generation…”

Farael sneered, throwing a punch directly.

Fist met fist.

A massive shockwave exploded in that instant… The Royal Hall, unable to withstand this enormous force, had its ceiling shattered instantly!

Amidst flying debris, the Clown’s mad laughter reverberated.

“Truly worthy of being the strongest Knight in history… Even without the Holy Armor, he’s this terrifying. Marvelous… Again, Mr. Farael!! Hahahahaha!!!”

Maniacal punches smashed.

Each punch brought forth windstorms, destroying everything else remaining… The already precarious Royal Hall, at this moment, collapsed entirely.

Several figures were seen breaking through—Caesar wielding the Light of the Unblemished Lake, the members of the Doomsday Myth, and… the Clown.

They faced the historically strongest Knight, who could only exert one and a half times his strength!

…

The long-standing Westminster Palace had turned into ruins in less than half a minute—this battle had become impossible for the old Sir to visually comprehend as merely an ordinary person.

But this did not diminish his obsession with such power.

“Ofen… my child, do you see? This is the power I desire… Let’s begin, why waste the time they earned for us?”

Ofen nodded. While the hall had collapsed, it didn’t harm him or Sir Pukins… But Simpton was buried under the rubble.

At this moment, Ofen quickly opened two boxes he carried, revealing an ancient crown and… the Holy Grail.

Sir Pukins now approached the Holy Grail, spreading his arms wide.

“The souls of the Non-Human criminals collected over the years in secret…”

At that moment, the Sir removed a ring from his hand and tossed it into the Holy Grail.

“Beastman blood.”

Then he raised the Demonic Sword, letting blood drip into the Holy Grail as well.

“Noble souls of the loyal Knights.”

Next, the sphere sent by the Clown was also placed into the Holy Grail.

Finally, Sir Pukins lifted the Grail high, his expression ecstatic: “And today, all the souls of the dead in Fog Capital… I will offer them all as sacrifices! You will fulfill my wish!”

Gazing at the night sky where Farael easily dominated the Doomsday Myth members and the Clown with their overwhelming power, the Sir exclaimed: “You will grant me a physique and power like his!”

“You will grant me Mordred’s Holy Armor!”

Strong, unimaginably strong—Farael’s legend, the fearsome tale of nearly annihilating the Knight Agency overnight, Mordred’s rebellious power, how mighty it is!

…

Upon lifting the Holy Grail, it was as if countless voices echoed in Pukins’ mind… like a devil’s whisper enticing a human, instantly awakening his most primal desires.

With the gradual offering of sacrifices, the Holy Grail began to emit a strong light— not the dazzling white, but an… eerie black light!

Yet, it was equally dazzling… the black brilliance surged instantly—as this Black Brilliance flashed, Farael abruptly halted.

In the moment of his pause, Caesar and others besieging him did not hesitate!

Everyone’s weapons hit Farael almost simultaneously—in fact, Mr. Clown, with his fists covered by Holy Armor, struck directly at Farael’s head.

All the force hitting Farael had no rebound… He endured these attacks on his body.

But he stood there motionless, unflinching.

At that moment, Caesar waved his hand, the Doomsday Myth members scattered instantly, except for the Clown, who seemed to find amusement, pounding continuously on Farael’s chest.

“Can’t break… Can’t break… What kind of monstrous physique is this… why can’t it break!”

The Clown’s smiling face, under punches bursting like bullets, had turned into a crying face!

Each punch landed solidly on the opponent’s body… but the opponent had no reaction, standing there dumbfounded.

Finally, Farael lifted his head, looking at the black light rising to the sky.

“They’ve returned… they’ve returned… returned… returned!! Returned—I told you, they weren’t all dead, they would return… I told you!! You all didn’t believe me, didn’t believe me—ah—!!”

His body actually… started trembling.

This Farael, who just moments ago was unfathomably powerful and despair-inducing to all, now embraced his head like a madman, shouting in a panicked, confused voice towards the black pillar of light…

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PS: (12/30)