The family that guards the Holy Grail.
Pelles always taught Galehaut to keep his lips sealed.
As a very young child, he couldn’t understand his grandfather’s words.
“Grandfather is incredibly strong and can even use magic.”
Still too young to wield magic himself, the boy swung his wooden sword and asked sullenly.
Pelles caught his grandson’s tilted wrist with his palm and snapped sharply.
“Do you think secrets are kept for no reason? When the time comes, I’ll tell you everything—so focus on building the strength to protect yourself.”
“Tsk, Grandfather always picks on me!”
Never once had he spoken kindly to him. Every day, he only took the dog fishing by the lake.
Unlike how he treated his grandson, he’d even pat the dog’s head.
Not that Galehaut disliked the dog.
Swish, swish—
As he swung his wooden sword, Galehaut panted and made a vow.
‘I’ll get super strong. So strong I can go down the mountain all by myself. And I’ll take the dog with me.’
But that resolve didn’t last long.
One day, a fog rolled over the lake. The same fog that kept visitors from the manor away—and kept Galehaut from leaving as he pleased.
‘Why is the fog rising…?’
Just as he began to sense something was wrong—Pelles, who had been fishing, came running in a panic.
“Galehaut!”
“Grandfather, the fog—”
“From this moment on, don’t you dare make a single sound. Understood?”
Before Galehaut could grasp the situation, Pelles forcibly dragged him by the wrist into the manor.
With every step they took, the doors of the estate slammed shut—thud, thud—sealed by magic.
The suits of armor, once standing like decorations, now moved as if alive, blocking the doors.
As if defending against an outside invasion. Pelles pulled him into the deepest room of the manor. He yanked open a closet and shoved Galehaut inside like crumpled cloth.
“Grandfather!”
“Shh! Not a word. Play dead!”
The puppy that had followed her hopped inside the wardrobe, but Pelles firmly pulled it out. Before she could even finish speaking—thud.
The wardrobe door closed.
Through the narrow gap in the door, a sliver of the room was visible. The moment Pelles tried to leave, mist seeped in through the window cracks like smoke.
Soon, a dark portal opened, and a woman with unfamiliar violet hair appeared.
“Are you the Fisher King?”
At Merlin’s question, Pelles hid the growling puppy baring its teeth.
“Who are you?”
“No need to know. Just tell me where the Grail is.”
“I don’t know. If I did, I’d have found it myself.”
Though she clearly knew the answer, her feigned ignorance made the woman’s eyes shift to the puppy.
At the same time, mana inscribed with incantations wrapped around Pelles and Merlin like a band, encircling them.
The mana was intense.
As the heir of his lineage, he couldn’t help but sense it instinctively.
‘I’ve never seen Grandfather cast magic this powerful before…’
Did that mean the opponent was truly a threat?
Yet Merlin’s lips curled into a gentle arc.
“So that’s the Divine Beast? Looks more pathetic than I expected.”
The moment she finished speaking, a dark violet energy spread across the floor like spilled ink—whoosh.
The black miasma seeped into Pelles’s mana, which had been glowing brightly just moments ago.
The band of dark energy soon shattered—crack—with an ear-splitting burst. The fragments stabbed deep into Pelles’s arms and legs.
“Ack—”
Clutching his wounds, Pelles collapsed to his knees with a thud as Merlin took a step forward. The puppy stood boldly in front of him, guarding him with bared teeth.
“Grr… grr…”
When Merlin bent down to pick it up, its sharp little teeth chomped down hard on his hand. It should have hurt, but Merlin didn’t seem to care.
Pelles gritted his teeth in pain as he watched her lift the puppy that was gnawing on his arm and muttered bitterly,
“Having a divine beast doesn’t mean you can find the Holy Grail. Do you really think the gods would arrange things so carelessly?”
“Given that they appointed an incompetent Grail Keeper, I doubt this so-called ‘god’ is anything impressive.”
Black smoke seeped from beneath her feet and coiled around Pelles’ throat.
Ugh—!
At his choked groan, Galahad bit his lip hard. He wanted to step forward, but he had no strength left.
Only now did he understand the meaning behind Pelles’ constant warnings—to keep silent and grow stronger.
Pelles, now deathly pale, barely managed to sneer in a thread-like voice, “Even so… you’ll never find the Grail—”
With those final words, he collapsed like a discarded doll, thudding lifelessly to the floor.
Merlin gazed down at him expressionlessly and murmured, “Never find it? The scabbard is already in my hands. You can never escape me.”
Tilting her head slightly, she quietly scanned the room.
Galahad, who had been secretly watching, felt his heart pounding as if it would leap out of his chest.
Thump-thump—the rapid beats echoed in his ears like hammer strikes.
Just as Merlin began approaching the closet—
“Grrr…!”
The puppy, as if mad, latched onto Merlin’s arm and refused to let go. Gnashing its teeth and shaking its head wildly, it finally made Merlin’s eyelids twitch.
“Playing the divine beast and protecting the Grail Keeper, are we?”
With a kick-like motion, Merlin flung the puppy away.
Whimpering in pain, it tumbled to the floor before she carelessly scooped it up with one hand, as if lifting a sack.
A dark portal opened behind her, and she disappeared into it, taking the puppy with her.
A teahouse on the street of Avalon’s mages.
Galahad trembled his lips as he explained the past.
“Fortunately, my grandfather’s life was spared, but the wounds on his arms and legs never fully healed… Later, I found out that woman was the High Priestess?”
As if holding back tears, he pressed his lips together tightly for a moment before taking a deep breath.
“Back then, I heard it clearly with my own ears. The High Priestess said she had a scabbard.”
Morgana blinked in surprise at the unexpected information. She definitely had no memory of seeing anything resembling a scabbard in the temple.
Of course, even if the High Priestess seemed a bit foolish, she wasn’t stupid enough to openly display a scabbard.
Perhaps Galahad had done some investigating himself, as he added an explanation.
“I looked into it, and apparently, it’s a set with the holy sword.”
—What is this? Everyone knows about me except me. They even know me better than I do!
Excalibur, tightly wrapped in cloth behind her, retorted in a tone of disbelief.
At this point, even the sword seemed genuinely resentful. Certainly, if the scabbard had healing abilities, word would have inevitably leaked from the temple, which was dedicated to healing.
Kellive also rubbed his chin slowly, as if trying to recall.
“There was no scabbard in the mansion in the Caledonian Forest either.”
If it wasn’t hidden where the holy sword was kept, the only other secretive place in the temple would be the main hall.
‘But even in the archives, there was nothing particularly…’
The archives…
The moment that word came to mind, Morgana muttered without thinking.
“Ah, I have archives.”
Her eyes widened as if she had just realized something.
Galahad, who had finished his explanation earlier, returned to his usual prickly demeanor, as if asking whether she had even been listening.
“Did you hear what I said? It’s not about archives—it’s about the High Priestess having it!”
“Yeah, that’s why!”
What was the function of the archives, anyway?
The key point is that she wielded power equivalent to a saint within the temple.
“Let us search the temple.”
If she were a saint, she could do at least that much.
The owner of Excalibur was Morgan.
If she was searching for the sword’s scabbard, who in the temple could possibly stop her?
💫
A dark space.
It appeared to be someone’s room, but it was too dark to clearly discern the surroundings.
Every curtain was drawn over the windows, leaving the room devoid of light.
Merlin knelt before a small shadow, head bowed. The figure was nearly the same height as his kneeling form.
Though the face was hard to see, Merlin knew all too well who it was.
“I’m sorry…”
Merlin’s trembling voice was weak, a stark contrast to his usual confident demeanor.
A childish voice from the small shadow harshly berated her, laughing mockingly.
“Hey, half-breed. You really want to summon the Demon King?”
“Yes, of course. Why else would I be—”
Before he could finish, the small shadow turned away.
“Enough. The souls?”
“Only thirteen more are needed.”
“You haven’t even gathered them all yet, and you’re already making the temple lose trust? Is your brain as half-baked as you are?”
“I’m sorry… I’ll find a way to gather the thirteen souls.”
Shivering, Merlin clenched the hem of his clothes tightly. Whether from shame or guilt, her bowed head hid her expression.
But the owner of the childish voice showed no interest in him, as if she were nothing more than a speck of dust.
The voice, dripping with disdain, spoke lowly—like someone looking at worthless trash about to be discarded.
“Next time, I might just add your soul to the summoning offerings.”
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