Just as King Arthur's fame was growing ever louder and the Knights of the Round Table began to gather, Aslan finally heard a piece of news from the ears of the fairies—that King Arthur seemed to have replaced the sword in his hand.
Upon hearing this, Aslan immediately frowned, his expression dark as he nodded to show he understood. According to legend, the Golden Sword of Assured Victory had two possible fates: one, that it was lost due to Merlin's negligence; and two, that it was broken in a duel with a certain knight.
That knight's name was Pellinore—King Pellinore—who would later become the father of the Knight of the Round Table, Percival.
Whether it was the first version or the second, Aslan wasn't feeling great. The reason was simple: no matter what, the Golden Sword of Assured Victory had once acknowledged him. If Merlin had lost it, then sooner or later, Aslan would have to chase him down and give him a proper beating. But if it were the second version...
Should he blame Artoria?
Perhaps.
If it was the second version, then after reforging the Golden Sword of Assured Victory, he would definitely spar with Artoria using it. After all, the golden sword must also harbor some resentment and anger—perhaps even a sense of grievance.
Aslan stood up. Maybe because he had drawn the Golden Sword of Assured Victory long ago, his body had stopped growing. But that wasn't a big issue. It was still better than Artoria, who had drawn the sword at the age of fifteen. At least when he had drawn the sword, he had already been close to eighteen.
Compared to Artoria, who had carried the burden all the way from adolescence, his body had at least fully matured. The chances of a second growth spurt were slim. Aslan was satisfied with his physical condition. After all, once the contract ring was completed and Melusine took on her adult form, it would be quite awkward if he still looked underage...
In that case, the one who'd probably get thrown into prison would be Melusine.
Aslan's light blue eyes glanced beyond the forest. With his growing mastery of magic, he could now set up some illusions, and could even block out magical surveillance. At the very least, if he wanted to leave now, he wouldn't alert Merlin. After all, this was the forest of the fairies—if Merlin kept watching this place, he'd probably provoke them.
"Melusine, let's go. This island is about to be swept up in a series of major events. If I'm lucky, I'll store the Spear of Longinus inside your body."
Aslan's face was full of contemplation. As a remnant of the Dragon of the Horizon, Melusine should still be able to house such a holy spear within her body. If that didn't work, he could always engrave a few fairy runes onto the spear—even if that lowered its rank. After all, a weapon that can be used is better than one that can't.
If the weapon's too powerful to wield, what good is it? Just for decoration?
As for whether the holy spear could be modified, he would know once he tried. After all, in later eras, it was said that the Spear of Longinus broke into three segments, each reforged and stored in three separate churches by three different factions.
That meant the Spear of Longinus wasn't unbreakable.
But whatever the case, the priority was to find the Golden Sword of Assured Victory.
From his spatial ring, Aslan took out a lump of metal, then pulled out a forging hammer from his waist. He casually struck the metal three times, imbuing it with shape-shifting, weight-reducing, and sword-seeking blessings.
He had already learned from the fairies the last location Artoria had visited before acquiring the Sword of Promised Victory. If all went well, the Golden Sword of Assured Victory should be there—or perhaps it had been taken back to Camelot's treasury.
Hopefully it was the former. Otherwise, he'd have to repeat another infiltration and sneak into Camelot.
This time, with a clear target in mind, Aslan headed straight for the location without taking any detours. It was a forest, and in a clearing, there were still traces of battle. Judging from those signs and the lingering aura of the Golden Sword of Assured Victory, Aslan could basically confirm that in this version of the story, the sword had indeed been broken.
He crouched down and released a small bird he had forged. After a short flight, it found a gleaming metal fragment on the ground. It was a small piece of the blade, with fine scratches left by the clash of weapons.
Aslan retrieved a magnifying glass from his spatial magecraft outfit. Its edges were inscribed with a circle of fairy runes. This magnifying glass had only one function—to help Aslan closely examine the metal or sword's condition.
By analyzing this fragment of the Golden Sword of Assured Victory, Aslan could determine how it had been broken. After all, it was a holy sword. If it could really be broken so easily in a sparring match, that would be hard to believe.
He vaguely remembered that in his previous life, there had been a theory that said the sword broke because King Arthur violated the knightly code during the duel, and so the Sword of Selection broke on its own. But that was probably an early version of the tale. In contrast, games described the sword's failure as a result of its inability to withstand Artoria's overwhelming magical power.
Simply put, it was like a balloon overloaded with air—eventually it would burst. Of course, in the case of a holy sword, it wouldn't literally explode, but become fragile.
If it was the latter—if the Golden Sword of Assured Victory broke because it couldn't handle Artoria's magic—then the blame still fell on Merlin. After all, wasn't it Merlin who prepared that sword for the king? And wasn't Artoria herself someone Merlin had orchestrated into existence? Didn't the old bastard know how much magical power this girl had?
Upon closer inspection of the fragment, the signs clearly showed it couldn't withstand the magic, so…
A certain image of an "aquatic lifeform" of a magus floated up in Aslan's mind, and a wicked, pitch-black smile crept across his face.
He didn't see any issue with launching a prolonged hunt for Merlin at this point.
He could almost hear the pitiful, tearful voice of the Golden Sword of Assured Victory whispering complaints into his ear. Although he had never planned to fight Artoria over that sword, it didn't mean he didn't care about it.