Chapter 51: Rhongomyniad

The beam of light descends down the vault, crushing everything in its path. Soldiers vaporize at the sight of the destructive blade, while the iron door vaporizes in an instant. There’s not even a single drop of blood that spills, everything is completely erased of its existence.

“All right, that’s enough showing off for today,” a familiar voice echoes in my head after a long while of silence.

“Don’t try to stop me, Balam.”

“I’m not necessarily stopping you. But I do want you to not wreck this place any further.”

“Give me one good reason.”

“In here lies the final piece to our quest.”

“Does it help kill the royals?”

“Depends on how you use it, sure. But I’d advise against using it on them.”

“Then I don’t care.”

“Don’t force my hands, Peter.”

“Try me.”

“Please, don’t make me do it. Didn’t we talk about this before?”

“All I remember is you saying that I had to trust myself more,” with a bitter smirk, I answer. And that’s the last straw.

Quicker than the blink of an eye, I find myself once again in Balam’s dimension, in the middle of a breezy meadow with a front-row seat to the mirage outside.

“Damn it!” I exclaim, punching the ground in frustration. “Balam, let me out!”

“I told you, Peter, you’re too unstable right now,” the Demon echoes in return. “Remember, I’m not stopping your revenge if you want to; you’ll just need to sit still for a while until we can get that final piece again.”

With the soothing feel of the wind and the fire of my heart cooled off a bit after the initial blast, Balam’s words are now slowly seeping into my thoughts.

“… Fine. We’ll do it your way… for now.”

“That’s all I need to hear,” Balam, now in my body, lets out a wry smile and makes his way to the center of the vault.

Upon closer inspection, the so-called Royal Vault is surprisingly empty. Aside from the rubble caused by my blast earlier, the contents are in fact… nothing. There’s nothing of note inside what’s supposed to be the place holding all of England’s most treasured possessions.

“Odd…” even Balam’s surprised at the lack of items inside the vault. “It’s in here somewhere, I know it.”

As we step closer to the center of the room, the Demon smiles once more.

Stabbing Excalibur into the ground, Balam pours in his magical energy through the blade. A rumbling sound emerges, followed by cracks and shakes of the ground beneath us. The result, however, isn’t the ground breaking down, but something else rising up.

A giant pillar made of rocks and glass takes the center spot in the room, inside is a single old, frayed book suspended in mid-air. Without this outer shell keeping it afloat, the book would have very well been disintegrated.

Balam taps on the glass pillar with Galatine. A radiant shine illuminates the dark vault, blessing the scene in an angelic light. The pillar dissolves, leaving behind only the ancient tome still floating about. Then, with both swords in his hands, Balam slashes the book in a cross pattern.

Upon receiving the blow, the object disappears into a collection of golden dust, gathering itself around into a vortex of energy brimming with life. The swirl then forms a pair of legs, a torso, arms, and finally a face – a face that bears a striking resemblance to mine, just more jaded from his age, yet more naïve and innocent at the same time.

Balam, in my body, kneels with utmost respect.

“My King.”

The illusion doesn’t react to his sign of loyalty. Instead, he speaks.

“To the one who can open this last entry of my diary, you must be the one chosen by Excalibur and are in possession of one of its two brothers – Clarent or Galatine. If you already have two blades, it means that your journey is coming to a close. I’m Excalibur’s first owner, King Arthur Pendragon, and I shall now bestow you with the knowledge of the final weapon to slay God.”

“It’s your turn now, Peter,” Balam’s voice echoes in my head once more, and before I know it, I’m already dragged back out to reality. Or rather, into another illusion made by Arthur’s secret diary.

The moldy scent invades my nose, while my eyes are almost completely blind by the lack of light, save for the single lit candle in the middle of the centermost table. As the candlelight is nowhere close to being enough for me to clearly see, I can only observe the people present by their silhouette – an average-height figure in heavy armor carrying a sword, a hooded figure with a giant staff, and another female figure with an equally as large of a lance.

“Is the vessel ready?” The one with the staff asks.

“Are you sure we should be doing this, Merlin?” Replies the one with the lance. “Splitting off Excalibur’s powers is too dangerous; my children can’t…”

“It’s not splitting its powers, Morgan,” shakes the staffed one. “I’m pouring whatever magical energy my kin can muster left into Excalibur and Rhongomyniad, and then balance them out into three equal pieces.”

“I know that, but why? Didn’t we agree to have Arthur be Camelot’s defender for now?”

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“You know we can’t do that forever, Sis,” the figure with the sword answers with a light chuckle. “I’m still human like all of us… well, except Merlin, but you get my point. I’ll have to die eventually, and for that, we needed an heir. Isn’t that why Mordred was born?”

“I know I agreed to that, but he…”

“Don’t worry. He’s got my qualities, remember? He’ll be fine.”

“That’s exactly why I’m worried, dumbass.”

“Hehe… still as harsh as ever, huh?”

“Ugh… fine, but even so, why now?”

“We need to ease the way to our future,” answers Merlin. “Mordred and Gawain need to learn their powers and responsibilities first, and only after we’ve deemed them matured enough do we fully entrust them with the blades. But they still need to experience them first-hand, just like how Arthur needs to relearn how to handle a weakened Excalibur.”

“It’ll just be like with Carnwennan, right?” Laughs the carefree king, who’s met with a disappointed shake of the head from his sister.

“No, you idiot. Carnwennan is nowhere near Excalibur’s power. Even if weakened by this creation process, it would still be plenty powerful enough. And that’s why we’re making the other blades the way they are…”

“One to enhance Excalibur to its original strength, and one to weaken it in case anything goes wrong, right?”

“At least you remember that much. Now let’s continue.”

At Morgan’s signal, Arthur promptly points his sword towards the candle, touching her giant lance’s tip in the process. A flash of gold erupts from their contact point, bestowing the entire room with a magical radiance. And strangely, the Excalibur on my waist vibrates as well, as if reminiscing its old birth.

Excalibur and Rhongomyniad dissolve into nothing but energy, combining together into a giant mass. From within that blinding golden chunk of energy, the shape of the giant lance could be seen forming.

“Asmodai, Bael, Byleth, …” Balam starts his chant, reciting the names of the Demons he once called comrades. Seventy-two names in total, and in turn, the seventy-two crosses wrapped around his staff glow and float off, encircling the lance’s silhouette.

The crosses all birth a singular thread, each bearing their signature color, and all of them connecting towards the lance. As the energy grows and the lance starts to take a clear shape, the crosses grow weaker and weaker.

“In the names of our Lord’s servants, I, Balam, urge you to combine our powers!”

A powerful shout from the Demon in sight, and his staff blasts off another pillar of energy into the lance. With the final boost of power, the energy mass finally stabilizes itself, and in the end, a shining golden lance is formed.

“Morgan, the final step,” Merlin turns to the side and gives a nod.

“I got it.”

With a wave of her hands, the lance dissolves into energy yet again, and before I can notice it, it has already disappeared, leaving room for three swords floating about. The one with the blue hue – Excalibur, flies towards Arthur once more, while the other two reside in Merlin’s and Morgan’s possessions, respectively.

“What do we name these two?” Asks Arthur.

“The red one, Clarent. The golden one, Galatine,” answers Merlin. “How does that sound?”

 A sudden nauseous sensation fills my mind, and before I know it, I’m already thrown back outside standing in the middle of the destroyed pillar and book.

“Now are you clear on what to do?” Balam echoes within me.

“Should have told me yourself if it was something you were involved with.”

“I planned to tell you when the time is ready. Sadly, the time isn’t ready, and you were about to destroy the only evidence left.”

“So, it’s my fault now, eh?”

“What’s important is what we’ve learned from it, Peter. Do you realize why I went through all of that for you to gain that information?”

“I’m not an idiot, Balam. You’re telling me to take Clarent and make Rhongomyniad again, right?”

“There’s nothing that can fully destroy an Archangel’s core – their Gift. Nothing except the culmination of all seventy-two Demons, and Rhongomyniad is just that. If you want to kill them for good, that’s your only option left.”

Now that is information I can use.

With an excited grin on my face, I answer. “Then you should have just told me that from the beginning. I would die to finally be able to snuff the life out of that bastard.”

Before I could say anything else, however, a flash of steel cuts through my face, aiming straight at my throat. I unconsciously dodge just in the nick of time and counter with a slash of my own, causing the assailant to take a step back in surprise.

“No one has ever escaped my blade at that close of a range… It really is you, Peter.”

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