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[Prince of Avalon — Arthur Pendragon]
[Tier 7]
[Rank SS]
[Potential to Evolve: 100%]
[Description: Son of the chief dragon. The once and future king of war, the head of the Round Table, and the holder of the Sacred Sword Excalibur. The new chief dragon and its slayer. Arthur Pendragon.]
Staring at the summon before them, a young man with blonde hair and a silver armor set that could only be described as spectacular stood with his gaze firm, fixed directly on Ethan as though sizing him up in return. There was no confusion in his expression, no disorientation of someone freshly pulled from another realm. Only calm, deliberate awareness.
"SS rank. Do those even exist anymore?" Kang muttered it under his breath, glancing over at the man standing beside him with something close to disbelief, his composure slipping for just a moment before he reined it back in.
"Your highness," he said, his voice dropping low, almost reverent, the title carrying a weight that made even Hela’s eyes widen slightly beside him.
"Only on the bastion of humanity." The man beside Kang answered quietly, his tone carrying none of the earlier warmth. "I can’t be seen here, Kang. Too many eyes. Make sure the boy isn’t followed or spotted after I leave."
By the time Kang turned to respond, the man was already gone, and the crown that had rested on the ground moments earlier had vanished along with him, leaving no trace it had ever been there at all. Not even a scorch mark or a displaced pebble remained to mark where he’d stood.
Kang stared at the empty space for a long moment before finally exhaling, running a hand over his face as though trying to process everything that had just happened in the span of a few short minutes. Even after years serving the Punishment Hall, encounters like this weren’t something he’d grown used to.
To the side, Ethan turned his attention to the skills that had come bundled with Arthur, reading through each one carefully, the excitement building steadily beneath his otherwise composed expression.
[Killer Zone: When activated, anyone of the same tier within a 10 meter radius of the user faces a 100% instant kill strike. This effectiveness reduces by 30% for each tier above the target’s own. Warning: Can be used 3 times in 24 hours.]
[Round Table’s Judgment: This skill summons two members of the Round Table at random to assist Arthur in battle. Each member possesses at least one unique ability, and all are dragon riders.]
[Dragon Killer Excalibur: When facing a dragon, the user’s sword deals damage equivalent to one tier above the user. This summon is the bane of all dragons.]
Three skills, each one built around a different facet of overwhelming force, none of them designed for anything resembling subtlety or restraint.
Reading through the list, Ethan couldn’t help but smile as he slowly circled Arthur, taking in the full picture of what he’d just gained. Unlike Vlad, who balanced offense with utility and versatility, Arthur was built purely for violence, a summon shaped entirely around cutting down whatever stood in front of him. There was no subtlety in the kit, no room for anything but direct, overwhelming confrontation, and Ethan found something oddly satisfying in that simplicity.
Ethan couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d struck gold with this one, right up until he checked the evolution requirements listed beneath the skills, the excitement draining out of him almost as fast as it had arrived.
"It just keeps getting worse."
[Slay a Celestial Dragon.]
"Sigh." He shook his head slowly and looked back toward Kang, who wore an awkward smile of his own, clearly having anticipated Ethan’s reaction the moment he’d glanced at the requirement himself earlier. Kang said nothing about the rank Ethan had just pulled, offering only a slight shake of his head before turning his attention toward Hela, who was already smiling with quiet anticipation, unaware of what Ethan had just discovered.
"Yours was a combined effort between Mister Mysteries and myself. Tier 6 is a genuinely difficult hurdle to clear on your own." Kang smiled as several tier 6 beasts were led forward in heavy chains, their movements sluggish and restrained, clearly weakened before ever reaching the yard.
Hela’s smile widened as she glanced over at Ethan, clearly pleased with what stood before her, already calculating how many of the chained beasts would be enough to close the gap in her ritual.
Her beast’s evolution requirement called for consuming a specific number of tier 6 beasts whole, a task easier described than accomplished, since it required her to fight consistently above her current tier without the safety margin that came with facing weaker opponents.
This kind of assistance, then, was genuinely valuable rather than symbolic.
Elsewhere in the city.
A small banquet was underway inside a grand hall, the building ringed by city guardsmen stationed at every visible entrance, their presence lending the gathering an air of legitimacy that made the whole affair difficult to question openly.
They called it a lineage gathering, invitations quietly sent to anyone capable of tracing their bloodline back to a particular guard captain who had served in the capital several decades prior, the connection distant enough that most attendees barely remembered the man’s name before receiving their invite.
With the citywide curfew still firmly in effect, organizing a gathering of this scale should have been nearly impossible. That it had happened at all spoke volumes about the resourcefulness, and the reach, of whoever stood behind it, someone with enough influence to move freely even while the rest of the city remained locked down under armed patrol.
"Brothers and sisters, tonight we celebrate our common ancestry."
At the head table, a middle-aged man dressed in fine noble attire rose to offer a toast, his brown hair catching the wind through an open window, streaked faintly with hints of red near the roots. Around him, dozens of guests raised their glasses in unison, the hall filled with warm candlelight and quiet conversation despite the tension gripping the rest of the city outside its walls.
His eyes shone with genuine joy, and something close to pride settled across his expression as he lifted his glass toward the gathered crowd, each face turned up toward him with an ease that suggested long familiarity rather than a room full of strangers meeting for the first time.
But beneath that warmth, something didn’t sit right, a quiet wrongness that lingered just beneath the surface of an otherwise ordinary celebration.
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