"Find him by any means! He can not escape. Kill him if you must, but you can't let him get away!"

A muscular man clad in silver armor shouted towards the group following him. The group was consisted of fifty battle-hardened soldiers. Each of them armed to the teeth with full plate, kite shield, short spear and a sword. They were the the elite force of the rebel army. They infiltrated the royal palace in order to assassinate the king. Their commander was Bevan Silversword, the strongest knight of the Western Kingdoms himself. Wearing his trademark silver armor and white bastard sword, he was cutting through palace guards like a hot knife through butter. They were short on time. The majority of rebel forces were fighting outside of the palace, preventing reinforcements from reaching the palace. Rebel forces were much smaller and weaker than the royal army. Only Bevan's troop was strong enough to win against regular army in a head-on fight. But the rebels weren't supposed to win. They only needed to buy him and his men some time to kill the king and end this war.

Bevan and his men proceeded inside the palace, killing all the guard on their way. At the time their attack began, the king should have been in the throne room. As there was only one way outside the palace, and that's where they came from, they were sure that the king couldn't have escaped. Also, Bevan was a high ranked member of the military. If he didn't knew about any secret passages, that meant there weren't any. As if the (in)famous pride of the Magic Kings allowed them to have any means to escape.

Finally, they reached the throne room. The king didn't disappoint them. He was sitting on his throne as if nothing happened. As if his country wasn't falling apart. As if he wasn't about to die.

"What do we have here? Isn't it Bevan? I didn't thought you were foolish enough to try overthrow me."

His voice broke the silence. There wasn't anybody besides the king and Bevan's men in the throne room. He welcomed them like a Demon Lord welcoming heroes who came to slay him.

"Your rule comes to an end! You will commit no more atrocities. Surrender or die!"

Bevan couldn't refrain himself from throwing a line like that. If the king wanted to play the Devil, then he will be the Hero. The king looked at him dumbfounded for an instance and then let out a short laugh..

"Ha! Looks like your sense of humor is good enough, throwing a cliche line like that... But enough of this. Now, that your betrayal is certain, I am forced to kill you."

"So be it. Prepare to die!"

Massive doors to the throne room were violently pushed apart. Despite being five meters high, half a meter thick and made of ironwood adorned with gold, a young man, looking more like an official than warrior, pushed them apart with ease.

"My lord! You must immediately escape! Bevan has betrayed you. He is leading a troop of elite soldiers through the palace at the moment! Please escape through the emergency passage!"

A torrent of words erupted from the young man's mouth. He was Arthur Pendragon, known as the legendary magic swordsman. Despite looking like a teenager, he was already five hundred years old. Possessing high aptitude to mana sure has its benefits. The man he just shouted to was no one else than Duncan Sunstorm, the 8th Magic King of the Zahhak Kingdom. The Kingdom, despite existing for over three thousand years, had only eight kings in its whole history, due to extreme longevity of the legendary Magic Kings. Duncan has been the king since the death of his father, the late king Raegan Sunstorm, eight hundred years ago. Thus, his reign has been extremely long, even for a Magic King, second only to the founder of the Zahhak Kingdom, Zahhak Sunstorm himself.

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In face of the anxious dragon slayer, he stayed perfectly calm.

"I know." He said as though it was something obvious while sitting himself on the throne.

"Then why are you still in the throne room!? You should either escape and wait for your knights to defeat the rebels, or go and obliterate them yourself!"

Arthur dared to speak like that to his king only because before being his lord, Duncan was his friend. He couldn't stand his friend exposing himself to danger.

The legendary Magic King let out a long sigh, fitting his age.

"Should I really?"

His whisper struck Arthur like a thunder. His sudden realisation brought even bigger worries onto him.

"You... you don't intend to...?"

Arthur weakly expressed his unrest. Duncan, knowing him for five hundred years, easily guessed his thoughts.

"Yes. Yes I do! Maybe it isn't right! Maybe it isn't wise. Maybe... it isn't even proper. But it IS needed. All changes come with sacrifices. For future to happen, the past must be destroyed! And... forgotten."

At his words, silence descended upon the throne room. The only people present were Arthur and Duncan. The first to break the silence was the king.

"I have one last mission for you, as my champion. Go to Karth. I'm sure you still remember Quinn, you are to take care of him."

Arthur realised what his king wanted him to do. Albeit leaving his king pained him, he knew how important his mission was.

"By Your order, Your Majesty!"

Thus, he accepted his duty with pride.

"You are to exit by the secret passage behind the throne. Dismiss!"

When the gate was closing behind Arthur, a soft whisper could be heard:

"Farewell, my friend."

Hearing it, Arthur looked back at his king. He departed for a mission many times. Duncan would always stand in the castle gate to see him off. This time it was the same, except that it would be the last time that Arthur would see that majestic figure looking over him. He ingrained this image deep into his memory. Duncan's proud, dignified stature, his loose violet robe fluttering in the weak wind caused by a draft. His head adorned with a flock of gray hair and a mythril crown. His face, with sharp features hidden behind small beard. His gentle, but slightly sad smile. He ingrained it all into his soul.

And he let out a whisper, as soft as the previous one:

"Farewell, my king."

Soon after the gate to the secret passage closed, another one opened. Through it came fifty men led by a hero clad in silver armor.

"What do we have here..."