It appeared the world had gone to hell in a handcart.

Just ahead of me, Arthur and Bors were struggling with a group of Saxons, trying to get through to the newly unarmed - sorry, I couldn't resist - Melehan, and . . . fuck me, was that Guinevere at his feet? The Princess had a horrible-looking wound to her chest and was lying in a slowly widening pool of blood.

What the fuck had these guys been up to?

That felt like a question for another day - if we made it through this one alive. I targeted a line of Saxons who were trying to hold Arthur and Bors back from reaching Guinevere and triggered , throwing as much Qi at it as I could.

The effect was pretty damn satisfying.

The moment the technique was activated, it was like a deep trench ran itself down the middle of the pack of defenders. Blue-painted men were thrown every which way as if hit by a particularly spiteful hurricane.

Arthur and Bors burst through the middle of them, and I followed in my friend's wake, pulling an Elixir out of my inventory, ready to pour it on Guinevere the moment I was close enough.

That plan became slightly derailed when the Uther lookalike suddenly let go of Melehan and pointed directed at me.

That he did so with a hand still holding the wizard's arm gave me somewhat of a vibe. Who the fuck was this guy?

"Apprentice! You will rue the day you left your cell. You will look back on your time within as a golden age.”

I'd like to think I had a plan. I'd like to think that my countless hours stuck in a time loop gave me the opportunity to come up with an excellent range of solutions and plays for just this sort of situation.

I'd like to think a lot of things.

However, this felt like one of those situations where an 'old-faithful approach would be best.

I threw Drynwyn at him.

Dropping Melehan's dripping arm, whoever the fuck this was caught my sword and - as expected - went up in a very satisfying column of flame.

Ignoring the conflagration, I took the opportunity to skid to Guinevere's side and pour an Elixir down her throat, dimly aware that Arthur and Bors were doing their best to hold off a sizeable number of Saxons who had - due to the frying of their boss - become pretty damn motivated all of a sudden.

By a strange yodelling battle cry from back towards the Dark Tower, it sounded like Lancelot was also about to add considerable belligerence to proceedings.

But I didn't have time for that. I was watching for any sign the Princess was healing.

No dice. After a moment, I added a second and then a third Elixir down her throat and, this time, started to see some progress. It took two more of them before I was happy that the massive injury - had someone stabbed her with a spear? - was closing, and some colour was starting to return to her cheeks.

It was at that stage, I turned my attention to Melehan.

In many ways, he looked a million times better than the last time I saw him. In fact, I'd say he looked positively glowing if he weren't missing an arm.

I shuffled over to him, pressed my healing stone into his remaining hand, and went to give him an Elixir.

The wizard shook his head. No point, my dear. This body is much too far gone.

"Dude, a bunch of these just helped me shake off being absolutely marmalised from a great, great height. Not to brag, but I don't think a missing arm will trouble it much."

And then my brain caught up with my ears.

"Hang on...”

Yes, it's me. It's good to see you, my dear. I hope you've been using your time away profitably?"

I made a noise that suggested we could talk about that another time and that he should very quickly explain what the fuck was going on. It was quite an expressive sound—one of my best.

Let me explain: I was forced to hitch a ride in this poor, unfortunate cultivator when you were ripped from the world. However, even ignoring this latest injury, I rather fear my host had entirely given up on the ghost, as it were. He's . . . well, we're in terminal Qi exhaustion, even ignoring the wound. Elixirs need the recipient to want to live, and I'm afraid he just doesn't have the will to heal. There was a brief pause, and then he asked How's the Princess?

My head swan, trying to make sense of his words. "Guinevere's getting there. But, how . . . I mean, can you get back into my head?"

That should not be an issue, my dear. However, my presence in this body is the only thing keeping this particular wizard in one piece. The second I leave, he will undoubtedly pass, and I think we'll need the extra pair of hands shortly. Well, hand, at least.

“Why?”

Drynwyn thudded to the ground beside me. Erm, we may have a fucking massive problem here . . .

I looked up at a blackened, ruined skeleton of a man grinning at me. "Thank you," it said, face exploding where incinerated muscles moved. It's been a while since I was tested in that way. Now, do remind me, where were we?”

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

*

Bors and Arthur were doing their best to keep the Saxons that continued to pour out of the Dark Tower from reaching the small group behind them. Morgan had helpfully cleared a path through the press, and they'd made their way through, then swung around to take up a decent defensive position.

Well, as decent a position as two guys could have against a horde.

The trees on either side of them offered just enough of a barrier that - for now - it made more sense for the attackers to go through them than waste time flanking them in the woods. The gods knew how long that situation would last, but no one ever grew poor, betting on the single-mindedness of Saxons.

A roar of boiling air and burning heat hit their backs, suggesting Morgan had gone with Plan A when dealing with his uncle. Arthur shuddered under the force of a very repressed memory of his own encounter with catching Drynwyn and concentrated on killing Saxons.

"Just like old times," Bors grunted, grabbing a fallen foe and throwing his corpse into the crowd before them.

"True. I do kind of miss the hundred elite warriors that would usually have our backs in these sorts of situations, though."

"Nah, they were just window dressing. Me and you, Arthur. We were the main event."

However, despite Bors's bravado - and their years of experience and undoubted prowess - both knew that, short of a miracle, they would soon be overwhelmed.

Numbers always would tell.

And then, just as things were looking pretty bleak, a vast, shirtless man with long dark locks was beside them, belting out the strangest war cry either of them had ever heard.

The newcomer reached out to the nearest Saxon, disarmed him with a slap and then set about the attackers with his looted sword.

"Who ordered the barbarian?"

Arthur ignored Bor's question as he tried to comprehend the . . . beauty of this man's swordplay. Although he preferred the spear himself, he had no little training with the sword, but he had nothing - literally - on this guy.

It was like their saviour was moving through an entirely different plain of existence than any of the Saxons in front of him. They may as well just have stood still and surrendered for all the good their efforts to engage him did.

The man danced through them, hacking, slashing, and cutting as he went like death made corporeal. It was an astonishingly brutal sight.

"Don't know about you, my lord, but I'm feeling pretty fucking redundant right now." Bors was, likewise, struck by the sheer inevitability of destruction being meted out to the Saxons.

Suddenly, with time and space to share, Arthur glanced behind him and gasped at seeing the blackened form of his uncle.

Was this truly Aurelius Ambrosius looming over Morgan and his wife?

"Help him... whoever he is.” And Arthur turned to run to protect the figures behind them.

"Help him? Fuck me. I guess I can hold a towel for him or something". Bors stepped to the shirtless man's flank, trying to keep out of the way of the spinning, flashing blade.

*

I froze, staring helplessly up at the sight looming above me.

As I watched, the terrible injuries from his cooking healed like they had never been there, and soon, I was again in the presence of Uther's scarier-looking double.

"Who are you?" I whispered.

"It doesn't matter. All you need to do is answer one important question, and then I'll probably just kill you. That sounds fair, doesn't it?"

"Depends on the question." I was feeling distinctly more terrified than my voice betrayed. This guy had just tanked Drynwyn. I didn't know what to do with that. Arthur and the combined might of every protection Merlin could load upon him hadn't been able to do that.

What the fuck was I supposed to do about him?

My head rocked back as he slapped me. A bunch of teeth flew from my mouth and instantly regrew. Hey, on the upside, this Elixir was the bomb.

"Do not be impertinent. I can always restart your time loop. Where. Is. Merlin?"

Look, I don't have much of a poker face. I'd generally found losing at strip poker tended to open more doors for me than it didn't. So, I don't think I'm entirely to blame for my eyes slipping towards the crumbled form of Melehan.

"So, it is what I thought", the scary dude turned away, seemingly dismissing me from his existence. I don't know why, but this pissed me off, but I was smart enough to know there was not a thing in the world I was going to be able to do about it.

Then Arthur was there.

I'm sure I've mentioned it before, but it is worth repeating that this guy can handle his spear.

He arrived like a giant bird of prey swooping down onto the back of the other man, spear poised to eviscerate him. I thought for sure we were in game-over territory for a moment, but then Uther's double turned and deflected the strike away with his own spear.

Arthur landed, rolled and was back on the offensive in moments, doing everything he could to turn the dude into a pincushion.

We've all seen the Viper versus the Mountain scene, right? Google it and have it playing in the background for a bit. This was just like that.

Hopefully, though, we're going to get a slightly different outcome . . .

"I need a weapon," Guinevere's voice startled me from my Season 4 reverie. I turned to see the Princess rising to stand. Her clothes made a sickening, squelching noise as she did so, the litres upon litres of blood adding quite a visual impact to her appearance.

Even then, though, she was still managing to be the most luminous woman I've ever seen. The bitch.

Ignoring me- I was beginning to get a bit miffed about that. What sort of rescue attempt was this? - she ran down towards the Dark Tower and liberated a spear from the cold-dead hands of one of the dozens of Saxons littering the ground.

Looking that way, I could see Lancelot and, to a lesser extent, Bors going absolutely to town on the remaining blue-painted figures. I mean, like full-on Darth Vader coming down that corridor at the end of Rogue One. These guys were going hard.

I could be wrong, but I was sure Guinevere missed a step when she glanced at Lancelot. But if she did, it was only briefly and then she was running back to help Arthur.

I watched them two-on-one the big guy for a moment, before hurrying back to Melehan's side.

Uther's double was clearly toying with them, and we needed a better plan. Don't get me wrong, they were, in this instant, the very definition of a power couple. I doubt many opponents could have stood in the way of their graceful, synchronised movements. Each seemed to know exactly where the other was, their attacks and defences in perfect unison.

I bet their sex life was amazing . . .

I shook that thought from my mind. Regardless of how utterly awesome these two were, they made no impression on the big guy whatsoever. He was barely even defending, letting both their spears trace red streaks over his body, injuries that healed immediately.

"Who the fuck is this?"

Melehan's . . . Merlin's? Who the fuck knows at this stage? voice was faint. Aurelius Ambrosius. He's Arthur's Uncle.

"I think he's a bit more than that! That dude tanked Drynwyn, and he's making Guinevere and Arthur look like irritating gnats at a picnic." I paused for a second. "He's the guy who tore me out of time, isn't he? He ripped out my techniques. Big M, I was in a time loop forever." I could feel tears streaming down my face again. "What do I do?"

I can get you to my tower.

There was a curse behind me, and I risked a glance back. Arthur was on one knee, his arm broken. Then it reknit with a click - damn, it really was the little Elixir that could - and he was back in the fray.

"How? You can't fast-travel when another cultivator is about."

Melehan ... Merlin smiled. You can if you don't care about making it out in one piece. He passed me back my Curing Rock. I need a mana store. The well is dry- Or I guess the beach is empty.

I grabbed one from my inventory and pressed it into his hand.

"Now what?"

Now we see if I was as good as everyone said.