Chapter 309: A Reunion of Kin?

Arthur left Avalon amid the elves' reluctant farewells, carrying not only the King's Sword in his arms but also the sword sheath, which was even more precious than the sword itself.

The blessings of the Holy Land still seemed to linger around him, making his steps home extraordinarily light.

He ran along the road he had come, his heart eager to return like an arrow.

With each step he took, he could clearly feel that the invisible shackles that had long bound him and hindered his strength were emitting faint cracking sounds!

A sense of broader, greater power was awakening and surging through his limbs, like an ice‑blocked river thawing in spring, about to flow endlessly.

He felt exhilarated, about to savor the subtlety of this breakthrough—

Suddenly!

In the middle of the road, a slender figure cloaked in dark robes appeared like a phantom, abruptly blocking his path ahead!

The powerful magical aura emanating from her made Arthur frown slightly, then he halted his steps; the strong inertia even lifted dust from the ground.

He steadied his stance, his right hand instinctively resting on the King's Sword at his waist, his sharp gaze fixed on the uninvited guest as he demanded in a low voice:

"Who are you?!"

That figure did not answer immediately, but slowly, with a dramatic grace, raised her hand and gently lowered the hood that concealed her face.

A stunningly beautiful face was revealed in the light.

Her skin was fair as snow, her lips like blood‑stained roses, and her deep eyes held a certain demonic charm that could easily captivate one's mind.

What shocked Arthur even more was that this face… bore a faint resemblance to his own features!

The woman curled her red lips into a complex, meaningful smile, one that held scrutiny, curiosity, perhaps a trace of kinship buried by time, and something deeper and elusive.

Her voice was like a bewitching poison, clearly reaching Arthur's ears:

"Arthur…"

She softly called his name, as if they were very familiar, and continued:

"My younger brother."

"We have finally met."

The Royal Capital.

Inside the magnificent palace, it now resembled a bustling market.

Nobles and high officials split into two factions, arguing fiercely, saliva flying, the atmosphere tense as drawn swords.

One faction, led by Duke Bosite, his beard and hair bristling like a lion defending its territory, raised his voice above the clamor:

"Silence! King Arthur is merely away temporarily! Anyone who dares speak of a new king is disloyal to the kingdom!"

"We must wait for his return!"

Behind him stood many loyal generals and nobles who had benefited from Arthur's favor.

The other faction rallied around another powerful figure, the Duke of Orkney, his visage sinister, he sneered: "Return? Bosite, don't fool yourself!"

"For months there has been no word, even Merlin Master has vanished! He may well have met misfortune! A state cannot go a day without a ruler; we must immediately elect a new king to stabilize the situation!"

His supporters chimed in, their words heated.

The quarrel quickly escalated from words to shoving.

Several hot‑tempered nobles even came to blows, their robes torn, belts askew, shouting vulgar insults, all former etiquette gone.

Queen Guinevere stood silently beside the throne, her face grim as water, lips pressed tight, her beautiful eyes burning with repressed anger as she watched the usually lofty nobles tear at each other like market women.

She had endured until she saw someone draw his side‑sword with a clang, cold light flashing, about to spill blood in the royal court—

"Silence!" Guinevere finally spoke, her voice cold and clear, trying to restore order.

However, those whose eyes were red with anger and heads dazed paid no heed to her subdued warning; the fighting only intensified.

Guinevere's last shred of patience exhausted, she drew a deep breath, not raising her voice but uttering a name in an icy tone:

"Kai!"

That name seemed to carry a kind of power.

Hum—!

A strong, steady aura instantly spread like a tide through the great hall—not an overbearing pressure, but an undeniable majesty that froze all who were brawling and arguing, as if caught in invisible ice.

Immediately after, heavy, measured footsteps sounded from the shadows nearby.

Thud… thud… thud…

Kai stepped out slowly.

Now he had passed the age of thirty; the somewhat flighty youth of his earlier years had settled down.

A carefully trimmed short beard adorned his face, adding to his mature dignity.

His gaze was calm yet deep as a pool; even a casual sweep carried an oppressive presence forged by battle and statecraft.

Standing beside the queen, his gaze swept over the frozen crowd like an icy blade; his voice was not loud, yet it reached every ear clearly, carrying undeniable authority:

"The queen orders you to stop,"

He paused, his tone intensifying,

"Didn't you hear?!"

"Are you deaf? Or blind?!"

Swish—!

Before his words faded, he violently drew his side‑sword, sword light flashing like lightning, then drove it hard into the hard ground before him!

Stone chips flew, the long sword hummed, standing there like an uncrossable boundary.

Kai scanned the crowd, each of his words striking the ground with weight:

"With Arthur absent, the queen's word is the supreme command."

"Until he returns."

His gaze finally fell on those who had just drawn their swords, bearing undisguised challenge and absolute confidence:

"If anyone still wants to fight—"

"Then come and try it with me!"

In an instant, the entire Great Hall fell silent.

Only Kai's long sword planted in the ground still trembled slightly, emitting a low hum that proclaimed absolute might and loyalty.

Duke Bosite let out a quiet sigh of relief, while the followers of Duke Aokeni, under this soundless intimidation, turned a pallid blue and dared not move a single inch.

Kai is no longer the inexperienced, insignificant youth among their nobles of old, and the Eckert Clan is no longer a minor noble family.

Whether it is Kai himself, whose strength has grown from battle merits and reputation, or the Eckert Clan, which has gained honor and influence as the king's foster father's family.

Now they are forces that cannot be ignored, even objects of flattery for most people.

"Yes, yes, we have erred."

"We ask the queen for forgiveness."

Guiweinia, seeing the others being honest, stepped forward and said:

"Listen, I............"

"Long live Arthur King!!"

"The king has returned! Our king has returned!!"

Her words had just begun when a sudden, massive roar of cheers from outside the Royal Palace, like a mountain's shout and a sea's tsunami, abruptly cut her off!

The cheers rolled like thunder from afar to near, instantly sweeping across the entire Royal Capital, piercing the heavy palace walls, and clearly reaching every ear inside the Great Hall!

Everyone was stunned, not yet having reacted—

Bang!

The Great Hall's doors were violently flung open!

A armored Round Table Knight, disregarding protocol, charged in; he didn't even have time to bow, his face flushed scarlet from extreme excitement and sprinting, his voice trembling with incredulous euphoria as he shouted with all his might toward the Throne:

"Queen! Lords! He's back! The king is back!!"

"Arthur King is back—!!"