Start, Unlimited Skill Tree!

She lived up to the name of her knight, doubted a knight who believed in herself so much, and knocked open her skull with a sharp sword.

She is no longer worthy to be called the knight of the lake, let alone the most noble and noble knight.

Silver's armor was stained with pitch black, and the lake of the Holy Sword Indestructible, which had been washed blood-colored by Galahad, began to be blackened and self-defiled.

Because he used this to kill the noble knight Gareth, who was also a brother and brother, the holy sword degenerated into a magic sword.

In Gensokyo, far away from all disputes, the flower magician watched all this with lament.

Do not--

Maybe that sword was a magic sword from the beginning!A cursed holy sword is more terrifying than an ordinary deceptive magic sword!

It made everyone tremble and shake.

When Claire and the others saw the armor that was still silver and white but gradually turned black, and the magic sword that had been dyed black.

This...this is-

That image coincided with a familiar and long-standing image in their impressions.

"This...isn't this the image of the black knight in Lancelot's first two preliminary drawings?"

"No, it's not right. This color is still more towards the normal silvery white, but you can already see a trace of the black knight."

Claire continued speaking in shock.

In the past, they couldn't understand how the noble knight of the lake could still have the form of a black knight like a ghost.

Seeing this, it seems to be understandable now.

The dark and ominous knight is full of ferocity, ferociousness, and frantic posture.

It's almost like it's been blackened.

Wait—why did I say blackening.

Claire thought in a daze.

It seems that Lancelot subconsciously thought of this word when he saw the armor turning black.

It seems appropriate to think so.

Lancelot who turned into a black knight, isn't this blackening?

Looking at it now, Lancelot has a tendency to blacken, but it's not complete yet!

When Claire, Princess Dawn, Rhine and the others were still immersed in Gareth's last heart-wrenching trust and the shock of Lancelot's blackening.

All the people who were beaten to death by this tragedy.

Take a deep breath, inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale...

The small faces were flushed from the suffocation, and the eye sockets were also red, overflowing with sadness.

Such a good person, such a good knight and a cute little angel, just like this——

What the hell!

Before they finished lamenting, they continued to read subconsciously. The people who were originally careless and focused on "Lancelot and Gareth Little Angels" read the following paragraphs. The sadness was suddenly smashed away by a huge shock.

A simple sentence that made everyone tremble, came into people's eyes.

Knight - Mordred, nephew and son of King Arthur.The mother is the demon concubine Morgan Le Fay.

Even so, she is indeed a true descendant of the King of Knights, and she has the same blood as the king!

Boom! !

A biological child, with the same blood? !

But that sentence came into people's eyes, that one of the few humiliations of King Arthur that was almost forgotten by people, and it was also the thing that made them, both male and female book fans, jealous (jealous)... People recalled it again.

"He...he--Mordred...is...the offspring of Morgan, the seductress king... despicably born?!" Trembling, stammering words.

A young girl looked at her in disbelief.

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” Someone screamed like crazy.

Remembered, everyone finally remembered!

And Mordred's identity is finally revealed!

Originally, the knight with the least sense of existence and weak strength in their eyes was actually the king's son? ! ! (He was easily defeated by Tristan, causing people to mistakenly believe that he was not strong enough)

At this moment, when they turned the next page tremblingly with their right hands.

On the new page, two figures wrapped in cloaks appeared in everyone's eyes.

In a certain street of the royal capital, two cloaked men stared at the King of Knights who was returning triumphantly and was applauded by all the people.

Look at that glorious, glorious figure.

One of the women, who couldn't even hide her graceful figure with a cloak, bent down softly, as if she was talking to another cloaked man.

Her tender, slender fingers were kindly and gently resting on the shoulders of another cloaked figure in front of her.

The text below the illustration seems to follow the scene in the picture.