"It was Lancelot." Pindo returned to Anno's side, bringing back this news.
Anno said nothing—or rather, he had already sensed it before Pindo returned.
Among the Round Table, there were three most deeply connected to dragons.
King Arthur Artoria herself was Britain's "Red Dragon," while the other two were Lancelot and Mordred.
It was not for any other reason, but because they had once transformed into dragons and brought disaster upon Britain.
Though the two had later escaped that pitiful state beneath Anno's fists, a trace of an aura had still remained upon them.
A trace of the Vile King's aura.
"Lord Anno, how... should we face the enemy?" Percival looked at the dragon swarm pressing toward them and swallowed.
The skies ahead were filled with dragons, while the civilians they needed to protect stood behind them.
This scene somehow felt familiar.
"We stop them here." Anno spoke without the slightest hesitation.
"Move the defensive line forward. We'll go meet them." Bedivere glanced behind them, then looked at Percival. "We only need to stop most of them here. The rest should be handled by the people around that young lady."
Artoria rode Llamrei over to join the four of them.
"My King..." Pindo could not help calling out, glancing in surprise toward the rear.
"It is fine. At this moment, simply regard me as an ordinary knight." Artoria smiled and raised her lance forward. "A knight first, and then a king. Now, let me fight alongside you as one of the Knights of the Round Table."
"...Yes, I understand." Pindo nodded.
The refugees behind them were not moving slowly. They had hidden in the shade at the bottom of a nearby crater, where they could avoid the dragon swarm's line of sight. Mash and the others stood guard around them.