Testing Excalibur in the Forbidden Forest

Second bonus chapter!!

That evening, Zhang Wen brought the Diary to Dumbledore's office.

When Dumbledore saw the Diary, his expression changed subtly. He did not reach out to take it immediately. Instead, he first cast several detection spells on it with his wand.

Pale blue, pale green, and dark red lights flashed across the Diary's surface in succession.

"It is indeed a Horcrux," Dumbledore said softly. "The reaction from the soul fragment is very clear."

He looked up at Zhang Wen.

"Ginny handed it over herself?"

"Yes," Zhang Wen said. "She came to me voluntarily. Hermione and the Weasley Brothers' companionship helped."

Dumbledore fell silent for several seconds.

"You previously said we should let the Chamber of Secrets Incident occur within controllable limits. Plan B."

"Plans can't keep up with changes," Zhang Wen said. "Ginny chose to ask for help. I couldn't refuse her."

"Of course not." Dumbledore smiled, though there was a complicated warmth in that smile. "You did the right thing, Professor Zhang. Plan B was meant to protect the students—Ginny voluntarily handing over the Diary is the best possible outcome."

He used his wand to lift the Diary and gently placed it into an iron box on his desk. The box was covered in dense runes.

"This box can isolate the Diary's mental influence," Dumbledore said. "But it cannot destroy a Horcrux. You were right—we need Basilisk Fang."

"So the Chamber of Secrets still needs to be opened."

"Yes." Dumbledore looked at him through his half-moon spectacles. "Do you have a plan?"

"I do," Zhang Wen said. "But I need your permission."

"Let's hear it."

"First, I need Harry Potter to use Parseltongue at the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets and open the door. He does not need to go inside."

"Does Harry know about this?"

"Not yet. I plan to speak with him tomorrow."

Dumbledore nodded.

"Second, Artoria and I will enter the Chamber of Secrets. She will deal with the Basilisk."

"Miss Pendragon." Dumbledore repeated the name. "I have always been curious about her true identity. But I chose not to ask."

He paused.

"Still, I can tell you one thing—throughout Hogwarts' history, Merlin was the last member of the Pendragon Family to set foot in this castle. That was more than a thousand years ago."

Zhang Wen said nothing.

Dumbledore did not continue either. They both understood.

"Third," Zhang Wen said, "Artoria and I need to visit the Forbidden Forest tomorrow night for a... test."

"What kind of test?"

"It may cause quite a commotion."

Dumbledore looked at him.

"How much of a commotion?"

"You may see flashes from the castle."

Dumbledore's white eyebrows rose.

"I will inform Hagrid not to approach the depths of the Forbidden Forest," he said. "As for the rest—I trust your judgment."

Sunday night, eleven o'clock.

Zhang Wen and Artoria passed through Hogwarts' gates and headed toward the Forbidden Forest.

The moonlight was bright. October nights in Scotland were bitterly cold, and their breath turned to white mist.

Zhang Wen pulled his robe tighter around himself. Artoria wore only her usual short outfit and did not seem bothered by the cold at all.

"Aren't you cold?" Zhang Wen asked.

"I can endure it."

"It's probably only three degrees."

"I fought wars during Britain's winters. It was colder."

Zhang Wen decided not to compare his resistance to cold with the King of Knights'.

They followed a narrow path along the edge of the Forbidden Forest for about twenty minutes, heading deeper inside. The trees around them grew denser and denser, and the moonlight was blocked by the branches and leaves, making it difficult to see.

Something occasionally rustled in the bushes. Zhang Wen instinctively tightened his grip on his wand.

"Centaurs," Artoria said.

"What?"

"There are Centaurs in the forest watching us. Northwest, about fifty meters away."

Zhang Wen looked in that direction. It was pitch-black, and he could see nothing.

"How did you see them?"

"Presence. They carry a mixed presence of horse and human. It is very distinctive."

"You can tell the presence of Centaurs apart from ordinary animals?"

"I lived in Camelot's forests for a long time. I can distinguish the presence of all kinds of demihuman races."

Zhang Wen marveled inwardly again—just how broad was Artoria's skill tree? Besides swordsmanship, horsemanship, statecraft, and chicken training, she had now added wilderness tracking.

They continued onward for another ten minutes before arriving at an open clearing in the forest.

The clearing was roughly thirty meters across and surrounded by tall oak trees. The ground was covered in a thick layer of fallen leaves that rustled beneath their feet.

"This will do." Artoria stopped and surveyed the area.

"Is it far enough from the castle?"

"The straight-line distance is around one and a half miles," she said. "At low output, the shockwave will not reach the castle."

"How low is low output?"

"About ten percent."

Zhang Wen thought about it. At full power, Excalibur could destroy a small city in the Type-Moon Universe. At ten percent—

"How large an area can ten percent blow up?"

"Approximately... this clearing."

"Just this clearing?"

"And several of the surrounding trees."

Zhang Wen silently took ten steps back.

Then he took another ten steps back.

"That is enough," Artoria said. "Where you are standing will not be affected."

"Let me move farther back. For safety."

"You stood much closer than this during the Holy Grail War."

"I had no choice then. I do now."

Artoria did not insist.

She walked to the center of the clearing and faced the most distant oak tree. The tree was at least a meter in diameter, the largest in the entire clearing.

"The target?" Zhang Wen called out.

"That tree."

"You're using Excalibur to cut down a tree."

"A test."

"That's what the woodcutters in Grimm's Fairy Tales said too."

Artoria ignored his jab.

She extended her right hand.

Palm facing down.

Golden light flowed from her hand.

The wind came.

It was not a natural wind. It was the airflow stirred up when Invisible Air was released. Zhang Wen's robe snapped loudly in the gale, and fallen leaves rose from the ground, spinning through the air.

The sword appeared in Artoria's hand.

A transparent sword wrapped in wind. Its shape could not be seen, but its presence could be felt—an ancient, divine power gathering.

Artoria gripped the hilt tightly, spread her feet slightly apart, and lowered her center of gravity.

The standard stance for releasing Excalibur.

Zhang Wen had seen her in that stance countless times—on Fuyuki City's nights, in the final battle of the Holy Grail War. Every time, the sight left him shaken.

Not because of its power.

Because of its beauty.

Not artistic beauty. Something more fundamental—the irreplaceable radiance a person gave off when doing what she had been born to do.

Artoria Pendragon. King of Britain. Saber.

She raised her sword.

Invisible Air dissipated.

The layers of wind peeled away from the blade, revealing its true form—a golden longsword engraved with ancient writing, liquid light flowing over its edge.

Excalibur.

The Sword of Promised Victory.

Zhang Wen held his breath.

Artoria took a deep breath.

Then she swung her sword down.

"Excalibur—"

Golden light poured from the blade.

It was not a beam of light—it was a wall of light. It extended from Artoria's sword tip, sweeping across the entire clearing and hurtling toward the oak tree.

Wherever the wall of light passed, the fallen leaves on the ground instantly vaporized. The soil was torn up. The smell of ozone filled the air.

The oak tree—

The oak tree was split straight down the middle.

It was not "cut" apart. It was "cleaved" apart. As though someone had swung an infinitely large axe down from above, splitting a one-meter-wide oak tree cleanly into two halves.

The two halves of the trunk fell to either side with a dull crash. The cross-section of the stump was as smooth as a mirror—a surface cut by pure magical power had no splinters whatsoever.

The golden light faded.

The clearing became quiet.

Only the fallen trunks continued to creak as the wood cracked.

Standing twenty steps away, Zhang Wen felt his heartbeat at least double.

Ten percent.

This was only ten percent of her power.

"Test complete." Artoria withdrew Excalibur and wrapped it in Invisible Air once more. Her breathing was slightly heavier than before, but not noticeably so.

"How much did it consume?" Zhang Wen asked as he walked over.

"Acceptable. In this world, magical energy replenishes more slowly than in the Type-Moon Universe, but Excalibur's release itself is unaffected." She thought for a moment. "At full output, I can probably reach thirty percent. Anything higher would require an external source of magical energy."

"Is thirty percent enough to kill the Basilisk?"

"Ten percent is enough."

Zhang Wen glanced at the oak tree that had been cleaved in half.

Ten percent was enough. More than enough.

"There is one problem," Zhang Wen said. "I do not know how large the Chamber of Secrets is. If the space is too small, releasing Excalibur might affect us as well."

"Then we need a precise strike, not a wide-area release," Artoria said. "I can compress the output to the blade itself—strike directly without releasing a beam."

"Close combat?"

"Yes. Close combat with my eyes closed."

Zhang Wen fell silent for a moment.

"You said fighting with your eyes closed would not be a problem. I want to confirm something—can you really do it?"

Artoria glanced at him.

Then she closed her eyes.

"You are two steps to my front-left. Your breathing is twenty percent faster than usual. Your right hand is holding your wand in your pocket. Your left foot bears more weight because you twisted your left ankle while running this morning."

Zhang Wen looked down at his left foot.

He had indeed twisted it while running that morning, but he had thought he had hidden it well.

"How did you know about my left ankle?"

Artoria opened her eyes.

"The angle at which your left foot lands is three degrees off from your right. You are avoiding putting weight on your left ankle."

"...You observe far too closely."

"Observation on the battlefield determines life and death," Artoria said. "After closing my eyes, hearing, touch, and perception of airflow compensate for the loss of sight. The Basilisk is a giant snake—its movements will create significant changes in airflow and vibrations in the ground. It will not be difficult to locate."

Zhang Wen looked at her, and the voice in his heart telling him he was still worried finally quieted a little.

Not completely. But a little.

"Alright," he said. "The date for the Chamber of Secrets operation—"

"The sooner, the better," Artoria said. "Every additional day the Basilisk remains in the Chamber of Secrets brings another day of uncertainty. Although the Diary has been taken away and Ginny will not open the Chamber of Secrets again, the Basilisk itself is alive. It may seek a way out on its own."

"Can the Basilisk open the Chamber of Secrets door by itself?"

"I am not sure. But it is best not to gamble."

Zhang Wen nodded.

"Talk to Harry tomorrow. We act the day after tomorrow."

"Time is short."

"Enough," Zhang Wen said. "We've prepared for two months. It's time to close the net."

On the way back to the castle, Zhang Wen suddenly smiled.

"What is it?" Artoria asked.

"I was thinking—if the me from the Holy Grail War saw who I am now, he'd probably find it absurd."

"Why?"

"Because I'm pretending to be a professor at a magic school, raising six roosters to deal with a snake, handing out little mirrors to every student as protective charms, and now I'm taking the King of Britain into the sewers to kill a giant serpent."

Artoria was silent for two seconds.

"Much more normal than the Holy Grail War."

"How is any of this normal?"

"At least no one's throwing twelve Noble Phantasms at you."

Zhang Wen thought of Gilgamesh's Gate of Babylon.

"You're right. It really is much more normal."

The two of them walked back to the castle beneath the moonlight.

Deep in the Forbidden Forest, the oak tree that had been cleaved in two lay quietly in the clearing. A faint golden glow still lingered along the cut, glimmering softly in the darkness.

If any Centaurs passed by, they would probably spend half the day divining beneath the stars, trying to interpret what omen was foretold by "a tree split apart by golden light."

The answer was actually simple.

The King of Britain had returned.

Only this time, she hadn't come to conquer.

She had come to kill a snake.

Monday morning.

Zhang Wen found Harry during the after-class tutoring period.

Today, he had summoned only Harry. He had informed Ron Weasley, Hermione, and Neville Longbottom in advance that their tutoring was canceled for the day.

When Harry entered the office, he saw Zhang Wen sitting alone behind the desk, while Artoria stood by the window.

"Professor Zhang? It's only me today?"

"Have a seat, Potter," Zhang Wen said. "There's something important I need to discuss with you."

Harry sat down.

Zhang Wen carefully considered his words. He couldn't tell Harry the entire truth—for example, that he knew the original story. But he needed to give Harry enough information for him to understand why they needed his help.

"Do you remember what you told me? The voice in the walls."

Harry's body tensed.

"I remember."

"That voice came from a creature called a Basilisk," Zhang Wen said. "It's hidden in a secret place beneath Hogwarts Castle—the Chamber of Secrets of Slytherin."

Harry's eyes widened.

"The Chamber of Secrets is real?"

"It's real," Zhang Wen said. "The Basilisk moves through the castle's pipe system. You can hear its voice because you know Parseltongue—you can understand the language of snakes."

Harry's expression became complicated. He clearly didn't like the word "Parseltongue." In the wizarding world, Parseltongue had countless connections to dark magic.

"This isn't your fault," Zhang Wen said. "Parseltongue is an ability, not a curse. It can be used to do good, or it can be used to do evil. It depends on the person using it."

Harry was silent for several seconds.

"What do you need me to do?"

Direct. No beating around the bush.

Zhang Wen once again marveled at Harry's instincts—he had immediately realized that Zhang Wen hadn't called him here for a chat, but because he needed help.

"The entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is in the girls' bathroom on the second floor. It needs Parseltongue to open," Zhang Wen said. "I need you to say something in Parseltongue and open the door."

"And then?"

"Then you leave. Pendragon and I will handle the rest."

Harry frowned.

"Can't I come with you?"

Zhang Wen had expected that question. Harry Potter wasn't the kind of person who would obediently listen after being told, "You don't need to be involved."

"No." Zhang Wen's tone was firm. "There's a Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets. Its gaze can kill. You're only twelve. I won't let you take that risk."

"But I can talk to snakes. Maybe I can—"

"The Basilisk isn't an ordinary snake," Zhang Wen interrupted. "It's lived for a full thousand years. Parseltongue works on it, but only for giving orders—and the authority to give it orders belongs to the Heir of Slytherin, not you."

Harry's mouth opened, then closed again.

"Potter."

Artoria's voice came from the window.

Harry turned to look at her.

"Your courage deserves respect," Artoria said. "But courage doesn't mean recklessness. Knowing when to fight and when to retreat—that is something every true warrior must learn."

Harry looked at Artoria.

"Can you win?" he asked.

"Yes," Artoria said.

No hesitation. No embellishment.

One word.

Harry looked at her for several seconds, then nodded.

"All right. I'll help you open the door."

"Thank you," Zhang Wen said. "Tomorrow night at eleven. The girls' bathroom on the second floor."

"Tomorrow?" Harry was a little surprised. "That soon?"

"The sooner, the better."

Harry stood up, ready to leave.

When he reached the door, he looked back.

"Professor Zhang."

"Yes?"

"You have to come back alive."

Zhang Wen smiled.

"We will."

After Harry left, Zhang Wen began making the final preparations.

Checklist:

First, the Diary—already entrusted to Dumbledore. Destroy it with a Basilisk fang after the Chamber of Secrets operation.

Second, roosters—as a backup plan. If Excalibur wasn't enough, a rooster's crow could cause the Basilisk pain or even kill it. Bring one into the Chamber of Secrets.

Third, mirrors—bring two hand mirrors into the Chamber of Secrets. They might need to observe the Basilisk's location indirectly.

Fourth, rope—if the Chamber of Secrets entrance was a vertical shaft, they would need rope to descend.

Fifth, communication—Zhang Wen had asked Filius Flitwick to make a pair of communication mirrors. The two mirrors could transmit images and sound in real time. One would be left with Harry, so he could stand by outside the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. Zhang Wen would carry the other.

Sixth, retreat route—if the situation went out of control, Artoria would unleash Excalibur's beam at full power to clear the area. The price would be that the Chamber of Secrets might be completely destroyed.

Zhang Wen checked the list three times.

Beside him, Artoria was wiping down her wooden stick—no, she wouldn't use the wooden stick when she entered the Chamber of Secrets tomorrow. She would use Excalibur.

"Are you nervous?" Zhang Wen asked.

"No."

"Not even a little?"

"The opponent is a snake," Artoria said evenly. "I've faced Berserker."

"Berserker didn't kill people with his eyes."

"Berserker would tear you apart with his hands. More direct."

Zhang Wen admitted that comparison made sense.

"Then what are you thinking about?"

Artoria stopped wiping.

"I'm thinking about what we'll eat after the battle."

Zhang Wen froze.

"Tomorrow is Tuesday," Artoria said. "Tuesday dinner has roasted leg of lamb. If we finish the mission before dinner—"

"You're worried about missing the roasted leg of lamb."

"Roasted leg of lamb only comes once a week. The Basilisk can be killed anytime."

Looking at her utterly serious face, Zhang Wen suddenly felt all his tension dissipate.

Right.

The Basilisk could be killed anytime.

But roasted leg of lamb only came once a week.

The priority was clear.

"Finish the mission before five tomorrow afternoon." Zhang Wen revised the schedule. "We'll make it in time for dinner."

"Five is too tight. Four thirty."

"Four thirty? How long are you planning to take to deal with the Basilisk?"

"Ten minutes," Artoria said. "If it takes more than ten minutes, that means something is wrong with my condition."

"You're giving yourself ten minutes to kill a thousand-year-old giant snake."

"Reasonable time management."

Zhang Wen took a deep breath.

All right.

Tomorrow afternoon. The girls' bathroom on the second floor. The entrance to the Chamber of Secrets.

The King of Knights was going to kill a snake.

Time limit: ten minutes.

Because she didn't want to miss roasted leg of lamb.

Zhang Wen felt that if Tom Riddle knew his carefully prepared Basilisk was about to lose to a woman rushing to make dinner, that fragment of his soul would probably collapse from rage on its own.

But honestly—

This was very Artoria.

Battle was merely a task that needed to be completed.

Life was what truly mattered.

She had probably been like this when she ruled Camelot—handling state affairs in the morning, suppressing rebellions in the afternoon, and returning to the castle on time for dinner in the evening. Her knights might have thought her a cold and ruthless king, but in truth, she was simply someone who arranged everything with perfect order.

Including mealtimes.

Zhang Wen closed the checklist and blew out the candle.

Tomorrow would be the decisive battle.

He should have been nervous. He should have suffered from insomnia. He should have tossed and turned, thinking of every possible thing that could go wrong.

But he wasn't.

Because Artoria wasn't nervous. Her calm was contagious—not the calm of someone pretending to be composed, but the calm of someone who had prepared for everything.

She believed in herself.

Zhang Wen believed in her too.

He closed his eyes.

See you tomorrow.

Basilisk.