When he came out the door, the room was silent—not a single soul. His door slowly sank into the ground as he exited. He looked around and noticed he was the last one to finish the trial.
He lifted his hands up to see if he had really returned. In his left hand, he was holding Excalibur. It looked different, as if it had finally revealed its true form to him. The sword was long and golden, with a glowing core at the center of the guard. It was beautiful.
He started to walk around. He realized there were a lot of shattered doors underneath his feet.
It looked like a field of broken cocoons—fragments. They had all entered the Gate with a chance to transform, to break free, to become something more. But they failed.
They failed to break through the cocoons and become a butterfly.
He walked through the room, realized nothing changed. Everything remained exactly the same. His mind was in a daze, wondering how long had it really been.
To him, it feels like years.
As he was looking around, touching everything, feeling everything—Elizabeth entered through the door. She froze. At first, she just stared at him, then dropped everything she was holding. She ran toward him and hugged him.
He placed his hand on her head.
"How you been, Elizabeth?"
Her personality was the same as always. Her orange hair, much longer now, was tied into a ponytail. She had even gotten slightly taller.
"You have grown." His hand still on her head.
It seemed like she would visit this place often to see if Sylas had gotten out.
"How long was I gone for?"
She moved her head away from his chest.
"Two years."
He let out a small, but painful laugh.
"Only two years."
He started walking toward his room.
"Let's go. I need a shower."
He handed her his sword to hold. She carried it in both hands as the hilt rested on her shoulder.
He started walking, and she followed him.
Even though he was Sylas again, the life he lived as Arthur still clung to him.
It didn't fade. It didn't leave.
It stayed with him.
He carried himself like a king.
His back was straight, his steps calm, quiet—like the ground only existed just to meet his steps.
He just moved forward, and the world moved with him.
He didn't speak unless he had something he wanted to know. When he did speak, his voice was steady.
"How many people made it out?"
The words came out of him like a command.
"Fifteen."
He looked at her. His gaze was sharp.
"Not bad."
He continued to walk. While walking—
"Is the sword heavy?"
"No, sir Sylas."
"Good. Let's walk faster."
Even without a throne, he moved like a king—composed, untouchable, as if the air itself refused to challenge him.
As he walked, the halls stayed silent around him.
Not out of fear, but out of respect.
Elizabeth followed him quietly.
She didn't speak. She just stared at the man in front of her.
She didn't talk unless she was asked to in his presence.
When they made it to his room—
"My clothes."
She handed him the sword and ran to get his clothes. He realized the clothes he was wearing were the ones he took from Arthur. They were a bit tight, and it seemed like he really had grown.
His room looked clean, as if someone kept it that way. He took a shower. He looked at himself in the mirror, but he could only see his future self—the 40-year-old version of himself.
"Who am I?"
"Am I Sylas… or Arthur?"
He looked at Excalibur.
"I was born as Sylas… I became Arthur."
"I've carried the name, lived the life, fought the war."
He paused.
"I earned both names."
He stepped away from the mirror, his eyes steady.
"Now I am both."
"Sylas, son of Alice Valemont."
"Arthur, the king."
"It doesn't matter who I am now."
He raised Excalibur.
"Just like I was as Arthur, I'll become a legend in this world too."
Then there was a knock at the door.
"Enter."
She handed him the clothes and left the room without a word. As he wore the clothes, it was different from what he was used to. He laid in his bed, closed his eyes just for a bit. The comfy bed, the soft pillow, thick blanket—he would lie if he said he didn't miss it. His eyes closed, until the sun came up.
Elaine burst through the room with excitement on her face. She rushed in and embraced him.
"I have missed you too, sister."
She looked at him with a surprised look on her face.
"You have grown."
He just smiled. He got up and moved the curtain from the window to see the view. He felt peaceful.
He looked at Elaine.
"Let's take a walk."
She nodded.
He grabbed his sword.
Elaine looked at him.
"You can leave it here."
He nodded.
"I like to keep it around me."
He didn't know why, but whenever it's not with him, he feels… incomplete. Without it, he feels empty, hollow. Excalibur wasn't just his weapon. It was his anchor. And without it, it felt like his name might disappear. He would be a nobody.
They walked through the garden. As he enjoyed the air that didn't smell like war or blood, he forgot how good fresh air felt. The smell of the flowers. Birds flying around. Not once did his posture break. He always led—Elaine followed his lead. It looked as if she was his trusted knight.
"What happened to you?"
He turned and smiled.
"Nothing."
Slowly, they walked toward the training ground, and he saw a few people training. They stood in a perfect line, each one holding their stance with discipline, as a commanding knight was in front of them, barking out instructions.
Their blades clanged against each other and the sound of their footwork echoed through the field. Whenever they made a mistake, he would start shouting.
"Not like that."
"Arms higher."
"Foot too close."
"Okay, take a 20-minute break."
Among them was Luis.
He looked like he had gotten taller, his posture straighter than before—trying to stand out.
But his face still looked like a brat.
Sylas sat on the bench to the side—on the highest one—watching them go through basic training.
He sat still, like a man who belonged above the rest.
His gaze didn't wander.
It observed—quiet, focused.
After they were done swinging, Luis called Elizabeth to bring them a towel. She ran forward with it, holding it carefully in both hands. As she ran, one of his household stuck out a foot and tripped her. She fell headfirst onto the dirt.
The towel dropped, hitting the ground and scattering all over.
They all started laughing.
The towel she carried got dirty.
Their voices became low and tense.
"Look what you have done."
They immediately hovered above her.
But then Sylas's voice cut through. Calm. Direct. Absolute.
"Elizabeth. What are you doing there?"
"Come here. My arms are tired."
He lifted his sword up—slowly.
"You're supposed to be carrying my sword."
They all looked at him, barely recognizing him. A hush spread like fog.
"Oh, it's the son of a slave."
He ignored him.
"Elizabeth. Come here. Now."
Luis stepped forward.
"No."
Elaine was still watching. She didn't know what to do.
He stood up and walked toward them. With every step he took, the air around him became thicker. His presence grew heavy. Every step made the space tighter, thicker, harder to breathe. None of them moved. They couldn't blurt out any words as he passed by them. They just watched.
When he was about to pull her up, the teacher reached out and touched his shoulder.
"Hey, what are you doing here?"
He turned his head.
"Did I say you could touch me?"
His red eyes pierced through him. A single glare—and he stumbled backward as Sylas pulled her up.
"Now. Hold this."
He turned.
"You only follow my order."
As she held on to the sword, Luis's eyes glowed with desire.
"Where did you get that sword?" he asked, reaching for it.
Before he could touch it, Sylas glanced at him.
His voice—steady and cold.
"Have you forgotten what happened two years ago?"
Luis backed away. Quiet. Pale.
"Let's go, Elizabeth."
Both Elaine and Elizabeth followed him back to the house.
As they walked, Elaine was amazed by his new behavior.
There was something different now.
He didn't walk like a boy anymore.
He moved like someone really familiar to her.
"You act just like Father."
He let out a small laugh.
"No. I'm better."
She didn't know what to say, because she didn't understand what he meant.
"I hope you are an S-rank when they measure your ability tomorrow," she muttered.
"Doesn't matter. I'm not trying to be part of this family," he said calmly.
"I will create one of my own."