The Emperor Burn he knew wasn't the sort to flip the world on its head just to find the entress from his wet dreams.

  Perhaps they'd crossed paths before—in his youth, when she pyed the white witch to his curse. And so, when the symptoms crashed his party agai out to find her.

  Gahad unfurled his theory to the gang.

  "So, you're implying that he didn't know her name back when she first worked her magic, so he had to py artist and painted her from his memories?" one asked.

  "And he found her again... the beautiful dy who had been his savior once upon a time..." another mused, eyes distant.

  "What is this, a romantic saga?" anhed in admiration.

  "But don't fet, the disease is still incurable. His Majesty required her kisses to live—And I heard she needed his kisses too, because she was rec after her disappearance!" one member excimed, his eyes wide.

  "Bloody hell, I'm tearing up," came a gruff voice, choked with emotion.

  “Stop, I’m g too, fuck,” another one whispered.

  "This is fate at its most poignant... And oh, hic..." anhed, lost iale's bittersweet echahad found himself wrestling with a nagging question. Why was Burn pushing himself to the limits these days? First, by choosing the long haul to quer Edensor, and then daring to square off against the White Dwarf himself.

  At first g was just Burn being Burn.

  Like how he cimed the throe his illegitimate birth, how he killed his own brother following his rebellion, and how he single handedly thwarted the outsider's invasion…

  But the reality was…

  "His Majesty's looking out for us."

  Gahad's statement cut through the murmuring chatter like a hot khrough butter.

  "He always has been, ae his predit…" Gahad let out a sigh. "He's always there, standing tall at the front, guiding us. Even this war too—"

  "Because he couldn't bear to see the world we live in fall so easily to quest."

  Percival’s words echoed in every heart.

  After a moment of respectful silence, Gahad slowly rose to his feet. He held up ay wine gss, its hollow body gleaming in the dim light.

  “His Majesty doesn't know the meaning of surrender—nor has he ever tasted defeat. Regardless of the rumors and whispers, he's a man of honor and fairness.”

  "He was there for Young King Yvain, he shielded the inhabitants of Elysian from the White Dwarf."

  "He brought the legendary Man Le Fay to our side. That legendary, passionate, and righteous Man Le Fay…"

  "Our emperahad's voice was steady, "Is the world's st hope."

  He turo meet every pair of eyes, his gaze unwavering. “And we, his loyal knights, must devote ourselves to his cause.”

  Witnessing their emperor wrestling with a crippling, incurable disease, while simultaneously leading the charge for their world's future—there was no greater honor than to pledge their fidelity at his feet.

  Gahad eled his Forergy into the empty wine gss, the pure mana shimmering like molten gold. He passed it around, and each member added their own energy. Soon, the previously empty gss was brimming with a radiant liquid gold.

  The holy grail ceremony.

  “Tomorrow, I'll present this to our lord as a symbol of our unwavering loyalty. Before that, I must find Landevale. The rest of you, ready yourselves for athering tomorrow,” Gahad instructed.

  He then turo Percival, handing him the precious gss. “I entrust this to you. I'll bring Landevale before nightfall to plete the ceremony.”

  Percival accepted it and nodded solemnly.

  The members of the round table had started to disperse when Yvolt's voice rang out, "Ah, now that I think about it, didn't His Majesty mention something before the war started...?"

  All eyes turo her.

  "He said... we had three years to quer the world—does that imply...?" Her voice trailed off, leaving the disturbing implication hanging in the air.

  Their faces darkened.

  "Did he mean that he only had three years left?" Tristan muttered, voig the dreaded thought.

  Gawain was quick to shut it down. "No. Before that happens, we must find a cure."

  "But what we do whehe legendary Man Le Fay had to resort to share her soul with His Majesty?" Bedivere questioned, despair creeping into his voice.

  "Maybe they'll find the answer," Gahad interjected, his words sparking a glimmer of hope amongst the despondency. "His Majesty and Miss Man will find the cure."

  He cluded, "All we do is support them, and remain steadfast in our loyalty."

  As the weight of their shared s settled around them, the members of the round table took a moment to absorb the gravity of their situation.

  A quiet camaraderie filled the room, a testament to their shared dedication to their emperor and their world's future. As they left, each carried with them a renewed sense of purpose, their resolve hardened by their shared hope.

  They khe road ahead would be fraught with uainty and peril, but they also khey would face it together, as one. For their emperor, for their world, they would stand uheir loyalty unwavering, their spirits uerred.

  The round table might have beey now, but the echo of their pledge remained, a silent promise hanging in the air, a bea of hope in the face of the looming unknown.

  ***

  Yeah, no.

  Let's rewind the tape here, folks. You see, Burn had already given Soulnaught Syndrome the boot when he was a mere d of twelve. He cured it pletely.

  Remember that little i where a uni horn vely found its way into his heart?

  Yep.

  Our dear Bur on a uni hunting spree, dev their flesh raw like some sort of medieval paleo-diet enthusiast.

  Oh, a's not fet about that pitchfork that also pierced his heart. Iy, it was the trident of the merfolk king.

  Why, you ask? Well, because Burn had apparently developed a taste for seafood, and not just any seafood. Nope, he had to have the exotid, the kind that required him to tick off the King of Merfolks and turn him into a rather unwilling supplier of exotic meat.

  Yeah, hunting mythical creatures and turning them into his personal buffet solely for their mythical be. That was how he kicked Soulnaught Syndrome to the curb.

  Dying because of this disease? Not even close. He was as healthy as an ox on steroids. Saving the world? Hardly. Burn ying a grand game of monopoly, and he wanted all the properties for himself.

  And as for Man, sweet, kied Man, saving his life? Ha! If anything, she was the one cursing him.

  So, you see, everything—the despair, the heroics, the undying loyalty—was simply a product of his subordinates' overactive imaginations. They were creating a blockbuster fantasy epic, while Burn was just living his life, one uni steak at a time.

  But, oh, don't be fooled. It's not like Burn was without his share of problems. In fact, he had a whole undry list of them—and 99% of these headaches had a name.

  Man Le Fay!

  Yes, the same Man who was supposedly his kindly soul-sharer. Well, she wasn't just sharing her soul; she was also sharing a good portion of Burn's troubles. It's almost poetic, don't you think?

  Every hero needs a vilin, every story needs a twist, and poor old Burn, he had Man Le Fay.

  Wait.

  He was the vilin, she was the… hero(ine)?

  "Caliburn… mngh!"

  Burn flopped Man onto his bed. Their lips were locked in a passioango that left little room for small talk. When they finally broke apart, it was for him to fill his lungs with mueeded air and to share his course of a.

  "I'm going to rip your dress open."

  No sooner had he said it, than the sound of tearing fabric filled the room. RIIIIIIIP!

  "Oh—mmh!" Ma out a sigh of relief. The dress, while not overly tight, had been like a straightjacket on her weakened body.

  They shared more than just longing gazes and passionate kisses. Forergy, Vision energy, even their very souls were exged in their intimate dance. But Burn wasn't do.

  With a gesture to his back, a young boy handed him a high-grade mana potion.

  Yvain, the diligent boy he was, had been trailing them, passing potions to Burn whenever his hand beed. By the time they reached his room, the potion supply had run dry, having been funneled intan via Burn's mouth along the way.

  The one he just passed was the st bottle.

  Yvain watched as Burn uncorked it with his teeth, dowhe tents, and then funneled most of it intan’s mouth.

  The sight left Yvain on the brink of tears. Would they be okay?

  It was a chilling sight, seeing them on the precipice of death. He wondered when they would share the truth about their deal, and why they were dying together like this. He hated how he was still too small to be trusted with the truth—or it was just too big of a secret even if he was a bit older.

  "Ain," Man's voice broke him from his thoughts.

  "Yes, Master?" Yvain approached, peering around Burn's broad back. He saw Man, looking more fragile than ever, short of breath.

  " you leave me with His Majesty?" she asked in a whisper. "I'm okay now. You should rest too."

  "Mm," Yvain nodded, his voice barely a murmur. "Take care, Master, Your Majesty..."

  He closed the door behind him, lingering for a moment before his footsteps faded into the distanbsp;

  Only when the sound of his departure had pletely vanished did Burn and Ma out a shared sigh of exhaustion—"Fuuuuck."

  Yep, they fucked up.