"It's a storm out there, yet you're playing the piano in the deck's hall all by yourself in the middle of the night—have you gone mad?" Chihong was dressed in a pure white nightgown and wearing a pair of disposable slippers.
"There's still an audience member," Xu Xiaoyou said, tilting her head back.
"If I hadn't been here just now, were you planning to smash a hole in this place?"
"But you were here, weren't you?"
"Tch."
Chihong didn't have a good impression of this person at all. Just last night, she had calmly tried to bait information out of her.
"Go back quickly. Don't wander around here alone."
Xu Xiaoyou sighed, a trace of loneliness appearing on her face. "To be honest, I've been suffering from insomnia because of that urban legend on the ship. Even sleeping pills don't work."
"Do you have the heart to watch an insomniac toss and turn in bed, only to wake up the next morning with bloodshot eyes and no energy?"
Chihong couldn't be bothered to argue. Just as she was about to forcibly drive her away, Xu Xiaoyou's voice reached her ears clearly.
"So, Miss Hong, would you be interested in performing a duet with me?"
At the same time, in an opera hall on the deck.
"For those companions who fell before the dawn! For our honor! For the glimmer of hope for the people, march onward! The people will remember, praise, and adore you."
On the stage, a knight in armor lay on the ground, riddled with arrows. He was surrounded by the corpses of his companions, their broken spears and jagged blades piercing through their armor. In front of them were endless dragonkin—most with digitigrade hind legs, scales covering their bodies, and terrifying wings growing from their backs, clad in the scale armor of the Holy See guards. Behind them was the charging army of the Heroic Kingdom, and further back were the lights of ten thousand homes.
"And before the cemetery of the kingdom's heroic souls, the people will forever mourn and cherish your memory."
A bard recited and lamented as he walked across the scorched earth forged by the flames of war, praising the courage and fearlessness of the heroes. All the beautiful virtues of humanity were glorified through his words—until a dragonkin arrow pierced his body as well.
Someone stepped forward to embrace the bard's body, weeping bitterly. "Raquel! Why did you have to fall right before the dawn?"
"You are the wisdom, the light, and the hope of the people."
The kingdom's heroes and soldiers engaged in a final battle with the dragonkin. In the end, they used their courage to defeat the seemingly invincible and glorious dragonkin. Singing songs of triumph, the army marched toward the evil dragon's castle.
At this moment, the scene on the stage changed. The battlefield and the bodies of the heroes vanished, replaced by a magnificent castle rising from the ground. In the center of the stone-walled castle was a spiral tower. The roar of the evil dragon echoed in the sky, booming through the thunder.
Lancelot Withered-Flower watched this scene from a distance, satisfied with today's rehearsal. Everything was proceeding according to the script without any mistakes.
The stage play, The Last Queen and Her Knights of the Round Table, had gone through its introduction, development, and climax—from the first act where the queen met the young knight in the countryside, to the two falling in love, mediating political struggles, and finally to the evil dragon leading the dragonkin in a massive invasion of the kingdom.
The kingdom's side suffered heavy casualties. The Great Expedition of the heroes failed, and eleven of the Knights of the Round Table were killed in battle.
Only then did the kingdom learn its lesson, stopping the internal strife to unite against the common enemy. It was the heroic pioneers who used their flesh and blood to block the sharp stones and arrows, winning breathing room for the people behind the walls and bringing dawn to the kingdom.
With high morale, the kingdom's allied forces swore to avenge the heroes, fighting their way into the castle, crushing all the dragonkin in their path, and advancing toward the spiral tower.
At this level of rehearsal, this stage play would surely amaze everyone at the academy gala at the end of the year, Lancelot Withered-Flower thought as he watched.
He had originally planned to go onto the island alone, but the academy had sent members of the Student Council to monitor him. He simply played along, dragging the members to rehearse with him in the early hours of the morning. Once their patience and energy were nearly exhausted, he would think about handling his own affairs.
"How strange. In the fourth act, the human side was clearly suffering a total defeat with low morale, making it look like the kingdom was in peril."
"Why does the fifth act abruptly sound the horn for a counterattack?" the girl with a ponytail beside him asked in confusion.
Lancelot Withered-Flower chuckled. "It's abrupt, isn't it?"
"It’s supposed to be abrupt, Yaqing. Didn't our predecessors hold up torches in that kind of desperate situation when no one believed in them, leading the people of the Star of Art to forge a path and defeat the Fars Theocracy to welcome the dawn?"
"Even future generations see it as a miracle. It's hard to imagine how much effort those great pioneers put in, how much blood and tears they shed, just to trade for our world today."
"Alright, it's time for the sixth act."
"At the top of the castle, the final battle between the last Knight of the Round Table and the evil dragon. It's my turn to take the stage."
After saying that, a mimicry light materialized in Lancelot Withered-Flower's hands. Armor covered his body, the lionheart shield fitted onto his arm, and a sharp blade appeared in his hand, pointing toward the sky.
As he stepped onto the stage, the stirring music shifted into a deep, solemn melody, as if seeing off the final hero. He stood at the top of the castle. Below, countless citizens had gathered spontaneously, praising and loving their hero.
The soldiers looked up at this scene together, expressions of hope appearing on their weary faces as they smiled at one another.
Lancelot Withered-Flower pointed his sword behind the red curtain and slowly exhaled, shouting out loud:
"Face me in the final battle! Let us bet on the will of the pioneers and the glory of the kingdom!"
His voice, filled with fighting spirit, echoed above the stage, lingering for a long time. However, there was no response from behind the curtain for a while, and the scene suddenly fell into an eerie silence.
The hope on the faces of the Student Council members below vanished, replaced by a hint of impatience. Whispers began to rise.
"What are you doing, Gawain? Hurry up and crawl out to be KO'd by the righteous knight! we want to go back and rest!"
"Where is he? Did Gawain fall asleep behind the curtain?"
"Gawain, come out!"
Lin Yaqing, who was controlling the props, helplessly pressed the control button for the curtain. The red fabric pulled away to both sides.
Seeing Lancelot Withered-Flower standing valiantly, facing the figure behind the curtain, everyone sighed in relief simultaneously. They could finally rest.
Yet, at that moment, what the young man saw was a completely different sight—one that made his soul tremble.
Behind the red curtain, a silver-haired girl—covered in filth and reeking of the stench of rotting fruit—was choking the unconscious youth in her hand. She had torn the massive dragon skeleton prop made of bamboo and wood into shreds. The girl's mouth was chewing on something...
One could vaguely see it was the paper-pasted dragon skin.
As the light hit her, Angelina was first blinded, instinctively blocking her face and backing away. Then, her eyes became bloodshot as she let out a threatening low growl at the suddenly appearing Lancelot Withered-Flower.
"Kill Gawain, Lancelot! Kill the evil dragon!"
The Student Council members, eager to leave, shouted in unison from below the tower. Only Lin Yaqing in the distance realized something was wrong. Lancelot Withered-Flower's shoulders were clearly trembling, as if he were paralyzed by the aura of some powerful creature.
In the next instant, the knight the people were cheering for was knocked off the tower. The 'evil dragon' they were condemning revealed her monstrous form, as bright red tentacles erupted from her heart, sweeping across the entire opera hall in a flash!
Rate on N.U.
