The sky above the Holy Cathedral tore open like a curtain of divine fire. Streaks of sunlight pierced the gray clouds, casting long, jagged shadows over the fractured city. In the heart of the cathedral plaza, a single object plummeted from the heavens—a sword wreathed in golden radiance.

  It struck the central stone pedestal with a resonant clang that echoed across the hollowed-out streets. Dust and shards of rock spiraled into the air, but the sword remained immaculately intact, its blade gleaming as though it had never known rust, nor the passage of centuries.

  The gathered Holy Knights froze. Their breaths caught in their throats, eyes wide with awe and disbelief. At the forefront, Omega Heinriel’s hand instinctively twitched toward his own weapon, yet his lips parted only in stunned silence.

  From the shadows of the cathedral’s arches, the Pope himself emerged, his presence commanding an immediate hush. His gaze fixed upon the sword as if recognizing a long-lost memory.

  “Knights of the Holy See,” the Pope began, his voice steady yet imbued with gravitas that silenced the murmurs of hundreds. “Based on our most recent discoveries… it seems that the Legendary Sword of the Stone from Arthurian legend—the Golden Sword, Caliburn—has manifested in the modern era.”

  A collective gasp ran through the assembly. Several Knights whispered among themselves, disbelief etched into every line of their faces. The impossible, it seemed, had come true.

  Yukio, standing off to the side with his usual casual smirk, spoke up, his tone precise yet tinged with amusement. “Yes. Indeed, Caliburn has appeared. But do not confuse it with Excalibur. The two are distinct. Caliburn is the Sword of the Stone that made Arthur king, whereas Excalibur is the blade he received from the Lady of the Lake after Caliburn was shattered.”

  A ripple of confusion spread. Knight James, always precise with history, stepped forward. “We understand the distinction,” he said, his voice cautious but firm. “But… if Excalibur was granted after Caliburn was destroyed, how can Caliburn appear here, fully restored? That defies all chronology and recorded history.”

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  Yukio’s smirk deepened, his eyes glinting with the thrill of unspoken secrets. “Ah… that is where the ingenuity of magic comes into play,” he said, tilting his head slightly. “It appears that one of those mages—likely a practitioner of extremely advanced chronomancy—has manipulated localized time around the site where Caliburn was broken. Essentially, they created a convergence point—a temporal echo from before the sword’s destruction—and summoned it to our world. That is why Caliburn appears as it did centuries ago, untouched and whole.”

  Murmurs spread among the Knights, some incredulous, others angry. Many could barely hide their outrage. “The audacity of such mages! Surely these are works of the devil!” a Knight exclaimed, fists clenching. Others muttered in fearful awe.

  Omega Heinriel, however, said nothing. His gaze remained fixed on the golden blade. His mind, always analytical, churned with unease. Even if Yukio’s explanation were true, it described knowledge beyond what even the Pope—or any living scholar—knew. The way Yukio had phrased it did not sound like the recounting of research; it sounded… like he had done this himself.

  Omega did not voice his suspicion. Not yet. There was no proof, only a gnawing suspicion, and raising such an accusation now would be dangerous. Instead, he silently acknowledged the information, keeping his thoughts tightly locked behind a calm, neutral expression.

  The Pope raised his hand, restoring order. “It has been decided,” he said, his voice echoing across the plaza. “You, Omega Heinriel, along with Yukio, shall retrieve Caliburn and return it to the cathedral for further examination and safeguarding.”

  Omega and Yukio both bowed deeply, the weight of responsibility settling over them. No words were needed between them; their actions conveyed complete obedience.

  Outside the cathedral, a helicopter waited, sleek and black, its rotor blades already beginning to stir the air. Yukio turned to Omega with a faint grin. “Shall we?” he asked.

  Omega regarded him silently, his expression unreadable, yet his agreement was implicit.

  As they boarded, Yukio climbed into the pilot’s seat. Omega’s brow furrowed slightly. “So… not only are you a master of combat, you also fly helicopters?” he asked, a trace of surprise in his voice.

  Yukio chuckled softly, starting the engine. “You could say that. But more importantly… are you ready to travel to England and claim Caliburn?”

  Omega did not reply. His silence was absolute. It was not reluctance, but focus—the silent readiness of a knight who understood the magnitude of the task before him.

  The helicopter roared to life, engines flaring as it ascended at speeds that defied belief. In a blink, they were moving at Mach 10, a streak against the clouds, racing toward England where destiny awaited.

  From his seat, Omega glanced down. The world beneath them was a vision of ruin: cities reduced to ash, children lifeless in the streets, vampires roaming freely through the smoldering remnants of humanity. Only eighty Holy Knights remained to oppose the nearly nine hundred thousand of the undead.

  His chest tightened. For a fleeting moment, the weight of despair threatened to crush him, yet he pushed it aside. The ruins below were a testament to failure and loss—but Caliburn awaited, a beacon of hope in a world teetering on the edge of annihilation.

  Omega Heinriel turned his gaze forward, eyes narrowing in quiet determination. Whatever trials awaited them in England, he would meet them with the resolve of a knight and the unshakable will of one chosen to bear the weight of destiny itself.