Ah, Thunder—the most savage force in nature, yet simultaneously the purest, untainted by even a trace of impurity. It is a power that commands human awe, a force utterly beyond mortal resistance. Where lightning strikes, only ruin and annihilation follow, leading humanity to keep a respectful distance.

Yet, power is merely a form; it possesses no inherent consciousness. It is the essence of nature itself. When a person masters this nature, the wicked wield it to devastate the earth, while the virtuous employ it to safeguard those around them.

Misaka Mikoto, capable of commanding every electron in the world—from the static charge in the ocean depths to the lightning crackling in the heavens—finds them nothing more than toys in her hands. With just a flicker of intent, regardless of time, place, or state, she can summon thunder or static electricity effortlessly.

Her rage against wickedness, her unyielding resolve to eradicate the rampaging monstrous entities, means that the moment her hand sweeps out, it signals the Judgment of Thunder.

Ten bolts, twenty, thirty… fifty… a hundred… the count became impossible to track, as if every bolt of electricity in the world had converged over the small stretch of sea near Fuyuki City. The black night had been utterly transformed into dazzling day.

Electricity snapped and cracked; thunder roared; the wind shrieked in lament; the water wailed in sorrow. Countless waves surged and tossed, the very ground vibrated, and the roar of thunder drowned out all other sound. This was the might of the Level 5 Esper, Misaka Mikoto—the Heavenly Thunder Summoning.

In that moment, she shone the brightest.

Undoubtedly, if a true God of Thunder existed in this world, it could only be her.

Bolt after lightning bolt slammed down upon the monstrous entity without mercy. Upon impact, tentacles withered, flesh pulverized. Even with the capacity for infinite regeneration, even possessing an almost immortal constitution, the colossal sea demon let loose a cry of agony under the assault of nature’s most violent power.

But it would not cease.

The surging thunderclouds multiplied; the roaring lightning intensified. Electric light pulsed across the night sky, brilliantly illuminating the land. Her fury was unquenchable, her decision to judge the world absolute. At this precise moment, at this very instant, she named it—The Light of Adjudication.

“Rise up for me!”

Accompanied by the sound of thunder, the girl became the sovereign of this domain; her command was now heaven’s decree.

Endless lightning enveloped the gargantuan sea demon. It struggled, it panicked, it shrieked, but it was useless. The power of the lightning was irresistible; its exterior began to vaporize under intense heat, and its massive body was gradually wrenched clear of the sea surface… As long as something is alive, it contains electricity. Where there is electricity, she has control. Even this mountain-sized leviathan could not withstand the girl’s invincible strength.

Finally, the massive sea demon was completely torn from the ocean’s surface, and the interdimensional rift connecting it was swallowed by seawater. Though numerous smaller monsters still erupted from the waves, their numbers could not compensate for the portion annihilated by the thunder.

Mikoto could destroy this singular sea demon, but this level of power could not be sustained for long. At most, five seconds, and she would be unable to keep it airborne. Five seconds was insufficient time to annihilate the monster entirely. But…

It was enough. All she needed to accomplish was this much. The final blow would be delivered by another.

“Everything on this side is prepared!” The King of Knights shouted loudly. In her hands, she gripped the soul-seizing golden sword—the strongest Holy Sword, forged from the collected light of the stars.

However, just as the girl prepared her attack, a curse-like roar echoed across the night sky—a sound utterly divorced from humanity, a sound that seemed to negate all hope. Accompanied by the drone of engines, a warrior clad in abyssal armor, resembling a vengeful spirit, stood atop a magic-corrupted bomber, once again baring its savage fangs toward the King of Knights.

“Damn it, that bastard,” the girl ground out.

“Don’t worry. Focus on what you need to do,” Lin Luo smiled at her, then turned to face the frenzied Berserker. “Hold him back!”

In truth, he didn’t need to say it. The moment the Berserker appeared, Nero, the King of Conquest, and the Lancer of Spears charged forward like lightning. Primal Fire ignited into searing flames; the Divine Chariot roared majestically; the Rose of Purity bloomed in crimson light. The three Heroic Spirits immediately launched a fierce assault on the Berserker.

The Knight standing behind them was their sole hope. No one could interrupt them. Not even the slightest intrusion could be permitted to pass. Whoever dared to approach…

“Suffer the Wrath of a King, Berserker!”

Thus, all obstacles were swept aside. This moment was the culmination of the decisive battle.

The King of Knights poured all her strength into the hands gripping the hilt of her sword, raising the golden blade high above her head… In this instant, she saw not only the colossal sea demon but much more…

Light gathered, as if illuminating this Holy Sword was its supreme purpose. Brilliant radiance condensed, forming a dazzling beam of light.

Under the illumination of this fierce yet pure radiance, all who witnessed it were rendered speechless. The heroic figure who once illuminated the darkness of chaotic times, deeper than the night itself… that was her.

…Artoria, the young woman barely past her coming-of-age ceremony—until that day, that was how she was known.

It was an age of constant warfare, the very beginning of the collapse. An ostensibly invincible empire faced annihilation under the assaults of heretics. It was an era as dark as the deepest night.

It was then that she was born, the heir to the throne. The King trusted the Magus’s prophecy and awaited an exceptional successor, but the child born was not what the King had hoped for.

The child was not a boy.

Even with the destiny of a King written upon her, a throne could not be inherited without a male heir. Consequently, the girl was entrusted to a vassal and raised as the child of a knight.

Though the King was disappointed, the Magus was pleased. After all, the King’s role was never truly about gender. More importantly, the decree that the girl must leave the castle before becoming King was the true sign of kingship.

The girl grew up in the old knight’s household, raised as the heir. This was not because the old knight believed the Magus’s prophecy, but because he sensed in the girl the same essence as his liege, compelling him to raise her as a knight and anticipate her growth.

To become stronger than anyone else, the girl trained day after day. If only the King could save the nation hurtling toward death, then nothing else needed to be said. The girl swore to wield her sword.

Then, the prophesied day arrived.

Engraved upon the Sword Altar were the words: “He who draws this sword shall be the King of Britain.”

“Once you draw this sword, you will no longer be human,” the Magus told her.

To become King was to cease being human. She had carried this realization since birth. A King, in order to protect the greater populace, must sometimes sacrifice more people. The young girl contemplated this every night, trembling until dawn, never a single day without fear.

But she said, today marks the end of that.

And so, the girl drew the Sword in the Stone that no one else could move, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. She was immediately enveloped in light, and in that instant, she ceased to be human.

Kingship had nothing to do with gender; as long as the function of a King was present, no one cared about gender or appearance. Even if some noticed the King was female, as long as she was an excellent ruler, it was acceptable.

Due to the sword’s magic, her aging process halted. While some knights found this unsettling and fearful, more praised their liege’s mysterious immortality.

And thus began the era spoken of in legends—the Age of the King.

The newly crowned monarch fought on the battlefield like a god of war. The King always stood at the forefront, and the enemy scattered before her.

The God of War—the King heralded as the avatar of the Dragon—was incapable of defeat.

Ten years unyielding, twelve battles unwon. This legacy was unparalleled; this glory was unmatched. They transcended time to become eternal. It was a decade dedicated solely to ruling, charging forward as King. She never once looked back, never once lost her dignity.

She fulfilled her duty as King.

Now, this dazzling Holy Sword was the crystallized prayer of Glory—the dream that all warriors lost on the battlefield, past and present, had pursued and yearned for.

Taking pride in upholding this will, valuing the execution of this conviction, the King of Knights now sang aloud the true name of the miracle in her hands.

Its name was:

Excalibur (The Sword of Promised Victory).

Light flowed.

Light roared.

It was a light capable of illuminating the entire world, an unrivaled glory. The owner of this light was the ideal King; the Holy Sword proved it. If the Army of the King and the Knights of the Round Table demonstrated her quality as a commander of Noble Phantasms, then the King of Knights’ Excalibur manifested her ultimate conviction. This proud radiance was undeniable.

Therefore, lift your chest and proclaim it.

This belief, entrusted to this sword, even if misunderstood, even if viewed as aloof, this is her unique path as King.

Ah, yes. That is why I believed, that is why I pursued, that is why I am…

“Ex…calibur…”

In that moment, the girl’s eyes were clear and serene, shimmering with confident light. Mana, accelerated by the unbound Dragon Factor, transformed into a flash of light, this bursting torrent swirling into countless vortices, swallowing the sea demon and the night together.

In the water instantly vaporized, every single molecule of the demonic monstrosity—the very embodiment of terror—was exposed to the searing impact, eliciting a piercing scream from the sea demon.

Yet, Caster, situated within the thick, fleshy fortress at the heart of the still-burning sea demon, watched the moment of erasure silently, as if soul and body had been utterly claimed by that dazzling radiance.

Finally, under the destructive light that incinerated everything, all darkness was banished, and every enemy was annihilated.

The next instant, the girl held Excalibur high above her head.

“My name is: Arthuria Pendragon.”

No hesitation, no confusion, no anxiety. At this moment, she dared to stand before anyone and declare with her chest thrust forward:

“I am the King of Knights.”