CESAGA

"After you," he said, gesturing towards the narrow passage. 

"Well, that's strange. I didn't think a mere human could control shakti. What are you anyway, Lancelot? A hybrid or something?" Suria asked, raising an eyebrow. 

"We shall explain all, Lady Suria. Please, they await your presence," Lancelot responded, avoiding a direct answer. The three of them stepped inside, and the rock sealed itself behind them. 

"You know, if this turns out to be some kind of trick, I will crush whatever this place is and bury you along with whoever is inside," Suria warned, walking cautiously down the narrow path.

As they proceeded, the passageway grew larger and brighter.

A shadowy figure approached from the distance. 

"There you are, my beloved twins!" called a familiar, cheerful voice. From the shadows emerged a man, almost reaching six feet tall, his lean physique resembling Purnama's.

He wore a maroon long-sleeved jacket with gold satin seams, a black wavy patch adorned with a four-cornered star and crescent moon on the jacket arm, black inner garments, and an arch-design black samping tied around his waist, partially concealing the hilt of his kris, a traditional Malay dagger. His long maroon pants were sewn with gold satin on the hemline.

He had dark green hair and eyes, though one of his eyes was hidden behind a triangular eyepatch embroidered with the same four-cornered star and crescent moon design. 

Purnama and Suria lit up upon seeing their long-lost friend. They had always been on the same mission team before, but Gema had withdrawn from the Kshatriya due to personal matters. 

"Long time no see, Gema! Wait... did you shrink or something? It looks like you did. And what are you doing inside this weird rock anyway?" Suria asked with a grin.

"Glad to see you, Gema." Purnama added, shaking Gema's hand warmly. 

"It's great to see both of you again! We can catch up later, but for now, we need to hurry. They—and I—need your help." Gema replied, rubbing his head sheepishly. "Let me introduce you to the Avalon Rebellion Clan—or, as the old folks called them, the Knights of the Round Table." 

"Avalon Rebellion Clan... someone we met did mention that to us before back in the Renok Empire," Purnama said, his eyes widening in recognition. 

"Good that you heard about them. At least you know they're on our side. Looks like we'll be fighting together again, just like the old days. Come, follow me," Gema replied, leading them deeper into the rocky cavern.

"Wait—fight? Hey, come back here, shorty! You owe us an explanation!" Suria called after him, her voice filled with annoyance.

She crossed her arms and rolled her eyes, clearly frustrated.

"Do we really need to fight for them? Do we even have time for this? Tambora, Skyrea... looks like our hands are full of things to do," Suria continued, her tone growing more agitated. 

 "Let's stay patient. We don't know what's happening yet." 

Before they could continue, their attention was drawn to an open area ahead. A massive stone table dominated the center of the hall, its surface scarred and weathered by time yet commanding respect.

Embedded at the heart of the table, a gleaming sword jutted from the stone like a beacon of lost power. Surrounding the table sat nine imposing knights, their forms encased in full steam-powered medieval armor, each exhaling a steady hiss of machinery. The cold air in the room pressed down, thick with the echoes of countless battles and long-forgotten vows. 

A knight stood apart, his helm crafted in the fierce likeness of a dragon, its snout extending forward. A weathered red cloak, emblazoned with the white symbol of a dragon, hung from his broad shoulders. His golden armor gleamed in the dim light, exuding both majesty and power.

He sat on a throne-like stone chair, its armrests intricately carved with dragons, their stone scales catching the flicker of fire torches. His presence was undeniable—legendary, even in the stillness. The steady hum of steam-powered mechanisms filled the silence.

The hiss of the room was broken by his voice. It reverberated like distant thunder—deep, resonant, a voice that could command armies or whisper forgotten truths. 

"Welcome, my celestial companions. Gather now at the table of the undying." 

He paused, scanning the newcomers with eyes that seemed to pierce through them, his gaze as ancient as the stone walls.

His knights, clad in identical iron armor gleaming with gold filigree, sat in a circle. Their helmets, shaped like the heads of mystical creatures, bore testament to their ancient lineage.

The knights held their swords inverted in their right hands, the tips resting on the cold stone floor. The sharp edges, touching the ground, symbolized their vigilance and restraint, a silent vow to protect their kingdom.

"I am Arthur," he declared, his voice steady and rich with the gravitas of a king who had not only ruled but transcended death.

"Once, I was the king of this land, and these—" he gestured to his knights, their helms nodding ever so slightly, "—were my most trusted warriors. They swore their lives to this realm. Though we have passed from the mortal coil, our oath has not wavered." 

The atmosphere thickened, carrying the weight of the ages.

The knight beside Arthur, his helmet shaped like the head of a minotaur, tightened his gauntlet around the hilt of his sword. Another knight, his helm resembling a hydra, shifted slightly. The clink of his armor echoed like the rustling of ancient bones, a reminder of the undying burden they bore. 

"A curse binds us to this place," Arthur continued, his tone resonating through the stone halls like the final toll of a great bell.

"Though our bodies sleep in the grave, our souls rise again when this land cries out for protectors. So long as darkness reigns, we will answer. We are not dead—not in truth. Our loyalty transcends even death itself. And we shall not rest until it is free."

His words echoed in the stillness, filling the space with a renewed sense of purpose. The knights, like statues brought to life, straightened, the weight of their eternal vigil lightening, if only for a moment. Their hearts beat in unison with Arthur's call. They were ready—ready to fulfill their eternal pledge, to stand once more in defense of the land they had sworn to protect.