Witchbound Villain: Infinite Loop

That morning, as Emperor Burn stood before the mirror, he found himself face-to-face with a rather divine looking stranger. His usually white hair had taken on a blonde hue, glowing with a celestial light that was all too fitting for a divine judge, not the ruler of an empire. 

His image, typically that of a tall, lean, and muscular man with white hair and golden eyes, had taken an unexpected detour on the heavenly highway. His reflection looked back at him, the radiant hair adding an ironic saintly aura to his devil-may-care attitude.

‘Who the fuck?’ Burn thought wryly, studying his new halo with disbelief. With each turn of his head, the glow remained, steadfast and insistent, like a lighthouse beacon on the foggiest of nights.

“Pffft—”

Burn turned to the woman hiding under his sheets.

He, who looked less like the feared Emperor Burn and more like a celestial body who had lost his way from the Milky Way, frowned. 

‘Note to self,’ he thought to himself, ‘next time, ask for the side effects brochure before sleeping with a saint—’

He wondered if his subjects would now expect miracles on demand, or perhaps a sermon on the virtues of saintly slumber.

“Miss Momo,” he called out, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Did I catch some divine STD or something?”

Morgan's response was immediate and uncontrollable. 

“Pff—hahahah—ahahah!” She was practically convulsing under his blankets, rolling around like a gleeful golden ball amidst the chaotic tangle of white sheets. “You look so—hahahah—handsome—fuu—hahaha—like a god or something—”

Burn narrowed his eyes at the mirror, his new celestial glow mocking him with every flicker. Meanwhile, Morgan’s high-pitched, melodious laughter filled the room, serving as the unwelcome theme song to his unexpected transformation. 

"Great," Burn thought sarcastically, "Just what I needed—a divine makeover accompanied by an angelic laugh track."

“That doesn’t match your image at all—pfffftt—like the devil dressing up in an angel costume for Halloween—” Morgan still couldn’t stop laughing, her fits of giggles echoing through the room. 

“So this was what you refused to tell me before!” Burn yelled. He could only sigh as Morgan continued to roll around, her laughter wrapping around him like an infuriatingly joyful blanket. It seemed his night with a saint had come with a bonus round of celestial comedy.

He turned to Galahad, who just smiled—wait. Why was he smiling? And why did his smile look... sad?

"Oh, I thank Miss Morgan for helping His Majesty recover," Galahad said, his tone tinged with relief. "Your Majesty, everyone has been waiting for you in the throne hall."

"Good," Burn replied. He glanced at Morgan, who was still relishing the pain in her stomach from laughing so hard. She was trying to catch her breath, her face flushed with amusement. "What are you going to do today?"

"Me? Hehe..." Morgan, with a laugh still staining her smile, said, "I’m going to teach the next phase of Vision Art to Yvain and the male descendants of Elysian. It’s been a while."

Her answer reminded Burn of his own obligations. "I’ll join you after the meeting. Tell Yvain to get ready for Force Art training too."

"Sure," Morgan answered, her grin unwavering.

"Eat something before you go," Burn advised as he changed into his pants and slipped on his metal-heeled shoes.

"Don't forget to eat too, Caliburn," Morgan said, reclining back on the bed, her eyes following his every move.

"Hm," Burn responded with a noncommittal hum before leaving. He exited his bedroom, Galahad trailing behind him, still all smiles. 

Burn couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more behind Galahad’s smile, but he had a meeting to attend and a kingdom to run. Priorities, after all.

But suddenly, Galahad said, "I am so happy that His Majesty is finally deciding to settle for a family. We, your subordinates, and the whole empire of Soulnaught had started to get worried."

"Hm, I’m not sure about that. Morgan is someone of high enough stature to neither need nor want to settle into a family with me—what?" Burn ran his mouth without realizing it until it was too late.

Galahad chuckled, while Burn paused, taken aback by his own words. Ah, the morning's events had affected him more than he cared to admit, making him speak aloud thoughts he'd usually keep buried.

"His Majesty has always been someone who takes whatever he wants. I believe you will claim Miss Morgan’s heart without much difficulty," Galahad, the number one fanboy, said with unwavering confidence.

Burn stood there, crossing his arms over his chest and humming thoughtfully. "Hmm, right. Why only take her power? Let’s take everything and make it mine."

Galahad laughed heartily. This emperor of his might not yet realize it, but from the looks of it, he had already taken her everything.

The most beautiful woman the world had ever seen—the legendary Infinite Witch, Morgan Le Fay.

And…

CREAK!

THUD! THUD-THUD-THUD!

As Burn strode into the throne hall, the grand doors creaking open with a dramatic flair, he was greeted by an unexpected sight.

The entire assembly—ministers in their opulent robes, knights in gleaming armor, commanders with their polished insignia, and heads of noble houses dressed to the nines—immediately dropped to their knees. 

Burn raised an eyebrow, his golden eyes scanning the room with a mix of confusion and amusement. Was there a memo he missed? A secret "Kneel Before Burn" day?

The atmosphere was nothing short of theatrical. Chandeliers above cast a golden glow on the scene, making the room look like a tableau from a Renaissance painting. The rich fabrics of the nobles' attire and the metallic sheen of the knights' armor created a dazzling mosaic on the marble floor. 

He walked forward, the sound of his metal-heeled shoes echoing through the hall like the ominous ticking of a clock. The silence was palpable, almost reverent, as if they were collectively holding their breath.

Galahad followed closely behind, his smile betraying a hint of pride.

Right under the throne was Percival, waiting with a solemnity that seemed out of place amidst the theatricality of the scene. As Burn was about to pass him, Percival pushed a glass up into his line of vision.

Behind him, Galahad received Burn’s sword from a woman in knight armor, then immediately kneeled and presented the sword to his emperor.

Inside the glass was a golden liquid—and Burn knew exactly what it was. A concentration of Force energy, potent and pure.

There were two ways for subordinates to show their undying loyalty. One was the strict and binding magic contract under the Vision Art spell, and the other one… well, it was the Holy Grail Ceremony.

The Holy Grail Ceremony was a ritual for knights who chose their master and dedicated their entire existence to them.

Like the magic contract, it was strict and binding, but there was a crucial difference: while the magic contract was demanded by the master, the Holy Grail Ceremony was something that couldn’t be demanded. It had to be offered.

Only the purest of intentions and the strongest of knights could make such an offer. It was a sacred vow, and it was considered a grave taboo to deny the pledge.

This ceremony was precedented by King Soulnaught I, Urien Pendragon. After finding his close friend and the holy Apostle of Nethermere dead at the hands of their enemies, Urien did something both horrific and profound.

He grabbed a glass and drank the blood dripping from the cross that had been used to bind and kill his friend.

With the holy apostle's blood, containing remnants of his Force energy, coursing through Urien's body, he pledged his loyalty to their shared goal: to create a better world for humanity and all other creatures living in it.

The story was a grim reminder of the lengths to which loyalty and dedication could stretch. It was a tale of sacrifice and unyielding resolve, setting the precedent for the Holy Grail Ceremony.

The ceremony wasn't just a ritual; it was a legacy, a testament to the bond between a sovereign and his most devoted knights. This wasn't just about accepting loyalty; it was about embodying the very ideals that King Soulnaught I had once fought for.

For a moment, the sarcasm slipped away, replaced by a deep sense of responsibility.

But he still had no clue as to why they were offering him their Force energy like this. Yes, because he felt the distinct mix of eleven different Force energies inside the glass.

And before he could ask why, Galahad raised his voice, filling the grand hall with a resonant authority, “Your Majesty, Emperor Burn, we, the knights of the Round Table, stand before you to pledge our undying loyalty.”

Eh?

“We have witnessed your indefatigable spirit, your relentless fight, and your unwavering resolve as you shield us from the power of the outsiders who seek to invade our world. You have inspired us through your actions, showing us what it truly means to lead with courage and sacrifice."

What?

The eleven knights, each a paragon of strength and honor, stepped forward, their eyes gleaming with determination. Galahad, representing them, continued, “You have kept going, you have kept fighting, and you have kept protecting us, despite the immense challenges you face. You have shown us that true leadership is not just about power, but about heart and resilience."

Huh?

Percival lifted the glass higher, the golden liquid swirling within it, a symbol of their combined strength and loyalty. “Today, we offer you our Force energy, not just as a token of our loyalty, but as an embodiment of our faith in you. We have each contributed a part of ourselves to this glass, eleven forces united, to give you the strength to continue your fight.”

“We pledge our lives, our powers, and our very souls to you, Emperor Burn. May our combined Force energy fortify you, may our loyalty empower you, and may our unity be the shield that protects our world."

As Galahad and Percival finished, the knights knelt in unison, heads bowed in reverence. Burn stood there, the weight of their words sinking in. 

He tilted his head, confusion settling in. Frowning with every bit of his brain cells flaring for an answer, he wanted to ask out loud—

"Yeah, but why?"

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