You stand frozen in the doorway, the throne room unrecognizable from the Camelot you once knew. Tendrils of Chaos twist and coil along the walls, warping the air into a heavy, suffocating force. At the center of it all, Arthur Pendragon looms, his figure shrouded in a swirling aura of power that seems alive—hungry. His back is to you, but even from here, you can feel the weight of his presence, the oppressive energy radiating from him. The golden-haired boy you once knew is almost unrecognizable. His hair is streaked with black, his once-bright armor dulled and cracked, as though barely holding back the Chaos threatening to consume him entirely.

"Why are you here?" he growls, his voice low and fractured, as though two forces are battling within him.

Your throat tightens, but you force yourself to step forward, each movement feeling heavier than the last. "Arthur... this isn’t who you are," you say, your voice trembling as you cling to the memory of the kind, noble king you once served. "You have to fight this before it—"

He turns, and your breath catches. His glowing eyes, streaked hair, and the fractured glow of Excalibur in his grip are almost unrecognizable. The air crackles as his Chaos surges, distorting the space around him. His grip tightens on Excalibur, now pulsating with the same chaotic energy, the blade trembling in his hands.

"Fight it?" he snaps, Chaos flaring around him. "I’ve been fighting every moment—trying to hold onto myself, onto this kingdom, while everyone doubts me."

"You came here to save me?" he continues, taking a step toward you, his voice dropping to a chilling whisper. "Tell me... what makes you think I can be saved?"

You feel your resolve waver, the weight of his words cutting deep. The Arthur you knew is still there, somewhere, but Chaos is drowning him—and if you don’t find a way to reach him soon, you fear it might claim him entirely.