Camelot - The Streets.
An ordinary day.
As always, no matter how busy her duties, the king made time to walk among the residential districts, chatting with the common folk about recent events.
The people eagerly answered her questions.
Yet their gazes couldn't help but drift to the small, white-haired boy trailing silently behind the king.
What was so special about the king? You could see her every day!
But this boy with glowing white hair? That was a rare sight.
Though Camelot was filled with renowned knights... Bedivere, the "perfect knight"; Tristan, whose charm could make even fairies blush; Kay, brimming with bold charisma; Guinevere, radiant as the moon... each had their unique allure, drawing crowds of admirers.
In the presence of this white-haired boy, however, their brilliance seemed to fade, their halos dimmed.
"Mommy, that boy's glowing!" A young girl blurted out innocently. "Did he eat something shiny?"
Her mother scolded her, the boy glanced skyward, and the golden-haired king's lips curled into an irrepressible smile.
"Go ahead and laugh." The boy said after a long pause, as the dutiful king completed her patrol and reached an empty meadow.
"You might as well enjoy it."
"It's probably the only time you'll get to."
The girl finally laughed.
In the quiet outskirts, she let out a heartfelt chuckle.
But it wasn't to mock the boy's small stature or his otherworldly, sparkling aura that set him apart.
"So, this is why you've never taken human form!" Artoria said. "You're self-conscious about how you look now?"
She reached out, patting his shoulder as if to comfort him... a rare pleasure, as her modest height of just over five feet meant few people's shoulders were within easy reach.
Alaric's face darkened, but he said nothing.
In such moments, silence was answer enough.
He'd long been capable of taking human form... any form, young or old, male or female. As a true god, such abilities were within his grasp.
But the form that best matched his current state was this: a boy of thirteen or fourteen, on the cusp of adolescence yet retaining a hint of childishness. His rapid evolution, fueled by absorbing the Mysteries of holy swords, had left him in this awkward in-between.
As for the "sparkling" white glow radiating from him? That was a divine effect, a mark of his extraordinary nature!
Like Illyasviel from Magical Girl Illya or Umaru in her school mode from Himouto! Umaru-chan, he didn't need an introduction. Standing in a crowd, everyone knew who the true "protagonist" was.
But was this state ideal?
Others might not care, but Alaric disliked the attention. He preferred his dragon form, staying mostly in his sanctuary, rarely drawing mortal eyes.
"So why decide to show up like this today?" Artoria asked, curiosity piqued.
For such a simple question, Alaric fell silent for a long time.
"Babydrago?"
Her voice carried confusion, her signature hair tuft curling into a question mark.
The boy shook his head, adopting a nonchalant air.
"No reason."
"Just wanted you to see."
Alaric and Artoria continued their conversation.
Though they never lacked topics, the most pressing issue was undoubtedly the White Dragon King, fused with Britain itself.
"Merlin said... "
"I've already found a solution!" Alaric interjected confidently, before Artoria could finish her question.
Not Merlin's solution... his own.
"What? What solution?" Artoria asked, intrigued.
Rarely, the dragon who always spoke freely with her now played coy.
"You'll see soon enough." Alaric said with assurance.
A sudden gust of wind surged around him, whipping up dust and enveloping Artoria.
When she opened her eyes, she was soaring through the sky, astride a white dragon fueled by unshakable belief in victory, flying toward the demonic dragon's lair.
"Watch this!"
"No matter the outcome... this battle's victory is mine!"
White Castle.
As Alaric and Artoria arrived above the fortress city, now a demonic dragon's lair, rain poured relentlessly, lashing the creature coiled within.
Compared to days before, the demonic dragon seemed stronger.
Or perhaps, worse.
Previously, its weakened state stemmed from Vortigern's "humanity" clashing with Britain's will. Now, fully assimilated, the dragon no longer appeared on the brink of collapse.
It raised its head, gazing arrogantly at the figure in the sky.
"My kin, child of Uther!" it roared.
"Don't you understand? This island has no future!"
"Even you cannot save it… No, it's because of beings like you and me that this island is doomed."
"The power within us cannot coexist with humanity!"
"As long as you live, Britain has no future. Curse it... the Britain of old is already gone!"
The demonic dragon laughed maniacally, its soul-piercing question aimed at the king.
Artoria remained silent, unable to respond.
But she no longer needed to.
"Have you finished your last words?" The white dragon in the sky bellowed, a roar that shook the heavens.
The sound scattered the clouds, halting the rain.
In the clear blue sky, only the dragon embodying [Certain Victory] shone with dazzling azure light.
"O dragon born of sanctity, plunge into the chaotic mire and unleash the whip of utter defeat upon my foe!"
"Ritual Summon... "
"Descend, Dragon of Victory, Blue-Eyes Chaos MAX Dragon!!!"
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