Hope and despair always seemed to follow like a shadow.
Morgan felt she understood this sentence more profoundly than anyone else.
Ian had saved her by shattering Tiamat's crystal, an act that was, without a doubt, incredibly moving;
But—
Why, after saving her, would he then say such a thing.
"How can I make Artoria become a king worthy of Britain faster?"
Why...
Just why...
Artoria again!
"Impossible!"
"Absolutely impossible!"
"Artoria will not be the king of Britain!"
"Ian, stop dreaming!"
Morgan roared hysterically, then began to sob uncontrollably.
Nearly broken, she covered her face with her trembling hands.
"Why..."
"When you have me... do you still need Artoria..."
"Why!"
The beautiful future had been shattered by a single sentence, like glass.
Morgan couldn't hold it in any longer.
She cried uncontrollably, just like a little girl.
If this is how it's going to be, then dying in that dream earlier wouldn't have been a mistake, would it?
I... never possessed anything at all!
But it was at this very moment.
Morgan felt a wave of warmth.
She looked up and found that Ian had, at some point, embraced her.
Even though the traces of wine still lingered at the corners of his mouth.
"Don't cry."
"It hurts me right here when I hear you."
Morgan followed his hand and saw that the boy was pointing to his own heart.
A glimmer of light returned to the princess's eyes.
Because it was the exact same spot Ian had pointed to when he confessed to Artoria.
Is he hurting for me?
No.
Morgan turned her face away.
That's not it.
If he truly felt sorry for her, he wouldn't have said those words just now.
"You're lying to me—"
In that brief moment.
Morgan found herself standing in the very same position as Tiamat.
"Don't be like this..."
"But I'm really not lying to you."
"Big Sister Morgan."
"I do want to know how to help Artoria become a better king for Britain, but—"
Ian's gaze fell upon the Morgan before him.
To be precise, it fell upon her exposed provisions.
The fine wine the princess had prepared for herself still remained on them, emitting waves of fragrance.
For a dragon, this was the most delicious food imaginable.
"You are truly good to me."
The boy who had chewed the crystal to pieces said without any concealment.
"So, your crying is unacceptable to me."
"What should I do to make you stop crying?"
"You don't have to say these things—"
Morgan looked at the boy whose hands were braced on either side of her head.
She admitted that her heart had wavered when he first started speaking.
But only for an instant.
"My mother's scent should be gone from me now."
"Flattering me won't give you any chance to reminisce about her."
"I do like my mother's scent."
Ian looked directly into Morgan's eyes.
"But that doesn't mean I only like her scent."
"Big Sister Morgan, Your Highness the Princess," the boy used the titles she had taught him. "Your own scent, I've actually been able to smell it all along."
"You don't smell fragrant at all, and there's even a faint musty scent, like something that hasn't seen the sun in a very, very long time."
"But—"
"Your scent is very sweet."
Ian licked his lips, as if recalling something.
"I don't know why that is."
"But, I like it very much."
The boy gradually transformed into his half-dragon, half-human form.
"So, I think you can definitely help me."
Ian lowered his head and bit Morgan's neck.
"Tell me—"
"..."
Seeing Ian turn the tables on her, Morgan was silent for a moment, then wiped her tears away.
"Ian, do you know what you're saying?"
"Are you trying to tell me that you like me, but that your heart is with Artoria?"
"Is that what I'm expressing?"
Ian asked in return.
"What else could it be—"
Morgan bit Ian's neck in return, sucking on it.
A dragon's skin was very tough, but she had to do it.
"Come out."
"You're already wound up so tight, aren't you?"
"It doesn't matter if it's not inside."
"..."
"Don't think you can get away with silence."
Morgan kissed Ian's cheek and hooked her hands behind his neck.
Her legs also wrapped around his waist, as if climbing a horizontal bar.
"After eating so much... you think you can leave without giving something in return?"
"Impossible, you fool."
The dragon's pupils widened slightly.
Gurgle, gurgle—
Morgan felt the heat.
It came with the dragon's breath.
It seeped through her skirt, all the way to her lower abdomen.
So hot.
It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say it was like a piece of red-hot charcoal.
If something like that were to land elsewhere, it would probably cause a burn immediately.
But this sensation, instead, served as a sobering agent for Morgan at this moment.
"I really don't know how you dared to say such a thing—"
"But..."
"I will win."
"Your body, your soul, your everything, will belong to me."
The princess said this, and then with a slight upward push, her body hovered slightly, supported by Ian.
Clamped.
The dragon's body and the princess's body clamped down on something together.
More heat fell upon Morgan.
A dragon's constitution was truly extraordinary.
"It, too, will willingly enter sooner or later."
"And if you're asking for something that can help Artoria become a king worthy of Britain faster—"
"Then go and obtain a true position of knighthood."
"She will definitely have use for you."
"But Ian, I'm telling you in advance," Morgan's gaze became filled with possessiveness.
Her body clamped down on that something even harder.
"Just because I say this, doesn't mean I'll just stand by and watch you help her."
"I..."
"Will absolutely never yield again."
CRACK—BOOM—
CRACK—BOOM—
Thunder once again echoed across Britain.
At the same time, within the Sea of Life.
Feeling that she had been deceived, Tiamat swept the Sea of Life with flames as if she had gone mad.
"Come out!"
"Come out, I say!"
"Artoria, Morgan, you bad women, you are still deceiving my son!"
"I will kill you!"
However, there was no response—
Only Tiamat, wailing alone.
The Sea of Life was boiling.
And Tiamat's resentment grew deeper and deeper.
Come to think of it—
That place is called the land of Britain, right?
That's it, I'll destroy that place!
Then I can bring Ian back, right!
Tiamat's magical energy began to radiate outwards.
She would, at any cost, rescue her son from the hands of those bad women!
Therefore—
Any humans who can accomplish this, even if you are humble and ugly, you are permitted to borrow this anger!
In a distant camp somewhere.
A man of similar age to King Uther, but looking much more spirited, looked up at the sky.
"Lord Vortigern, what is it?" his guard asked.
"..."
Looking at his own hand, the unresponsive Vortigern picked up a stone.
He clenched his fist.
He opened it.
The stone was already dust.
Vortigern gave a cold sneer.
"Is that so?"
"So that's how it is."
"Then it seems something must be done—"