Several days after the dragon disaster.
"Sigh, just why did it come to this..."
Mélusine, drinking alone in a small tavern to drown her sorrows, downed another cup.
"What's the point of protecting anything!"
"Artoria's got it handled herself!"
For a moment, Mélusine felt that the version of herself who had sworn to protect their love had become a bit of a clown.
And speaking of which...
Mélusine stirred her finger in the drink before her.
Then what did he mean by what he said to me?
So annoying!
So annoying!
So annoying!
"Check!"
Slamming down a gold coin, Mélusine left the tavern with her head down.
But—
The environment outside wasn't much better.
The blood left behind by the dead dragons was a disaster for Camelot.
The sight of blood red was deeply etched everywhere in the royal capital.
The dragon corpses that couldn't be moved were piled up in the open, emitting waves of stench under the scorching sun.
Already in a foul mood, smelling such an odor, Mélusine immediately drew one of her Arondights.
She was going to chop these things, slice them, and mince them!
However, when she arrived huffily before the dragon remains, she saw an unexpected person.
It was Morgan.
She was standing there, watching from a distance as several Camelot soldiers organized some of the skeletons they could barely move.
Mélusine wanted to turn and run.
You have to understand, she had been avoiding Ian these past few days just to not think about that whole mess.
Seeing Morgan now, she naturally couldn't stay for long.
Run!
Run now!
Mélusine turned, and just as she was about to make her getaway, she suddenly heard Morgan's voice.
"Sir Lancelot, do you wish to run the moment you see me?"
"Have you come to dislike me?"
"..."
Damn, I've been caught.
Mélusine turned back and shrugged.
"Not at all."
"I just remembered I had something to do."
"Can you not spare me even a few minutes?" Morgan continued to ask.
"I won't keep you for long."
"..."
She had already put it like that.
Mélusine knew that if she refused again, it would be impolite.
"I understand."
"But please be quick."
"After all, time is of the essence."
"Don't worry, I just have a few questions."
Morgan said this, then walked over.
"Let's go."
And so—
Morgan and Mélusine walked together towards the castle.
But while the former seemed relaxed and at ease, the latter felt a bit constrained.
"You and Ian are good friends, aren't you?"
"We're... alright."
"Just alright?" Morgan smiled faintly. "I remember he said you were the only opponent he acknowledged, right?"
"You don't have to take the words of an idiot like that seriously!"
"Besides..."
Mélusine recalled the time she suffered the ultimate humiliation from Ian.
She couldn't help but shiver.
"His strength is far beyond mine."
"But if you're talking about being friends, you're not wrong."
"Then—"
Morgan stopped.
"Do you know where he has been lately?"
"I haven't seen him for days."
"..."
"No wonder you can't find him," Mélusine couldn't help but mutter.
"What was that?"
"Nothing!"
"He's probably very busy!" Mélusine started making excuses for Ian.
She knew that if Morgan couldn't find Ian, he was most likely with Artoria.
And compared to Morgan, Mélusine felt that she was more willing to stand on Artoria's side.
"Look, just cleaning up those dragons that came from who knows where is already exhausting, right?"
"He... he might still be working, don't you think?"
"..."
Seeing Morgan's silence, Mélusine quickly added another sentence.
"Don't worry!"
"If I see him, I'll tell you right away!"
Since I won't see him anyway—
There's no problem saying that.
"Oh, alright."
Morgan smiled.
"Then, I'll be troubling you, Sir Lancelot."
"Just call me Mélusine! You don't have to be so respectful!"
"No."
Morgan wagged her finger.
"This is a title that belongs to you. I won't overlook it."
"Oh, right, if you see the King later, please give her my regards—"
After saying this, Morgan didn't wait for Mélusine's reply and walked into the royal court.
"Why does it feel like there's a hidden meaning in everything she says..."
The petite swordswoman couldn't help but complain.
However, what she did not know was—
The moment Morgan walked into the royal court, where she was alone, her expression instantly changed.
It was one of anger, yet restrained.
"As I thought."
"This girl... she's lying to me too."
"Heh."
"Artoria, since you're arranging things like this, don't blame me."
A turn to the east.
A turn to the west.
Morgan touched the wall.
A secret passage appeared before her.
Click, clack—
Click, clack—
The sound of the princess's footsteps echoed on the quiet stone steps.
Finally, she arrived before a large door.
She pushed it open.
What appeared before Morgan was a container with something soaking inside.
It flickered with a blue light, dyeing the originally quiet space into a different scene.
Surrounding it were extremely complex and numerous magic formulas.
If one listened closely—
One could hear the sound of a heartbeat.
Looking at it, Morgan smiled.
But in that smile, there was a chilling feeling.
She hadn't been doing nothing.
Nor was she watching the Camelot soldiers clean up the dragon corpses out of boredom.
She wanted to plant her own forces among the Knights of the Round Table, and the best way...
Was naturally to create a knight to match Ian.
"The Saint's Numbers, I bestow upon you."
"The appearance of the fairies of Britain, I grant to you as well."
"And—"
Morgan took out a small vial.
Inside was a mysterious white liquid that shone brightly, looking extremely precious and rare.
As she looked at it, a trickle of moisture actually slid down between her legs.
"The bloodline of a dragon."
"Is my personal gift."
"Treasure it. It's not something so easily obtained."
Plop.
The contents of the vial dripped into the container.
A blood-red light gradually replaced the original blue light.
A crazed look slowly appeared in Morgan's eyes.
"Right, what should I call you—"
"How about Barghest? That form, symbolizing death, must be very similar to him."
"Or, like that liar Mélusine, should you have another nickname, like Gawain?"
"Forget it, either is fine."
"Grow quickly, and then enter the Knights of the Round Table."
"For me..."
"Take back both him and Britain!"