"An important person?"
Looking at Ryuya, then at Morgan, and finally settling his gaze on Merlin, Vortigern recalled the battlefields of the past.
Screams, cries, shouts, the mournful voices of the elderly, the pleading voices of women, the weeping voices of children.
These were the hopes, and also the despair, of the common people struggling to survive in this turbulent era.
Frowning, Vortigern withdrew his aura.
"Ambrosius."
Addressing Merlin directly by her surname, Vortigern said, "You helped that fool Uther. Did you see something?"
Everyone had their own unique skills, or characteristics.
Although usually unreliable, Merlin's Clairvoyance was indeed powerful. Vortigern, as the incarnation of Britain's White Dragon, naturally knew this.
Not believing Merlin would openly help his foolish younger brother without reason, he stared at her, wanting an answer.
"Britain. I saw Britain's end."
As a Succubus, Merlin did not desire the wealth or power sought by ordinary people. What she wanted was simple: the dreams of humans.
Beautiful dreams, sorrowful dreams, fearful dreams, happy dreams...
Savoring human emotions as her sustenance, Merlin had long seen the final outcome of Britain. She also knew that compared to the White Dragon, Vortigern, the emergence of the Red Dragon was Britain's hope.
"This nation will eventually perish. As humans, you will completely shed mystery."
"And before that, there is only one who can become the true king: the knight of the Red Dragon."
Sitting upright at the table, the future Merlin described seemed to materialize before everyone present, allowing them to see the figure standing upon the earth.
"The Red Dragon? So that's why you helped Uther, that boy?"
"But as far as I know, Uther has no heir, and this girl Morgan is not of his bloodline."
Letting out a light sigh, Vortigern said helplessly.
"He will have one soon. Combining the last of mystery and everything of Camelot, born under the blessing of the Red Dragon."
As she spoke, she glanced at Ryuya beside her. Merlin suddenly remembered that this guy was the White Dragon's successor.
"But I think... perhaps we can change the future. After all, Is he..."
A rare trace of confusion appeared in her purple eyes, but it was quickly replaced by unwavering resolve.
Faced with the appearance of the man Isbel Pendragon, Merlin was determined, for the first time, to defy fate, or rather, to defy the will of the planet, the Counter Force of humanity.
"Is, what are your thoughts?"
Shifting his gaze to Ryuya, Vortigern paused, then asked with an expression Ryuya had never seen before.
[Facing Vortigern's question, your choices are: A. I will continue the White Dragon's bloodline, uphold the North to the end. B. Father, perhaps we and King Uther are not enemies. The White Dragon and Red Dragon of Britain might not be unable to coexist peacefully.]
Looking at the choices provided by the simulator, Ryuya thought of his previous life where he was targeted by the world's will and tragically lost to King Arthur.
"I choose B. Who says the White Dragon and Red Dragon of Britain must be enemies? What we want is Britain's prosperity, not the victory of a specific royal family."
Taking a deep breath, wanting to try a different approach, Ryuya answered Vortigern's question resolutely.
"Might not be unable to coexist peacefully?"
Tired.
So tired.
Extremely tired.
Having fought battles his entire life, against Uther, against enemies, against feudal lords… at this moment, Vortigern recalled the close camaraderie he and his brother Uther shared in their youth.
Back then, they were both young and reckless, galloping across the land, hunting in forests with other soldiers, drinking and eating meat together under the setting sun. They fought countless wars side by side, singing and sharing their dreams.
But when did they, the brothers, part ways?
Was it mercy towards enemies? Or their respective stubbornness? Or perhaps the work of fate?
Recalling how his old comrades had left one by one, their mortal lives limited, Vortigern, unwilling to simply die like that, wanting to preserve Britain, finally transformed into the existence of the White Dragon, which is both salvation and a curse.
'Only I remained. Should I still persist? Or rather, what was this persistence for?'
Vortigern's thoughts slowed. An image suddenly surfaced in his mind: the day Ryuya was born.
'That's right! I remembered! I remembered!'
'I am Vortigern Pendragon, the White Dragon of Britain, the last king reigning over this era.'
'I never desired any so-called nation, and I disdained those wars, conflicts, and interests.'
'What I wanted was simple: the continuation of Britain, ensuring every child born could grow up healthy and happy, just like Is.'
'If so, did my choice still require hesitation?'
"Is..."
Gently patting Ryuya's shoulder, the hand that was once heavy now felt light as a feather.
"Isbel Pendragon!"
"Here!"
"From this moment on, you are the master of the North. Whether to war or make peace with Camelot is your decision to make. The future of Britain... is entrusted to you."
After saying these words, Vortigern's previously sturdy frame seemed to slump. Though his appearance hadn't changed, having let go of the burden in his heart, he felt unexpectedly... light.
Facing his most excellent, his finest child, Vortigern suddenly felt his life had achieved immense fulfillment at this moment.
The corners of his mouth turned up into a smile… a wanton laugh, a hearty laugh, as if to expel all the hardships accumulated over so many years through laughter.
How strange. Having lived for so long, Vortigern suddenly felt that only now was he truly alive, just like when he and his brother fought on the battlefields in the old days.
"In my life, I have fought countless battles, eaten countless meals of meat, drunk countless cups of wine. But the thing I am most proud of is having a son."
"I... have a good son!"
His eyes burning as he looked at Ryuya, Vortigern's voice echoed throughout the Northern city.
The next day, the Pure White Knight, Isbel Pendragon, formally inherited the title of Lord of the North. His title: the Sun-Crowned King.