Chapter 205: Beating Merlin, Melusine Strikes with a Heavy Punch!
In the present World, the wind settled. The rain stopped. As the terrifying beam that had erupted from the machina god's body faded into nothing, the dragon in the sky vanished with it, leaving only an unnaturally clear silence.
Everyone stared upward.
The ordinary soldiers of the Roman legions stood frozen, minds blank. They understood only one thing. They had witnessed a battle that belonged to myth, not to men.
The Celts who had once fled Britannia and now returned with Rome had already knelt, foreheads pressed to the earth. Some did it from faith. Others did it from the simple terror of knowing they had seen power that surpassed the calamity that had haunted their homeland.
Martha's grip tightened around her cross shaped spear, eyes bright with certainty.
"Lord, Your glory will surely illuminate the World."
Nero planted her hands on her hips, posture proud enough to scandalize even the gods, her red gown swaying as her breath rose and fell.
"This is the glory of Rome. My glory."
The young Emperor showed no fear toward the extraordinary power Rowe had displayed. If anything, she looked more pleased, as though she had personally wrestled the dragon down.
Boudica did not look at the sky for long.
Her attention was fixed on the island itself.
"The miasma…" She lifted a hand, almost as if she could measure it with her fingers. "It has thinned."
Britannia had once been a haze shrouded prison. Hills and trees had been little more than ink stains behind a curtain of poison. Now the outlines sharpened. The air cleared. The land revealed itself.
Rivers flashed in the light. Animals crept back toward the banks. Tender green shoots swayed in the woods as if the island had decided to breathe again.
Boudica's chest tightened with joy she could not control.
"Britannia's disaster… is gone."
A voice answered from the thinning miasma, as if the island itself had spoken.
"Of course it is."
"I put in a great deal of effort to solve it."
Two figures emerged, one tall and one small.
Rowe walked ahead, brushing at his linen robe as if annoyed by the dust of a continent. Behind him came a petite girl, moving with the cautious precision of something that had only recently learned what gravity felt like.
Rowe glanced back.
"How do you feel?"
The girl paused, meeting his gaze.
"It is… acceptable?" She nodded after a moment, as though confirming her own conclusion.
This was Melusine.
She no longer resembled the immense pale dragon that had blotted out the sky. In human form she was small, silver white hair falling straight, with dark rhomboid crystals set at the sides of her forehead like miniature horns. Her features were delicate, almost elfin, refined enough to be unsettling when remembered alongside the calamity she had been.
Her build was petite, her curves subtle and restrained. Dark blue armor clung to her like a second skin, tracing a flat stomach and a mermaid like line through her frame. Her legs were slender and pale. Her forearms were encased in raised shield like armor that covered her hands.
There was no doubt whose work this was.
After seeing Consort Yu impersonate Xiang Yu, Rowe had simulated and produced subordinate machine armor linked to his own machina structure. It could shift, unfold, and interface with functions akin to a starship grade device.
Like the Greek pantheon's image of an interstellar fleet centered around the king of gods, these suits were not merely protection. They were identifiers. Terminals connected to the main body. Marks of disciples.
Melusine's face remained blank, but her golden eyes carried thought.
"The perspective of a human is… very different from that of a dragon."
Boudica heard that single line and stiffened, her expression sharpening instantly.
"Who is she?"
Melusine turned her head, puzzled by the question.
"Who am I? Do humans who live on this island and destroy my body at will also ask such questions?"
The answer confirmed what Boudica already suspected.
"You. Evil dragon."
"Evil dragon?" Melusine tilted her head, then paused as if searching for the correct shape of words. "I bear no malice toward humans. Hmm. Since I have a human foundation now, I should use 'I'."
Her lips pressed together in a thoughtful line.
"I am the embodiment of Britannia. I protect the environment. That is all."
"And for the environment, humans are the true evil."
"I do not hate you. I simply acted according to a dragon's instinct."
Melusine gestured faintly toward the land behind them.
"Look. Is this place not more lush now than it was when you lived here?"
Boudica's jaw tightened.
She could not refute it.
The scenery clearing before her eyes, the island growing visibly healthier, more vivid than even her childhood memory, made denial difficult.
Yet the bitterness remained. For that reason, her people had suffered. Her family had died. Her homeland had become a cage.
Melusine noticed the fire in her eyes, her head tilting again.
"Are you here for revenge? Against me?"
Boudica drew a slow breath. She forced herself to calm, then looked to Rowe instead.
Rowe shook his head.
"I will not stop you, but I will not help you either. As a Roman adjutant, my duty is complete. What remains is your personal matter."
He did not extinguish her hatred. He did not believe he had the right to demand generosity on behalf of the dead. But his voice remained measured as he offered one warning.
"Melusine is very strong."
"I understand." Boudica's gaze returned to Melusine, serious enough to cut steel. "What you said makes sense. I can understand your position."
"But as Britannia's princess, I cannot forgive you for harming my family, for harming my people."
If she could not forgive, then she could not.
"Therefore, no matter how powerful you are, I will pursue my obsession with revenge."
She bowed to Rowe, precise and solemn.
"Thank you for your help, Sir Rowe."
"Next, I will rebuild my homeland. I will also obey Rome's will. As long as you and Her Majesty keep your promises, Britannia will become a sword in Rome's hand."
A girl like a sword.
Rowe watched her turn and walk away, red hair trailing behind her like a banner, and felt a quiet weight settle in his chest.
The beginning of the Common Era truly was a brilliant age.
He glanced at Melusine.
"Any thoughts?"
Melusine considered, then lifted her face.
"It feels strange. I do not dislike humans, but I have never tried to understand them."
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
"Are human thoughts truly this complex?"
"This is only the beginning," Rowe said, and laughed softly.
The contrast between her current form and her former shape was so absurd it produced an involuntary impulse. He reached out and ruffled her hair.
"Humans are interesting. In the future, you might hate them, or you might admire them."
"Admire…" Melusine repeated, as if tasting an unfamiliar word.
A rustle of fabric announced Nero's arrival.
She had held back during Boudica's declaration, but now she glided over, skirt swaying, eyes gleaming with curiosity.
"Hm? What a cute child. Where did you bring her from, my dear?"
Nero leaned closer, clearly delighted. A delicate girl like this was a rare sight.
Melusine immediately slipped behind Rowe, hiding with startling speed.
"A disgusting smell. I do not like it," she said quietly. "Please stay away from me."
Nero tilted her head, offended on principle.
Rowe, however, understood.
"The Moon Cell Authority on you disgusts her."
Nero took half a step back at once.
"I am the perfect Emperor… Never mind. Do not hit my head yet, my dear."
A girl who learned from impact rather than warning. Rowe exhaled through his nose.
"She is the dragon from earlier. Her name is Melusine. She is my first disciple, Simon."
He did not add the rest aloud.
Archangel Michael.
He continued without mercy.
"You used Moon Cell Authority to almost kill her. Of course she dislikes you."
"I see." Nero nodded with full confidence, entirely missing the point. "So it is because I am too perfect and she feels ashamed."
Rowe tapped Nero's forehead.
The Emperor immediately squatted, clutching her head, letting out a wounded sound.
"Hm."
Martha approached, spear in hand, gaze respectful.
"Your Holiness."
Then she turned to Melusine, voice steady.
"First Apostle."
Martha had heard Rowe's introduction from afar. Melusine peeked out from behind Rowe and gave a small nod, as if acknowledging a title she had not yet decided how to wear.
Nero rose quickly this time, adapting at speed when pride demanded it.
"So it is all over, yes? Then we return in triumph with me."
She planted her hands on her hips again, already composing the melody in her head.
"When we return, I will compose a song to commemorate my achievement, conquering Britannia on my first campaign. The title will be…"
She paused, eyes shining.
"The Roman Emperor and the Empire's First Adjutant's Triumphant Return."
Strictly speaking, only the Emperor's return counted as a triumph. Nero did not care. Details like that were for people who lacked confidence.
To her, Rowe was someone she trusted completely, and someone worthy of sharing Rome's glory. That was enough.
Rowe refused immediately.
"Not yet."
Nero blinked.
"There is still one matter to conclude."
Martha's eyes narrowed slightly.
"What matter, Your Holiness?"
Melusine looked up as well, attentive.
"My Lord, what do you intend to do now?"
Rowe's gaze drifted away from the island and toward an invisible distance.
"Deal with a certain pleasure seeking freak who has been watching in secret."
He turned to Melusine.
"Melusine."
"Present."
"Do you want to beat someone up?"
A pause.
Then Melusine's golden eyes sharpened.
"Yes."
---
A sea of flowers stretched without horizon.
In the middle of it stood a giant spire, narrow at the top and wide at the bottom, like a staff planted into the world itself.
At a window high on that tower, Merlin sat on the sill, swinging her legs wrapped in black stockings, her white robe fluttering. She propped her chin in one palm, expression bright with satisfaction.
The image in her crimson eyes was the present World.
She had watched it all.
The machina body. The gathering of endless magical energy. The cannon that shot the dragon down.
The play had ended.
Merlin felt a faint regret.
"Faster than I expected," she murmured. "A pity."
She traced a finger across her lips, eyes glinting with amusement.
"That foolish dragon. Did she truly not realize she was being guided until the very end? I wanted to see her reaction. What a shame."
She sighed lightly, then smiled again, as if even disappointment was entertainment.
"No matter how long one lives, foolishness remains foolishness. Age is irrelevant. It must be experience."
She glanced down at the small white beast beside her.
"What do you think, Fou?"
"Fou," the beast chirped.
"Hm hm. You agree?" Merlin pressed a finger to the beast's head, stroking its dense fur.
"You have been with me so long and still do not seem to have gained much intelligence, have you?"
Her tone was light, almost affectionate.
"Even though you are a cub of one of Humanity's Evils, condensed from human desire."
"Fou?" The beast sounded confused.
Merlin's smile deepened.
"What if I threw you out of this Avalon?"
"Fou!"
The beast's fur bristled instantly.
"Oh? You are frightened?" Merlin laughed softly. "So you are not entirely dull after all. Do not worry. I am only teasing you."
She did not add that the timing was simply wrong.
For some reason, Fou's cries grew louder, urgent, full of warning.
"Fou, Fou, Fou!"
Merlin's smile faltered.
She froze.
Was it warning her?
Warning her that something had entered Avalon?
A clear voice answered the question for her.
"Damned nightmare. Die."
Merlin did not have time to react.
A fist slammed into her face.
Her peerless features collapsed in an instant, and she was sent flying from the window as if she weighed nothing at all.
The figure that had thrown the punch landed neatly on the sill, shields covering her hands. Silver hair flowed behind her, delicate and lovely, yet carrying a cold violence.
Melusine crossed her arms, eyes flat with righteous irritation.
"I could not deal with you before because I could not find your true body."
"Now, let us see where you run."
Her voice turned sharper, as if the words themselves were a strike.
"Damned nightmare. How dare you deceive me."
Merlin fell into the endless flowers below.
No impact came. No sound of landing.
She simply vanished.
Then she appeared elsewhere among the blossoms, clothing slightly disheveled, face still intact, as composed as ever.
Her crimson eyes widened with confusion.
"A dragon formed from Albion's hand? Should she not be dead? Unless…"
Her gaze snapped sideways.
A voice spoke.
Calm, familiar, and entirely unamused.
"Merlin. Was the show good?"
Merlin's body stiffened.
Because that voice belonged to the one who truly held dominion here.
The pioneer of this Avalon, a higher dimensional world formed by a Holy Spear that pierced the earth and created an interstice between the Sea of Stars and reality.
The King of Fury and Storms.
Merlin's lips curved into a smile by instinct, even as her mind raced.
"Mr. Rowe. I have heard much about you."
.....
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