In her original fantasy, after bursting into the room she should have fought the transmigrator for a hundred rounds, then captured him and brought him back to her "mother."
But now...
Seemingly sensing the noise at the doorway, Artoria glanced lightly in that direction.
BOOM!
In an instant, Mordred's pupils shrank, goosebumps broke out all over her body, her scalp tingled.
'King Arthur?'
———
Mordred, like Gawain, Agravain and the others, was also a member of the Round Table.
The only difference from the Type-Moon history was that Mordred was not an artificial human created by Morgan le Fay using red dragon genes, but a "monster" born from a mixture of red dragon and white dragon blood.
In a sense, although she called Morgan le Fay "mother," Mordred's true parents were Alvin and Artoria.
From the moment of her birth, this so-called "rebel knight" possessed power beyond ordinary people, and with Morgan le Fay's neglectful upbringing, one could say this brat had never respected anyone since childhood.
But, growing up listening to stories of the red dragon and the white dragon, seeing the King shine throughout the Camelot Empire, Mordred held an indescribable admiration for King Arthur and for the "father" who had already died.
To get close to Artoria, Mordred had tried countless methods, even approaching her proactively, only to be rejected. From then on, Mordred's love turned to hate.
Even so, in her heart King Arthur's position remained something ordinary people could not reach.
But now, she was watching this King get intimate with a stranger boy right before her eyes.
"You-you two...", Mordred widened her eyes. Soon, anger filled her gaze toward Alvin.
"Despicable foreigner, what are you doing to the King?"
The feeling was like discovering the goddess one worshipped had been taken by someone else.
Seeing this scene, Mordred felt a surge of shame she could not describe.
"This kid is... Mordred?"
Alvin also looked toward the girl at the door, bundled up tight, and surprise flickered across his face.
Although Mordred was born after his "death," as a former player of the Type-Moon game, Alvin naturally recognized her identity at once.
After all, even without memories of a past life, and even though Mordred was wrapped head to toe, Alvin still felt a sense of familiarity from her.
He had felt that same sensation before on the Camp Plain when confronting the silver knight.
Because Mordred's body carried white dragon blood.
"How are you here?", At that moment, Artoria's calm voice sounded.
Though a faint flush still lingered on her face, those eyes contained undeniable majesty, as if an indescribable pressure arrived the moment she spoke.
Mordred felt a slight tightening in her chest, but she lifted her head to meet Artoria's gaze, her tone suppressing some emotion, "Your Majesty, who is this person at your side?"
Although the white dragon had died since Mordred's birth, she who knew the truth of the "white dragon turmoil" still treated that "father" as an idol.
In Mordred's mind, the only person worthy to sit at the same table as the King was her deceased "father."
Now to see the King with a strange boy, seemingly just an immature lad, this visual shock nearly stunned Mordred.
When she regained herself, her gaze toward Alvin only grew angrier.
'This guy, who seems to have nothing but a face, is secretly courting the King outside the palace?'
Just thinking that made Mordred's blood pressure spike.
Alvin took in Mordred's fury. First puzzled, then when he saw himself holding Artoria's small hand, he suddenly understood.
Sure enough, whether from Morgan le Fay's side or other factions, there were only two kinds of people in the Camelot Empire: diehard fans of King Arthur, and her black fans.
From the look of it, little Mordred belonged to the latter.
But it seemed she had misunderstood something.
Thinking this, Alvin adjusted his posture slightly and lifted his head to show as kind a smile as he could, "Little Mo—"
Whoosh!
Before he could finish, Mordred drew her greatsword.
The sharp blade sliced the air with a sound like wind, slamming down toward Alvin.
Crack!
The wooden floor developed fine cracks under the sword wind.
Yet Alvin did not dodge. He simply reached out a hand toward Mordred.
Just as the blade was about to fall on his head, his hand had already grabbed the sharp edge.
Unlike the past Votigern, the white dragon core Alvin controlled had two powers: one was vast mana comparable to the red dragon, and the other was destructive brute force.
Alvin could reinforce any object and grant it unbreakable hardness.
Even parts of his own body were not excluded.
Mordred instinctively tried to pull her sword free, but the blade did not move an inch.
Surprise finally showed in Mordred's eyes, and then a brazen, amused smile curved her lips, "Though you are a transmigrator, compared to the recent ones, you do have some skill."
"But... you should know who you are facing!"
ROAR!
A faint dragonlike low roar echoed from within Mordred's body.
Mordred exerted force, ripping the greatsword from Alvin's grasp.
She planted her feet, and like a phantom she lunged toward Alvin at tremendous speed.
Clang!
The clash of blades rang through the room. Artoria, at some point, had already drawn the Sword of Promised Victory and stood between them.
"Mordred, stand down."
Though she seemed calm, Artoria did not want to spoil her good mood now that Alvin had returned.
She also did not want to ruin the image she held in Alvin's mind.
Her protective stance, however, only deeply provoked Mordred's nerves.
She slowly raised her head.
"Is that so. Though he is a transmigrator, in less than a few days you have developed an ineffable affection for him, even to the point of drawing swords against me, Your Majesty?"
Mordred relaxed her body little by little as she spoke.
"But there is nothing to be done. You are after all the King of the Camelot Empire, so whatever you say is absolute command. Even a Round Table knight must obey."
Artoria's brow lifted, thinking Mordred might have given up.
Yet the next moment, Mordred suddenly lifted her head, a wildly arrogant smile on her face.
"But have you overlooked one thing? The power I truly command is not only the red dragon blood, but the white dragon blood that is naturally opposed to yours."
"Also, I am indeed a Round Table knight, but... I am the knight who dares to rebel against the King!"
BOOM!
A terrifying eruption of magic rolled like thunder along the street.
The greatsword in Mordred's hand blazed with a shocking crimson light.
At this moment, the composure Artoria had maintained wavered slightly, a coldness entering her eyes.
She narrowed them and said slowly, "It seems that after elder sister took you away back then, she did not give you proper manners."
The golden strands at Artoria's brow moved though no wind blew. As they fluttered, the Sword of Promised Victory she held faintly radiated brilliant gold light.
The once arrogant Mordred suddenly felt an icy sense of danger, her hairs standing on end.
When she instinctively looked up, she met those lionlike, majestic aquamarine eyes.
Danger!
Extreme danger!
For the first time, Mordred felt a strong threat, enough to make her recoil inside.
Yet pride would not let her back down. She stared hard at Artoria as the King raised the holy sword.
Magic condensed crazily in the holy sword.
But at that moment, a tall figure stepped between Artoria and Mordred.
Alvin!
Artoria's pupils shrank. Instinctively she tried to stop, but the sword's magic had already erupted.
Scorching golden light surged toward Alvin like a tide, seeming intent on utterly annihilating him.
"Aaaaa!"
A low roar of the magic dragon echoed through the room.
Mordred watched as the boy within the golden light transformed into a white dragon. It opened its maw and roared, and boundless darkness swallowed the room.
The holy sword's magic, which should have erupted, was quietly devoured by the enveloping darkness, its last glimmer extinguished.
An eerie silence settled over the room.
Mordred looked on, her mind blank.
Even if King Arthur had not used the holy sword to its full extent, just Alvin's body alone had resisted the magic barrage and even devoured it. Was there such a creature in this world?
The answer was yes.
The Camelot Empire's former Watchman, after killing the white dragon Votigern, inherited its power and became a new white dragon.
If it were her deceased "father," he indeed could withstand the holy sword's power.
But both generations of magic dragons had supposedly been killed by King Arthur.
Who, then, was this transmigrator in front of her?
Mordred's expression shifted violently as she examined Alvin with doubt.
When she entered the room she had not noticed: this guy's white dragon blood might be far purer than hers.
Artoria spoke with a hint of anger, "Taking the holy sword with your body, do you want to die again, Alvin?"
Alvin looked somewhat helpless, "Lily, educating children with violence does not work. We can use a gentler approach."
"What approach?"
Seeing the long-lost smile on the boy's face, Artoria inexplicably felt her earlier anger ebb away.
In the whole Camelot Empire, the only person who could persuade this King was Alvin.
Alvin stepped forward to Artoria and murmured in her ear, "We can discuss the details later. For now, take her back with us."
Artoria glanced at the boy, then at his gentle eyes, and could not help but avert her gaze. She softly said, "Hm."
Seeing the majestic, dignified golden-haired beauty display a hint of shyness, Alvin's smile became even gentler.
'Sure enough, though she seems more mature now, Lily is still Lily.'
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