As if revisiting his old home awakened something within him, the dragon blood in Aslan's body began to boil, and a hint of gold flickered in his light blue eyes. He took a deep breath, gradually suppressing the excitement in his heart until the golden hue disappeared without a trace.
Calm down, calm down. You have to find out who's behind the disturbance. If you expose your identity now, there'll be no fun later.
Aslan adjusted his mindset, shifted his gaze from the ruins before him, and walked toward the outskirts of the city—where the meeting point had been set. He had taken note of this place before heading to the Inner Sea of the Stars. After all, Vortigern was the White Dragon King of Britain, and the place of his death had naturally been expanded.
Now, the ruins were far larger than they were in the beginning. Some of the sculptures seemed to have been relocated multiple times. Judging the original layout of the city based on the scattered sculpture fragments was impossible.
This was where a dragon had fallen—where dragon blood, dragon bones, and dragon flesh lay scattered. Perhaps not long after the end of the Age of Gods, a sub-dragon had been born here on the island of Britain, but that was absolutely impossible now. The Age of Gods was too far in the past. Still, with time's passage, many unprecedented forms of magic had emerged.
It wasn't impossible for someone to use unknown magic to try and recreate the shadow of a dragon on this land.
Come to think of it, could it be that the people at the Clock Tower never realized this was the site where the White Dragon fell?
That wasn't out of the question. Given the thinking of the Knights of the Round Table—especially Agravain—they likely believed the White Dragon had only died recently. If someone was using the lingering power of the White Dragon to stir up trouble, it would only hinder the Knights. Blocking the information might have been a strategic choice.
This was most likely the so-called Dragon City, a name lost to history and never recorded in official documents.
In doing so, they avoided insulting the White Dragon by giving him a high-level funeral, while also preventing future troublemakers from exploiting his power.
The researchers on-site received Aslan and the others warmly. This was a situation beyond their control—how could they simply warn off a magician capable of dealing with it?
"We've preliminarily determined that the ruins here are over a thousand years old and are related to dragon species. It's even possible this site was built at the end of the Age of Gods. There's little historical documentation from that era. In fact, we've discovered some fairy script among the fragments unearthed so far.
"However, since we suspect the fairy script continued to be used for some time after the end of the Age of Gods, even after the fae returned to the Fairyland, we can't determine the exact age of the ruins. As you know, when it comes to magic, it's impossible to judge the age of a site using common logic."
Modern magi no longer had the ability to manipulate time—and if such talents did exist, they were extremely rare and required immense innate skill. Even then, their time-related magic could hardly compare to the mythical spells of legend.
But when it came to the Age of Gods—or even just after its end—no one could say for sure that there hadn't been powerful magi specializing in temporal sorcery. The workshops of such figures would naturally influence their surroundings, perhaps even affecting an entire city.
Thus, it was impossible to draw conclusions about the age of such ruins without a full investigation.
"Everyone's been traveling for half the day. It's already getting late. Why don't you rest first? There's no rush to explore the ruins until morning. If something happens at night, it'll be much harder to deal with."
No one objected to the suggestion. As the host magician had said, an incident at night would be a loss for everyone. Moreover, the cause of the anomaly hadn't been fully determined yet. If someone was orchestrating things behind the scenes, acting rashly alone would only increase the danger.
Aslan nodded and entered the camp tent prepared for them. He used magic to scan the area. Once he confirmed no one was observing him, he nudged the pouch at his waist. Melusine poked her small black head out and let out a long sigh of relief.
"Chi! Chi-chi! (How long do I have to stay like this? Where can I find enough mana to return to my human form? This body is so inconvenient!)"
Not to mention mating with her beloved Aslan in this state. Even aside from that, she couldn't move freely. She had to remain inside Aslan's bag when he went out. If some mischievous child happened to open it, she'd have to pretend to be a high-tech toy.
She was the Dragon of the Horizon! Companion to the legendary Aslan! Supreme dragon of Great Britain! Even in the Inner Sea of Stars, she was a beauty admired by all!
And now she had been reduced to this...
"Chirp! Chirp! Chirp! (It's not fair! Why can Aslan keep his human form? Is that the benefit of having half-human blood? I don't care! Aslan has to turn into this too! Oooohhh!)"
Faced with Melusine's whining and complaints, Aslan could only smile helplessly, offer sweet reassurances, and pull out some beef jerky from his pocket. Still, it would be a lie to say he wasn't pained. Melusine hadn't suffered like this in years.
Right now, Aslan was considering whether to accompany Kayneth to the Far East to participate in the Holy Grail War. As for purifying the Grail—it was entirely feasible with the right approach. Irisviel likely possessed that ability.
Whether she would have to be sacrificed to purify the Grail, and whether she might survive, were questions that could only be answered after Aslan saw the Grail for himself.
Given the magical power stored within it, even drawing a small portion would be enough to restore Melusine's human form. Whether she became the Grail's final vessel didn't matter in the least.
-End Chapter-
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