When exactly did this possibility arise?
Morgan herself no longer knew.
But—
She was happy.
This feeling of being completely trusted by the dragon beneath her was an experience she had never had before.
"Little sister."
"Lend Ian to me for a moment."
Mounting the colossal black dragon, Morgan spoke with a dark expression.
Of course.
This wasn't meant as a condemnation of her sister Artoria, but rather, her dissatisfaction with the enemy, Vortigern, had reached its limit.
Artoria, naturally, couldn't fail to sense Morgan's rage.
"I understand."
"Sister, when you need me, call my name."
"I will, little sister."
"Oh?"
Watching Morgan and Artoria fully reconciled, Vortigern sneered.
"It seems your feud has been completely resolved."
"That wasn't easy."
"We never had a feud to begin with, Vortigern."
Staff in hand, Morgan stood atop the black dragon's head.
Her beautiful hair whipped in the fierce winds generated by the clash of dragons.
"It was all just a deception laid by my foolish father."
"What I must do now is defeat all enemies of Britain—"
"And you will be no exception!"
Morgan raised her staff high, pointing it towards the sky.
A massive circle of blue light expanded over the black dragon's head, enveloping his gigantic form completely.
In an instant, the markings on the black dragon's body began to shine as if infused with power.
"Dragon, devour my enemies!"
As Morgan spoke, she poured her magical energy entirely into the dragon beneath her.
Destiny...
What kind of existence is it, really?
The moment she "reconnected" with the ley lines, Morgan had her answer.
It is to accept everything one has received, and to acknowledge the results that come with it.
Only then does the mockery of fate become meaningless.
That's right.
By blood, she was indeed the master of the entire isle of Britain.
But this did not mean that the King of Britain had to be her.
And—
It wasn't only a King who could act for Britain.
Really...
Why did the me of the past never think of this?
What was it that blinded me to all of this?
Morgan couldn't find the answer.
But she knew one thing—
Britain could absolutely not be allowed to be destroyed by Vortigern before her eyes!
Morgan's body gradually became lighter.
What she didn't know was that in Artoria's eyes, she had taken on a different form.
"The fairy of that time..."
Artoria's eyes reflected Morgan's figure until she and he were completely "united."
"Kill them, my knight."
Deep within the soul.
Morgan caressed Ian, who was still in his human form, and left a kiss on his forehead.
"Britain is your home, too."
"ROAR—"
The black dragon raised his head and roared to the heavens.
The magical energy released by the roar caused even the sky to tremble.
"..."
Vortigern, who had just been confident of victory, now furrowed his brows tightly.
"A dragon possessing the power of the British Isles?"
"Truly an unexpected existence."
"ROAR—!"
Another furious roar.
Only this time, the black dragon, bolstered by the power of Britain, had no opponents capable of stopping him.
The three-headed white dragons, twisted from the souls of three Saxons, became utterly vulnerable.
Zzzzt—
Zzzzt—
Streaks of blue light flashed across the giant dragon's arms, as if aided by a comet.
Hiss.
Hiss.
Steam rose from the dragon's sharp fangs, and the space around him seemed to melt.
"Twisted souls should be dissipated."
"Britain, my other homeland, has no need for such existences."
The dragon spoke in a voice that sounded like an ancient tongue.
Then came an act akin to vengeance.
The three-headed white dragon, formed from the gathering of Saxon souls, emitted the sounds of snapping bones and tearing muscle.
Crack.
Snap.
In an asymmetrical fashion, countless fissures appeared on the white dragon's equally massive body.
Blood splattered.
But this did not stop the black dragon; instead, it made him even more savage.
"Kill them."
"These are our enemies."
Morgan's whispers echoed.
Finally.
As the white dragon's body broke into three pieces, the black dragon roared to the sky once more.
BOOM!
Another burst of flame.
Supported by magical energy, the black dragon began to incinerate everything around him.
"..."
It all happened so fast that Mélusine and Barghest were only just reacting.
"Big fella, let's go!"
"Got it!"
Reorganizing the few knights remaining, the two began to lead the charge to exterminate the white dragons that Ian had already suppressed.
But—
Standing atop the black dragon that had now completely merged with her sister Morgan, Artoria felt a trace of unease.
Because facing his own defeat, Vortigern showed no signs of anxiety.
On the contrary, he seemed very calm, as if he had anticipated all of this long ago.
"Vortigern."
"You should know you've lost, right?"
"I've lost?"
Vortigern burst into laughter.
"Artoria, what are you saying?"
"How could I possibly lose?"
"But these white dragons of yours are no match for him. Their defeat is only a matter of time."
"Heh."
Vortigern sneered.
"So you also knew that those weren't me, but Saxons."
"They lost, but have I lost?"
"..."
Artoria did not respond to Vortigern's words.
Her intuition told her that the Usurper King before her was definitely planning something else.
And that was indeed the fact.
Vortigern unclenched his fist.
In an instant, the restraints binding the white dragons formed from the Saxons were released.
And in the next moment, on this burning battlefield, Vortigern walked towards the "tree" behind him, which had long since freed itself from the abyss and was growing limitlessly towards the sky.
"If—"
"The covenant made back then truly exists."
"Then now, prove it to me."
Saying this, Vortigern reached out and touched the "tree" behind him, as if making contact with some mysterious existence.
The next moment.
A colossal figure appeared atop the "tree."
It was...
...an existence that bore a resemblance to Ian?!