Scáthach had just left the room and walked only a few steps down the silent corridor when she seemed to sense an unusual presence. Her gaze slowly lifted toward the distant castle, and her red eyes immediately narrowed.
Under the pale light of the night, a woman dressed in an elegant black gown entered her field of vision.
"You truly had the nerve to show yourself," Scáthach said, her voice cold and sharp.
"What would I have to fear? I am the goddess who gave you and your disciple the chance to meet. Your attitude is truly very rude." Morgan smiled calmly. "Besides, in that child's eyes, I am also a gentle woman."
The next instant, Morgan vanished from where she stood and appeared behind Scáthach, as if the space between them had simply ceased to exist.
Her hair swayed softly in the night breeze. Her slender fingers slid delicately to Scáthach's lower abdomen while she pressed her body against Scáthach's back. Bringing her lips close to her ear, she spoke in a sweet, provocative voice:
"It is because you are always so serious that he is afraid of you."
After speaking, Morgan blew warm air against Scáthach's ear, as if she were merely amusing herself.
"Ah, right... you must know what that mark is, don't you?"
She leaned in further, slowly kissed Scáthach's neck, and then whispered:
"Like this... kiss the same place repeatedly until you leave your own mark on his neck."
"The Mark of the Goddess of Death—"
Whoosh!
The very next second, a red spear tore through the air at terrifying speed and pierced the spot where the woman had been standing.
However, Morgan vanished almost instantly, dissolving into dozens of black crows that scattered in every direction while releasing sinister cries.
"You resort to violence far too easily. That is not the proper way to train a disciple." Morgan reappeared some distance away, lightly brushing at her clothes as if removing nonexistent dust.
"It is still better than coveting another person's disciple." Scáthach smiled coldly. "As a goddess, you must have lived for a very long time, haven't you? In that case, why not seek a lover your own age?"
"Hehehe..."
Morgan let out a low, mocking laugh.
The next instant, her body suddenly changed.
Her hair shortened.
Her silhouette became familiar.
She transformed into Arthur.
Scáthach's smile froze slightly when she saw "Arthur" walking toward her naturally.
Arthur took Scáthach's hand and asked with an innocent expression:
"Master, do you like me?"
Without giving her any chance to answer, he immediately continued:
"To desire your own daughter's fiancé while mocking others... that is not very admirable."
"You have always been thinking about your disciple, haven't you? I was right."
The moment Morgan finished speaking, a freezing aura erupted around Scáthach.
Spikes of ice emerged from every direction and surged toward Morgan like a murderous storm.
Morgan remained completely calm, dodging dozens of ice spears as if strolling leisurely through a garden. She looked at Scáthach, and the smile on her lips diminished considerably.
Then she spoke only one word:
"Die."
The instant the word was spoken, it felt as though the dream itself twisted.
Space trembled.
The air became heavy.
Scáthach's heart quickened for a moment.
Even so, in the very next second, she raised her hand as though nothing had happened.
Violent flames exploded toward Morgan, setting the darkness of the night ablaze and turning the corridor into a temporary hell.
"So that is how it is..." Morgan commented as she vanished within the firelight. "Is it because of the curse that you are immortal? No wonder you are immune even to the power of words."
Before the flames had even died down, she reappeared beside Scáthach.
She had already created another illusion in the middle of the attack.
"Then let us try this."
She raised her hand and began chanting something, a cold gleam appearing in her eyes.
Although it had begun as mere provocation, Scáthach's attacks and words had truly irritated Morgan.
She had promised that child she would do nothing reckless.
But this was not recklessness.
This was a serious battle.
Boom!
A violent explosion echoed through the surroundings.
Arthur, who was still in the room talking with Nessa, widened his eyes at once.
"What happened?" Nessa also looked confused.
This was clearly a dream.
There should not have been any battle here.
And yet, the ground shook, and a terrifying magical pressure filled the entire area.
Arthur immediately sensed that something was wrong and abruptly stood up.
"Let's go outside and take a look!"
As soon as he finished speaking, he ran out of the room.
In the sky above the castle, an intense light shone amid the darkness, while a roar seemed to tear through the heavens themselves.
Morgan was suspended in midair, apparently trapped by some kind of spell from Scáthach.
Scáthach pulled back the red spear and hurled it with absolute ferocity.
The crimson weapon, wrapped in a terrifying aura, pierced Morgan—
But in the very next second, she vanished again.
Another illusion.
That woman seemed to possess an endless supply of them, creating one after another to deceive any opponent.
"Die."
Morgan spoke again.
This time, even the ground trembled.
An aura of death flooded everything around them, and the air became thin, heavy, almost impossible to breathe.
Yet it still had no effect on Scáthach.
She leapt high into the air and reclaimed the red spear with one hand.
An extreme layer of ice covered nearly the entire area, and the surroundings had transformed into a frozen world.
Scáthach raised the weapon for the next strike when, suddenly, she heard voices nearby.
"Mother!"
"Morgan, calm down!" Arthur shouted.
Scáthach hesitated for a moment.
But she did not stop her attack.
Morgan did not stop either.
At her fingertips, a milky-white light was beginning to condense.
However, at that exact moment, a golden sword appeared between the two of them.
Its dazzling radiance illuminated everything around them.
Both of their attacks ceased abruptly.
Then Arthur's voice rang out once more:
"Stop fighting, both of you!"
His voice came out firm, commanding, and surprisingly dominant.
Nessa's eyes immediately lit up.
At the same time, Scáthach and Morgan turned their gazes toward Arthur.
"Although you are my disciple, it is not appropriate to speak to your master in that tone. You should remember that," Scáthach said, staring at Arthur standing before her.
"You truly have grown. You never had the courage to speak to me like that before," Morgan commented with an amused smile.
"Um... Master, Morgan... what I mean is that there is absolutely no need for you two to fight." Arthur coughed dryly. "Why don't you sit down and talk peacefully?"
One second he seemed majestic.
The next, he was back to normal.
"Morgan, we are still busy dealing with the Saxons, so it would be better not to do anything rash, right?" he said, looking at Morgan in a conciliatory tone.
"Mother, let's not cause more trouble for Arthur right now. Let him focus on finishing his own tasks." Although inwardly exasperated by his sudden cowardice, Nessa took Scáthach's hand and tried to persuade her while thinking of the bigger picture.
Scáthach remained silent for several moments.
Then she slowly sheathed her spear.
Morgan, under Arthur's persistent gaze, had no choice but to abandon the idea of continuing the fight as well.
If these two were trying to mediate between them and they still refused to listen, then they themselves would be the irrational ones.
Arthur let out a deep sigh of relief when Scáthach finally walked away, guided by Nessa.
Even if this was only a dream... who knew whether beings of their level might possess some ability to interfere with reality?
If they did, that would be a huge problem.
But above all—
Why had they suddenly started fighting when they had apparently been fine before?
Although he was still confused, Arthur did not dare ask anything further.
Touching that subject now might ignite everything all over again.
The best thing was for each of them to return to their own side... and calm down.
---
(End of Chapter)