From the northern reaches of England near the Scottish border all the way to the southern seas, the land had been gripped by the terror of Vortigern.
The shadow of the demonic dragon soared across the skies, raining down its fiery breath upon cities, leaving devastation in its wake.
And it wasn't just England.
Wales and Ireland, too, suffered under Vortigern's rampage.
It had even attempted to fly into Scotland to unleash its wrath.
But just as it crossed into those lands, a crimson spear came flying toward it.
Of course, no one witnessed the specifics of that battle.
All that was known was that, from that moment onward, Vortigern never set foot in Scotland again.
Naturally, it remained entirely unharmed.
And so, it continued its assault across England and beyond.
...
"Either Vortigern lost to Scáthach in their battle but still managed to retreat unscathed, or "
Lot, reviewing the intelligence, paused in thought before answering Morgan.
"Or what?"
Morgan pressed him further.
"Or Vortigern is barely holding itself together."
Lot replied.
"Oh? So you're certain my sworn sister was the victor?"
Morgan couldn't help but tease him.
"Aren't you thinking the same?"
Lot shot back.
[On this island, only you as its ruler or Artoria, who has been eroded by the divine construct Rhongomyniad, could stand against Scáthach in battle. Of course, I'm the exception. Who knows what I might reel in with my fishing?]
Morgan blinked in surprise.
Damn him!
It wasn't her own future power that shocked her Lot had already hinted at that in his inner thoughts. No, what truly stunned her was her sister's strength.
Since when did she wield Rhongomyniad?
She remembered he once mentioning that, in another timeline, her sister had been betrayed and killed by her.
But in that version of events, she had never become the island's ruler.
So what did it mean for Artoria to be wielding the Holy Lance?
Morgan couldn't make sense of it, and a flicker of wariness stirred within her.
And then there was the other thing what had that husband of hers muttered in his thoughts?
"Who knows what I might reel in?"
Did that mean he could summon something even stronger than her as the island's ruler, Artoria with Rhongomyniad, or even Scáthach, the Queen of the Land of Shadows?
What in the world could he possibly summon?
If Morgan had asked, Lot would've nodded emphatically.
Absolutely.
If he somehow hooked a black hole, forget Rhongomyniad even Gaia and Alaya wouldn't stand a chance.
Morgan didn't ask, but her expectations of Lot grew even higher.
I'll just have to squeeze him dry.
She mused to herself.
As she lost herself in thought, Lot clapped his hands together.
"Alright, Scotland's situation isn't our concern right now. We have our own problems to deal with. Vortigern's rampage is terrorizing the people we need to put it down as soon as possible. As for conquering Scotland, that can wait until after this mess is settled."
"Mm. You're right."
At the mention of Vortigern, now transformed into a demonic dragon, Morgan gritted her teeth.
That bastard… He's ruining my Britain, mine and his.
She had long since claimed the entirety of Britain as her personal property. Vortigern's actions were nothing less than vandalism of her domain.
If someone were smashing up your own home, what would you do?
Run them through with a sword, of course!
Morgan didn't hesitate for even a second.
Dealing with Vortigern wasn't the issue.
The real question was how.
She turned to Lot.
"Give me an assessment of our current forces against Vortigern."
To defeat the White Dragon Vortigern, high-tier combatants were essential.
Ordinary soldiers wouldn't make much of a difference.
Lot had no intention of sending common troops onto that battlefield.
A tyrant wouldn't hesitate to throw lives away to wear Vortigern down.
But Lot was no tyrant.
He refused to waste his men just to chip away at the dragon's strength.
So they had to rely on their champions.
Lot quickly tallied their available forces and began explaining to Morgan.
First himself.
The most dashing man in all of Britain.
The wisest of kings.
The dream lover of countless maidens.
At that last line, Morgan shot him a threatening glare, as if to say, If you dare seduce any of them, I'll cut you down where you stand.
But as for his combat ability?
Modest, at best roughly on par with Artoria when she first pulled Caliburn from the stone.
However, he did possess a holy sword, which would deal catastrophic damage to Vortigern.
A single strike would cripple the White Dragon.
The problem was landing that strike.
Second his wife, Morgan.
A masterful mage, her power had grown immensely now that she controlled most of England.
But she lacked battle experience, and Lot would never allow her to be placed in danger.
So her role was limited to providing support from the rear.
Morgan pouted in dissatisfaction.
But seeing Lot's unyielding expression, she knew arguing was pointless.
With a sultry roll of her eyes, she reluctantly accepted it.
Guess I'll have to focus on buffing spells.
She thought to herself.
Lot continued listing their assets.
Third his sister-in-law, Morgan's younger sister, Artoria.
Her skills were already formidable.
Blessed with prodigious talent and tempered under Scáthach's brutal training, she had honed herself into something far greater than her original timeline's counterpart.
Lot was certain she had surpassed that Artoria in strength.
And now, armed with both Caliburn and Excalibur, she would be a key player against Vortigern.
Her only disadvantage in battle was her height taller opponents could easily leverage their reach against her.
But against Vortigern?
Irrelevant.
The despicable king stood over ten meters tall.
Whether Artoria was 150 cm or 180 cm made no difference.
This would be the one fight where her stature didn't matter.
Fourth Galahad.
His prowess was undeniable.
In pure swordsmanship and martial skill, he was already the strongest among the Round Table.
The only issue was his weapon it wasn't ideal against Vortigern.
His destructive output fell slightly short compared to Lot and Artoria.
Fifth Tristan.
His abilities were nothing to scoff at.
Most crucially, he was a master archer.
While others had to close the distance to engage Vortigern, Tristan could strike from afar.
A well-placed arrow to a weak point could deal devastating damage.
He would be invaluable in this fight.
Sixth Bedivere.
A superb adjutant, but against Vortigern?
Not particularly useful.
Seventh Kay.
Artoria's foster brother.
A skilled swordsman, but his weapon was lackluster.
Hard to say how much he could contribute.
Eighth Guinevere, the straight girl hopelessly in love with Artoria…
"Wait, hold on. What does Guinevere have to do with this? How could she possibly help against Vortigern?"
Morgan scowled at the mention of her.
"I was just rounding out the 'Seven Samurai' theme. If not Guinevere, should I have included our dear daughter with her 'Excalibur Galatine' instead? Sure, Galatine would be effective against Vortigern, but she's still just a child."
Lot said offhandedly.
Just then, the crisp sound of small boots tapping against the floor reached their ears.
They turned to see little Gawain standing there.
"Why can't I go?"
She had overheard everything.
Hearing Lot mention Guinevere but not her, she had stormed in, indignation written all over her face.
"You'll have your chance in a few years. For now, your father and mother will handle things."
Lot reached out and gently pinched her cheek.
"Father, I'm not a child anymore!"
Gawain huffed, hands on her hips.
"I will find a way to help you!"
"Alright, alright. Do your best, little Gawain."
He pinched her cheek again.
[I'll just humor her for now. Once the battle starts, I'll make sure she's locked down. I've already ordered the palace walls sealed let's see her try to sneak out this time.]
Morgan stifled a laugh at his thoughts.
This perv… Truly a dog through and through.
Deceiving children was his specialty.
Unaware, Lot had just earned himself the title of Master of Child Deception.
"Mm."
Though she sensed her father's patronizing tone, Gawain could only nod in resignation.
But in her heart, she was already scheming.
I will find a way to help Father!
Once Gawain was gone, Lot and Morgan exchanged glances.
"Let's get back to strategizing."
Morgan said.
"Right."
"And no more talk about Guinevere."
"Fine. For the seventh spot, how about we throw in that old swindler Merlin instead?"
"You think he'd actually help?"
"If he won't contribute, at least we can use his body."
"Hm? What do you mean?"
"His body's sturdy enough. We could just swing him around as a weapon. Plus, he comes with built-in magic projectiles."
"Now that's a solid plan."
After a few more jokes, they returned to planning their assault.
...
A few days later, reports came in Vortigern, in its draconic form, had attacked another town near the Welsh border.
The news instantly sharpened Lot and Morgan's focus.
Over the past days, they had mapped Vortigern's attack patterns.
Now that they knew its location, they could intercept it.
Lot swiftly gathered his commanders and issued orders.
"Artoria, Galahad, Tristan take five hundred of the Round Table's finest and follow me. Morgan will join us as well. We're heading into the toughest fight of our lives. Be ready."
"Understood!"
Artoria responded firmly.
Kay, however, frowned.
"What about us? No orders for me or Bedivere do you doubt our strength?"
"No. I trust you both too much to waste you here. Remember, Vortigern isn't our only enemy."
Kay's mind flashed to the reports of slaughtered fairies.
He understood.
"I'll keep Camelot secure."
He vowed.
"Good. Now, Vortigern's just appeared we need to move fast."
"Right."
Kay nodded firmly.
"Gear up. We leave immediately."
Speed was crucial.
They packed four days' worth of provisions and prepared to depart.
The pursuit and ambush would take three days.
The extra rations?
Those were for Artoria.
With that, the strike force set off.
Only Kay and Bedivere remained behind.
Well…
Not just them.
Little Gawain watched from the shadows.