Though everyone knew that Tristan, like Lot, was lying, their attention was no longer focused on that.
They were all hoping that Lot would emerge safely from Vortigern's assault.
A corrosive aura enveloped the area, weighing heavily on everyone's hearts.
At that moment, a radiant, multicolored light pierced through the miasma of decay.
After the storm of dark clouds, a rainbow appeared in the world.
Gripping Joyeuse, Lot pressed his attack against Vortigern.
A brutal downward strike
The Falling Heaven Blow.
Lot rarely took action.
But when he did, it was always decisive.
Against Vortigern, Lot held nothing back.
Every day it lived was another day of suffering for Britain.
"You go to hell."
Lot's voice rang out.
[To prevent the people of Britain from suffering further…
To stop my wife from scheming for revenge…
And to ensure my daughter never has to risk her life fighting this thing in the future…
You will die today.]
These words echoed in his heart, loud enough for Morgan to hear them clearly.
She clenched her fists.
"Lot… your safety is what matters most."
Morgan silently prayed.
Joyeuse struck Vortigern's skull, driving deep between its eyes.
Vortigern roared in agony, thrashing violently to throw Lot off.
But Lot held fast to the holy sword, refusing to let go.
This was no time to relent.
Artoria and Galahad rushed to assist.
Artoria drew her sword and thrust it into Vortigern's chest
Excalibur pierced through effortlessly.
Galahad, however, faced more difficulty. His weapon skidded off the dragon's scales, their hardness and smoothness deflecting the initial strike.
But as his blade slid down, Galahad spotted Vortigern's now-exposed, softer underbelly
And drove his sword straight through.
Thus, Lot struck the head, Artoria the chest, and Galahad the abdomen each dealing critical blows.
Yet even in this agony, Vortigern showed no signs of weakening.
It fought back with desperate fury.
A tempest of wind and debris erupted, infused with Vortigern's dark energy, forcing Morgan and the others to retreat.
Then
Vortigern spread its wings and launched into the sky.
It sought to shake them off, or even crush them outright in the descent.
But Lot, Artoria, and Galahad clung tightly to their weapons as the dragon ascended.
"Galahad, hold on tight!"
Artoria called out to the youngest below her.
"Understood. You and His Majesty be careful as well."
Little G nodded, returning the warning to the two above him.
Hearing this, Lot laughed.
"You two are hanging on for dear life I've got the best seat in the house! And hey keep glaring, Vortigern! I'm not backing down today!"
As Vortigern climbed higher, Lot found himself standing firmly on the bridge of its nose.
The dragon's eyes burned with hatred, fixed solely on him.
Lot met its gaze without flinching.
A battle of wills ensued.
Then Vortigern turned and flew toward Wales.
On the ground,
Morgan watched in horror as Vortigern took to the skies.
For a moment, she nearly wept but a glance at those around her forced her to swallow her fear.
The only place she would allow herself to cry was in the arms of her husband.
"Damn it after them! They're heading for Wales. Move out! Cut down anyone who stands in our way!"
Her voice was every inch the Queen's.
But in her heart, panic raged.
"Lot… you better come back alive. If you die, I'll carve Vortigern into pieces one cut at a time before joining you."
The thought was deadly serious.
Meanwhile…
"Uncle Kay… can I go help my father and mother now?"
Kay stared at the tall young woman before him, utterly speechless.
This was what she called half a year old?
A quick glance confirmed the painful truth she was already taller than him.
And her figure? Even more so.
This was Gawain the same child who, just days ago, had been the size of a three or four-year-old.
Her rapid growth had been surreal, but over time, he'd grown somewhat accustomed to it.
Then, two days ago, the process accelerated wildly.
On the first day, she went from a toddler's size to that of a ten-year-old already taller than Galatine.
On the second, she became a fifteen-year-old maiden, her height and build matching the era's average.
And now, on the third day
Kay found himself face-to-face with a fully grown, statuesque beauty.
Golden waves of hair, features blending Lot and Morgan's best traits she was stunning.
Good grief, she outgrows clothes daily.
The first two days had been manageable, but now, even Lot's own garments were too small for her.
In the end, they'd hastily tailored undergarments and draped armor over them.
The entire ordeal had sent the palace into an uproar.
Even the Catholic priest had stopped his protests
Too scared of getting punched.
Now, having reached her full growth, Gawain eagerly sought Kay's permission to aid Lot.
Of course, Kay couldn't just agree.
So he set a condition: If she could last ten minutes against him, she could go.
The moment they crossed blades, Kay realized just how formidable she was.
Her swordsmanship was still rough, but her raw strength
Nearly overpowered him.
By the end of the ten minutes, Gawain was still brimming with energy.
Resting Galatine on her shoulder, she looked down at Kay and repeated her question.
She could feel it
The water from her father's barrel had accelerated her growth, pushing her body to its absolute peak.
Now, she was in her prime, capable of unleashing her full potential.
And because she was only months old, this prime would last decades.
More than enough time to help Father.
And Mother too.