Melusine swiftly summoned her armor, the clinking sound sharp in the air. At the same time, she drew her sword, pointing it steadily toward the distant sky. Though Aslan's attention was still focused on the swords held by the gathered lords, it didn't mean he was ignoring Melusine.
Her sudden, aggressive stance startled him. Riding high on good spirits, his mind was scattered, more chaotic than usual. The moment Melusine drew her sword, he nearly feared he'd meet the same fate as a certain scumbag on campus.
But as he looked closer, he realized her focus wasn't on him at all. So what had caught his dragon's attention—enough to provoke such a defensive pose?
Aslan lowered the sword in his hand and cast his gaze toward the horizon. There, faint black shapes drifted against the sky.
Birds? No, something else. A vague but growing pressure spread through the air, chilling the atmosphere beyond the gathering.
Some seasoned hunters, known for their keen senses, caught sight of the shapes and their faces paled with fear.
"Dragons! Dragons! So many dragons!"
The frightened exclamations drew attention from others nearby. Slowly, confusion rippled through the crowd.
The once joyous gathering suddenly descended into chaos, resembling a bustling vegetable market in uproar. Even the surrounding soldiers struggled to maintain order.
Though this era marked the twilight of the Age of Gods, creatures like wyverns were not uncommon in the wilds. But this was the first time a large pack of dragons had assembled to assault a human settlement.
Some knights gripped their swords tighter and rushed toward the front lines.
Turning tail now meant certain death—no lone knight could fend off so many dragons. Survival depended on standing with comrades. After all, those invited to this gathering were no bandits or wanderers.
If they were lucky enough to defeat these dragons, the knights at the front might earn favor from their lords and ascend to greater heights.
Morgan, safely ensconced in the hall, ignored the commotion. She could always use magic to redirect whatever happened outside. This was the perfect chance to observe the strength of King Uther's bloodline firsthand.
From what she'd seen so far, the boy—Aslan—was deeply fond of weapons and armor and had an unusual rapport with fairies.
The wyvern attack now gave her an opportunity to gauge his combat potential more clearly.
Yet Morgan was puzzled: the boy didn't wield the golden Sword of Victory. Could this really be the prophesied King Arthur?
"Roar—!!"
Two-legged flying dragons suddenly swooped down, attacking those holding swords first. To these beasts, swords were treasures—and the humans wielding them were just prey.
Weaker knights fell instantly beneath the wyverns' brutal strikes. Their razor-sharp claws snatched the knights' swords, then powerful jaws tore into flesh, spraying blood and turning the fallen into grisly meals.
As the scent of blood thickened, the wyverns lost all restraint. Their hunger overtook any curiosity.
Since they were monsters, why bother with politeness? If they were here, they might as well feast before departing.
"Melusine, it seems your kind isn't too friendly," Aslan remarked, picking up a knight's sword from the ground.
The sword was excellent quality but lacked any special enchantments.
He inhaled deeply, then slammed his forging hammer against the blade. The crisp ring of metal on metal echoed sharply.
With each strike, fairy script appeared, engraved on the blade. One character after another, the sword began to glow dazzlingly—even though the sword's base quality wasn't sufficient to bear so many runes.
But Aslan treated this sword as disposable—as long as it helped him survive this battle.
A wyvern dived toward Aslan, claws extended, but before it could reach him, a slash of blue light descended from above. The wyvern was cleaved in two, and Melusine landed gracefully nearby.
Her speed was breathtaking, her attacks too swift for ordinary eyes to follow.
"I don't think these low-level wyverns compare to me," Melusine said with a smirk. "My dragon body's far more elegant than these brutes!"
She turned her golden eyes toward a wyvern attempting a sneak attack. An overwhelming pressure radiated from her gaze.
The wyvern, frozen mid-air, trembled violently and abruptly halted. Its sudden stop caused a chain reaction—wyverns crashed into one another, bodies twisting into a tangled ball of thrashing limbs.
Melusine spun around and delivered a powerful kick. The tangled beasts flew far, crashing heavily in the distance.
The crunch of broken bones echoed faintly.
"Done! Let's see if my guess holds true!"
Aslan grasped the sword once more. The runes along the blade shimmered brighter and brighter. Slowly, the sword's form shifted—flames and steel merging into a weapon that could fire bursts of the user's magic like bullets.
Though Aslan possessed abundant magic power, he lacked the knowledge to wield it properly. This kind of weapon conserved magic, preventing waste.
If Aslan could master magic and inscribe its principles into swords, he might forge even mightier weapons.
For example, the Magic Annihilation Cannon could replicate legendary spells like Grand Designation or the Human Order Protection Sphere.
But achieving such power required mastering magic at a high level.