That moment—
Morgan finally understood the source of her unease.
There can only be one king, and naturally, only one person should be able to draw the sword.
So when she saw the boy standing beside Artoria, her anxiety made sense.
Because...
He stood with her.
One person alone couldn't break the sword's curse.
But what about two people?
Morgan instantly realized the flaw in her black crystal-based spellwork.
But it was too late.
The girl and the boy's hands were joined.
"Ian, you..."
Seeing him behind her, Artoria's eyes filled with confusion.
"Are you...?"
"You want to draw that sword, right?"
Ian met her gaze.
"Then I want to draw it too."
"Let's do it together."
"Let's draw it together."
Artoria's eyes grew determined.
"Yes. Let's draw it together!"
Their hands held tightly.
The hilt of the Sword, Caliburn, became the symbol of their united will.
The radiant blade had been waiting all along.
It had always responded to Artoria's call.
And the venomous curse—it was now heard by Ian.
Fake—
Artoria is no liar.
Deception—
She's a sincere friend.
Incompetent—
There's no one more fit to embrace Britain's future than her.
"These words are nothing."
Taking on the venom meant for Artoria, Ian's arm tensed.
The power of the dragon surged within the girl at that moment.
Crack—
Crack—
Tiny fractures appeared on the ground.
They quickly spread, forming web-like cracks that covered the entire plaza.
"What is this?"
"What's happening?"
The knights were stunned by the scene unfolding before them.
Only Morgan knew what was truly going on.
The curse, like a shackle, tightly bound the Sword.
Even now, in this moment of dual unity, it retained powerful control.
But that boy—
That boy who drew the sword with Artoria, broke through that restriction in the simplest and most brutal way.
He snapped the shackles with sheer physical strength.
The cracks in the plaza were remnants of the broken curse.
What kind of monster was he?
Morgan's eyes were filled with disbelief.
In all her life, she had never seen such overwhelming power.
Was she not the only one blessed by fate?
As the royal princess of Britain stood dumbfounded, Ian had already cleared all the obstacles for the girl in his arms.
"Artoria."
"I know—"
"Come forth, Holy King Sword—Caliburn!"
Artoria's green eyes were dyed gold by the radiance.
The ground beneath the plaza shattered completely.
Then came a powerful tremor.
When the dust settled, the Sword of Selection pointed skyward.
That was—
Them, united as one.
"..."
"..."
Silence fell over the plaza.
No one had expected the Sword in the Stone—Caliburn—to be drawn in such a way.
But—
The silence didn't last long.
Ian's roar soon echoed across the post-rain Britain.
"Raise your heads!"
"Behold your king!"
It was a voice unmatched by his appearance.
Even Morgan felt a trace of fear.
But it was that silence that made her realize a new problem.
And that was—
Who exactly was the king the knights should acknowledge?
No one had imagined this would be a dual sword draw.
Yet both Artoria and the nameless boy had played irreplaceable roles in pulling the sword.
To only recognize Artoria's courage but ignore Ian's aid would be an insult to support;
But to acknowledge only Ian while ignoring the girl who stepped forward first would be to abandon bravery.
This seemed like an unsolvable dilemma.
No matter what, one side was bound to be denied.
Morgan realized it. The knights realized it too.
They looked at each other, unsure of what to do.
But Ian didn't understand any of that.
He only saw that the knights who had spoken harshly to Artoria earlier had no intention of apologizing now.
Huff— Huff—
Artoria could feel his rising anger.
She quickly grabbed his arm.
"Ian, don't—
They just don't know which of us to acknowledge, that's all."
She looked down at the sword, Caliburn, in her hand.
It still carried both their warmth.
It was proof of the moment they'd drawn the sword together.
"So... don't be mad."
"...Got it."
Her few simple words calmed the boy, who had been on the verge of snapping.
"As long as they know who to recognize, right?"
"Y-yeah..."
"Then give me the sword."
"..."
Without hesitation, Artoria handed Caliburn over completely.
She trusted him — she knew he wouldn't do anything to harm her.
But—
What she saw next still caught her off guard.
Ian took Caliburn, raised it high to draw all the knights' attention,
and then, under all their gazes, he turned toward Artoria.
No grand speech.
No dramatic gestures.
Just a silent, respectful knight's salute.
He knelt on one knee.
Holding Caliburn like a treasured offering, he looked up and said one simple word:
"Your Majesty—"
In that instant, every knight present understood who had won the right to be king.
Silence.
And then, an uproar.
Though some were unwilling, the knights still pledged their loyalty.
"Oh, new King of Britain—
We shall follow your light."
And at that moment, Morgan realized what she had been missing.
Yes—
She lacked a knight like that, someone brave enough to take the lead and swear loyalty on her behalf.
Jealousy.
Twisted emotion.
Madness.
And then—
She heard a distant voice.
"Ian—"
"Where are you—"
"Don't leave Mommy behind—!"
The black crystal...
It spoke?