Hope and despair always seemed to come hand in hand.
No one understood that more deeply than Morgan did.
Ian crushing Tiamat's crystal to save her—of course that was deeply moving.
But—
Why, after pulling her out of that nightmare, did he have to say something like that?
"What can I do to help Artoria become a king worthy of Britain faster?"
Why…
Why is it always Artoria?!
"Impossible!"
"Absolutely impossible!"
"Artoria will never be Britain's king!"
"Ian, stop dreaming!"
Morgan screamed hysterically, then began sobbing uncontrollably.
She clutched her face, her hands trembling.
"Why…"
"Why, when you have me… does it still have to be Artoria…"
"Why?!"
A beautiful future shattered like glass in an instant.
Morgan could no longer hold it in.
She cried like a little girl.
If this is how it is, maybe dying back in that dream wouldn't have been so bad.
She… never had anything to begin with!
But just then—
Morgan felt a warmth.
She looked up and saw Ian had hugged her at some point.
Even though the scent of wine still lingered at the corner of his lips.
"Don't cry anymore."
"It hurts me to hear it."
Morgan followed his hand and saw the boy's fingers were pointed at her heart.
Her eyes sparkled slightly.
Because it was the exact same spot where Ian had confessed to Artoria.
Was he feeling sad for her?
No.
Morgan turned her face away.
That wasn't it.
If he truly felt sad for her, he wouldn't have said those things earlier.
"You're lying to me—"
And in that moment, Morgan realized she was now in the same position as Tiamat.
"Don't do this…"
"But I'm not lying to you."
"Morgan-neesan."
"I really do want to know how to help Artoria become a better king for Britain, but—"
Ian's gaze fell on Morgan in front of him.
More precisely, on her breast.
The fine wine she'd prepared for herself still lingered there, releasing a tempting aroma.
For a dragon, that was an irresistible delicacy.
"You've been really good to me."
The boy who had just crushed the crystal spoke without any hesitation.
"So your crying is unacceptable to me."
"What should I do to make you stop crying?"
"You don't have to say things like that—"
Morgan looked at the boy bracing himself above her.
She admitted her heart wavered the moment he spoke.
But only for a moment.
"I shouldn't still smell like your mother."
"Trying to please me won't give you a chance to remember her."
"I do like Mother's scent."
Ian stared straight into Morgan's eyes.
"But that doesn't mean I only like her scent."
"Morgan-neesan, Princess," he added the titles she'd taught him, "I've always been able to smell your scent."
"You don't smell good at all, and there's even a faint moldy smell, like you haven't seen the sun in ages."
"But—"
"Your scent is sweet."
Ian licked his lips, as if savoring the memory.
"I don't know why."
"But I really like it."
The boy began to shift into his half-dragon form.
"So I think you can help me."
Ian lowered his head and bit Morgan's neck.
"Tell me—"
"..."
Staring at Ian, who had suddenly taken the lead, Morgan was silent for a moment before wiping away her tears.
"Ian, do you know what you're saying?"
"You say you like me, and at the same time, you tell me your heart's with Artoria?"
"Is that really what I said?"
Ian countered.
"Then what?"
Morgan bit Ian's neck in return, taking a small sip.
A dragon's skin is tough, but that didn't stop her.
"Come here already."
"You've clearly been holding back, haven't you?"
"It's doesn't matter if it's not in."
"…"
"Don't think silence will get you out of this."
Morgan kissed Ian's cheek and hooked her arms around his neck.
Her legs, too, wrapped tightly around his waist like she was clinging to a bar.
"You've eaten so much already… and you still think you don't have to give something back?"
"No way, you idiot."
The dragon's pupils widened.
Gurgle—
Morgan felt the heat.
It came with the dragon's breath, seeping through her skirt all the way to her lower abdomen.
It was hot.
Like a red-hot coal pressed to her skin.
If it had touched her anywhere else, it probably would've burned.
But that heat, oddly enough, sharpened her focus.
"I really don't know how you have the nerve to say those things—"
"But still…"
"I'll win."
"Your body, your mind, your everything—it'll all be mine."
So said the princess. Then, using a little strength, she pulled herself up slightly, suspended by Ian's body.
She clamped down.
The dragon's body and hers locked around together.
Even more heat flowed into Morgan's side.
A dragon's body was truly something else.
"It'll come in willingly eventually."
"And if you really want to know how to help Artoria become a king worthy of Britain—"
"Then go earn the title of a true knight."
"She'll definitely need you."
"But Ian, let me make one thing clear," Morgan's gaze turned possessive.
She tightened her grip even more.
"Just because I said that doesn't mean I'll stand by and watch you help her."
"I…"
"I won't yield again."
Boom—
Boom—
Thunder rumbled again across Britain.
---
At the same time, in the Sea of Life.
Feeling betrayed, Tiamat raged like a madwoman, sweeping flames through the sea.
"Come out!"
"Come out here right now!"
"Artoria, Morgan, you wicked women—you're still deceiving my son!"
"I'll kill you all!"
But there was no response—
Only Tiamat's lonely howls echoed.
The Sea of Life boiled.
Her grudge grew deeper.
That place… it's called the land of Britain, isn't it?
Yes, if I destroy it—
Then I can take Ian back!
Tiamat's magical energy erupted outward.
She would stop at nothing to rescue her son from those evil women.
So—
If any human is capable of this, no matter how low or ugly, you are permitted to borrow this wrath!
---
In a distant military camp—
A man around the same age as King Uther but far more spirited looked up at the sky.
"Lord Vortigern, is something wrong?" asked the guard beside him.
"…"
Vortigern stared at his hand without replying, then grabbed a rock.
He clenched his fist.
And opened it.
The stone had turned to powder.
Vortigern sneered coldly.
"So that's how it is?"
"Then I suppose it's time to act—"