"Merlin, I will not yield to fate. Britannia will not fall. It will endure forever!"
When Arthur said that, Merlin only smiled lightly—so punchable that anyone would want to sock him.
Afterward, Arthur turned sharply and headed toward the palace.
Her figure faded, and black-and-white images filled the screen.
Young Arthur finished training, ate a late snack, and went to bed.
In her dream she saw her father, King Uther, die.
She also heard his final will to Merlin.
"Merlin, let Arthur inherit the throne. She is the only one who can save Britannia… even if only for a few decades… I still believe in hope. I believe Britannia can live on!"
After saying this, Uther passed on—possibly to heaven… or hell.
The scene jumped again.
Merlin stepped out from the dream, meeting young Arthur's gaze.
Merlin: "Your destiny was decided at birth. You will become a perfect king."
Arthur: "Oh? Then I refuse. If becoming king still leads the kingdom to ruin, why not let it destroy itself?"
Merlin: "I told you—this is fate you cannot change. At sixteen you will draw the holy sword and become Britannia's king."
Arthur: "Heh. Then let's make a bet. If the kingdom is fated to fall, I'll make it endure. Watch it with your own eyes."
Merlin: "Why defy fate…"
Merlin scattered into pink petals. The dream shattered.
Young Arthur woke, propping up her fair body, rubbing her brow.
"A nightmare… no, I can't remember it. Something important…"
Cut.
A splendid palace.
A magnetic narration rang out:
After drawing the holy sword, Artoria was crowned king.
Arthur Pendragon—known as King Arthur.
After that, she led the Round Table across the land, reclaiming lost territory.
Today, the final battle was at hand.
The Tyrant King Vortigern, king of the foreign tribes—the parasite of the Age of Gods.
If he wasn't slain, the Age of Gods would never end, and Britannia would never know peace.
…
On the throne sat Arthur in ornate armor.
Below stood knights and ministers.
"Lords—will you march with me?"
"For the king, I will go through fire and water!"
"Through fire and water!"
Arthur nodded in satisfaction and rose, tossing the quilt behind her.
"Depart! We hunt the demon dragon!"
The army surged toward Vortigern's domain.
Cut to an open plain.
Arthur's army on one side, the foreign tribes on the other.
"Charge! For the king—die without regret!"
"Damn Britannians—die!"
The armies clashed, but the battle was one-sided.
"Thanks to the smelting techniques the king invented, we have such fine gear. Cutting these beasts down is like slicing melons!"
"Kill! For the king, for the people, for Britannia!"
Just as the tribes began to collapse, the earth trembled.
Something was coming up from below.
"Retreat, all units!"
Arthur's face changed as she roared the order.
The ground split violently, cracks spreading fast.
A colossal white dragon erupted from the earth.
White scales. Enormous wings that blotted the sky. A terrifying aura.
…
Comments exploded:
[Oh my god, boss, your wife is right here!]
[Cry out, tremble—descend, Blue-Eyes White Dragon!]
[Wake up, Kisara would never look like that. Blue-Eyes is way prettier!]
[Also, those weapons are too advanced for that era. I'm telling you Arthur was a transmigrator.]
[Yeah, even a normal person could dominate with that gear.]
[Iron-smelting didn't exist then, but somehow it did show up, so authenticity still unclear—treat as entertainment.]
[Wait… Isn't this Arthur a bit taller than the current one…?]
Seeing the comments, Irisviel grew even more convinced.
If this video were real and reached the present Arthur, it would cause a storm.
"Arthur facing Vortigern alone is so cool! And she got way taller—just a bit more and she'd be a mature lady knight… hehehe…"
Illya stared, mesmerized.
"Alright, only a little left. After this, we eat… and I heard a hungry sound."
Illya sat on Beimu's lap. He could feel her belly rumble.
"O-okay…"
Illya blushed, but couldn't look away.
…
"Vortigern! Today is your death!"
Arthur's tone was arrogant.
And she had the power to match.
"We're really not going to help?!"
Gawain shouted, held back by Lancelot.
"The king forbade it. Our duty is to witness the king's legend!"
Lancelot calmed him, but his eyes were full of worry.
"Come, Tyrant King. Let me see your strength!"
The Red Dragon Core surged, violent energy flooding Arthur.
"Ha-ha-ha! My foolish brother… I didn't expect his successor to reach this level. But it won't stop Britannia's fall!"
Vortigern spread his wings into the sky, his body eclipsing the sun.
All of Britannia witnessed it.
A world-devouring white beam shot toward Camelot, striking the palace precisely.
"Ha-ha! Tremble! This is the price of resistance. When you die, Camelot will drown in shadow!"