Fate: Typemoon - My Dragon Knight

The journey was silent. After all, a rebellion had broken out in their country, and their soldiers had just endured a long expedition through Rome. How to successfully quell the rebellion was an extremely difficult matter.

During the process of King Arthur rushing back to the country, Gawain, who was recovering in Great Britain, heard the news that Lancelot wanted to help King Arthur put down the rebellion. Stubborn as he was, Gawain, dragging his barely-recovered and still-injured body, went directly to Lancelot's path, preparing to stop the knight who had betrayed the King.

In Gawain's eyes, Lancelot, who had betrayed King Arthur, had no right whatsoever to return to the King's presence! A sinner who had carved an indelible black mark on King Arthur's life should disappear from their sight forever! The King forgiving him once was already an unprecedented event. For him to want to appear before the King again and trouble her heart—how shameless!

Of course, this was all Gawain's own thinking. In fact, if Lancelot had truly met with Artoria again, Artoria probably would have just smiled, nodded at the knight, and said, "You've come, Sir Lancelot. It seems we can fight side-by-side again."

Artoria truly did not take the matter of Lancelot and Guinevere to heart. In fact, wasn't her forgiveness back then partly due to her own identity as a woman, and thus her inability to give Guinevere happiness? The relationship between the two had, over a long period of development, turned into a friendship.

On the way back, Artoria was constantly discussing battle strategies with the others. Although Artoria didn't mind if Aslan stood by while they held their meetings, Agravain still didn't want this somewhat unfamiliar member of the royal family to listen in on their operational intelligence. After all, in the eyes of some knights fiercely loyal to King Arthur, if their King's reputation were to be tarnished in this war to reclaim the throne, then the real beneficiary would be the royal family member standing before them.

Firstly, Aslan was of legitimate royal blood. Secondly, Aslan seemed to possess strength not inferior to the King's. Lastly, Aslan had no scandals to his name. What's more, Aslan was a true man.

Aslan, of course, would not explain anything. His current standing was already on a different level from these knights. Moreover, because of Merlin's contract, no one knew to this day that the one who could pull out the Sword of Selection back then was not only the current King Arthur, but also himself. Besides, could these speculations and words affect him in the slightest?

The closer they got to the coast of Great Britain, the heavier the atmosphere on the ship became. The soldiers' expressions were not good either. They had just been through the great war in Rome, and their condition had not yet recovered. But for the sake of their King, they had to muster all their spirit!

Sir Kay, holding his knightly sword, stood at the forefront of these soldiers. As the court seneschal and the knight who had followed King Arthur from the very beginning, his figure at the front was the greatest encouragement to these soldiers.

The knight in the crow's nest announced to all the soldiers that the coastline was already heavily guarded. To land there would surely be a breakout battle. Kay took a deep breath. Just as they had discussed before, landing would require a breakthrough. This was already expected. In that case, he would lead the charge! Kay was prepared. He would hold all the enemy soldiers gathered here on this coastline! Even if his strength was not among the strongest of the Round Table Knights! Lucan and Bedivere, meanwhile, prepared to rush back to Camelot with their King as quickly as possible. It was just a pity that they would end up clashing with the forces led by Mordred at Camlann.

As they were about to reach the coast, a sky-blotting rain of arrows was launched from the shore. Aslan directly pulled a shield from his Mystic Code and held it in front of him, while Kay, at the very front, raised his own shield. At the same time, he swung his sword forward. "Raise shields! Prepare to break through! Open a path for the King!"

Aslan, with Melusine, followed closely behind the main force. This was war. Blood began to stain the surface of the sea, and even the sandy beach turned crimson.

Aslan averted his gaze and followed Artoria, breaking through the beach directly and galloping towards the interior of the Isle of Britain. While passing through a forest, Aslan's peripheral vision suddenly caught sight of a figure in a black dress. A black veil and long, light-golden hair moved with the wind.

Morgan?

Aslan frowned slightly, then signaled for Melusine to break away from the group and run towards the forest. However, the figure that might have been Morgan turned and vanished into the depths of the forest. At this moment, Aslan hadn't noticed anything amiss. However, when he found that no matter how he used his full speed, he couldn't catch up to this "Morgan," Aslan frowned. The figure in the black dress was still standing ahead, as if he could catch her in just a few more steps.

But this time, Aslan didn't move. He just quietly watched the black figure ahead. Aslan now had a faint premonition. The existence before him was not Morgan!

"Melusine."

As soon as Aslan's voice fell, Melusine burst forth at her top speed. Her speed, which surpassed light, brought her directly to the figure in the black dress. However, the next second, the black figure vanished without a trace. That's right, it was an illusion all along. Who was it? Who could create an illusion that could temporarily prevent his intuition from sensing the slight incongruity? And what was the purpose of doing this? To stop him from interfering with Artoria and Mordred's ending?

[King Arthur will, after experiencing a series of events, choose to let go and find peace. Isn't that better? The one who can allow that King to let go is not you, Aslan Pendragon.]

A figure with black hair that just reached her neck appeared. A pair of red eyes seemed to be filled with complex humanity, yet also held a hint of coldness. A black dress clung to her slender body. She was clearly standing right there, yet seemed to not exist within his perception.

[You have already achieved your goal, haven't you? On this land, the legend of a blacksmith who can forge weapons comparable to the holy swords of the Fae has indeed been spread. Even on the continent, the story of a Holy Knight has appeared. The current development is already the best possible outcome. Even if you send them to Avalon, they, without finding release, will still form a contract with me. Rather than spending decades in Avalon filled with regret until their deaths, it is better to let them follow their original trajectory, become Heroic Spirits, and then let go.]