Melusine, Become my Noble Phantasm!

For Aslan, the week passed in a tense balance—avoiding Lucius while racing to complete his final masterpiece. Because Lucius constantly harassed him, and Aslan didn't want the Roman emperor to realize he was Estee Lauder's brother, Melusine kept her dragon form the entire time.

The grassland warriors who had retreated spent the week replenishing their forces, preparing for the next invasion and plunder.

Meanwhile, King Arthur's forces had landed and were pushing into the continent's interior. As expected, because the east was a frequent war zone, its armies were stronger than those in the west. With Emperor Lucius personally leading the eastern front, the elite troops had naturally shifted there.

The western armies had gradually grown lax, enjoying peace and prosperity. Those who followed King Arthur on the Eastern Expedition were fiercely loyal to him. Moreover, the stark contrast between the wealthy Roman region and the rest fueled soldiers' motivation. After all, victory promised sweeping changes to their families' fortunes.

Imagine—nobles so extravagant they bathed in fine wine!

When some British knights, overwhelmed by the scent of wine, showed up to celebrate, they found the wine poured into the bath. How would they feel?

Though the wine's cleanliness was doubtful, the fact that nobles had even better wine stirred envy, jealousy, and a touch of hatred. Fueled by this, a blitzkrieg soon toppled the Governor of Gaul's territory.

The knights grimaced at the governor's fat, big-eared appearance—clearly no typical British noble.

Is this a noble? Or a pig?!

The Governor of Gaul never expected that the forsaken island of Great Britain wielded such strength. Ridiculous—he thought himself king of the western island! How could it end like this?

He couldn't understand it. But ignorance wouldn't save his head from the British knights' blades.

Meanwhile, the entire Gaul treasury—including the Clarent sword worn by the governor, symbol of Gaul's royal authority—was transported back to Great Britain.

The Knights of the Round Table did not expect that Mordred would take up the Clarent sword as his own.

At the eastern border, Lucius received a magical communication from the Elders' Council about the disaster. A powerful surge of magic exploded in his tent. Even though Aslan was in a cave far away, the sudden magical burst nearly made him mistake it for a Noble Phantasm strike.

Stopping his work, Aslan ran to the mountaintop and looked toward Lucius. The Roman emperor had stormed out of his camp, drawn his magic sword, and swung it fiercely at empty air. A plain was suddenly cleaved into a small canyon, cliffs lining the new gap, sword marks etched through the center.

Fortunately, the attack wasn't aimed toward Aslan's mountain—otherwise he'd have to drain the magma veins again.

"He's a guy who messes everything up and makes things harder for you—!!"

Aslan muttered through the telescope, witnessing Lucius's rare irritability. Unlike his usual battle excitement, this anger was understandable, given the domino effect threatening the Roman Empire.

Put yourself in his shoes: if your subordinates blundered so badly that your front line collapsed before stabilizing, you'd want to "build them into statues," too.

Whoosh—whoosh—

Realizing this wasn't the moment to vent, Lucius wisely chose to return. Better to retreat a second earlier than lose a second later—he couldn't let British knights overrun his capital.

"All troops, listen up! Half remain to consolidate eastern defenses. The other half follow me west to eliminate invaders!"

Lucius's authority was absolute; despite soldiers' confusion over his anger, they obeyed and split into two groups—one to fortify the east, the other to march west swiftly.

Aslan watched the troops fade into the distance, a tangle of emotions rising. Before witnessing King Arthur's end, he had to see the Roman emperor's downfall.

"Farewell, Sword Emperor Lucius. Though we only met twice, you are truly a hero. May you not regret your heroic end."

His final masterpiece still unfinished, and Artoria's eastern expedition unfolding as history dictated, the story's ending seemed unaltered. Yet, if fate twisted—for instance, if Artoria failed—Aslan's backup plan was grim: kill the Roman Sword Emperor, return to Great Britain disguised as Artoria, capture Xiao Mo, and teach him a lesson.

Once his masterpiece was complete and he piloted it back to Britain, Aslan would witness the final fate of Altria and Lucius.

After Lucius's departure, Aslan returned to the mountaintop and resumed final assembly and testing.

Unnoticed, the space behind him warped subtly, as if an unseen presence watched every move. Only after Aslan disappeared behind the summit did the mysterious watcher fade away.

-End Chapter-

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