Morgan's Methods

"Hurry, there must be survivors inside the warship!"

"Where are the mages and the medics? There are wounded here, come over and save them!"

"There are still people alive under the warship, Giant units, come and lift the wreckage!"

On the coast of France, this place was once a fine harbor, until the King of Britain and the Emperor of Rome went to war. The Roman Emperor Lucius immediately dispatched his army here, intending to launch an assault on Britain.

They had received the latest intelligence that today was the day the British army would assemble, and that the Queen of Britain would also launch her rebellion today.

The army was then ordered not to cross the sea yet, but to use the magical batteries on their flying warships to snipe the Lion King of Britain; even if they could not kill him, they were to destroy the harbor forces along the British coast.

At first, things went smoothly, and Britain was beaten into a sorry state, until the mages at the observation deck could no longer see the Lion King, and a spiral of light suddenly descended from the sky.

Then...

The light pierced through the warship, slamming it into the ground and crushing the mages and soldiers below who were maintaining the flow of magical energy to the batteries.

The army fell into chaos in an instant, the soldiers completely unable to comprehend what had happened.

Fortunately, the Legion Commander inside the warship was unharmed. After the initial confusion, he immediately stood up to organize the soldiers for defense, remaining vigilant of his surroundings while dispatching troops to search for survivors.

At this moment, the mage responsible for keeping watch stared with deep, mysterious eyes toward the sky in the direction of Britain.

"Alert! Alert! A god-class magical energy source has been detected in the sky toward Britain—it is the Great Dragon and the Lion King of Britain!"

The mage's cry reached the ears of the Legion Commander on the scene. The Commander instinctively licked the back of his hand, smoothing the white fur there until it was sleek and glossy.

His long ears pricked up as if listening to the wind blowing from Britain, and a murderous intent erupted in his eyes as he immediately issued an order to the legion.

"All troops, take heed. An enemy is approaching from the direction of Britain."

The one who shot down the warship earlier must have been the Lion King...

The Legion Commander was the first to sense it, his black-rimmed, scarlet eyes tracking the distant sky as his head turned.

A black dot appeared on the horizon, growing larger and larger.

"Fire! Give me fire!"

Seeing the target within measurable range, the Legion Commander gave the order immediately. The batteries on the warship unleashed the magical energy they had stored up in one go, firing three consecutive attacks, only for the increasingly prominent Great Dragon to dodge them with fluid, graceful movements.

Not enough magical energy...

The Legion Commander bared his teeth, his expression instantly turning frantic.

The warship's batteries could fire recklessly because they were connected to the leylines, but now that the mages maintaining the leyline energy transport were dead or wounded, and the pre-stored energy was exhausted, the entire legion had no way to mount an effective attack against the dragon in the sky.

The Legion Commander knew that with his own mystery, he might be able to inflict damage on the Great Dragon, but the distance was far too great—it was already beyond his range.

The Great Dragon suddenly stopped in mid-air, only its wings continuing to beat. Then, the dragon lowered its neck, and its fang-filled maw opened toward the ground.

"Hoo~"

It was not a breath of magical energy, but merely the dragon exhaling a gust of air toward the earth.

In an instant, a gale roared. The defensive fortifications, camps, soldiers, and mages below were all swept into the sky, dancing like fallen leaves caught in an autumn wind.

The Legion Commander braced himself against the fierce wind, his eyes splitting with rage as he watched the scene. With just a single breath, the Great Dragon had wiped out nearly one-fifth of the legion's strength.

When the gust finally dissipated, the land beneath the Great Dragon was left barren and empty, with only the exposed soil and sand remaining, like a circular scar branded upon the earth.

Those scattered to the surroundings were lucky if they died instantly, sparing them further suffering, but those who were maimed and still stubbornly clinging to life were left to struggle in pain and despair.

The wailing, shouting, and weeping mingled together, creating a scene akin to hell.

So this is a Great Dragon...

Before the Legion Commander could react, a figure leaped from the top of the Great Dragon's head, crashing heavily into the center of the circular clearing.

BOOM!

Dust and smoke billowed, but the rising debris could not obscure the entirety of the newcomer's form.

The Legion Commander looked at the figure emerging through the smoke—a stature far too imposing—and felt a jolt of shock in his heart. Recalling the intelligence he had read regarding the Lion King of Britain, he resigned himself to death.

The Grim Reaper had arrived.

Morgan sat with her legs crossed, one hand gripping the staff resting against her throne, the other propping up her cheek, watching the three people in the hall with keen interest.

"Agravain, Gawain, you two followed that old woman in, didn't you?"

Morgan made no effort to hide the personal attack against a certain Queen in her words.

That was right, she was doing it on purpose.

Scathach's brows furrowed at these words, the murderous aura in her eyes intensifying, though she made no move, keeping her gaze fixed firmly on Morgan.

She knew Morgan was a troublesome enemy and dared not let her guard down for a single moment.

"That is correct, Mother."

Agravain nodded in admission. With the level of magecraft he and Gawain possessed, it was impossible for them to break the barrier their mother had set up. They had encountered Scathach before entering the palace and used her Rune to conceal themselves.

They had intended to follow behind Scathach and seize the chance to kill their mother, never expecting to be seen through at a single glance.

Agravain was not surprised; his meager knowledge of magecraft was enough to see that the entire palace had become his mother's domain. Given her capabilities, she had likely known of their intrusion from the very beginning.

Gawain stood to the side, gripping his sword hilt as he stepped forward, his face filled with disbelief. "Mother, why would you betray Father? He loved you so much, he even promised to grant you Britain as your fiefdom. You—"

"Shut up!"

A sharp roar cut off Gawain's questioning. The voice, so high-pitched it cracked, echoed through the grand hall. Morgan rose from her throne, her heavy chest heaving as she gripped her magic staff with white-knuckled intensity.

Her expression was hideous, her gaze brimming with murderous intent. She took a few breaths, forcing herself to calm down.

"I don't want to discuss anything regarding that man, let alone you two unfilial sons. You dare speak to me of betrayal? Leon arrived so quickly that day, following right on your heels... Hmph, it was you two who tipped him off, plotting to betray me and leave me with nowhere to die!"

Morgan had realized it the moment she heard Leon's words; had she not come to her senses in time, given her husband's temperament, he likely would have imprisoned her long ago.

Yet, that timely realization had only brought her even deeper pain at her husband's hands...

Morgan's words left Gawain speechless, while Agravain remained silent.

Regardless of everything, Morgan was their mother. Now that they were crossing blades with her and determined to kill her by any means necessary, they deserved every insult she hurled their way.

Agravain was fine; his face remained calm, his heart as unyielding as steel.

But Gawain's feelings for Morgan ran much deeper. His mindset had not yet broken free from the constraints of human morality. Though he knew loyalty and filial piety could not both be served, he could not withstand his mother's cutting reproaches, closing his eyes and bowing his head.

Morgan sensed Gawain's wavering. She immediately reached out to him, her voice softening into a gentle murmur: "Gawain, my child, Mother knows the pain in your heart. As long as you stand by my side, you remain my beloved son. I will let bygones be bygones."

Gawain's frame swayed at these words, and he nearly took a step forward, but Agravain immediately blocked his path, standing between him and his mother.

"Gawain, do not be deceived by Mother's honeyed words. She has lost her mind; she is only lying to you."

"Agravain, I know you hold a great grudge against me, but you are also my child. What I just said to Gawain applies to you as well."

Seeing Gawain's hesitation grow, Morgan wore a serene and gentle expression, her eyes glowing with maternal affection.

"I know the current situation puts you in a difficult position, torn between loyalty and filial piety... If you do not wish to participate, you need not. After all, this is a matter between Leon and me."

As soon as Morgan said this, the tension on Gawain's face collapsed.

His shoulders slumped. He pushed Agravain aside, ignoring his brother's desperate, hissing warnings, and walked toward his mother step by step.

"My child, Mother knows you are a gentle soul. Being caught in the middle must have been so hard for you. But this matter has nothing to do with you. You are still just a child; it is alright if you wish to escape..."

A lump formed in his throat. Gawain could no longer hold back; the floodgates of his misty eyes burst open, tears spilling from his reddened sockets and streaming down his cheeks until his face was drenched.

"Wuu... Mother..."

"My good child..."

Perfect opportunity!

Morgan's expression shifted instantly. A triumphant, savage look appeared on her face, reflected in the eyes of the three men in the hall as her killing intent erupted.

On the ceiling of the hall, a pre-prepared spell formation ignited with a crystalline blue light, shedding its concealment. Mana surged and flowed, constructing a dense forest of blue-green spears. They were aimed directly at the three figures below, the attack arriving in an instant.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

The long-planned assault struck with brutal force. The roar echoed through the hall, kicking up clouds of gray dust as the blurred figures of her two sons slowly collapsed to the ground.

Seeing this, Morgan could no longer suppress the exhilaration in her heart, and she broke into a triumphant, manic laugh.

"Hmph, hahahaha! My dear sons, do you now experience the taste of being betrayed—Puh-ah!"

Before Morgan could finish her sentence, she felt a sharp, violent pain in her chest. A chill pierced through her body, and she instantly lost all her strength.

Blood flowed from her mouth down her pale neck, staining the black garment on her chest a vivid, brilliant red. As she slumped her head powerlessly, she saw a crimson spear piercing through her body, pinning her to the throne.

"A perfect opportunity."

Scathach's figure emerged bit by bit before the throne, her cold words sounding like the ultimate mockery of Morgan.

Squelch! Squelch!

Two more flashes of cold light followed, accompanied by the sound of blades piercing flesh.

The two swords buried in her abdomen were all too familiar. Morgan struggled to lift her head, looking at the black-clad and blue-clad figures on either side of the spear.

Agravain's expression remained as calm and stern as ever, while Gawain wore a face of profound grief, tears streaming uncontrollably. The sorrow on his face, half-stained with blood, seemed utterly ridiculous to Morgan.

"You too... Gawain..."

Agravain looked vicious, and one could tell at a glance he was no saint, but Morgan had never expected that Gawain, who had always been pure and kind-hearted, would have the heart to kill his own mother.

Gawain looked up at Morgan, his expression so sincere he dared not blink, as if he wanted to etch his mother's face into his memory forever.

"...I am sorry, Mother."

Compared to Gawain's sorrow and tears, Agravain on the other side was far more indifferent. After plunging his sword into Morgan, the expression on his face visibly relaxed.

"Although there were some minor deviations in the plan, fortunately, the final result is much the same."

"The... plan? You..."

Morgan coughed up another mouthful of blood, but she ignored it, staring straight at Agravain as if demanding an answer.

"You... intended to... kill me from the very beginning? Gawain's wavering... was that also a ruse you orchestrated... to kill me?"

"Correct."

Gawain turned his head away, unable to look at his mother.

Morgan's chin trembled slightly, then she gritted her teeth to maintain her final shred of defiance, offering a miserable smile: "I am... your mother!"

"But you just tried to kill us, too."

Agravain recalled the surprise attack from his mother, retorting without a shred of politeness.

That had been a lethal, critical strike from his mother; if he and Gawain hadn't planned their act in advance, keeping their nerves taut and remaining on guard, the two of them would likely have returned to the embrace of Avalon at such a young age.

He had always known of his mother's madness and cruelty, and he had never dared to believe a word that came out of her mouth, yet he had not expected her attack to be so decisive and ruthless, even against her own sons, Gawain and himself.

"It seems I... have brought this upon myself. Come to think of it..." A different expression appeared on Morgan's face, her look gentle yet filled with regret. "Before I knew it... you two have grown so big. I... truly am an unqualified mother."

"..."

When a person is near death, their words are sincere. Scathach turned her head away, refusing to look at Morgan.

Gawain was already streaming with tears, sobbing so hard he could barely catch his breath.

Even the iron-hearted Agravain felt his eyes redden upon hearing his mother's words.

"There are two more things... Gawain, Agravain, I want to ask of you..."

Morgan reached out a blood-stained hand, wanting to stroke her son's face, but she could never quite reach, and eventually, it fell limply to her side.

"The first thing... I couldn't find Mordred... did you hide her away? I am very worried about her."

Gawain opened his mouth, but he was sobbing too convulsively to speak, looking toward Agravain at his side.

Agravain sighed and shook his head at his mother.

"I'm sorry, Mother, I couldn't find her either."

Morgan's expression dimmed, and she muttered to herself, comforting her own heart: "I suppose... Leon must have protected her... beforehand."

At this moment, Agravain hardly dared to look up at his mother.

A sense of guilt surged continuously, self-reproach threatening to drown him; he had never imagined that in his mother's final moments, he would still be deceiving her...

His mother had not asked the wrong person; it was indeed he who had hidden Mordred away.

After returning to the mainland of Britain, Leon had seen that he was capable at handling administrative affairs and ordered him to oversee the transport of grain and fodder for the entire army, which was why he had not been present at the earlier oath-taking ceremony, remaining in the royal city instead.

Before Leon left for the military camp, he had specifically instructed him to watch over his mother, Morgan, and to protect Mordred and Artorius.

When the incident occurred, he immediately separated the prince and princess to protect them, but he hadn't expected his mother to move so quickly; in the blink of an eye, she had discovered Artorius's location, slaughtered the guards, and seized the prince.

Once he received the news, he immediately entrusted Mordred to someone he could trust, while he himself headed to the palace to confront his mother, attempting to take Artorius back.

On the way, he first encountered Gawain, who had rushed back, and then saw Scathach at the palace gates, who was in the middle of breaking a barrier. After the three of them discussed their strategy, they stormed the palace.

Agravain turned his head away, ignoring the strange looks from Scathach and Gawain, guessing in his heart that his mother's next request would surely be related to Artorius.

Sure enough, he heard his mother say, weak and breathless: "The second thing... is about Artorius, he..."

Morgan's voice had completely lost its strength by now.

Agravain hurriedly pressed her: "Where is Artorius, Mother?"

"I wouldn't dream of telling you."

A robust, powerful, and cold voice belonging to Morgan rang out from behind the three of them, echoing through the vast hall.

Scathach and the others immediately turned around to see Morgan's figure appearing at the palace entrance, completely unscathed.

She held a massive black iron staff, shaped like a spear-halberd, and tapped it lightly against the marble floor, producing a crisp sound.

Clang!

"The time needed to set the blockade was sufficient, though it is a pity I couldn't pry the location of Mordred out of you."