Resurrection

With the army led by Lucius ahead, Leon did not want Neltharion to face such a formidable enemy.

On one hand, it was too dangerous; he did not want his only mount to get hurt. Despite the dragon's massive size, he was still just a child in terms of age. Furthermore, the dragon was not well-adapted to the environment of the current world, so it was better to let him rest and conserve his magical energy.

On the other hand, the spoils of war they had just seized needed guarding. Leon did not trust leaving the warship alone in the wilderness; if it were stolen, he would have nowhere to turn to vent his frustration.

After assigning the dragon the task of guarding the warship, Leon tucked his sword into his belt, gripped his spear, and immediately rushed toward the depths of the continent.

"Merlin, tell me Lucius's position."

Leon waited for a moment before Merlin's voice reached his ears.

"My King, Lucius has learned of your presence at the camp and has personally led his troops out. You should be able to intercept him if you head southeast."

Leon nodded to himself. It must have been the mages in the camp who relayed the news while he was busy slaughtering them.

"Those cannon fodder actually have some competence."

To learn of the front-line situation so quickly and react by leading an army to intercept in the shortest possible time... although it helped that a large force was already assembled, Lucius's response was still decisive and timely.

Yet, Lucius's swift actions made Leon suspicious.

"Why does he still dare to face me?"

Since Lucius knew Leon could wipe out an entire legion single-handedly, he should understand that he could not defeat Leon. Even conscripting a massive army was useless; numerical superiority could not bridge the gap in raw power.

Lucius, having unified Rome in just a few years, was certainly no brute, nor would he do something so mindless.

If so, why did he dare lead his troops to their deaths?

Merlin said with interest, "There must be some secret weapon."

"A secret weapon?"

"My King, have you forgotten what I saw earlier? After the mages of the continent pledged their allegiance to Lucius, they emptied their coffers to cobble together a god for him..."

"He should know that even a god would not be my opponent."

Leon knew what kind of thing the so-called god Merlin saw was; it was likely a mechanical device similar to the Machine God of Greece.

Even if a Machine God with the strength of Zeus were activated, Leon, wielding the Holy Sword of the Stars, would have no fear of such a pile of scrap metal.

"My King, you misunderstand. The secret weapon I refer to is not a god." Merlin's voice paused, then lowered, as if speaking of something taboo. "I saw these mages borrow something from the vault of the Giant."

"The vault of the Giant?"

"Oh, that is the Atlas Academy, a group composed of alchemists. Although they lack the excellent magic circuits of mages, they are far more adept at using their brains than ordinary mages. Their stated goal is to prevent the end of the world."

Upon hearing Atlas Academy, Leon recalled it. Located beneath the Atlas Mountains in Egypt and affiliated with the Mage Association, it was one of the three major departments of the Mage Association.

No, it should be one of the two departments of the Mage Association now.

The foundation of the Clock Tower, the Spirit Tomb, had already been occupied by Leon, and he had wiped out most of the mages in Britain in one fell swoop. Whether the mages on the continent could continue to exist was another matter entirely.

However, the Atlas Academy...

Years ago, when he was still a Master of Chaldea, he had visited the Atlas Academy and even toured it. Its most powerful achievement was the creation of seven powerful weapons capable of destroying the world, intended to prevent the world's destruction.

Thinking of the rules set by these alchemists, Leon suddenly asked, "Isn't it forbidden to borrow items from the Atlas Academy? How could these mages on the continent borrow anything?"

"Haha, since you know of this alchemy academy, I won't go into detail." Merlin speculated, "After all, there are so many mages on the continent; there must be someone holding a contract from the Atlas Academy. Making those alchemists move isn't that difficult."

"These people play those kinds of tricks too."

It was the first time Leon had heard of such contracts, and he felt a sense of familiarity. This situation was like the Black Iron Order of Xie Yanke; regardless of who it was, as long as you provided the confirmed contract, they would help you.

"What did the Atlas Academy lend out? It couldn't be one of the seven weapons, could it?"

Leon said it casually, but to his surprise, it caused Merlin to fall into silence.

"...My King, my Clairvoyance cannot see clearly, but it is hidden so well that even if it isn't one of them, it possesses power of a similar magnitude."

Leon's footsteps faltered, and he immediately increased his speed.

The seven weapons—they were taboos whose very names were intentionally hidden and sealed. Any one of them could cause the destruction of the world; they were the ultimate weapons.

How could they be lent out so easily!

"My King, this is the situation I am most worried about. The Roman Emperor dares to lead his troops here; he must have the means to overturn the battlefield. Please be extremely careful when you encounter the enemy."

"Hmm, I will."

Leon nodded solemnly. Although he was confident he held an absolute advantage, when facing one of the seven weapons, he could not afford to be careless; otherwise, even he could be killed.

Watching others crash and burn was amusing, but he certainly wouldn't be laughing if it happened to him.

However, since he knew now, he would make preparations early and never let his guard down or be easily deceived. That so-called secret weapon would never be of any use.

Leon then asked about the situation in his own territory: "How is Britain doing? What about Morgan?"

"Most of Britain is being suppressed by Sir Lancelot and Duke Luther, so there won't be any problems for the time being. But in the capital, the situation with Morgan is somewhat dire..."

Merlin observed carefully, and seeing the sight of the royal city half-vanished, his expression turned grim.

"Scathach, Gawain, and Agravain went to deal with Morgan, but they were imprisoned by her within the royal palace. Morgan has also banished both them and the palace outside of the world. For now, no one can stop her."

"Scathach fell for a trap." Leon frowned and asked urgently, "What is Morgan trying to do?"

"I saw Morgan pull an artificial lifeform from her workshop. It has no soul yet; it must have just been cultivated."

Merlin felt no great surprise when he first laid eyes on that life form.

But when he saw Morgan's subsequent actions, he could not help but cry out in alarm.

"I see it now, it's Vortigern. Morgan intends to resurrect Vortigern!"

"But wasn't Vortigern's soul sent back to Avalon? His physical body was burned to ash and scattered to the winds. How could Morgan possibly manage this?"

Faced with Leon's question, Merlin recalled how he had sought out Morgan for supervision back then due to Leon's lack of trust. A strange feeling washed over him—a mix of amusement and exasperation.

He relayed the matter to Leon, who, upon hearing it, found himself harboring a shred of admiration for Morgan. Her foresight was so profound that she had begun plotting today's rebellion two years ago.

His heart sank as he thought, They even have children together, yet Morgan still dares to pull a stunt like this. I truly cannot fathom what is going on in her head.

However, Leon found it difficult to voice such thoughts to Merlin; would that not be an admission of his own error?

He could only offer Merlin some reassurance: "Even if she can resurrect the White Dragon, so what? Morgan combined with Vortigern is still no match for me."

Vortigern had been defeated by Leon in a single exchange, only to be backstabbed by his own subordinates and decapitated later. To Leon, he was a truly uninteresting opponent.

Yet, it was impossible for Morgan not to know the disparity in their power. She was a treacherous woman; she must be planning some grand conspiracy.

"Merlin, notify Kay and Lancelot. Leave the suppression work to Luther and Joe. Have those two head to the royal city to stall Morgan and Vortigern for now. If there are any further developments regarding Britain, notify me immediately."

"As you command." Merlin nodded. "Now that Lucius has left his base of operations, I will also find an opportunity to infiltrate it and see what his secret weapon truly is."

"Then be careful..."

Leon's words suddenly cut off, his expression turning sharp and filled with murderous intent.

"Merlin, I think it's not that complicated. Wouldn't it be easier to just slaughter Lucius?"

"My King, you?"

"Hmph, I see his army."

Leon stopped in his tracks, looking at the troops ahead clad in Roman-standard armor, a look of unexpected delight appearing on his face.

Looking at the life form still inside the large culture tank—devoid of facial features, hair, fingers, or toes, merely a crude humanoid shape like a corpse stripped of its excess—Morgan frowned, clearly dissatisfied with her creation.

"The cultivation time was too short; it is not yet perfect. But this level will suffice."

She drew her wand and shattered the culture tank with a single strike. The humanoid life form spilled out along with the culture fluid, landing on the brown earth.

Ignoring any damage to the life form, Morgan immediately cast a series of magical barriers upon it. She swung her wand again, carving a complex circular array into the ground that emitted a faint, mysterious blue light.

"Open, Utopia Not Yet Distant."

Gradually, the light beneath her feet flared brilliantly, enveloping the artificial life form entirely. The glare dazzled Morgan, yet she did not close her eyes, gripping her wand tightly.

Success or failure hinged on this moment.

Morgan increased the magical output beneath her feet, and the light grew even more intense. Within it, she sensed an aura of peace—a sensation that filled the heart with longing and an irresistible temptation, much like a traveler who had been away from home for years catching sight of a familiar scene.

Yet, Morgan remained unmoved, a sharp glint in her eyes.

"Found you!"

The light slowly dimmed. By the time it vanished completely, a silver-white orb of light appeared in Morgan's hand, resembling both flame and vapor, radiating an ethereal aura heavy with the desire for destruction.

"Finally, I have fished him out. The rest will be easy to handle."

What she held in her hand was none other than the soul of Vortigern, summoned from Avalon.

Years ago, to seal Vortigern, Leon had sought her out because he did not trust Merlin. At that time, she had still been harboring thoughts of usurpation, so she had placed a mark on Vortigern's soul and secretly hidden a small amount of his biological tissue.

After all, the White Dragon of Britain was a rare material.

As the time she spent with Leon grew longer, Morgan had gradually abandoned those dangerous thoughts, choosing to live as an ordinary woman and enjoy the happiness and beauty described by others.

She had assumed these things would never be used, but who could have foreseen...

As it stood, the contingency plan she had left behind had not been in vain.

She had used the mark on the soul to summon him successfully, and the biological remains to cultivate a complete physical vessel.

Today was the day to realize the value of these assets.

Morgan tossed the orb of flame into the air. It hovered directly above the head of the artificial life form. She swung her wand repeatedly, engraving magical seals onto the orb that pulsed with blue light.

She cast so many spells that the color of the orb itself was obscured.

Morgan breathed a sigh of relief. She had placed nearly a thousand spells on both Vortigern's soul and body, of every variety, ensuring that even if he woke up, he would never escape her control.

"Awaken, my servant, the White Dragon of Britain."

Under Morgan's manipulation, the soul slowly sank into the life form below.

The life form gradually grew distinct facial features, sprouted long silver-white hair, and its fingers and toes began to take shape. Fingerprints emerged, and a bowl-sized hole opened in its fair, smooth chest.

The eyelids fluttered, and he slowly opened his eyes.

"Urgh-ha..."

Bolting upright from the ground, Vortigern touched his own head, then looked down at the gaping hole in his chest.

"I... am I alive again?"

Vortigern remembered being betrayed by his subordinates and having his head severed; he had no memory of anything that followed.

"In a sense, yes. It was I who brought you back to this world."

A cold voice drifted over. Vortigern turned to look at Morgan, his expression calm, showing no great surprise.

"It is you, daughter of Uther."

"You don't seem surprised."

Morgan watched Vortigern with keen interest.

Vortigern remained expressionless as he spoke: "In Britain, the only ones capable of such a feat are Merlin and yourself... and while Merlin is an Incubus, he possesses enough basic reason not to do something as foolish as endangering Britain."

Morgan's face darkened: "Are you implying that I lack reason, and that resurrecting you is a foolish act?"

"Heh."

Vortigern waved a hand, a mocking smile on his face, his meaning self-evident.

"Are you not the wife of the Lion King? Why would you resurrect an enemy like me? It seems you two are having a marital spat?"

"Loose tongue, die!"

Morgan reached out and clenched her hand in the air toward Vortigern. His chest suddenly collapsed inward, his ribs snapping and piercing through his skin, exposing white bone to the air.

"Kaha... witch, you..."

Vortigern endured the excruciating pain without crying out. Instead, he gritted his teeth and lunged at Morgan with all his might, his hand shaped into a blade, poised to pierce her through.

Morgan did not dodge or evade. A cold sneer curled her lips, and she watched the approaching Vortigern with playful eyes.

"Aaaah!"

A shrill scream echoed across the desolate land. Vortigern collapsed to the ground. As his head lolled to the side, he saw his lower body and arms twisted into a mangled mess of flesh, but the agony that pained him most was the torment of his soul.

His soul felt as if it were submerged in magma, enduring a thousand cuts and the flaying of his skin and tendons. The omnipresent, immense pain was utterly unbearable.

Vortigern's screams continued for quite some time. Morgan listened with an expression of pure enjoyment before finally ceasing the torture, a triumphant look on her face.

"Well? Do you know the power of this witch now?"

"Ha... ha... what have you done to my soul?"

Vortigern could feel that it wasn't just his body; Morgan had cast coercive magic upon his very soul. A rough probe revealed at least a thousand layers, densely packed and dizzying to behold.

He was deathly pale from the agony, his handsome face pressed weakly against the blood-stained brown earth. Gasping for air, his entire body was soaked in blood and sweat, his strength completely drained.

"Nothing much, just a few small tricks."

Morgan looked down at the former Vile King, now reduced to something worse than a stray dog, gasping for breath at her feet. A fierce sense of satisfaction surged within her.

Once she finished reshaping Britain, her husband would meet the same fate.

"Vortigern, you were right about one thing: Leon and I have had a minor disagreement."

Morgan turned and walked toward the wasteland where the palace once stood, where a brand-new entrance leading underground had appeared.

"Follow me. I have a task for you."

Vortigern watched Morgan's retreating figure. His body recovered instantly, moving against his will to follow in her footsteps.

"Damned witch!"

Thinking of the person who had defeated him in an instant, and recalling the scene of his betrayal by his subordinates, Vortigern touched his hollow chest, his resolve hardening.

Very well. I shall reclaim everything lost in that previous defeat today.