Artoria's Will

After the initial tremors, panic rippled through the royal capital, but it was quickly suppressed. Once martial law was declared, the people were strictly ordered to remain indoors.

A grand, sprawling mansion sat near the royal palace. High walls were constructed from blocks of pristine white marble; the structure was orderly and complete, though the finer details lacked the polish of intricate carvings.

In the courtyard, a young girl stood before a neatly trimmed garden. Hearing the chaotic commotion outside, the signature ahoge atop her head twitched slightly, betraying her inner unease.

Feeling the air grow thin and the temperature plummet, the girl's formidable constitution remained unaffected, yet she worried about the sudden shift in the situation and the sister who was surely plotting some dark scheme in the shadows.

Sister, what exactly are you trying to do...

The girl was in the prime of her youth, draped in a snow-white gown accented with blue patterns, a deep blue cape tied at her shoulders, and a slender wooden staff held in her hand.

Her flowing golden hair shone as brilliantly as the sun, framing delicate features. Paired with emerald eyes, she exuded a pure, maidenly aura, like a sprite stepped out of a fairy tale.

Yet, at this moment, her brows were furrowed, a trace of worry marring her pure and beautiful expression.

This girl was none other than the Red Dragon of Britain, daughter of the late King Uther, and younger sister to Queen Morgan: Artoria Pendragon.

Ever since the Lion King officially ascended the throne, Artoria had chosen to fade from the public eye. After the capital was relocated, she lived in a large mansion gifted by the Lion King, spending her days practicing swordsmanship, studying magecraft under her teacher, or occasionally visiting the palace to see her sister.

Today, her intuition sensed an unusual atmosphere. She had assumed the King was preparing for an expedition, but she suddenly received word from Agravain that her own sister had launched a rebellion.

She had been deep in thought ever since hearing the news, yet even now, she could not fathom what was going through her sister's mind.

Her sister already possessed happiness—cherished by a loving husband, accompanied by adorable children, and even promised land by the King. Why would she resort to such extreme measures!

Artoria could not understand.

Considering her sensitive status—where appearing in public would only complicate matters—she did not venture out. Instead, she remained in her estate, fulfilling the task entrusted to her by Agravain while secretly observing the unfolding crisis.

"Auntie, what's happening outside? Does it have to do with Mother?"

A small figure stumbled over, walked to Artoria's side, tugged at her skirt, and looked up, staring at her with blue eyes.

Artoria snapped out of her thoughts and looked down at the little girl. The child wore fine robes and possessed the same golden hair, though its texture seemed coarser, retaining a wild, messy look even when groomed.

The delicate little face was ninety percent identical to Artoria's—no, to Morgan's—save for a natural wildness in her brow. The well-developed fangs that peeked out whenever she spoke only added to the girl's fierce demeanor.

Artoria crouched down, placed her hands on the girl's shoulders, and immediately swept the worry from her face, offering a gentle smile. "It's nothing, Mordred. Just play here with your aunt for a while. I'll take little Mordred to see your mother later, alright?"

"Really?"

This little girl was none other than the eldest daughter of Leon and Morgan, the Crown Prince of Britain: Mordred.

Hearing her aunt's reassurance, Mordred's brow furrowed, the wildness on her face suppressed by doubt and skepticism.

She had been precocious since childhood, and now, with her budding intelligence, she could grasp the basics of what was happening around her.

She had been brought here by a black-haired man with a sinister, unfriendly face. Initially, she had feared for her safety, but upon being delivered to her aunt and seeing a familiar face, she had finally relaxed.

She had overheard others mentioning her mother's name; they had spoken freely, assuming a child wouldn't understand, but she had heard every word. Something must have happened on her mother's side.

Though worried, she was powerless; her age and strength were simply too limited to carry any weight.

A heavy, ominous feeling pressed down on her heart, and even in the face of her aunt's soft comfort, she could not find peace.

"It's true, it's true. Why would I lie to Mordred?" Artoria stood up, took her small hand, and walked with short steps toward the house. "Let's go inside. It's suddenly gotten cold out here; it wouldn't do to catch a chill."

The task Agravain had entrusted to her was to protect Mordred and ensure the Crown Prince was not seized by Morgan.

Holding Mordred's cool, small hand, Artoria felt her nerves relax. No matter what, the presence of a pure, innocent child could always soothe the spirit.

What a sensible, good child.

Yet, the more she realized how sensible Mordred was, the less she could comprehend her sister's actions.

Just as she was about to play with Mordred to keep her mind off the worry, and had just pulled out a small wooden practice sword, a familiar voice suddenly echoed in her ear, calling her name.

"Artoria, I hope I'm not disturbing you. I need your power for an urgent matter."

Hearing Merlin's voice, Artoria paused, deliberately lowering her voice so Mordred wouldn't hear.

"Teacher, what is it? Coming to me at a time like this... has my sister done something terrible again?"

Artoria was still unaware of the full situation in Britain, but with Merlin seeking her out now, combined with the anomaly in the royal capital, she was certain Morgan had made a major move—one so difficult that even Merlin and the Lion King found it hard to resolve.

"Artoria, you guessed correctly. It's Morgan. She has orchestrated a world-shaking event..."

Merlin concisely explained the situation across Britain and the continent. Artoria quickly organized the information in her mind, and once the reality set in, she was plunged into deep shock.

"The Great God Zeus reawakened on the continent, the Vile King resurrected here in Britain, and now my sister intends to trigger the return of the Age of Gods? This..."

Hadn't the Age of Gods already passed? Why were there Great Gods and the dead returning to life... and her sister had created a Giant on the soil of Britain that towered over the clouds...

Artoria only wanted to know one thing: was there any hope left for Britain?

"It's fine. Whether the enemy is Zeus or Morgan, Britain will not lose."

Merlin's voice rang out, seemingly seeing through the flicker of hesitation in her heart, his tone filled with absolute confidence.

"The Great God of Rome will be handled by the King; we need not worry about that. What we must deal with right now is Morgan, located deep within the Spirit Tomb!"

Merlin's words made Artoria nod involuntarily. That was right—Britain hadn't lost yet. As long as they kept fighting, there was a chance for victory.

But then she frowned, hesitating as she asked, "But my identity..."

Her status was simply too sensitive to act rashly.

"The situation is critical. The King has entrusted the fate of Britain to me. As long as we can quell this crisis, neither the King nor the nobles and ministers will care about such things." Merlin's tone turned firm. "Artoria, your power is needed now. It is time for you to save Britain."

Hearing Merlin's promise, the worry between Artoria's brows vanished, and her expression brightened.

With the King's sister causing chaos, if she were to be dragged into it, her own life and reputation would be trivial matters; she feared instead that it would implicate her father, her brother, and Merlin, harming them for nothing.

But now that Britain was in crisis and she had her teacher's guarantee, she could set her heart at ease, stop cowering, and strike boldly.

"Teacher, what should I do now?"

"First, settle Mordred, then go to my residence and pick out a sword. Afterward, head to the outer gate of the palace; your helpers are there, and they should arrive just about the same time you do... I will tell you the general plan on the way..."

Artoria decided to entrust Mordred to her foster father, Ector.

The old knight Ector had not returned to his fief during this time, nor was he staying with her brother Kay; instead, he had been living here with her, looking after her.

At this moment, Mordred seemed to understand what was about to happen; he neither cried nor made a fuss, allowing the old knight Ector and his men to surround and protect him.

Watching the earnest old knight, Artoria's expression softened, and she revealed a faint smile: "Father, I leave Mordred to you."

Ector's face was solemn as he nodded heavily: "Rest assured. I swear upon my honor that even if I must stake my life, I will certainly protect the safety of the heir."

Artoria knew her father was the finest of knights and never joked; once he made a promise, he would protect Mordred even if it meant being ground to dust.

Looking at his foster daughter's resolute face, the old knight Ector pursed his lips, finally gritting his teeth as he said: "Artoria, you must take care of yourself, even if... even if it means abandoning Britain—"

"I will be fine, Father."

Artoria interrupted her foster father.

She knew her foster father had always felt guilty toward her, having treated her with extreme strictness since childhood. Before, he could console himself that this was the tempering required before becoming king, but once the Lion King ascended the throne, her father could no longer suppress the remorse and guilt in his heart.

Donning a special blue cap, she let the smile on her face fade, replacing it with pure seriousness.

"Father, I am going to save Britain."

Dropping this plain yet firm statement, Ector watched his daughter's figure leap up, vaulting onto the high wall to run, until she gradually vanished from sight.

Ector could already see the immense resolve with which his daughter was heading into battle.

Perhaps she might even die...

Perhaps her very mission in life was to save Britain.

Merlin's courtyard was on the other side of the palace, but Artoria pushed off with her feet, running steadily across the white high walls and rooftops. Bolstered by her formidable physique, she quickly reached her destination.

Having studied magic under Merlin, she was very familiar with the layout of his house. She navigated the path to her teacher's treasure vault with ease, ignoring the piles of glittering weapons and jewels. Her target was clear: she reached directly for the thick, heavy sword at the very center.

"Clarent!"

The radiant, brilliant king's sword!

This was the most precious weapon in Merlin's collection, bar none; it was said to be a treasure of equal value to the Sword of Promised Victory held by the Lion King.

This sword was a classic greatsword. The crossguard and hilt were almost entirely engraved in crimson, and the blade was broad and heavy, shining with a luster more dazzling than any silverware. Even a layman who knew nothing of swords could see at a glance that this blade was extraordinary.

"Hah! Hup!"

Artoria swung it a few times in her hand, feeling the weight was just right—perfectly balanced and easy to handle.

She had been eyeing this sword for a long time, and now that she held it, she thoroughly satisfied her craving.

With her weapon of choice in hand, Artoria felt fully confident in the coming battle.

When she arrived at the outermost gate of the palace, two figures were already standing on the wall above the gate, breathing heavily with their chests heaving, staring in a slight daze at the scene within the palace.

Artoria leaped up, ignoring the whistling gale, and landed on the wall where the two stood.

This movement caught the attention of the two knights, who immediately turned to look.

"Artoria..."

"The trump card Merlin spoke of... it really is you."

Seeing the two knights—one in purple and one in white—Artoria's features relaxed, her expression easing as her heart settled significantly.

"Brother, Sir Lancelot, so the helpers Merlin mentioned were you two."

These two were none other than Kay and Lancelot, who had rushed over immediately upon receiving Merlin's urgent order.

Lancelot's expression was somewhat reserved as he gave a slight nod.

As for Kay, upon seeing his sister, he sighed as if resigning himself to fate.

When he had received Merlin's order earlier, Merlin had said there was a powerful combatant within the royal city capable of acting as a trump card. Kay had been speculating, and now that he saw the person herself, it was indeed his sister.

Thinking about it, it made sense; in the royal city right now, only Artoria fit the bill, only she possessed such formidable combat ability.

In the current situation, Kay wouldn't speak ill of Merlin, but he secretly made up his mind to protect his sister no matter what.

After seeing her brother and Lancelot, Artoria first scanned her surroundings. When she saw the scene around them, despite having been mentally prepared, a look of irrepressible astonishment still surfaced on her face.

The palace walls were much higher than the city walls. Standing atop them and looking out, the entire royal city—both inside and out—was laid bare before her eyes at a single glance.

The city within remained as it had been, though the streets were empty, save for the occasional patrolling security force.

But outside the city, it was as if they were standing atop the clouds; the entire city sat upon a mountain peak, with thick layers of clouds piled up halfway down the mountainside. The clouds rolled with the wind, a vast, white expanse that stretched on without end.

There was no time to lament, however. Artoria looked at her brother and Lancelot, then nodded lightly.

"Since everyone is here, let's begin the infiltration."

The Chalk Palace before them stood as towering and orderly as ever, yet the trio could see right through it at a glance; a simple magical barrier veiled the exterior, serving as a means of deception and early warning.

Before Artoria could even attempt to dismantle it, the barrier seemed to sense their hostility and shattered instantly, revealing the true state of the palace grounds.

The structures that once filled the palace had vanished entirely, leaving only a vast, unsightly expanse of earthen brown exposed to the three of them.

"My sister sensed our arrival in advance."

"Since it has come to this, a sneak attack is no longer possible. We have no choice but to force our way in."

"Then let us launch a frontal assault."

With that, the three leaped down, landing upon the soil of the palace grounds.

Deep within the Spirit Tomb, Morgan had sensed the three uninvited guests from the very beginning.

Opening her eyes, a trace of mockery flickered in her sky-blue pupils.

"Artoria, Kay, and Lancelot... only three of them? Hmph, it seems Leon and Merlin have run out of trump cards."

"In that case, I shall put you to good use."

She was currently channeling the mana from the Dragon Heart to bore tunnels into the earth while simultaneously reversing the flow of the grand magical circuits, leaving her unable to spare any attention.

However, she did not need to go herself; she only needed to send someone to intercept the trio.

As Artoria and her companions reached the entrance of the Spirit Tomb, a familiar figure stepped out from within.

He had been waiting for a long time.

The figure was clad in pitch-black armor, his waist-length silver-white hair dancing behind him like tentacles, while a greatsword rested at his side, its silver-white blade gleaming with a chilling light.

Seeing the three arrive, he raised an eyebrow, a mocking smile playing on his face.

"Heh, I wondered who it might be. So it is the three of you; you are at least qualified to be my opponents."

Artoria, Kay, and Lancelot halted their advance upon seeing the interceptor, their expressions turning grim and solemn.

"The White Dragon of Britain, the Vile King Vortigern..."