Vortigern's Strength

"I knew that witch wouldn't let me off so easily."

Watching the three figures already rushing toward him, Vortigern sighed softly. His expression grew serious as he tightened his grip on his sword.

Morgan had sacrificed him to activate the Dragon Furnace Core. His body had been ground to pulp, while his soul and will were still at Morgan's mercy, guiding the mana to manipulate the Greater Daemon's magic circuits and stir the ley lines.

His soul had been resting quite comfortably in the Dragon Heart, warm and cozy. To him, it was like becoming an infant and returning to his mother's womb—so pleasant that he could lose himself in it.

Vortigern hadn't even figured out how to escape Morgan's control when, with a mere thought, she pulled his soul out and fashioned him a new body. Then she tossed him like a puppet at the entrance to the Spirit Tomb to stop the invaders.

Morgan's actions had been a perfect example of making full use of everything: she had literally ground him down to the bone and sucked out every last bit of marrow, wringing every ounce of strength and usefulness from him and reusing him again and again without wasting a shred of his remaining value.

Vortigern hadn't known he could be put to so many uses.

And yet, for now, he was powerless to resist the torment Morgan had inflicted on him.

Of course, he wasn't going to resist. He would even help Morgan willingly.

Morgan's goal was to return Britain to the Age of Gods. The True Ether that filled the Age of Gods was poison to modern humans, who had long since left that era behind. Ordinary humans simply couldn't withstand it.

Once Morgan achieved her goal, every human on the island of Britain would perish.

Britain would become a silent hell with no one left in it.

His own goal was also to return Britain to its original state, turning it into a dark hell where humans could never live. In that respect, their goals happened to overlap.

Such a wonderful thing—I can't let Morgan enjoy it all by herself.

Vortigern stopped the three who were about to rush into the Spirit Tomb.

Most of his attention was fixed on Artoria, who carried a greatsword and had a wooden staff strapped to her back. Sensing the fearsome aura about her and the pure killing intent prickling his skin, Vortigern furrowed his brow, his expression serious. Then he curled his lips into a cruel smile.

He had already decided to fight at full strength. He wanted to gauge the power of the so-called natural enemy he had heard people speak of: Britain's Red Dragon.

"Vortigern, the Vile King!"

The moment they saw the figure blocking the entrance, Artoria and the others halted. Their expressions were stern, but they weren't surprised to see Vortigern.

Based on their earlier deductions, Morgan was deep in the Spirit Tomb, boring through the layers of earth. She had no strength to spare to stop them from entering. That left only one fighter: Vortigern.

"We're short on time. Defeat Vortigern quickly and stop the queen."

Lancelot drew his golden sword. Its blade gleamed like moonlight on a lake. He moved around to the other side, mana surging as he attacked the dark, humanoid dragon before them.

"Sir Lancelot, please be careful. He feels dangerous."

The last time Artoria had seen the man who could be called her archenemy was at the king's ceremony, when Vortigern had been decapitated.

Now that she faced him directly, her Instinct blared warnings again and again. A wave of danger surged toward her, as if she were inside a monster's jaws. The scent of death surrounded her, and the killing intent made every hair on her body stand on end. It felt as if she might be hacked to pieces at any moment.

But she had come here to save Britain, and she had long since put her life on the line. She drew her sword at once and charged straight at Vortigern.

"However dangerous he is, we have to break through head-on!" Seeing his sister move, Kay immediately drew his sword and advanced, taking up position at Artoria's side to cover her. "Artoria, watch out for yourself."

All three were knights of outstanding skill. Even Artoria, who had never experienced a real battle, had a deep understanding of the fight before them, thanks to her wits and Instinct.

As soon as they struck, the three of them instinctively formed a simple attack formation.

Artoria had the greatest strength and the most mana, making her the main attacker. Lancelot recognized this and made full use of his superior swordsmanship, harassing the enemy from the side and disrupting his rhythm.

Kay took the other side, carefully covering the two of them so Vortigern couldn't inflict too much damage.

Though it was their first time fighting together, their offense and defense worked flawlessly. Even longtime comrades who had fought side by side for years could hardly have done better.

Boom! Clang! Crash!

As soon as the two sides clashed, the battle erupted into a fierce peak. The thunder of steel striking steel rang across the palace grounds, rising and falling without pause.

Neither Vortigern nor Artoria and the others held back. Every step was deadly, every move aimed to kill.

Figures flashed by at high speed. Mana burst forth, and blades flickered again and again, carving scars into the brown earth and transforming it in an instant.

Even amid such a fierce battle, the three fought with measured offense and defense, coordinating seamlessly.

Yet despite that, they still struggled immensely against Vortigern's attacks, forced to scramble just to keep up. The slightest misstep could leave them badly wounded.

Vortigern, on the other hand, remained composed. Even against the three of them attacking at full strength, he seemed to be taking it easy, handling them with effortless ease.

Clang, clang, clang!

Vortigern knocked aside their combined attack once more. A savage smile spread across his face, his killing intent growing stronger as his gaze turned terrifying.

"Hahaha! Pathetic, pathetic! This is the power of Britain's Red Dragon? This is the strength of the knights trusted by that Lion? You're so weak you don't even have a tenth of that Lion's strength! How disappointing! Utterly boring!"

Vortigern's arrogance left the three unable to argue.

Their brief clash had shown them the full extent of his power. His strength and skill were so great that even the three of them fighting with all their might could only hold him off for the moment.

"Whew... He's really that strong!"

Lancelot's forehead was beaded with sweat. He took a deep breath, steadying his turbulent emotions.

During the battle, Vortigern's sword had nearly struck them several times. If they hadn't coordinated and covered for one another in time, they would never have managed to dodge every attack.

Otherwise, even if Vortigern's attacks hadn't killed them outright, they would have been gravely wounded—and the fight would have ended in an instant.

"He's so relaxed. He probably hasn't even used his full strength!"

Artoria gripped her sword tightly, focusing all her attention on Vortigern and not daring to look away for even a moment.

Kay was no different. He didn't even dare let any part of Vortigern's body slip from his sight, afraid that one careless moment would spell their doom.

"How did the king kill him in a single blow back then?"

They thought of the king's past feat. They had heard that Vortigern hadn't lasted even one exchange against the king, who had pierced his chest with a single thrust of a spear. He had fled in disgrace, and in the end, his own subordinate had cut off his head...

Before the battle, the three of them had seen that Vortigern's fighting spirit was abundant and his strength far beyond theirs. They had taken him seriously, but hadn't felt especially overwhelmed.

Only after clashing with him did they truly understand the overwhelming extent of his strength.

Then just how powerful was the king, who had killed Vortigern with a single blow?

Artoria and the others—even Merlin, watching from far away—felt their hearts shudder. Their thoughts churned like raging waves, and they were too shocked for words.

They couldn't grasp the king's power. They couldn't even understand it.

All they could feel was boundless awe.

"After all, that's the king..."

Merlin's voice rang in their minds. In an instant, a strange, complicated feeling rose within them, yet somehow it also felt perfectly natural.

There was no doubt that all three were strong. Whether compared with their fellow knights or by their own estimation, they knew themselves to be warriors who could face a hundred foes alone.

But what could be more absurd than an enemy they couldn't defeat together being casually vanquished by the king?

It was impossible to imagine just how wide the gap between them and the king really was.

In the end, all they could do was marvel:

That was the king!

They instantly suppressed their thoughts, and Merlin's voice rang through their minds once again. "I'll support you from here on. It's all right if you take a few injuries. Follow the plan we made in advance."

The three exchanged glances and nodded slightly.

On their way here, Merlin had anticipated that Vortigern would come to stop them, so he had prepared several contingency plans and discussed them with the three of them.

Vortigern's strength was somewhat beyond their expectations, but it was still within the plan's limits. With Merlin's support, if the three of them risked their lives to attack, they could still gain the upper hand.

Artoria and the others wore resolute expressions, ready to die. They attacked Vortigern again. Unlike their earlier cautious approach, this time they ignored the risk of casualties and fought without regard for their lives.

The mood on the battlefield grew even heavier than before. Seeing the three of them with their killing intent sharpened, Vortigern immediately saw through their plan: they intended to attack him at the cost of their own lives.

He sneered coldly. "Hmph. Fine by me. I'll show you my true strength and pound you into dust!"

The body he wore now had been hastily molded by Morgan on the spot. Its overall quality was far inferior to the one he'd had in life, and its strength was much weaker... Even so, it had advantages over his original body.

When Morgan formed it, she had added several materials of exceptional quality: the bodily tissues of the Last Dragon.

Those draconic tissues still brimmed with vitality. They served as the most important source of power in Vortigern's body—his heart.

Using the conceptual connection between them, Morgan had linked Vortigern's body to the Dragon Heart, allowing him to wield an inexhaustible supply of mana.

On top of that, Vortigern had gained many other advantages he hadn't possessed in life.

As Artoria and the others charged in together, Merlin's voice rang across the battlefield.

"Flowers, bloom."

At his words, dense clusters of flowers burst from the palace grounds. In an instant, a bright sea of flowers covered the brown earth. Nothing else remained within the palace, and beneath the sunlight, pink and red blossoms mingled in a dazzling display.

The gale outside had to pass through the towering walls and the bounded field, leaving only a few wisps of breeze to lift the petals in waves. A rich floral fragrance drifted over and filled everyone's nostrils. It was so cloying that they all frowned.

Artoria and the others trampled the flowers without a second thought. They felt more spirited and full of energy than ever. Their exhausted stamina returned, and their mana surged to overflowing, making them want to unleash it all.

"Pfft!"

Far away on the continent, Merlin's face turned deathly pale as he spat out blood. His chest and abdomen were drenched in it, and great swathes of his white clothes were stained red.

Using such an enormous amount of mana nearly made his old injuries flare out of control. His body could no longer support him. Struggling to hold on to his wooden staff, he slowly slid down and collapsed on the ground.

Half his face pressed against the earth, leaving him in a wretched state. Even so, his eyes still shone as he gazed toward Britain.

"Heh... Watch closely... This is the true essence of the Magician of Flowers!"

Unlike Artoria and the others, who felt light and invigorated, Vortigern found the sea of flowers around him oppressive. It was as if he were exercising strenuously in an oxygen-starved environment. A sense of suffocation washed over him, and he was constantly forced to expend tremendous energy.

"Merlin's a mere nobody who only knows a few cheap tricks!"

But to Vortigern, who possessed an inexhaustible supply of mana, Merlin's curse was little more than a slight burden. It was nothing worth worrying about.

The three charging him were what mattered.

This time, they changed their strategy. Lancelot and Kay took the lead in attacking, while Artoria stayed slightly behind them, seemingly providing support and creating distractions.

After engaging Vortigern, Lancelot and Kay devoted eight-tenths of their energy to attacking. They were willing to trade injuries for the chance to keep pressing him.

Attack!

They dodged only when faced with a lethal blow. Ordinary cuts and scrapes didn't faze them. Under Merlin's blessing, their injuries healed rapidly. A wound would appear, but before they could even feel the pain, it would already be gone, and they would be as good as new in the blink of an eye.

Faced with their reckless attacks, even Vortigern was briefly put on the back foot, struggling to keep up.

They fought for a while. When he gradually adapted to their rhythm, the two in front of him suddenly stopped attacking after a flurry of blows, leapt up, and jumped aside, causing Vortigern's sword to cut through empty air.

"Hmm?"

Vortigern let out a dissatisfied snort. Just as he was about to pursue them, a flash of silver caught his eye, and a sudden sense of danger welled up in him.

He turned his head. The golden-haired girl had raised a silver-white sword high above her head. Mana surged along its blade, casting a dazzling silver light. It was crystalline and brilliant, yet brimming with danger, shining fiercely even beneath the midday sun.

With every breath, Artoria produced tremendous mana. She poured all the power within her into the sword in her hands.

The sword shone brighter and brighter. Seeing Vortigern turn his attention toward her, she swung it down without hesitation. The searing beam of light she had been building up for so long bore down on his dark silhouette, while mana burst from her body and poured forth all at once.

"Clarent!"

In Artoria's hands, Clarent unleashed its true power. The silver-white beam carried an aura of destruction and reached Vortigern in the blink of an eye.

"So you're resorting to cheap tricks!"

Vortigern hurriedly raised his sword. Mana flowed over the blade and transformed into a black beam. He aimed it at the sudden attack, releasing a blast that looked like fire and light at once.

"Dragon Breath!"

Boom!

Black and white beams collided. Mana exploded, tearing through the air and sending wave after wave of shockwaves through the sea of flowers, making it surge and scatter in every direction.

After the collision, only black and white remained throughout the palace.

Though Vortigern reacted properly to Artoria's long-planned attack, the time he had to charge his own was too short, and his mana output lagged behind by a fraction.

When the two attacks collided, the silver-white mana quickly overpowered the black beam, even forcing its darkness back.

In an instant, Vortigern's vision was filled with silver-white light.

Rumble!

A tremendous roar rang through the palace. Blinding flames burst outward, sweeping away wave after wave of flowers and exposing the brown earth beneath.

Where the beam passed, it brought searing heat. The sea of flowers burned, and the earth melted into a stretch of blackened wasteland. Waves of heat rolled over the ground, turning it into a blazing inferno.

"It worked! The attack hit its mark!"