After Unlocking All CGs, My Type-Moon Girlfriend Came Knocking

At that moment, Tristan felt something deeply surreal.

No one understood the enmity between the King and Morgan better than the Knights of the Round Table themselves.

To see them here, together… was beyond a miracle.

King Arthur and Morgan le Fay, calmly appearing in the same place, standing side by side against a common enemy?

Was this… a hallucination before death?

Tristan briefly felt an overwhelming sense of absurdity.

And it wasn't just him.

Even Brunsteid frowned slightly.

"I'd heard the King of Britain and the witch were enemies… but tonight, it seems that was just a rumor?"

"It's not entirely false," Morgan replied, calmly. "But today, we happen to share a common goal."

"A shared goal?"

A faint smile crossed Brunsteid's red eyes as she spoke. "Let me guess — the White Dragon?"

"I heard you and Arthur fought bitterly over that creature. That you even tried to kill your own sister."

"And yet, here you are… working together. Remarkable."

Morgan's expression remained unreadable.

Under the night sky, her flawless beauty was statuesque and cold, but dangerous magic simmered beneath her feet as she spoke flatly.

"You must be one of those beings that recently descended from beyond the stars."

"I wouldn't expect you to know much about Britain's history."

"So tell me — where did you hear that story? You seem awfully well-informed."

Morgan's gaze casually shifted to the grand, glittering estate nearby.

"…King Marco, was it?"

The latter merely smiled but didn't deny it.

She had no real allegiance to Marco, so, there was no need to protect him.

Morgan's shadow began writhing like a swarm of demons.

As she toyed with a strand of black mist between her fingers, her tone turned light, almost teasing.

"Let me ask, why are you looking for the White Dragon?"

"To kill him," Brunsteid replied bluntly.

"If you want to be the strongest, you must walk atop a mountain of corpses.

Morgan, Arthur… you two are strong, but honestly? A bit disappointing."

She sneered, her crimson lips curving into a mocking smile.

"Emotions only get in the way of becoming truly powerful.

For those born at the top like you, it's laughable that you haven't realized this."

"Or… could it be the White Dragon used some kind of charm on you both?"

This woman…

A faint flicker of anger crossed Artoria's otherwise calm eyes.

She had come a long way, however a few things remained the same.

She could endure insults against herself, even laugh them off, but when it came to Alvin, she would not stay silent.

This woman knew nothing.

She hadn't lived through the same pain, hadn't been shaken by the same awe… hadn't met someone like him.

Feelings...what would she be, without the feelings she had for him?

"Charm, huh?"

Rain fell from the sky, sticking Morgan's platinum hair to her forehead as she raised her shimmering eyes and smiled seductively.

"If you insist… then yes.

His magic does seem to have a bit of charm to it."

"Even I find myself lost in it sometimes."

Alvin's inherent trait — "Natural Charm" infused his mana with an irresistibly sweet quality.

Anyone who came into contact with it during magical exchanges could feel its pull.

And for someone like Morgan, whose senses were hypersensitive to magic, the effect was even stronger.

"Oh?"

Hearing her words, Crimson lady's interest was visibly piqued and she grinned.

"So his magic really is charming? Then I'm even more curious."

"Perhaps… his blood is worth a taste after all."

As she spoke, she seemed unaware of the danger creeping closer and still absorbed in mulling over Morgan's words.

A magic that could charm through mana… What would it taste like?

Morgan's staff silently formed in her hand, exuding lethal energy.

A tide of shadows surged across the field like a storm.

Even the blood moon above seemed to be swallowed by the darkness.

Brunsteid glanced upward without much thought, and in that moment, the blood moon blazed violently, cutting through the black veil and plunging toward the earth.

Its power was overwhelming — twisting the air itself, generating a roaring storm as it descended.

"Moonfall."

It was one of her signature abilities. This time, she wasn't using a full-scale version, just a focused, localized strike.

Even so, its might was nothing to scoff at.

The crimson energy swallowed both Artoria and Morgan in a flash, bathing the ground beneath their feet in blood-red light.

Artoria didn't hesitate.

She drew her holy sword and swung forward.

Golden mana exploded outward.

With a single blinding flash, a beam of pure light surged forth.

Boom!

The light tore through the falling moon, scattering it to the wind. Golden particles rained down, sparkling like stardust.

But even as the attack dispersed, Brunsteid suddenly noticed — Tristan was gone.

Before she could react, a sharp dragon-like roar rang out behind her.

She turned in alarm, only to see King Arthur now standing protectively in front of Tristan, who she had rescued mid-battle.

Artoria raised her sword again, golden mana surging around her.

"There's something I've never understood."

She looked at the other woman, wild, golden-haired, radiating a strange, seductive power.

"Oh?" Crimson Moon tilted her head slightly. "And what might that be?"

"You sought out Alvin... just to kill him?"

Hearing her words, a faint, mocking smile curled on Crimson Moon's flawless lips. "Do you think there's any other possibility?"

The White Dragon was the most powerful being in all of Britain and not long ago, he had signed some kind of special contract with Gaia.

If one sought to become this planet's Ultimate One (UO), then the White Dragon was a threat that had to be eliminated.

Thinking about something, her flawless face curved into a faint, self-mocking smile.

"King Arthur… you and I are not the same. You were born to be Britain's King. Your name will be etched into the Throne of Heroes."

"But I… I belong to neither Alaya nor Gaia."

Yes, though she had been "created" by Gaia as the strongest True Ancestor, Brunsteid had always known her existence was far too unique.

From very early on, she'd realized she was… an anomaly.

To become the strongest was not only a way to fulfill an old promise she had made with him within the Millennium Castle — it was also her only chance at survival.

Because in this world, Crimson Moon was an aberration that would eventually be "corrected" — erased — by the Counter Force.

If she wanted to live, she had only two choices: either overthrow the Counter Force and become this planet's supreme will… or obediently await her eventual erasure.

Even someone like Morgan le Fay, twisted and half-fae, would one day earn a place in the Throne of Heroes.

But her?

She never had that luxury.

From the moment of her birth... she had no choice.

"...I see."

Artoria took a slow breath, then exhaled coldly.

"In that case, there's nothing left to say."

In that instant, her holy sword flared with unmatched power, murderous intent surged like a crashing tide.

Even if it was just for Alvin's sake—

She would never allow this woman to take even a single step closer to the palace.

.

.

.

Morgan stood silently to the side, her veiled eyes calmly observing the clash ahead.

Something felt… off.

A creature descended from the stars, an ancient being, and yet, its mana felt strangely weak.

Above, the blood-red moon spun silently.

In its center, a woman in a white gown floated weightlessly, golden hair streaming behind her, bare feet pale as snow, her figure framed in the crimson light.

She watched the battle below, her doppelgänger fighting King Arthur.

Then her eyes shifted, as if sensing something in the distance.

From the direction of Camelot… she felt a presence and narrowed her gaze.

That mana was unique — clearly foreign.

Had that been all, she wouldn't have recognized its owner.

But not long ago, Alvin had wielded the Holy Lance in his negotiations with Gaia. And alongside the Sword of the Stars… her body instinctively remembered that signature.

There was no mistake.

He was coming.

Thinking about it, her lips curled into an elated smile.

"Finally… Britain's White Dragon!"

But just as she turned to leave, a chill brushed down her spine and a powerful magical aura suddenly locked onto her.

She turned and saw Morgan le Fay, with her staff glowing with deadly light, already unleashing a spell.

"You thought a mere doppelgänger could fool me and Arthur at the same time?"

Morgan's voice was icy.

She had already noticed the body on the battlefield wasn't the real Crimson Moin.

The latter paused, surprised, but then a wild smile danced across her breathtaking face.

When she had awakened in the Millennium Castle, she had scoffed at the idea of any so-called powerful being on this planet.

Unless it came from another star system, she had believed nothing on Earth could possibly threaten her.

But this… this final age of the Age of Gods, this Britain, was full of delightful surprises.

A Red Dragon.

A White Dragon.

And now, an "Island Sovereign" named Morgan le Fay.

It looked like her little journey wouldn't be boring after all.

Arcueid Brunsteid raised her right hand sharply.

Behind her, the blood moon glowed even brighter, casting her figure in otherworldly crimson.

Magic poured from her palm, lashing toward Morgan like a flood.

At the same time, Morgan's staff pulsed with overwhelming magical power.

Two blasts of mana collided, violently and soared into the sky.

The earth shuddered.

Grass and trees were scorched beneath the shockwave… but the next instant, green tendrils of new life burst forth from the ruined soil.

That was Morgan's power as the Island Sovereign.

She could revive the land, instantly regrow all that was withered or broken.

It was thanks to that divine gift that she could stand her ground, even against the true ancestor.

The explosion of magical energy sent tremors rippling across Britain.

Countless mages sensed the disturbance.

And deep within the palace, the Knights of the Round stirred.

"What the hell is going on out there?! An invasion?!"

"Could it be that an enemy is approaching the royal palace? Who has the audacity... one of those beings that came down in the flying vessel?"

One after another, knights rushed out of the palace, some even too panicked to put on their full armor.

Rumble…

The surging magical energy roared through the skies, echoing through every corner of the capital.

Several high-ranking transmigrators who had been resting charged out of their rooms in fury, but the moment they saw the blood moon-drenched night sky, their expressions changed drastically.

Their anger disappeared in an instant and they silently retreated back into their rooms.

That terrifying aura clearly didn't come from any ordinary mage.

No, this was the domain of gods — far beyond their pay grade.

No need to die a meaningless death.

Of course, while some chose to stay out of it, others found the commotion... interesting.

At that moment, a sharply dressed woman stood by a window, wine glass in hand, gazing toward the crimson-stained sky.

She was Barthomeloi, Monarch of the Department of Policies, Acting Director of the Clock Tower.

"Blood moon hanging over the sky... looks like this enemy isn't here for pleasantries,"

Looking at the sensational view, she murmured.

Not far from her, Chimera, Monarch of the Department of Zoology, spoke respectfully.

"The threat seems aimed at Britain. There's no need for us to interfere."

Barthomeloi considered for a moment, then her eyes gleamed with sudden interest.

"Your familiar... it's still in the vicinity, isn't it? Don't recall it just yet."

Chimera blinked in surprise.

"You're interested in the battle, milady...?"

From what he knew of her, Barthomeloi never involved herself in things that didn't directly benefit her.

"Even the strongest enemies won't breach Britain's defenses if those sisters join forces."

She paused, then smiled faintly.

"But... he interests me."

"That man may very well show up too."

Not long ago, King Marco had shared various rumors and stories about the 'White Dragon'.

Ever since then, Barthomeloi had taken an interest in him.

The White Dragon — the Watcher of Britain.

If he was really that Alvin from the Clock Tower...

Barthomeloi licked her lips and drained the glass of wine.

.

.

.

Meanwhile, Alvin had no clue what kind of chaos was erupting on the battlefield.

He had been tailing the two sisters, but somewhere along the way... he lost them.

Or rather, it wasn't that he lost them, he was blocked.

By a mysterious dimensional gate.

"...What the hell is this?"

Alvin stared at the glowing rift floating in midair, frowning in thought.

He could ignore it and keep moving.

But something told him it might be related to the master of the flying vessel that had recently arrived in Britain.

He couldn't just leave it be.

With that thought, Alvin made up his mind and stepped toward the portal.

The moment he touched it, a powerful suction yanked him inside.

It was like stepping into an entirely different world.

Gone was the grassy plain, around him stretched a star-filled cosmos without end.

And at the edge of this endless sky... was a black chair.

A silver-haired old man sat upon it, legs crossed, chin resting on one hand, silently studying Alvin.

His long silver hair was combed neatly.

Time had barely touched his face, its lines chiseled and sharp.

His hands, though yellowed with age, still gripped a cane with strength.

Alvin stared.

He couldn't even guess the old man's age.

Although everything about him screamed "ancient," and yet there was no sense of decline.

No weakness.

On the contrary, even seated, there was a terrifying pressure simmering beneath the surface.

Damn… this guy's cool.

Alvin couldn't help but think.

'If I could age like that, I wouldn't mind getting old...'

Too bad it wasn't realistic.

After all, from the he pulled that Sword from the Stone, his physical age would never change again.

"You really are both the White Dragon of Britain and a student of the Clock Tower, aren't you?"

The old man finally spoke, his voice was rich and firm, with no trace of age or frailty.

Alvin's eyes narrowed slightly.

Something about the man felt oddly familiar.

He searched through his memories, and then a name surfaced in his mind.

Zelretch.

Of course.

This man was none other than one of the world's five true Magicians, wielder of the Second Magic: Kaleidoscope.

Kischur Zelretch Schweinorg.

If he remembered correctly, he was also one of the Twenty-Seven Dead Apostle Ancestors.

In fact, in the original material, the reason Zelretch became a Dead Apostle... was because of Crimson Moon.

Alvin's train of thought suddenly froze.

Wait a minute…

A crimson moon over Britain.

Zelretch appearing before him in person.

Could the one invading Britain be...

Alvin's heart skipped a beat.

He hurriedly opened his personal system panel, needing to confirm his suspicion.

And when he saw the new entry under the final tab... he fell silent for a long moment.

[Widow on the Moon]

She resides in the Millennium Castle atop the moon. The only one who ever stayed by her side through endless time... was a human who refused to become a Dead Apostle.

Yep.

No need to guess anymore.

It really was Arcueid.

And from the looks of it… the Arcueid now in Britain possessed full memory from the Millennium Castle CG simulation game.

Still, Alvin remained calm.

After all, every era, every name he'd ever used, they were all different.

Even if his face stayed the same, as long as he kept "Watcher EX" activated, no one could identify him.

Even though all the games he'd ever played before had seemingly become reality...and it was all over.

But hey, he was the White Dragon.

Whether it was Lily, Morgan... or the True Ancestor Arcueid Brunsteid herself, he'd handle them.

Eventually.

'Could I possibly mess this up?

If I screw this up, then... yeah, no. Not gonna jinx it.'

Besides, why did Zelretch seek him out?

Alvin looked up, gaze locking on the old man sitting above the stars.

Zelretch, the man who held the Second Magic.

Founder of the Clock Tower.

From a certain perspective, he was like… the teacher of Alvin's teachers.

"What is it you want from me, Lord Kischur?"

So, he asked calmly.