Fate: Typemoon - My Dragon Knight

Not every Knight of the Round Table possessed a holy sword, and not every Knight of the Round Table had overwhelming strength. At the very least, as the darkness engulfed the entire hall and continued to batter everyone present, Kay's sword began to show signs of decay after holding out for a while.

Seeing this, Aslan stepped forward a few paces and stood at the very front of the group alongside Artoria. The Sword of Promised Victory and the Sword of Glorious Victory combined, piercing through the pure-black darkness of the hall like a spear, forcing open a narrow gap.

Melusine, relying on her body that far surpassed any human's, launched a fierce charge at Vortigern, who stood before the throne. Her twin swords clashed directly against the pitch-black demonic blade.

What surprised Melusine was that this human had strength rivaling that of a dragon. No—this guy was a dragon, wasn't he? Although he wore a human form, the aura and scent of a fellow dragon were faint but unmistakable.

Although she didn't manage to send him flying with a single blow, she did interrupt the surging darkness that had been continuously emanating from Vortigern's sword.

Artoria turned her head slightly, glancing back at her companions. At this moment, she had no choice but to admit that while her Knights of the Round Table were strong—and some of them even more skilled in swordsmanship than herself—when it came to facing the demonic dragon before them, they lacked the power to truly contend with him. The only ones capable of confronting this dragon were herself, as the Red Dragon, and Aslan, son of the White Dragon.

Strictly speaking, this was a battle of dragons. Those without the power of dragons had no place intervening in this war.

"Truly worthy of the Sun Knight, the indomitable Sir Gawain. Look! It seems even his stomach cannot fully contain your radiance. However... Sir Gawain, take the others and fall back. Go aid those fighting the monsters drawn here by the island's curse."

Gawain froze for a moment, clenching his teeth. Though his king hadn't spoken everything outright, she had clearly told them that they were not strong enough to engage this demonic dragon head-on. Even though many already regarded them as mighty heroes, it still wasn't enough here.

Though his king tried to offer him consolation, Gawain understood all too well: if not for her and the son of the White Dragon holding the front lines, then after this clash, the strengthened Vortigern might have reduced even the Knights of the Round Table to nothing but decaying dust, just like ordinary soldiers.

In the end, they still couldn't fight side by side with their king!

Artoria didn't consider Gawain and the others to be burdens, but she wasn't good at expressing her emotions. She couldn't find softer words to comfort them.

Just like the rift that had once formed between her and Mordred—Artoria knew all too well the hardships of Britain's Destiny. Inheriting the throne meant endless calamity. She could lead Britain to defy fate only because she had been trained and tempered by royal teachings since childhood. But Mordred, being an artificial lifeform, lacked the most crucial education for a king.

Still, Artoria hadn't explained much back then. Instead, she resolutely declared,

"I see. So it was my sister's scheme… but you truly are my child. Even so, I won't acknowledge that fact, nor will I entrust you with the throne. Mordred, you cannot be king. You lack the capacity a king must possess."

Perhaps, at that time, a part of Artoria felt pity for the fate awaiting this child. A child artificially created by her sister's twisted magic—how long could such a child even live?

To burden them with the endless misfortune of kingship on top of such a fate… it was too cruel. This child was her own flesh and blood, but also her subject. Deep down, Artoria must have wished for them to find happiness.

But that was a thought for another time.

Though Gawain wouldn't let his mind wander due to his king's words, her demeanor and character still left a faint impression in the hearts of some.

Vortigern turned and stomped down on Melusine's twin swords, forcing her back. He watched the knights retreating from the hall and gave a slight nod before shifting his gaze to Artoria.

"So you finally understand… No matter how many ants there are, they can never harm a dragon. Just as my subordinates cannot eliminate you… neither can yours do anything to me!"

He bared a mouthful of white teeth and let out a wild laugh.

"Come then! Arthur! Aslan! It's time for us to fight seriously!"

With that, Vortigern, who had been standing before the throne, suddenly leapt forward. His demonic sword slashed ahead, and in his other hand, masses of black filth began rapidly compressing. The island's power coalesced into the shape of another weapon.

After all, he was facing three opponents—a single weapon wouldn't be enough.

The pitch-black demonic blade clashed with the holy sword's faint glimmer. Like a flickering flame in the dark, the light dimmed even further, looking fragile and delicate.

Artoria gripped her sword tightly with both hands, just barely managing to block the demonic blade that continued to emit black miasma.

On the other side, Aslan's Sword of Glorious Victory collided with the magic weapon formed from his old man's island power. Feeling the strength from his convenient "father," he gritted his teeth and began channeling the black island power through his holy sword, using it to sustain and reinforce his body.

Once he confirmed that he could hold his father's strike with one hand, Aslan reached to his chest and unclasped the pendant hanging there—his Spear of Destiny.

"Father, I've prepared quite a few surprises for you!"

What looked like a pendant rapidly grew in size. The silver-white Spear of Destiny appeared in Aslan's hand, its surface engraved with fairy script. The tag-like decoration dangling from it swayed like a tassel. As the spear clashed with his father's magic power, the charms jingled crisply, radiating sacred light and the power of life.

"Bring forth the light! Bring forth the miracle! Let the holy radiance descend—

[Spear of Destiny: Radiance of the Divine Dawn]!"

With a thrust, the holy spear shot toward his father's throat. In that instant, an overwhelming force erupted—

Light. Life. And the brilliance of a new dawn.