Fate: Typemoon - My Dragon Knight

With a furious roar, a demonic dragon soared from the darkness. How should one describe this dragon? According to legend—and based on what he knew about Vortigern—it should've been a white dragon. But whether it was the one fused to his cheap old man's human body, or the one now flying across the skies, at first glance, it was only black.

Perhaps it was because all light was being absorbed that it was impossible to make out the dragon's true color. From a scientific point of view, once light is completely absorbed, no matter what the actual hue might be, what appears to the human eye is pitch black—utter, perfect black.

And because this world was laced with magical elements, that black took on an indescribable, almost magnificent sheen.

If not for his scientific grounding, anyone else who saw this pitch-black creature would have thought Vortigern had undergone some kind of racial mutation. Even though this demonic dragon radiated a terrifying aura, Aslan—out of filial piety—still hoped to end his old man's misunderstood identity as a black dragon as soon as possible.

If he died, if he stopped absorbing the island's power, stopped releasing darkness, then maybe—just maybe—his cheap old man could turn back to white again.

The castle collapsed the moment the demonic dragon revealed its true form. The stones that once made up its walls were blown away by the gust from its massive wings, crashing to the distant ground and kicking up a great cloud of dust. The sky grew darker still. All the creatures warped by the island's power let out deafening cries at that moment—celebrating the birth of their king.

The windstorm forced Artoria and Aslan to retreat. If the demonic dragon hadn't expanded so rapidly from within the grand hall, they might've been buried alive in the rubble.

Vortigern placed a clawed hand upon the ruins. His sharp talons gleamed with a chilling light, and the dragon breath he exhaled was pure darkness, melting anything it touched. With a slight sneeze forward, he instantly dissolved a chunk of rubble before him into a pool of black sludge, like a bubbling swamp.

His golden eyes were now filled only with coldness and majesty. "Come on, then!"

In the next instant, his massive tail swept toward them. Seeing this, Melusine immediately grabbed Aslan by the collar and hauled him up. As for Artoria… well, she was on her own. As long as she didn't die, Melusine really couldn't be bothered.

The dragon's tail cleared a vast swath of open space. Artoria raised her holy sword to block beside her like a shield, taking the blow head-on. She was knocked back once more, a streak of blood trailing down her face.

Seeing this, Aslan drew in a deep breath. He understood something clearly now: he could no longer place his hopes on Artoria and her holy spear. Things had already gone so far off script—there was no guarantee events would unfold as they once had. Relying on others was useless. It was time to rely on himself!

Aslan put away the holy spear. As a Christian relic, even if he reversed its power, it likely couldn't be corrupted. In that case, he might as well use the Sword of Glorious Victory, the weapon already deeply connected to him.

At the same time, he reached up and touched the ring on his finger. Taking a deep breath, he shouted, "Melusine! I permit you to unleash your original form!"

Melusine, having just set him down, smiled and placed her hand on her own ring finger. The two contract rings glowed brightly. A light from Melusine's ring enveloped her.

"I understand. It's time to soar with everything I've got!"

The light transformed into a giant cocoon, which then scattered like falling feathers. A pair of black wings unfolded—imbued with a dreamy, high-tech aura. Blue stripes shimmered across them. Her once-bright white hair now faded to black at the tips. Though less pure, it exuded a sharp, striking beauty. Two small black horns adorned her head.

Her feet, cutting through the air like claws, stood firmly on the ground like metallic greaves. Her twin swords transformed—now a pair of massive blades joined by a circular ring, resembling both cleavers and spears. The design of a white dragon spiraled across the weapons, and the once-white blades had turned black, accented with a cool gray-blue.

The small black armor she now wore did nothing to hide her figure. Compared to her former childlike appearance, she had now completely transformed into a young woman with a flawless form. Her golden eyes glared fiercely at the demonic dragon, then she wrapped both arms around Aslan.

The knightly boy and the draconic girl—their stance was like a special CG from some grand epic video game.

"Ahh… at last, I've returned to my true form."

Look, Aslan! This is the machine that scorched Britannia, no, the very earth itself—Melusine's true face! The final fragment of Albion! Now that I've assumed this form, there's no turning back. With these flames that incinerate the world—we shall run wild!"

She giggled, her breath warm against his ear.

"When the battle's over, I'll claim my reward from you personally~"

As she spoke, she rubbed her cheek against Aslan's. "Among all fantasy dragons, I'm an even rarer subspecies—a Geo-Front Dragon. Extremely remarkable, you see. So you have to treat me as one of a kind, okay? I already see you that way, so you'd better do the same for me. Be a good boy and listen—submission to the strong is the law of nature~"

Having returned to her original form, Melusine made no attempt to hide her feelings for Aslan. Not even the demonic dragon standing before them could make her back down.

This reminded Aslan of the first time he'd met Melusine—when she'd pinned him down without hesitation. Back then, he really had been just a brat.

Vortigern, sensing the power radiating from Melusine, let out a roar and spewed another blast of dragon breath toward them. How dare they flirt right in front of him—did they think he was a joke?

But in the next moment, Melusine vanished from behind Aslan. Her dual blades tore through the air and magical energy, dispersing the incoming breath attack. Her golden eyes now brimmed with unmasked fury.

"I'm angry now!"

Aslan raised his head and gave his final command.

"No need for more words! Melusine, let's finish him together!"