Melusine, Become my Noble Phantasm!

In this sacred city, the Lion King slowly raised her head. Her emotionless green eyes seemed to pierce everything, locking onto Morgan's pale blue eyes from afar. Was Morgan really like this? Because so many years had passed, and the Holy Lance had become a goddess, the Lion King could no longer remember Morgan's appearance or personality — only fragments of the witch's deeds remained.

Analyzed rationally, this witch must have been a villain in the distant past…

The Lion King did not quite understand the current situation. Or rather, after her personality transformed into that of a goddess, she could no longer comprehend human emotions. This was also why the Knights of the Round Table believed their king had become more majestic and fairer than before. After all, in some ways, wasn't this just a lack of humanity?

Do you think the Knights of the Round Table truly don't understand this? It's hard to say. At least, they failed in their previous lives. After descending here, perhaps they want to make up for those unfulfilled wishes by deceiving themselves this way?

"Morgan! Why do you appear before us again after all this time?!"

Gawain roared as he stared at the woman with light golden hair. When he saw her, the destruction of Great Britain seemed to replay before his eyes. He could not forgive his stubborn former self, nor this nominal mother.

Morgan simply glanced calmly at Gawain, then turned her gaze toward the city wall, where the maddened Mordred still vented his rage. If this continued, Mordred was doomed — when the battle ended, he would struggle to release the magical energy within him.

She feared Mordred would rush directly into the ruined cities, continuing to attack and destroy, reducing everything to rubble — though those cities were few.

To be honest, Morgan felt displeased that her children had one by one pledged allegiance to Artoria a thousand years ago. However, they had grown under the Knight King's leadership, becoming excellent knights. After calming down, Morgan had to admit this.

What about now?

Mordred was her most perfect creation. Even if not perfectly successful a thousand years ago, it was not a failure. After all, King Arthur's reign truly ended. The only minor problem was that the original Britain fell to ruin.

As for Mordred's current fate — destined to be destroyed — should she blame the Lion King on the throne for being heartless, or just having disgustingly poor taste?

Morgan wore a faintly wicked smile, then quickly composed herself. The more she thought, the angrier she grew. Her heart, which had been calm for a thousand years, stirred again! It had been a long time since she felt the urge to destroy.

"Aslan, let's go! That's all for today."

After exchanging a glance with the Lion King from afar, Morgan ran her fingers through her hair, and the magical aura around her gradually faded. Aslan's eyes widened slightly. Shouldn't he seize this chance to pursue and destroy the Knights of the Round Table all at once?

Morgan seemed to notice Aslan's confusion. She gave a strange smile, as if administering a written test or expressing confidence.

"Even if we destroy them now, you unfilial sons like me will still think they did nothing wrong, and their king did nothing wrong. Ha, how ridiculous.

I will make them admit defeat sincerely, and make them understand — it's not because I'm the one who destroyed the Round Table that I destroy them, but because their actions are destined to be hated and destroyed! Who is sitting on the throne now, the human king or a god?"

Morgan didn't seem to want to say more to her foolish son. She raised her hand, twirled the spear-like staff she held, and stabbed forward. The black tip, forged from magical power, pierced the space and struck Mordred's limbs, freezing him in place.

Black flames quickly condensed into chains, binding Mordred. They drew the raging warrior directly before Morgan. Mordred roared and tried to bite her, but she raised her hand and slapped him — of course, the slap was enhanced by magic.

The slap sounded crisp. Mordred's face twisted to the side. His furious eyes gradually softened. The lightning crackling over his body dissipated. Apart from the slap mark, a string of magical symbols adorned his cheek — making him look somewhat comical.

Of course, the slap only temporarily suppressed Mordred's rampage.

"It's you! Morgan!"

As soon as Mordred regained awareness, she recognized the witch who had left her with deep psychological scars.

Morgan raised her chin slightly, her light blue eyes fixed on her adopted daughter, ignoring Mordred's anger.

"You should call me mother. Also, are you awake? If so, continue the task I gave you — overthrow King Arthur's rule. Or rather, the Lion King's rule, yes?"

Mordred's expression instantly changed. Her whole body surged forward.

"What did you say?! You witch!!"

Morgan eyed the red lightning surging from Mordred's body and raised her hand again, palm glowing with magic. Last time, she slapped the right cheek; this time, the left.

"Are you calm now? And I told you to call me mother. Do you really think the one sitting on that throne is Arthur?"

Morgan sneered. "It seems you know nothing of your so-called father. Even I see that woman isn't Arthur. How can you follow and admire her? It's really amusing. Next time I meet Artoria, I'll be sure to tell her this as a joke."

Morgan glanced toward Gawain, still clutching the Sword of the Sun and standing guard, and Agravaine, standing among the solemn knights.

She sighed inwardly. These two unfilial sons… there was no hope.

-End Chapter-

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