The alley plunged into dead silence.
Gareth shot Morgan le Fay a deeply peculiar look, then silently glanced at Agravain, her eyes filled with pity and apprehension, as if to say: You're done for.
If Gareth had been holding back when she first drew Rhongomyniad's Shadow, then... the reappearance of the Dragon's Scale changed everything. She knew exactly what it signified.
Over the years, Morgan's workshop had preserved countless relics, or perhaps more accurately, mementos, of a certain individual.
Had a Holy Grail War begun, any one of those items could have served as a catalyst to summon the Night's Watch, the shadowed knight who had once silently guarded Camelot.
Yet even as the Night's Watch's most devoted admirer, Morgan had never managed to obtain something as rare as the Dragon's Scale among her collection.
The Dragon's Scale was one of the mystic codes crafted by the Night's Watch himself.
Its purpose was singular: to grant its bearer near-impenetrable defense.
It's just that... the Night's Watch had perished by King Arthur's sword, and the Dragon's Scale should have been destroyed alongside him.
And yet... here it was, in Agravain's hands.
"Where did you get this...?"
Morgan le Fay's voice, steady until now, trembled faintly.
The low, dangerous tone carried the quiet menace of a gathering storm.
"He died by the holy sword. The Dragon's Scale should have been annihilated with him as well..."
She slowly raised her head, stared at Agravain, and said word by word.
"Where. Did. You. Get. It?"
In that instant, the mana in the entire alley surged violently.
Even Gawain, mighty as he was, paled dramatically as he stepped forward with his holy sword, placing himself between Morgan and Agravain.
Yet Morgan ignored him entirely, her gaze boring into Agravain over the golden knight's shoulder.
Despite years of hard and cruel training to hone himself, the moment, he faced the so-called "Witch" Morgan le Fay again, Agravain's armored body turned stiff and trembled.
But in the end, he clenched his teeth and answered, "He gave it to me... before his death."
'No matter what, Morgan must not learn of Alvin's return, at least not now.'
Agravain knew Morgan too much and so, he knew all too well that if Morgan discovered Alvin was in the palace, she would march straight back without hesitation.
And if she and the king were to meet now... Camelot would witness its third cataclysmic war.
To this day, the empire had endured two battles monumental enough to be etched into history.
The first was the mythic war against the White Dragon Vortigern, led by Alvin, Artoria, and Morgan le Fay.
That battle dealt a heavy blow to the enemy army led by Vortigern and also laid the foundation for the subsequent rise of the Camelot Empire.
The second was the Night's Watch's rebellion, when he slaughtered nearly every noble in a single night and led an uprising.
Both wars were tied to the "White Dragon," making the name synonymous with curse and calamity.
And if Morgan stormed the palace now, the spark for the third war would still be the White Dragon.
'Truly an omen of disaster...'Agravain thought to himself.
"Hand it over."
Morgan le Fay stared at Agravain, or to be more precise, on the white dragon scale in his grasp.
Her stare alone sent an involuntary chill down his spine.
"Apologies... but I cannot comply."
Yet even so, he refused with unshakable resolve.
Morgan was a being who could turn the impossible into reality. If this dragon scale were to fall in her hands, there was no telling if she might uncover Alvin's survival.
No matter what, the king and Morgan must not meet.
Agravain's expression hardened into absolute determination but...
"It seems you've grown these past years, Agravain."
Morgan's voice was eerily calm as shadows writhed at her feet, then slithered outward in every direction.
"But you've forgotten one thing—you never had the right to refuse me!"
The moment she spoke, the shadows erupted like frenzied vines, swallowing the sky in an instant.
The darkness that seemed to swallow up the world caused the faces of those present to change drastically..
Kayneth, who was still new to this era, felt his heart pound in fear.
Never since the Age of Gods had he witnessed such overwhelming brilliance.
In this moment, Morgan le Fay was an absolute monarch, her presence so crushing that even Agravain and Gawain faltered.
Whoosh!
Even so, Gawain gritted his teeth and drew his holy sword.
The golden light on the sword shot up into the sky, as if trying to break through the overwhelming shadows that were attacking them.
However, that shadow seemed to possess endless darkness, and almost in an instant it was about to completely swallow up the light of the Holy Sword of the Sun.
During the day, Gawain has a triple combat power bonus, but at night, his power waned drastically.
Agravain watched grimly as a sense of impending doom settling over him.
An old Camelot legend came to mind:
'When the Dark Dragon descends, it heralds a new Age of Gods. Darkness blankets the land, and even King Arthur's holy sword dims before it.'
In fact, this was no mere tale.
Vortigern, in his draconic form, had once eclipsed the light of both Gawain's and Artoria's holy swords.
Had it not been for Alvin... Camelot's fate might have been very different.
At this moment, Agravain felt that terrifying devouring power emanating from Morgan once again.
Even though there were two Knights of the Round Table standing in front of her, Reines behind them still felt the sense of crisis seeping into the surface of her skin bit by bit.
The night wind brushed against her cheeks, carrying an icy, bone-chilling cold.
Kayneth shuddered violently, every hair on his body standing on end.
If he had once lacked a concrete understanding of what a magus from the Age of Gods truly meant, Morgan's unleashed authority now made it brutally clear.
Already drained of mana, Kayneth swayed under the overwhelming pressure before collapsing to the ground, unconscious.
Reines was not in much better condition either. Even with Gawain in front of her to resist the pressure, her face was extremely pale.
Then—
At the critical moment, a warm, tranquil voice drifted leisurely through the alley.
"It's been a while since we last met. You've grown even stronger, I see."
"But as a magus of the Age of Gods, bullying children hardly befits the name Morgan le Fay, don't you think?"
As he spoke, a gentle breeze carrying pink petals swept through the air.
The encroaching shadows, moments away from swallowing everyone whole, froze abruptly.
Wind.
Pink petals fluttered down in the summer night's breeze.
The man stretched out his palm, catching one of the petals before he looked up, smiling at the woman before him.
"...Merlin."
Morgan looked at the white-haired wizard with a cold look in his eyes,
"You dare show your face before me."
"Come now, we're old friends, after all. When I heard you'd left your workshop, I had to greet you properly."
Merlin spread his hands helplessly as he spoke. "No need to glare at me like that, after all these years, haven't you let go yet?"
"...Let go?"
For the briefest instant, the shadows at Morgan's feet twisted unnaturally.
Her stunningly beautiful eyes turned as cold as frozen pools.
For a moment, even Merlin felt an icy dread crawl up his spine.
When he met her gaze, he saw something unprecedented—the usually composed witch now radiated pure, unrestrained fury.
The killing intent in her stare was so palpable it seemed she might tear him apart on the spot.
"If not for your meddling, why would the King of Knights have ever drawn that sword from the stone?"
"If you hadn't taught him how to use the Covenant of Fate, how could he have died?!"
Yes... Morgan had never once believed that Alvin would defeat Artoria himself.
The Covenant of Fate EX—a unique authority she had given Alvin, usable only once in his lifetime.
In fact, Morgan did not tell Alvin how to use this power... To be precise, the method she taught him was wrong.
When the White Dragon and Red Dragon clashed in their mythic battle, the covenant should have activated on its own.
Yet... this damned incubus, on the night when Alvin implemented his plan, he secretly told him how to use the special power.
Merlin had known Morgan's scheme from the start. And he had never intended for either Alvin or Artoria to die.
He had simply given Alvin a choice.
Incubi thrived on testing human nature—to them, it was the finest sustenance.
And Alvin's decision, made when the entire world stood against him, had been the ultimate trial.
Faced with the temptation of the throne, he had chosen his beloved without hesitation, deceiving the very witch who had once terrified the nobility, then dying beneath the weight of infamy.
That was the beginning and end of the Night's Watch's tale.
Even now, thinking about that incident, Morgan burned with regret.
She could not accept this ending.
Everything had been planned to perfection, only for a creature not even human to ruin it all.
She hated Artoria.
But for Alvin's sake.. she could bear her.
Only..
Merlin...
Merlin had to die.
"It seems you still don't understand, Morgan."
Merlin sighed softly. "Even if he had killed Lily under your plan, he would never have chosen to become king."
"Likewise," Merlin continued, "he would never have chosen you."
Lies don't wound, truth is the sharpest blade.
Morgan, who had been seething with rage just moments ago, froze. Her murderous gaze flickered, then dimmed.
Slowly, silently, she lowered her eyes.
All these years, even as countless people acknowledged Morgan le Fay's brilliance and beauty, she had still carried an unspoken inferiority in the face of Artoria.
On the paths of kingship and love, she had always been one step behind.
Her father, Uther Pendragon, had chosen her sister over her.
And Alvin... had chosen her sister as well.
No, to be precise, Alvin and Artoria had already been in love before Morgan arrived.
She had merely been the interloper who forced her way in.
And failed. Again. That was all.
Despite possessing power that instilled terror in others, Morgan now looked utterly exhausted.
Gareth looked at her 'mother' and opened her mouth slightly, as if she wanted to say something, but she swallowed the words back when they came to her lips.
It wasn't just the nobility who feared the "Witch." Even Morgan's own children did.
For Gareth, too, fear outweighed all other emotions toward her.
Once, there had been someone who saw Morgan not as a force to be feared, but simply as a girl...
But that was in the past.
What had truly killed him wasn't Merlin.
It was her own greed.
Her refusal to settle for sharing, her hunger for more, for everything, for sole possession of a love that was never hers to claim.
A faint ripple of magical energy pulsed through the air.
Unnoticed, Merlin had already woven an illusion, spiriting the group away during his exchange with Morgan.
In fact, with her perception, Morgan could have easily caught up if she wished.
But this time...
She didn't move.
Hee eyelids lowered, the usual arrogance in her eyes dimmed to a hollow emptiness.
The deserted alley was left with only the witch's whisper, soft and broken.
"...Alvin."
An unmeasured silence stretched before she finally reached into her robes and withdrew a single white dragon scale.
One of Alvin's mystic codes.
Even in the gloom, the scale shimmered with an ethereal glow, pulsing faintly like a dying ember.
She had taken it from Agravain during their clash, swift, unnoticed.
Had she not, she would never have let them leave so easily.
But what did it matter now?
No matter how many relics she gathered of the dead... what meaning did they hold?
The White Dragon's power was too vast, too absolute. A single scale could never bring him back.
At best, it was just another keepsake.
Looking at the dragon scales in her hand, a self-deprecating arc soon appeared at the corner of the witch's mouth.
Then, she slowly injected a wisp of her own mana into the dragon's scales...
.
.
.