In a deserted alley, Morgan gazed toward the direction of Camelot's royal palace, her eyes first showing surprise, then disbelief.
And finally, in those emotionless, beautiful eyes, a spark of light bloomed.
She looked down at the white dragon scale in her hand, the residual magic on it seemed to still carry a certain warmth, making Morgan close her eyes in intoxicated reverie, as if savoring the warmth this magical artifact brought.
Gareth, however, looked on nervously at her "mother."
She had clearly sensed that Morgan had just activated some kind of magic, what's more, that magic was directed at the royal palace.
If King Arthur noticed…
"Gareth, is there any way to get in touch with Mordred?"
Morgan slowly opened her eyes and began walking toward the alley's exit.
Gareth quickly followed and said, "There is… Do you want me to pass on a message?"
Both Gareth and Mordred were "artificial humans" created from the blood of the White Dragon.
So, if she wished, Gareth could transmit messages to Mordred even within the palace using special methods.
"No need to pass on anything. Just have her wait for me at the palace gates," Morgan said.
"I'm going to the royal palace myself."
After she finished speaking, Gareth froze for a moment before she forced a smile and said carefully, "If you go now, the King might—"
"Might take action, right?"
Morgan calmly picked up the thread and said softly, "But there are some things… I have to confirm with my own eyes."
Before Gareth could respond, she continued, "Alvin… might still be alive."
Hearing this, the smile Gareth had been wearing froze slightly—clearly, she hadn't yet processed the meaning of Morgan's words.
Then, once her swiftly turning mind caught up with the idea, the smile stiffened further, until finally, it faded completely.
She looked up at Morgan in a daze, her lips moving slightly as she muttered with difficulty, "The Night Watcher of Camelot…?"
As if something had just clicked, Gareth blurted out, "Then the 'transmigrator' who was with the King back then… the one who used the White Dragon's Core—that was him?!"
Morgan softly replied with a quiet "Mm." "Other than him, I can't think of anyone else who would be worthy of controlling the power of the White Dragon."
Thud!
Gareth's footsteps subconsciously came to a halt. After learning this mind-shattering piece of news, her first reaction was curiosity about the Night Watcher's appearance.
But then, recalling what Morgan intended to do now, her expression twisted slightly as a faint unease couldn't help but stir in her heart.
After the White Dragon War, Morgan had once engaged in a fierce battle with her younger sister, Artoria.
That fight ended in a draw, but ever since then, the two sisters had become irreconcilable enemies.
As for the feelings their "mother" held for that Night Watcher, Gareth had witnessed them firsthand over the years.
To Morgan, all men aside from Alvin were nothing but "filthy maggots"... In fact, even Alvin himself had once been considered a "maggot" in Morgan's eyes.
It was only after his death that this proud, arrogant witch finally faced her own heart.
If that Night Watcher was truly still alive and inside the royal palace at this very moment...
At this thought, Gareth's emotions churned violently within her, her heart unable to calm for a long time.
"Mother... should I try to sneak into the palace first to gather information? Or maybe ask Mordred?" She asked, her voice trembling with nervousness.
Morgan, who wielded the magecraft of the Age of Gods, and King Arthur, who had slain two White Dragons with her own hands, if these two sisters were to meet now, the consequences would be unimaginable.
"Gareth, I know what you're worried about."
Morgan slowly raised her head, gazing toward the direction of Camelot's royal palace, and whispered, "But it's already too late."
This time, when she returned to Camelot's capital, Morgan had no intention of leaving again.
Over the years, she had exhausted every possible means in her quest to revive the White Dragon, only to arrive at one conclusion, the dead could not be brought back to life.
There was only one way to "resurrect" Alvin.
And that method wasn't true resurrection at all, but rather forcibly altering the very fabric of the kingdom, splitting it off from the proper timeline as an anomalous world.
Only then could she summon Alvin in the form of a Heroic Spirit using a "Holy Relic."
And to achieve this, the first step was for her to become the Empress of Britain... That should have been the plan.
But the news Gareth had brought—that a supposed "transmigrator" had taken control of the White Dragon's core—along with that recently forged Dragon Scale, had sparked a sliver of hope in the witch's heart.
Morgan lifted her head, her beautiful eyes burning with intensity as she stared toward Camelot's royal palace.
Perhaps... he had truly returned?
.
.
.
The morning sun bathed the land in warm, comforting light.
Yet, in one corner of the royal palace, an area had already become forbidden.
Agravain stood by the windowsill, gazing at the patch of land outside that had been drenched in the black rain the night before—now transformed into a domain of the Age of Gods.
"The return of the Age of Gods...?"
"To think that even 'Mother' has gained such an Authority after him... Could it be that her plans to revive the White Dragon have actually made progress over these years?"
As he spoke the last words, Agravain glanced meaningfully behind him.
The room's curtains were drawn tightly, no lights turned on.
A golden-haired girl, her hair tied into a single ponytail, sat cross-legged on the sofa, silent in the dimness.
Hearing what he said, she turned her head slightly to the side, as if deliberately ignoring Agravain's question.
Only after a long pause, sensing that the gaze in the room remained fixed on her, did she finally turn back to look at Agravain.
"If you have something to ask, just say it outright. You know how much I hate beating around the bush."
Mordred curled her lip. "As long as it doesn't involve confidential matters, for the sake of our past relationship, I can chat with you a bit. I'm bored anyway."
Agravain silently withdrew his gaze and said slowly, "Compared to the past, you really haven't changed at all, Mordred."
"At what stage is the plan to revive the White Dragon?" Soon, he asked the question he cared most about.
"No idea. But 'Mother' has indeed mastered the power of the White Dragon… for example, special authorities like temporarily manifesting the Age of Gods region. That kind of thing is a piece of cake for her," Mordred said, then, looking at the thoughtful Agravain, she propped her chin up, her emerald green eyes sizing him up a few more times, and said,
"Didn't expect you to actually ask about Mother. That's so unlike you."
After all, in the past, whether it was King Arthur or Agravain and the others, they all avoided that 'witch' like the plague… Who would have thought he'd come to her on his own tonight to ask about Morgan.
"Is it for Alvin?" Mordred continued.
Agravain's eyelid twitched slightly but he remained silent.
"Looks like I guessed right, didn't I?"
Mordred showed an amused smile. "If I'm not mistaken, the black rain that fell on the palace last night was Mother's doing, right?"
"But how did she know Alvin was in the palace?"
For a moment, Agravain's mouth twitched, but he said nothing.
Seeing all of this clearly, Mordred understood and said, "Looks like it's got something to do with you, huh?
Don't tell me you've become a traitor too, secretly leaking information…?*
As if provoked, Agravain suddenly raised his head and glared at the girl. "Mor-dred!!"
"Calm down. That's not like you at all, Agravain." Mordred said blandly, "Actually, even without you, 'Mother' would have found out that Alvin is still alive sooner or later… You just sped up the process."
"But I had a chance to prepare in advance!"
Thinking about it, Agravain's eyes were filled with regret. "But now it's all too late."
From the moment that magical artifact called 'Dragon Scale' fell into Morgan's hands, to the appearance of Morgan's tracking magic in the palace last night… all of it indicated that Morgan likely already knew Alvin was alive and was in Camelot's palace.
If the former sisters meet again… then both new and old grudges would come due at once.
Looking at the calm and composed Mordred, Agravain said in a low voice, "Have you thought about what might happen if they meet?"
"I know. But it's something that has to be faced sooner or later."Mordred paused and then spoke. "Besides, I kind of hope 'Mother' can meet him."
In the eyes of the people of the Camelot Empire, Morgan was the symbol of the 'witch'.
She wielded supreme power and was aloof and ruthless.
But only Mordred, who had always stayed by Morgan's side in the past, knew that the witch had a soft side too.
It was just that this softness had frozen over with Alvin's death.
Over the years, Morgan had stopped at nothing to revive the White Dragon.
Even Mordred herself was merely a tool to Morgan.
Yet even so, Mordred still hoped that 'Mother' could get what she wished for.
"I didn't think you liked 'Mother' that much," Agravain asked in surprise.
"I hate her. It's because of her that I came into this world.*
Mordred propped up her chin, yawned lazily in boredom, tears welling in the corners of her eyes.
Yawning continuously, she said lazily, "But that doesn't stop me from hoping she can be happy… even though I don't know why."
Agravain was slightly stunned, then looked deeply at Mordred.
The rebellious knight named Mordred was just a tool for Morgan to revive the white dragon and overthrow the Camelot Empire.
But even tools secretly yearn for love.
Because they had never experienced happiness himself, even the sight of others being happy could warm their heart.
In fact, it wasn't just Mordred, Agravain was the same.
Once known as the "Iron Knight," Agravain would feel genuine joy at the sight of the Night Watcher and the King together.
For that, he was willing to do even the dirtiest, most exhausting work without complaint.
Though they shipped different pairings, Agravain still understood Mordred's feelings all too well.
"I heard the King summoned a Lord from the Clock Tower today. Aren't you going to check it out?"
Mordred suddenly said and Agravain couldn't help but give her a slightly surprised look. "Even under house arrest, your information network is impressive."
"Well, I did live in the palace for a while," Mordred replied with a pause.
"Besides… she didn't exactly restrict my freedom."
By the end of her sentence, the rebellious knight's tone was thick with displeasure.
Though she wasn't confined, in Mordred's eyes, this was clearly a sign that King Arthur looked down on her.
If it had been her mother… would the King have dared to just toss her into a room without even posting guards?
But… she would soon regret that decision.
Watching as Agravain left the room, Mordred first confirmed that no one was around before darting to the windowsill as her gaze locked onto a certain direction outside the palace.
After a few seconds of scrutiny, a smirk spread across her face.
"Finally came to get me, huh… Gareth."
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.
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Kayneth walked into the King's Hall in a daze.
He had only just woken up in the early hours of dawn, still reeling from his battle with Morgan, when his sister dropped a bombshell on him.
—King Arthur has summoned you.
Even for a seasoned Lord of the Mineralogy Department who had witnessed countless major events, his mind was completely numb at this point.
"You performed excellently in battle against Morgan. System reward: an audience with King Arthur."
What the hell kind of logic was that?!
First Morgan, and now I have to fight King Arthur too?
Anyone else would've been screaming internally by now.
But after all, he was the Lord of the Mineralogy Department.
Though he had been stunned at first, he quickly regained his composure.
With more and more "transmigrators" appearing in the Camelot Empire, Kayneth was acutely aware of the weight on his shoulders.
This conversation with King Arthur might very well determine the future of the Clock Tower, and all the transmigrators.
"Have you decided what to say?"
Reines walked beside Kayneth, keeping her voice low as she glanced at the assistant leading the way ahead.
Dressed in a black dress embroidered with irises, her slender legs clad in black stockings and delicate doe-skin boots, she looked every bit the noble young lady.
Though her demeanor was graceful, her heart had been pounding with tension from the moment they set foot in the palace.
"If the King is willing to summon us, it means she's also open to cooperation. All we need to do is lay out the pros and cons—the final decision is still hers to make."
Kayneth's gaze swept across the solemn and imposing hall as he said coolly, "But you're being too hasty, Reines."
"What do you mean...?" The latter asked, puzzled.
"Nothing. Since we're already here, let's meet her first before discussing anything else."
Kayneth looked toward the far end of the King's Hall and added slowly, "Besides, I'm also curious to see what this King Arthur actually looks like."
As they spoke, the two of them unknowingly reached the end of the hall.
This was the council chamber of the Camelot Empire.
At this moment, representatives of the major nobles sat densely around the Round Table, their gazes all fixed on the figure directly opposite the entrance.
A heavy cloak symbolizing the "King" draped over the woman's shoulders, a crown resting upon her head.
Her breathtakingly beautiful face, paired with those sacred blue eyes, radiated the pride and majesty of a monarch.
There was no doubt, this was the ruler of the British Isles, the protagonist of the Arthurian legends: Artoria Pendragon.
Despite being mentally prepared, looking at the woman in front of him, Kayneth still felt a faint tremor in his heart.
He quickly regained his composure and was about to avert his gaze, when, out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the young man standing quietly beside King Arthur.
Clad in black robes, his face hidden behind a rippling white mask that revealed only a single eye, he stood silently at Artoria's side.
For some reason, Kayneth felt an inexplicable sense of familiarity.
"Brother... it's time to bow,"
Reines whispered urgently from behind, discreetly tugging at Kayneth's sleeve.
At the same time, she couldn't help but feel exasperated.
Kayneth might be strict at the Clock Tower, but he had never been this unreliable before.
Was he still shaken from yesterday's battle with Morgan?
At this thought, Reines sighed inwardly and shook her head imperceptibly.
Then, she, too, instinctively glanced over—
And her gaze abruptly froze.
A name flashed through her mind.
This guy is... Alvin?