The massive wooden doors of the castle were being relentlessly slammed by a black two-legged wyvern. Among all the wyverns, the black two-legged wyvern was considered one of the strongest. The thick wooden doors were already showing numerous cracks. While these doors might hold up against human soldiers, they were clearly insufficient to withstand the strength of these dragonkind creatures.
The wyvern's claws easily tore through the heavy wood. Through the gaps in the door, the shadow of the attacking wyvern could be faintly seen. Apart from the lord, his daughter, and Morgan, everyone else displayed expressions of fear. What was once a sturdy castle now seemed like a coffin, trapping everyone inside.
The lord tightly held his daughter in his arms and kept reassuring her, "Don't be afraid. Daddy will protect you. If there's only one knight left, they will protect you until the end."
The lord's daughter, however, rolled her eyes in his embrace, as though to say, "When did I show any fear?"
Perhaps due to a flawed upbringing, the girl seemed to have lost most of the normal emotions a girl should have, and perhaps in her mind, the feeling of fear didn't even exist. It was becoming more and more apparent that her behavior was becoming more and more inhuman.
Crack—Bang!
Finally, the castle's door couldn't resist the wyvern's assault any longer. With a loud crash, it shattered completely. The black wyvern let out a roar, spreading its wings and preparing to charge in to harvest its meal. The scene was far more realistic and shocking than any game scenario.
The soldiers standing guard at the door raised their pikes, but even though they wore armor, the pressure from the wyvern made them tremble. After all, their magical armor was no match for a wyvern's claw.
It was whispered that in the early stages of the game, the wyvern's claws could critically strike, potentially killing an assistant spellcaster in one hit.
The wyvern, not in the mood to deal with the armored soldiers, turned its attention to the nobles inside the hall. After all, the nobles didn't wear armor and wouldn't require any "shelling" before they could be eaten.
With a quick swish of its tail, the wyvern slapped several soldiers out of the way. It wasn't interested in dealing with the armored "shells" and decided to toss them aside for now, focusing on the unarmored "food."
As the soldiers were knocked away, the nobles in the hall grew even more frantic. Some had already removed their jewelry, holding it high, shouting, "Who will protect me? Who will save me?! These jewels, this gold, it's all yours! Just take me out of here!"
This desperate action seemed to trigger a chain reaction, as other nobles also removed their jewelry, hoping someone might take the bait and protect them.
Unfortunately, no such soldiers were present in the hall. Instead, the actions of the nobles only caused some of the others to sneer in disdain.
Some nobles, maintaining their dignity even in the face of impending death, began to tidy up their attire. They would face death with elegance, adjusting their clothing and perfecting their appearance, determined to die with dignity. Several nobles, holding onto this mindset, calmly took their seats, raising their wine glasses despite the imminent attack of the wyvern.
Though they tried to appear nonchalant, their faces still betrayed the slight distortion that came with the knowledge of their impending demise. How many could truly face death so composed?
Morgan, sensing the situation, began to gather her magic. She was ready to shield herself with magic, but after a moment's thought, she let it go. She knew that someone would soon deal with the last wyvern. Morgan didn't realize that her every action had been observed by a few robed figures in the room—magi who had come to fulfill an order from the old man Vortigern.
Morgan had never anticipated being targeted by magi from the mainland. After all, this was Britain, her territory. How could anyone dare to trouble her here? She had never faced such a situation before. If her name was known in Britain, who would dare provoke her?
But this was also the very reason she stood out in all of Britain, making it easy for these magi to pinpoint her disguised presence.
The wyvern roared again, but before its roar could finish, a forge hammer flew through the air, striking the wyvern squarely in the back of its head. The sound of bones breaking rang out, and the once mighty wyvern immediately collapsed to the ground.
As Aslan raised his hand and summoned the forge hammer back to him, a smile spread across his face. This material was much better than the previous wyverns. Stepping on the wyvern's body, Aslan moved toward its head. Feeling the faint breath left in the wyvern, he didn't hesitate and delivered a final blow with the hammer.
His actions were so practiced that it looked like he was dealing with an ordinary livestock animal. The nobles in the hall felt a strange mixture of relief and fear as they watched the scene unfold.
Meanwhile, the lord's daughter, with a mixture of surprise and elegance, slipped out of her father's embrace. She walked toward Aslan, her eyes filled with a strange, almost pathological emotion.
"Hello," she said, "Are you the renowned blacksmith that has been making waves recently? I'd like to commission a personal sword from you."
The girl's eyes gleamed with greed. She saw the forge hammer in Aslan's hands and knew that anyone who wielded such a tool must have extraordinary crafting abilities. With such a person...
"I really want to lock him up in a tower and have him forge swords for me forever!"