Evening, Ector's domain.
With Merlin's company, Artoria didn't need to sneak over the walls. She strode through the main gate, head held high under her foster brother's scrutinizing gaze, returning to the stable she called home.
But once inside, her smile faded.
She sat heavily on her hay-stacked bed, gazing at the foals nestled against their mothers, lost in thought.
She felt a pang of sadness... yet, on reflection, she realized she had no reason to grieve.
No one had erred; each had made choices in their best interest. The outcome, while not perfect, was satisfactory... no one, including the wounded villagers, had died.
Putting herself in Winna's shoes, Artoria suddenly felt she couldn't have done better.
As for the baby dragon…
"Ria, you've been fooled by its appearance."
"Just as others are fooled by yours."
"Your form may be human, but your body's functions are designed to a [Dragon]'s standard. In essence, you are undeniably a true dragon."
"And that White Dragon… though young, is unquestionably a true god."
"But this ill-timed divine being manifests in the form of a dragon."
The fastidious Flower Magus didn't enter the messy stable, standing outside to explain more about the White Dragon to Artoria.
"Honestly, when you hatched that baby dragon, even I was shocked!"
"But now, my worries seem unfounded. Even in this apocalypse, with the Age of Gods nearing its end, that divine being strives to fulfill His duties… though He may not realize it."
Merlin marveled at fate's whims and Artoria's "good fortune."
"At the least likely moment for miracles, the most impossible miracle occurred."
"Now I think you might actually save this island, teetering on the edge of ruin."
…
Artoria sank into thought.
Today's events had shaken her deeply.
Though she hadn't participated, merely observing as a witness, her outsider's perspective allowed her to see the full picture, sparking profound reflection:
King and vassal, the way of kingship and loyalty, the king's ideals and the vassal's faith… these complex notions swirled in her mind, leaving her confused yet hopeful for the future.
Meanwhile, in the distant Dragon Valley.
Watching the girl, her shoulder wound fully healed after receiving his blessing, Alaric waved a claw, ready to dismiss her.
"Your wound's healed, right? Go do what you need to do... don't bother me here!"
His words seemed cold, tinged with disdain. But having awakened her [Dragon] attribute, Winna understood Alaric wasn't rejecting her.
He simply believed, as an independent "dragon." She should have her own life, her own goals.
This was the greatest difference between a "servant" And a "vassal."
King and vassal might seem hierarchical, but their bond was closer to family... perhaps even stronger than blood ties.
In great calamities or against inescapable fate, families might fracture, but a king and vassal with shared ideals were bound in honor and ruin, rising and falling together.
"Do what you want, what you love."
"Don't fear trouble... just fight. If you can't win, come back. I'll help you."
"And I have a task for you. Search for treasures... weapons or armor with special power, or perhaps jewelry crafted by elves."
"You don't understand now, but when you see those treasures, you'll know what I mean."
The young dragon god assigned his first vassal her next mission.
It was a vital task... tied to whether Alaric could evolve faster, growing into a mightier form.
[Mystery].
That was what Alaric lacked most.
As the magus had said, in this twilight of the Age of Gods, the island's Mystery was too scarce to nurture a true dragon god.
But there was a way.
The system offered Alaric an alternative path, a means to grow swiftly even in this fading era:
"Consume the Mystery within other Noble Phantasms to achieve rapid evolution."
Noble Phantasms, known as "materialized miracles." Often bore profound concepts... such as the Sword in the Stone symbolizing [King], Excalibur Galatine symbolizing [Sun], or Excalibur symbolizing [Stars].
The Mystery within these Noble Phantasms was immense, a rare tonic even for gods.
And then there was the tower-like lance anchoring this world, the Holy Lance [Rhongomyniad].
"If I could consume that Mystery…"
Alaric mused, then shook his head, quickly dismissing the idea that could likely spawn an entire Lostbelt.
"No, that lance still has its purpose. I'll leave it alone for now."
A single feast versus constant plenty... Alaric knew the difference.
But for another renowned Noble Phantasm, he was determined.
"Sorry, dummy sister."
"But that Sword in the Stone? It's mine."
"Not even you can stop me, I say!"
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