Alexander stared upward in shock, his gaze locking onto the nightmarish figure before him.
Her armor was pitch black, bulky, and adorned with jagged spikes resembling dragon teeth. Strange, blood-red patterns like pulsating veins ran across its surface.
In her hand, she gripped a knightly sword marked with crimson runes, its dark blade exuding an ominous aura. Beneath her pale golden hair, her piercing golden slit-pupils burned with unrestrained killing intent.
She stood high above, gazing down at Alexander like a god staring at an insignificant insect.
Alexander's pupils constricted to needle-like points as he noticed the armor, which had been shattered during her earlier battle, was now completely restored.
Not only that, but the oppressive aura she radiated made it clear—she was far from weakened.
Why?
What in the world had happened?!
"What a delightful expression."
Suspended in the air, Artoria sneered, her voice dripping with cruel amusement. "Are you terrified? Confused? Despairing? Desperate for answers?"
"If you're foolish enough to stand before me, then drown in that confusion and despair. Die in ignorance, oh self-proclaimed wise fool."
Artoria tossed her sword into the air with her right hand, catching it in her left as a vortex of black light began gathering around the blade. The overwhelming heat radiating from it distorted the very air.
Alexander's face paled, his body disappearing into a streak of lightning as he fled.
"Did you truly think you could escape me unscathed time and time again, you arrogant Campione?"
With a disdainful snort, Artoria raised the sword, now brimming with condensed black energy, and swung it downward.
"[Excalibur Morgan – Vortigern, Hammer of the Vile King]!"
At that moment, Alexander froze.
The torrent of black light surged forward, inescapable and all-consuming. But Alexander's thoughts were fixated on one thing—the name she had just shouted.
It was as if the fog obscuring his mind had finally cleared, revealing the truth.
In that instant, every question he'd struggled with fell into place.
"Morgan… Her true name isn't Arthur—it's Morgan!"
He had to tell the others.
The raging black inferno engulfed Alexander, but the next moment, a streak of lightning shot out from the torrent, vanishing beyond the horizon in an instant.
Fueled by a sense of mission, Alexander pushed his Authority to the limit, breaking free from the black flood despite his injuries. His sole purpose now was to ensure others learned the shocking truth.
Artoria watched the streak of lightning disappear into the distance, her expression calm and indifferent.
Though her attack had failed to kill him, the unleashed Noble Phantasm had undoubtedly left him gravely injured. It would take a long time before he could act like a bothersome flea again.
Campiones were miraculous beings, after all. They had killed gods while still human, blessed with extraordinary luck and limitless potential. Watching Alexander escape reminded Artoria of Francis Drake, who had managed to steal Poseidon's core in the Greek Lostbelt.
Originally, Artoria had believed that this attack would finish him. Since her battle with Heracles, she had grown stronger, and by drawing vitality from the leylines, she had restored her energy and further enhanced her power. Though she still fell short of the true Last King, she was far stronger than the average Campione.
Even so, she had not underestimated the man who had once slain a god as a mortal. From the start, she had released her Noble Phantasm at full power—and yet, he still escaped.
By her calculations, that attack should have been more than enough to kill him.
"Other than extraordinary luck, I can't think of any other explanation… In hindsight, being able to kill even one Campione was already a rare achievement."
---
The sky was dark, heavy with oppressive clouds.
In Greenwich, England, a fierce wind swept through the ancient city like a wild beast, threatening to unleash a torrential downpour at any moment.
Trees lining the streets swayed violently in the wind, their rustling leaves a constant reminder of nature's fury. Passersby hurried along, hats pulled low and cloaks wrapped tight. A few ill-tempered souls cursed the sudden, unreasonable gale—or mocked the incompetence of the weather forecast.
Newspaper kiosks had shut their doors early, shop signs swayed precariously, and flowerbeds along the roadsides trembled in the storm.
Alice gazed out the window of her room, observing the street below. As someone privy to the supernatural secrets of the world, she knew this scene was a microcosm of a much larger phenomenon.
It wasn't just England… Most of the world was enduring the same relentless winds. These weren't ordinary natural phenomena but the result of divine intervention.
"What could've happened in Greece for it to cause this… even the leylines are in chaos."
"And Alexander… I wonder if he's all right. Did something happen to him?"
Not long ago, the Italian magical societies Copper Black Cross and Bronze Black Cross had relayed a message to groups like the Witenagemot and the Royal Arsenal. The message stated: A divine battle was about to erupt in Greece. One of the combatants was the goddess who had appeared months ago and killed a Campione. The source of the information was Liliana and Erica, who were currently in Greece.
After hearing this, Alexander had decisively chosen to travel to Greece himself, seeking a way to obtain the goddess's blood.
Though many questions remained unanswered, the majority of their clues pointed to the conclusion that this goddess's true identity was the Eternal King.
This formed the foundation of their plans.
While gods originally had no true names, myths had assigned them identities and narratives that bound them. For instance, the rogue Achilles could still be harmed by his heel, and rogue Heracles could be slain by Hydra venom.
In Arthurian legend, King Arthur had marched to France to punish Guinevere and Lancelot, leaving Mordred to govern Britain. Spurred on by her mother, Morgause, Mordred rebelled.
Arthur hurried back to Britain, where he killed Mordred at the Battle of Camlann. However, he was mortally wounded in the fight and later died after Bedivere returned Excalibur to the Lady of the Lake.
Alice and Alexander's plan hinged on this myth. They intended to recreate the concept of the sword Mordred used to kill King Arthur and use it against the Heretic King Arthur.
Fully aware of the goddess's overwhelming strength, they knew ordinary methods wouldn't suffice and sought to exploit mythology itself.
As these thoughts filled her mind, Alice turned away from the window, the unease in her heart growing stronger.
Suddenly, a fierce wind tore through the room, forcing her to close her eyes against its sting.
Along with the wind came an overwhelming presence—a powerful, divine aura.
When Alice finally managed to open her eyes, what she saw shocked her.
Standing before her was a half-human, half-serpent goddess.
Her upper body resembled a woman with red hair and white bird-like wings, while her lower body was a serpent adorned with fish-like fins.
Alice's lips parted in astonishment as she recognized the figure.
"You… No, it's you—Melusine?!"
---
...
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