"Looks like I came at just the right time. Were you planning to head out?"
Accompanied by an increasingly rich scent of fragrance flowers, a petite fairy—no, half a Nightmare—descended upon the scene. He stepped lightly on ever-blooming blossoms and wore a complex white magus's outfit. A fragrance petal was tucked behind his ear, and with his long hair shimmering in white with faint hints of pink, he looked uncannily like some kind of aquatic sprite.
"The Flower Magus, Merlin~ This beautiful big brother has come to see his dear—"
Yes, the one who arrived was none other than the court magus of Britannia, the sage who made prophecy after prophecy in this peculiar era. Though he bore the appearance of a human, he lacked a human heart and emotions. What he cared about was the outcome, the conclusion reached by events. To Aslan, this person was simply a scoundrel who fanned the flames wherever drama unfolded.
From Merlin's point of view, stirring things up would let him witness more vivid, multifaceted developments and endings. Well... Aslan was just waiting for the day Merlin would regret it. But for now...
Damn it, so annoying. I'm going to punch him! Even if it's just to avenge my past self from years ago!
Yes, Aslan was one of the many victims of Merlin's twisted sense of amusement. But it was thanks to that very experience that Aslan came to understand his own existence.
Before Merlin could even finish his flamboyant introduction, Aslan's fist had already connected with that face—just as pretty as his own.
To hell with it. One pretty person in this world is enough!
No, wait! Elves will never be slaves!
Ugh, that's not quite right either.
Forget it! No more excuses or reasons. The point is—I just really want to punch you, Merlin!
Merlin, holding his staff and clad in a magus's robe, was hit square in the face. His features twisted dramatically from the impact, his body lifting off the ground, spinning three times mid-air before crashing to the ground with the opposite cheek. The wounds from the fall perfectly complemented the fist mark on his face, giving the elegant magus an irregular, complimentary blush.
Watching Merlin spin a few times in the air and then slam into the ground, Aslan finally exhaled in satisfaction. At this moment, there was only one word to describe his mood:
Blissful.
"What do you mean by 'just in time'? You expect me to believe that someone like you—who probably watches Britannia like a hawk—didn't know exactly what I was planning?"
Aslan adjusted his mindset, rubbed his fist, and narrowed his eyes at the man climbing off the ground.
"Merlin, are you here to stop me from entering the human world? Just like how you once banished me from it? Though I guess I have to admit, that incident did save my life back then."
He smirked slightly.
"But thanks to you throwing me into this forest, I ended up forming a contract with Melusine. And now? You're not going to stop us."
Merlin's body wriggled like a caterpillar—a movement utterly unbecoming of his image, yet somehow completely in character for this magus. He climbed to his feet while rubbing his swollen cheek, using his staff for support. His eyes held a trace of grievance as he looked at Aslan—but whether that emotion was genuine or simply mimicked human behavior was anyone's guess. The more time spent with Merlin, the more mysterious he seemed.
Still, that didn't stop Aslan from thinking he was fundamentally just a scumbag.
"That was really mean, Aslan. Is that how you treat an old friend? I have deep ties with your family, you know. Call me 'Big Brother' and I wouldn't even mind," Merlin said as he dusted himself off, his tone playful yet tinged with sincerity.
But before he could continue, his expression grew serious.
"I knew from the moment an anomaly like you appeared—something outside all my prophecies—that I wouldn't be able to stop you from returning to the human world. I can't block you forever. Maybe... this story will turn out more exciting than I expected."
He stepped forward and tapped his staff lightly on the ground.
"I only came to tell you this: for a while, I'll be quite busy. The wheels of fate are about to turn. That child—your cousin, in terms of blood—is about to draw the Holy Sword."
He looked Aslan in the eye.
"I'm only here to confirm one thing. Though I doubt it... I still have to ask: you're not going to help that cheap excuse for a father of yours, are you, Aslan Pendragon?"
Aslan's expression darkened. This time, instead of clenching his fist, he reached to his waist and pulled out his forging hammer.
He always knew Merlin's brain didn't work the same way as humans, but for him to ask such a stupid question... Clearly, the guy's condition had worsened. Maybe it was time to "repair" him with a hammer and some pliers.
"Merlin, has your brain rotted from disuse? For you to ask a question like that... I'm starting to worry about what kind of education my poor cousin will receive from you in the future."
His so-called father had plunged all of Britannia into misery, a White Dragon doomed to fall to the Red Dragon. Aslan had no intention of helping that decrepit old man.
Wasn't his Red Dragon cousin adorable enough? Why would he help Vortigern, that wretched fossil?
To that man, Aslan was nothing more than an illegitimate child of uncertain origin. Just to reassure the Saxons, he'd even handed Aslan over as a hostage to their camp.
Help that so-called father?
Aslan would sooner seize the White Dragon's will and forge it into a weapon—or wings—for Melusine, so that she could soar again with pure white wings.
"Then I'm relieved. Only King Arthur can guide Britannia toward renewed glory. As long as you, the anomaly, don't interfere, everything will proceed according to the destined path."
Merlin tapped his staff again.
"Aslan, the divine era of the Britannian Isle will vanish with the White Dragon's defeat and conclude completely with the Red Dragon's death. It is an inevitable chapter in the history of this world. Don't try to stop it. If you do... our branch of the story may be cut away."
As he finished, flower petals once again erupted beneath Merlin's feet. Though he could've easily teleported using magic, this magus insisted on theatrics.
"Wouldn't it be too boring otherwise?" he often said, always vanishing behind a screen of petals.
Having confirmed Aslan's intentions, Merlin clearly had no plans to linger.
What, stay here and wait for another "affectionate" lesson from Aslan's forge hammer?
No way! Time to flee!