Melusine, Become my Noble Phantasm!

Artoria's speech succeeded—bolstered by her unblemished record as the undefeated king.

Thanks to her leadership, the knights had tasted victory after victory. Though they'd stumbled once, the final triumph was assured.

The Knights of the Round Table knelt, saluting with "Long live the king!" It was both formality and necessity.

The island had changed drastically during this war, with no sign of relief. Morale needed a boost after their narrow victory—a chance to regroup and press on.

Aslan watched quietly while a low-ranking knight bowed respectfully behind him. This knight understood the powerful men before him were about to fight once more for a land darkened by shadow. The fate of those who had fought with the king earlier—none of whom remained unharmed—spoke volumes.

Clearly, the elite troops who had attacked with the king had been wiped out. Few remained calm now. Even those who did dared not speak—smart men don't shatter morale.

Only fools do.

They had seen their king surrounded and attacked, saved only by Aslan's timely arrival. What might have happened if he hadn't come?

The knight's thoughts darkened: What if their king had been captured here? Would the island be lost forever?

Few knights dared such a thought, but this one did. And because of that, his respect for Aslan grew. His worry for King Arthur was matched only by concern for Aslan himself.

"Mr. Aslan, thank you. Please be careful in the next battle. I wish I had the strength to follow you against the humble king... Hmm?"

The knight suddenly shivered, as if a wild beast's gaze bored into his back.

Aslan patted the knight's shoulder, then glanced helplessly at his dragon. The chill matched Melusine's fierce stare.

Their golden eyes met. Her gaze blazed with anger and jealousy.

Aslan! You can do this! We exchanged contract rings—I'm the only one you're closest to! It's fine you had other fairies and weapons before, but I didn't expect you'd attract other male knights! Hmph!

Aslan imagined Melusine biting her handkerchief in frustration.

What to do? My dragon is so adorably jealous.

After leaving the knight, Aslan cradled his dragon gently, stroking her white hair and resting his chin on her head.

"Don't be jealous. I only respect you. Why get more jealous after our contract?"

Melusine twisted awkwardly, then playfully hit Aslan's chest.

Seeing her fuss, Aslan hugged her tight and whispered in her ear, "Hey, stop being shy. We're not alone here—if there's a fire, I'll see how you put it out."

Melusine's blush deepened. She glared but said nothing, settling quietly in his arms, savoring this fragile peace between wars.

During this respite, they finalized battle plans and made repairs. Darkness crept deeper, plants withered, and the dragon had to be stopped soon—otherwise even saved lands would be lifeless.

All forces would now converge on Futigen's castle.

Aslan looked toward the thickest darkness—his cheap old father's domain.

His palm trembled.

A primal fear stirred—one he hadn't noticed amid battle's chaos. This fear was not his own, but a residue from the body's instincts. Born anew, raised by his cheap father, he bore an inherited dread of Vortigern.

It was only fitting to deliver Father's Day gifts soon.

Maybe after that, he could recreate a famous scene.

The gathering sounds outside the room grew louder. Aslan released Melusine and straightened his clothes.

"Ready? Father, your son has come to see you."

-End Chapter-

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