Melusine, Become my Noble Phantasm!

Perhaps it was the blood inheritance, or the battle itself awakening something deep within me—Aslan—where the dragon blood once dormant now surged with the island's power. I could clearly feel it: Vortigern was not completely dead.

After all, it was the white dragon that had laid waste to Britain. Compared to the original timeline, he had absorbed far more island power. Such a beast was not easily slain; survival was expected.

Yet, to me, the flicker of my cheap old father's life was like a candle fighting the wind.

Even if I didn't deliver the final blow, his soul would struggle to endure.

But my father was the White Dragon of Britain. If he was to die, it should be with glory—not with a weak, flickering flame snuffed out by some random hand.

Artoria was silent after hearing me. Then, understanding dawned on her—she knew why I spoke so.

She also knew what I was about to do next.

No matter the era, my next action risked infamy.

"Aslan, why don't I make the final decision?" Artoria said softly.

She didn't doubt my intentions, but she sensed the weight of what I was about to undertake. Her intuition—and the young man's past deeds—made her think that I saw the whole picture clearly.

She worried about the consequences I might face.

"No... I'll do it," I said. "To be honest, my cheap dad left me something precious. If his soul lingers in the dragon's remnants, it will be the best forging material I could ask for. If future generations call this a sacrifice of family for the greater good, so be it. I don't care."

In truth, I never cared about others' opinions.

If you live only to please others, what meaning does your life have?

Heroes like Siegfried lived by others' demands. His first choice after becoming a Heroic Spirit defined him forever.

Melusine did not follow me this time.

She knew this moment was not for her.

Yet she was in high spirits—after all, today was a meeting with the parents. In other words: marriage. If you stretched the meaning, it meant we already had a child together. How beautiful!

I climbed over the ruins, hammer in hand, reshaping the terrain.

One by one, heavy stones were moved aside and sculpted into the shape of a roaring dragon.

This would mark the place where the dragon fell—a relic to be remembered.

After all, it symbolized the status of the son of Vortigern, did it not?

Among the stones, the dragon's head emerged, half-skeletal but unmistakably the resting place of my cheap father's lingering soul.

The head had endured three mighty blows.

These bones would be my finest forging material.

Sensing my approach, the dragon slowly opened its lone remaining eye.

"You came, after all. My dear son—what brings you here? Have you come to sever your roots?"

I said nothing.

I opened my magic eye, tapped the bones gently with my forging hammer, and finally nodded.

Yes, it was his skull. The material was exquisite—far superior to anything I'd ever seen.

Even in death, my father had cared for me enough to leave this treasure behind.

So touching... so deeply moving.

I patted my father's head and said, "Don't worry, Dad. I will forge your skull into the strongest weapon and armor—fulfilling my dream to surpass even the gods."

Vortigern laughed—no anger, only pride.

"You fancy my skull, huh? Hahaha! You truly are my son. That's how it should be. In this era, only the ruthless survive and thrive. Take my head if you want it. Even my dragon soul is yours!"

He was ready.

I took a deep breath, swallowed my emotions, and stepped back.

Looking at this cheap father with only his head remaining, I felt complicated.

I needed to thank the dragon who gave life to the original body I now inhabited.

In this world, birth and status mattered greatly.

The world of magic was stratified; no matter how hard some tried, they could never reach the heights of geniuses or the well-born.

Raising my forging hammer high, I declared, "Goodbye, Father!"

My cheap father—the dragon fated to destroy the British Isles—would one day be resurrected.

But that was a matter for the distant future.

Swinging my hammer down, I engraved fairy runes on the dragon bones and began collecting them.

At the same time, Vortigern's remaining dragon soul gathered into a glowing white gem, softly falling into my hand.

Thus ended the foretold battle between two dragons.

The white dragon blood in me gradually calmed.

After gathering the bones and soul, I returned to my dragon.

I looked at Artoria, hesitated, then offered a final piece of advice:

"Artoria, this matter is settled. I doubt we will meet again. So here's one last thing: maybe consider seeing things from others' perspectives. Let's say goodbye."

-End Chapter-

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