Melusine, Become my Noble Phantasm!

Lucius looked every bit like an idol drama male lead—his face, his personality—everything about him screamed that dreamlike, untouchable white moonlight. A fake identity perfectly crafted for that role. He had to be this illusory existence.

Just as Aslan suspected, Lucius had been obsessed with Estee Lauder all along. What does that have to do with me, Aslan? he thought bitterly.

Exactly.

From this moment on, the name Estee Lauder was to become taboo.

From now on, Aslan would never wear women's clothes again.

In other words, Estee Lauder would vanish completely.

Are you kidding? This is already a dark chapter in history — pure obscurity!

After hearing Aslan's refusal, Lucius sighed, glancing at the sword in Aslan's hand. It was no ordinary weapon, and... strangely enough, Lucius liked it.

She must be as unruly as himself—daring to resist him and holding a sword unlike any ordinary woman.

"Hahaha! It's not so easy! Then I'll take action myself. Let me capture you and bring you to the palace—lock you in a room and make you serve some time!"

Lucius drew the magic sword Florent from his waist. Aslan adjusted his stance, ready to break through, but the tight skirt he wore was a hindrance.

"Melusine!!"

At Aslan's call, Melusine snapped out of her daze and rushed forward with furious speed. She ran up the wall faster than light, reached the opposite side, bent her knees, and exploded off the rock face.

The combined force of magic and speed tore a huge hole in the stone wall. Her twin swords aimed directly at Lucius' neck.

Melusine was truly ready to end Lucius' life. After all, Aslan hadn't told her to keep the emperor alive.

In Type-Moon's history, this emperor was destined to die soon anyway. Rome's revival halted, then plunged into decline—the emperor simply died a few years earlier than planned.

If the East needed resistance, Aslan could take a break and head there. Though, ideally, that wouldn't be necessary.

Melusine's thoughts boiled inside her. Aslan was her lover—her treasure. They could both be called dragonborn, so why did this human interfere?

And now this—Lucius openly confessed his love for Aslan?!

On the island of Great Britain, Balin and Aslan's friendship was purely teacher and comrade. The knights respected and cared for Aslan, but this Roman emperor?

This third party was interfering!

Melusine swore on Albion's name: Aslan did not have the habit of juggling girlfriends and boyfriends! She was protecting Aslan's chastity.

Yet, Melusine's crossed swords failed to sever Lucius' head.

The emperor had fought fierce battles with King Arthur, and defeated Gawain—a man three times his strength—with a single strike of his magic sword.

Her swords only cut a few strands of his fiery red hair before a counterattack struck her armored arm. If she wasn't a dragon, she might not have survived that.

Lucius touched the trimmed hair with surprise and approval. His aura grew stronger, and excitement entered his voice.

"I'm impressed you nearly took my head so quickly."

Melusine rose from the overturned counter. Aslan eyed Lucius seriously.

In this Western continent where the Age of Gods had ended, Lucius' strength was formidable—even among the heroes of Greek and Roman myth, he was a leader, perhaps stronger than he was now.

"Melusine, this isn't the time to fight. Our goal is achieved. Let's break through."

Aslan tore a large hole in his tight skirt with the Sword of Glorious Victory, freeing his legs.

Lucius whistled twice, eyes lingering on Aslan's exposed legs with obvious interest.

That instantly bumped Lucius to the top of Aslan's "most hated" list, surpassing even Merlin.

If he weren't hiding his identity, Aslan wanted nothing more than to rip off his chest and smash the "bread" across Lucius' face, shouting, "Mine's bigger! Let's see how you like that!"

But he feared that Lucius—the Roman-pantheon-believing emperor—would just shove the bread back in and say, "What does it matter if you're man or woman? I only care about the face."

Consider Roman emperors before Christianity—who didn't have a few same-sex companions? The one scared back then wouldn't be the Sword Emperor before you, but yourself.

Aslan silently vowed: once Altria's holy sword turns Lucius to cannon fodder, he'd stand on his grave singing, "Today is a Good Day!"

Charging at Lucius with the holy sword, Aslan silently prepared escape gear hidden in his magic suit.

The holy sword clashed with the devil sword; Melusine kicked Lucius from the side.

Aslan seized the moment, moving to the door and throwing two flying knives—enchanted with fairy words—toward Lucius.

Lucius knocked down the knives effortlessly; they landed at his feet.

Melusine retreated toward the door.

Lucius stepped forward, blocking Aslan's path.

"Think you can leave so easily? You underestimate me."

But just as Lucius spoke, the knives on the ground flashed with brilliant light.

-End Chapter-

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