Melusine, Become my Noble Phantasm!

Leading the approaching knights was a young girl. She wore a white veil shimmering with colorful light, her short white hair fluttering in the wind. Her clothing fit tightly like a swimsuit, and she wielded a vibrant sword.

Her calm rosy eyes took in everything ahead.

She was none other than Attila—the great Hunnic queen, the Scourge of God and Punishment of Heaven. A natural warrior and destroyer, Attila's name was familiar to all.

She said nothing more. Her duty was to lead her warriors to plunder and destroy the civilization before them.

Though a natural warrior and follower of the god of war, Attila hated war simply because her adoptive elder told her: You are a natural warrior.

So she lived her life simply as a warrior.

The Roman town came into view. The order was simple—draw the sword of war and swing it.

Naturally, the city fell, and Attila's troops pressed onward.

Days later, Lucius, on the march, learned of the border town's plundering. He showed surprise. Though he'd dealt with the Huns for some time, before Attila became their ruler, the war had been a drawn-out affair. The Huns struck quickly, then vanished—making it hard for his army to respond effectively.

"As expected of the emperor who is our greatest threat. A headache, yes, but no one can defeat me while I lead the attack!"

Lucius was indeed the strongest Roman emperor of the era. His arrival on the eastern front had halted Attila's advance. But the cost for both sides grew steadily.

Rome's army wasn't in shape to pursue, and the grassland tribes retreated at a moment's notice. It was an endless tug-of-war.

Until one side exhausted its reserves, the front would remain stagnant—unless something extraordinary happened within either territory.

For instance, the Governor of Gaul's foolish men provoked Great Britain, which the Knights of the Round Table saw as an insult to King Arthur. Lancelot's journey to the continent over Queen Guinevere's affairs added fuel. Amidst these tensions, King Arthur launched an eastern expedition—its outcome predictable.

For Aslan, it was a peaceful year. But elsewhere, no country knew peace.

Rome and the Huns remained locked in long conflict. Meanwhile, the Knights of the Round Table in Britain completed the Holy Grail adventure—but at a great cost. Many knights perished.

Victory came with sacrifice: squeezing resources from villages to rearm, fighting foreign peoples under the guise of protecting Britain, in exchange for shielding more from slaughter.

Altria remembered her oath. She knew a king could not rule with mercy and indecision—and so showed no sorrow upon the throne.

No one governed better. She acted without bias, punishing enemies without partiality—an unyielding scale, precise to decimals, weighing gains and losses.

Yet the invincible kingdom's harshness bred doubt. Knights feared her ruthless judgment and questioned killing the few to save the many, calling it a stain on chivalry.

"The king doesn't understand human nature."

With those words, Tristan left the Round Table. Such sentiment spread, sowing disloyalty. Some knights began to doubt if Arthur could lead.

Mordred confessed his struggles to Artoria, but she denied his claim to the throne, citing royal magnanimity. This bred resentment from both Mordred and her own children.

Meanwhile, Lancelot's frequent talks with Queen Guinevere, intended to ease the king's stress, turned to romance—and scandal. The affair became public. When knights demanded punishment, Arthur chose forgiveness.

The deaths and departures of knights ended the Round Table's golden age.

At this time, Gaul's governor's envoys insulted Arthur's reign with careless words. For the court's officials, this was a chance—a distraction from domestic troubles.

The nation urgently needed a war to restore Arthur's majesty and ease public discontent.

An expedition was the unanimous solution. Even Gawain, who despised Lancelot, used the latter's betrayal and move to Gaul to rally support.

Merlin, watching closely, reminded Altria of her fate:

"Even so—if your life remains untarnished, worthy of pride, and loved by all—then as long as history endures, you will be remembered eternally.

Even if the ideal is unreachable, as long as you keep your oath, someone will be saved because of it."

"That's enough."

When the army was assembled, Artoria answered only this: she was a king for Great Britain, nothing more.

Then came her gravest mistake—entrusting the kingdom to Mordred before the war.

The army was quickly unified to divert internal strife.

As the sun set one day, Merlin bid farewell to Altria and locked himself in a high tower.

The ship sailed off beneath a crimson sunset that dyed the sea red—symbolizing the final glory of King Arthur's Britain.

-End Chapter-

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