83: The Battle of the White Dragon Begins Amidst the Princess-King’s Anxiety

(TL Note: I recommend listening to this: Fate Stay Night OST - Most Beautiful & Emotional Anime Music Mix)

[This Was the War That Would Decide the Fate of Britain.]

[Once Vortigern Is Defeated, Camelot's Future Will Enter a New Era.]

[But After Enduring So Much to Reach This Point, You Feel No Excitement—Only a Subtle Bitterness.]

[This Is Not the Feeling You Expected.]

[Lost in Thought, You Wrote a Letter to Morgan Before the Final Battle Against Vortigern Began.]

[But You Had No Way of Knowing That This Letter—Carrying Your Emotions—Would Leave an Irreversible Impact on Her.]

"Rei—!"

"I order you to return to me!"

With a sudden gasp, Morgan bolted upright in bed, her breathing ragged.

The empty room was illuminated only by the moonlight filtering through stained-glass windows.

Everything was bathed in a pale, ethereal glow, as if she had fallen into an endless sea of stars.

The princess, drenched in cold sweat, turned to the empty space beside her.

Instinctively, her hand reached toward the round table at her bedside.

Finally, her fingers found the two letters—letters she had opened and reread dozens of times.

Only then did she exhale in relief.

One was the letter where Rei asked her to forgive Agravain.

And the other—

Was the one she had received today.

What did it say again—?

Oh.

It was Rei saying that he finally had the chance to make that woman defeat Vortigern, wasn't it?

That soon, just as he had promised, she would ascend the throne of power.

But—

Morgan stared at the elegantly written letter in her hands, her fingers trembling.

Why did she feel so uneasy?

Everything was unfolding just as she had wished—

That woman would soon fall from the throne.

Yet, she felt no joy.

The proud princess put the letter down.

Her slender fingers slid beneath the covers, playing a solitary nocturne in the darkness.

She mimicked his touch, seeking pleasure in the way he had once given it to her—

But there was no response.

Her body showed no interest whatsoever.

Morgan stopped.

She suddenly doubted her entire existence.

Was pleasing oneself really so difficult?

She had never noticed before.

Forget it.

Once he returned, she would lock him away in her chambers.

She would seal him away forever with the most powerful magic, cutting off all contact with anyone else.

Then, she would use her body to turn him into a useless, obedient man.

She would break him—until the only thought in his mind was to stand before her and bring her pleasure.

With that, she would never have to worry again.

Morgan thought to herself—

But she could not sleep.

She missed the feeling of his arms around her waist, whispering sweet nothings into her ear.

[You Had No Idea What Morgan Was Feeling.]

[All You Felt Was the Dull Ache of the Wound on Your Back.]

[Artoria Noticed.]

[But You Knew This Wasn't the Time to Tell Her—Because If She Knew, She Would Halt Camelot's Advance Immediately.]

[And That Was Not the Result You Wanted.]

"Sir Rei, are you really alright?"

The naked king curled up against the man's chest, her emerald eyes reflecting only his image.

"You're sweating a lot."

"..."

Rei forced a weak smile, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

"It's nothing. Maybe I just didn't rest well."

"Is that so?"

Artoria lifted her head and kissed him softly.

"Then tonight—"

"I'll take care of everything."

"Sir Rei… you just need to enjoy yourself."

As the girl sat on top of him, wearing a blissful smile, Rei felt incredibly conflicted.

Before him lay a path splitting into different futures.

At the end of this war—

What choice would he make?

He rested his hands on her waist, but in his heart, he found no answer.

[The War Would Not Halt Because of This.]

[After Crossing the River, You Encountered Vortigern's Army.]

[Like Yours, These Foreign Invaders Were Highly Disciplined.]

[You Could No Longer Rely on Easy Victories—Every Battle Required Caution.]

[But That Did Not Mean You Couldn't Win.]

[Lancelot's French reinforcements proved to be invaluable.]

[You were grateful that you had never made him your enemy.]

[Step by step, you pushed deeper into Vortigern's domain.]

[Final Honor+ has been replaced with Eternal Chivalry+: Your textbook-like military strategy will be recorded in history. Future generations will sing of the Knights of the Round Table in epic tales.]

[As Tension Hung in the Air, Time Passed Quickly.]

[It Was Time to Plan the Final Strategy.]

"You two."

Lancelot traced his finger across the map, marking three key locations.

"What do you think about launching simultaneous attacks on these three points?"

"Mm."

Artoria studied the strategic points and nodded.

"I think it's a good plan."

"And you?"

Lancelot turned to Rei.

"The king decides."

Rei smiled faintly.

"I just carry out orders."

"No objections, then."

Lancelot withdrew his hand from the map, glancing between Rei and Artoria.

"Since we all agree—let's make this a little more interesting."

"Let's bet on who will reach Vortigern first."

"..."

"..."

No one responded.

But all three instinctively reached for their swords.

That alone was answer enough.

[Following the Plan, You Advanced Forward.]

[This Was the Hardest Part—Vortigern's Army Knew That If They Did Not Fight to the Death, Their Fate Would Be Sealed.]

[But In the End—It Was Nothing More Than Their Death Throes.]

[With the Blessings of the Three Sacred Lake Swords—Excalibur, Excalibur Galatine, and Arondight—You Cut Through the Battlefield.]

[Vortigern's Final Army Began to Crumble.]

[With a Slight Advantage in Speed, Artoria Was the First to Reach Vortigern—She Always Seemed to Have Extra Luck in Gambling.]

[Under the Scorching Sun, You Arrived Second.]

[And Though Lancelot Was the Last, He Was Not Far Behind.]

[But None of You Had the Time to Care About the Bet.]

[Because Vortigern Was Right Before You.]

[Seated Upon a Great Stone, As If It Were His Throne.]

[No Guards. No Knights. No Army.]

[Only His Cold Gaze Piercing Through You—As If He Were the One Who Had Cornered You Instead.]

"Heh… you arrived sooner than I expected."

Seated upon the stone, Vortigern spoke calmly, a sword stabbed into the ground beside him.

The Vile King looked upon the three of you with the same composed arrogance as ever.

"But it's a shame."

"It makes no difference—"

"Arriving a minute sooner or later changes nothing."

"Cease your madness, Vortigern."

Artoria gripped Excalibur, its sharp edge pointed directly at him.

"Your words will not make your death any grander."

Vortigern glanced at her sacred sword and sneered.

"Hah. A Holy Sword borrowed from the lake?"

"If you think that alone can defeat me, you underestimate me."

"Then what about this?"

Lancelot raised Arondight, its deep blue blade heavy and firm.

"Traitor of Britain—do you still dare to speak?"

"Oh?"

"Another Sword of the Lake ?"

Vortigern adjusted his posture slightly.

"Now this is getting interesting."

"Not just two."

Rei raised Excalibur Galatine, uniting all three Sacred Lake Swords against him.

"Vortigern—can you still laugh?"

"..."

[Vortigern Found Your Voice Familiar.]

[He Stared at You for a Long Time.]

Then, suddenly—

He burst into laughter.

"Hahahahahahahaha!"

Vortigern's Arrogant Laughter Rang Out.

"How amusing!"

"You so-called Knights of the Round Table… showing such unity at a time like this!"

Despite his age, Vortigern still carried the unshakable arrogance of his youth.

He pulled his sword from the ground—

And instead of defending, he charged straight at the three of them.

This was an astonishing display of sheer ferocity.

But Rei and the others were not new to the battlefield.

Faced with Vortigern's wild assault, none of them showed even a hint of fear.

Instead—

Each of them prepared for battle, waiting for him to draw closer.

[The Outcome Was Already Clear.]

The first to strike was Arondight, unleashing its domain of absolute stillness.

Vortigern was swallowed within it.

However—

Because of the blazing sun overhead, the domain could not fully stop his movements.

His strength was equal to the destruction he had brought upon Britain.

But—

It didn't matter.

Because there was more than one Holy Sword of the Lake.

Under the sunlight, Excalibur Galatine reached its maximum power.

Crimson flames erupted within the domain of the moonlit lake, engulfing Vortigern's aged body in the scorching heat of the sun.

Thanks to their prior duel, Rei and Lancelot now understood how to synchronize their attacks.

This was the combined force of the Knights of the Round Table—

A battlefield where the sun and moon coexisted, imprisoning the Fallen King.

Amidst the fire and the lake's light, a violent storm suddenly arose.

"Rest in peace, Vortigern!"

Artoria drove Excalibur straight into his chest!

[The Three Holy Swords of the Lake Had Struck as One!]

[A Finishing Blow, A Narrative That Ended With the Wind Piercing Through the Sun and Moon!]

However—

That fatal scene never came.

Vortigern stared at Excalibur, embedded in his heart—

And burst into laughter once more.

"Hahahahaha!"

"Artoria, I told you—"

"You cannot kill me!"

"Your title is borrowed."

"Your sword is borrowed."

"Your knights are borrowed."

"Even your ideals—are borrowed!"

"You are nothing but a puppet—"

"A pitiful, loathsome knight!"

"Everything you have is false—so how could you ever hope to defeat me, the embodiment of truth?!"

At that moment, a surge of immense power exploded from Vortigern's body.

The three Holy Swords—

Instantly repelled.

Rei and Lancelot were blown away by the sheer force of the shockwave.

Only Artoria—relying on her unyielding body—remained standing.

[Then, Vortigern Revealed His True Form.]

Before their eyes—

A colossal white dragon, the size of a mountain storm.

Its claws and fangs were razor-sharp, pulsing with overwhelming magical energy.

This was the form Vortigern had spent years in hiding to cultivate, the ultimate body born from the depths of mystery.

The might of a dragon—

Now fully realized.

[It Was Exactly As Merlin Had Foreseen.]

By contrast—

Artoria, standing before him in human form, appeared almost fragile.

"AAAAAAAHHH—!!!"

The White Dragon roared, sending winds and shattered stones flying.

"ARTORIA!"

"YOU UNDERSTAND NOTHING!"

"Everything you have is borrowed—"

"You will never bring back the Age of Gods!"

"Only I can do that!"

This was overwhelming.

But—

Despite the immense pressure of the White Dragon's declaration,

Artoria did not take a single step back.

She gazed at the beast before her—

And smiled.

"You're right."

"I understand nothing."

"If I had, perhaps things would not have come to this."

"The throne, the Holy Sword, the knights—"

"Everything I have truly is borrowed."

"But, Vortigern—"

Artoria raised her hand, as if grasping the entire sky.

"Who said that a borrowed ideal…"

"...could not become a true ideal?"

"In that distant dream, I saw countless people laughing in joy."

"That vision—will never be wrong."

"And more than that—"

For the first time—

There was a tender warmth in Artoria's gaze.

"At this very moment—"

"I have an ideal of my own."

Her voice shook the sky, scattering the clouds above.

A golden pillar of light descended from the heavens.

The Spear of Endings and Beginnings—Rhongomyniad—had answered the call of the King.