Chapter 51: Do That Again

Aslan reached out his hand, and the bird-shaped Mystic Code that had just been teased by Melusine fluttered back into his palm. When Melusine saw Aslan, she pouted, turned her face away, and said with a tinge of jealousy in her voice, "Why don't you hurry back to your queen? What are you doing coming to me? Hmph!"

Aslan gave a wry smile and then leaned in close to his dragon, rubbing her cheeks and even tugging at them gently. "Why are you throwing a tantrum again? I just borrowed Artoria's identity for a bit. It's not like I actually did anything with Guinevere. That would be ridiculous, wouldn't it?"

How could Artoria and Guinevere possibly end up in that kind of relationship? Even the subtlest hint of that would be absurd beyond belief.

Melusine kept her cheeks puffed up and her face sulky. Over the years, her jealousy had only grown stronger—as strong as the vinegar he used when cooking for her, it seemed.

Looking at her aggrieved, jealous expression, Aslan didn't get angry. "Don't forget, we're still in someone else's royal city. So, tell me—what do I have to do to get you to behave? Of course, don't even think about mentioning the things that can only be done at home. You're not that shameless of a dragon, are you?"

Melusine blushed slightly and cleared her throat with a light cough. "Then… do that again~"

Aslan's expression subtly shifted. He glanced around to confirm they were alone, then looked back at his dragon's face. "You're serious?"

Melusine clasped her hands over her chest, extended one finger, tilted her head up slightly, and pouted. Her whole demeanor was that of a pure little girl—even her feet pointed inward and lightly touched together. "Just once, okay? Just once!"

Looking into her starry, pleading eyes, Aslan turned away and covered his nose with his hand, suddenly feeling a bit feverish. The longer they were together, the more his dragon had learned how to wrap him around her claw. And now, of all places and times, she was asking for that...

Honestly... it was hard to describe.

But staying here too long really could lead to unexpected problems. There was no helping it. He had to go along with her. Aslan took a deep breath, and his eyes gradually turned cold.

As soon as she saw his gaze change, Melusine grew visibly more excited. Her breathing quickened, and she even swallowed a mouthful of saliva.

Suddenly, Aslan raised his hand and slammed it against the wall beside Melusine's cheek—just like a classic kabedon, trapping his dragon firmly before him. His voice was laced with irritation and anger. All the gentleness he'd shown earlier had vanished without a trace.

"Hey! Idiot! How many times do I have to tell you? When you make a request like that, take your surroundings into account! No next time!"

If anyone familiar with Vortigern saw Aslan's expression and tone at this moment, they would undoubtedly think he looked exactly like the so-called Demon Dragon.

Melusine clasped her hands together, a look of bliss on her face.

Yes, this strong and forceful side of Aslan—it was simply irresistible. Ever since a certain incident during one of their travels, it was like something inside her had been awakened. She'd become increasingly infatuated with Aslan's assertive demeanor.

Because this kind of behavior let her imagine—if Aslan were a dragon, what would their relationship be like? Surely he would be a magnificent, domineering dragon who'd pin her beneath him, gently biting the scales at her throat, while she entrusted him with complete and absolute faith.

Ah… what a wonderful fantasy.

Aslan watched Melusine—lost in her delusions, clutching her own cheeks—then quietly slid the key into the vault's lock. With a soft click, the door opened, revealing a dazzling array of treasures.

The bird-shaped Mystic Code resting on Aslan's shoulder quickly darted inside. Among the many weapons inside the vault were several fine swords—and even some of the equipment he had only sold earlier today. He hadn't expected his gear to be deemed worthy of the royal treasury already. That was rather satisfying.

In the very center of the vault stood a display pedestal, and on it lay a broken sword. Even outside its scabbard, the blade still gleamed coldly. Compared to the last time he had seen it, however, it seemed to have lost some of its vitality. Understandable, since the sword was now broken. While not entirely destroyed, it had certainly suffered a grievous wound.

Aslan clenched his fist. To be honest, the Golden Sword of Assured Victory was in worse shape than he had expected. It looked... utterly pitiful.

If this sword were a young maiden, then her body had been forcefully stuffed with things she couldn't bear—pierced through and through by those foreign objects, her power forced to explode outward again and again. As if that weren't enough, she now bore a near-fatal wound…

Sooner or later, he was going to have a "talk" with Merlin.

Aslan stepped in front of the Golden Sword of Assured Victory. Even with him so close, the sword showed little reaction. In this moment, the atmosphere felt like a lover returning too late to an abandoned partner—one of those dramatic "chasing my wife to the crematorium" scenes.

Aslan dropped his disguise and placed a hand on the hilt of the sword. Then, he activated his magic and channeled it into the blade. Only then did the quiet weapon glow faintly gold and emit a deep, wounded emotion.

If not for the injury it had sustained, the sword might have leapt into his arms and started whimpering about everything it had been through.

Aslan then took out the shard of the blade that had been embedded in his Mystic Code. He gently stroked the sword's surface. "You've been through a lot. I brought back the fragment you lost. I'll restore you—infuse you with new materials and blessings. From now on, you'll only grow stronger in my hands. Now come on, be good. Let's go home."

Aslan placed the Golden Sword of Assured Victory into a specially made storage case, slung it over his back, and turned to leave—only to find a knight standing in his way, sword drawn.

"I heard some noises and came to check. Didn't expect to catch a big fish like you. So this was your so-called intention? Stealing treasures from the royal vault? In that case, as a Knight of the Round Table, I—Gawain—will not stand idly by!"