Chapter 54: The Rebirth of the Sword

To strengthen the Golden Sword of Assured Victory, more rare materials needed to be infused into it—and at the moment, the only source available was Melusine herself. Even just her outer scales, when forged and polished through standard methods, could produce weapons on par with Noble Phantasms. Let alone her dragon fangs.

Besides, there was already a contract between him and Melusine. Incorporating part of her body into the Golden Sword of Assured Victory would not only deepen the bond between him and the sword, but also allow him, as the child of a white dragon, to better harmonize with a weapon now imbued with draconic traits.

Watching Aslan approach, Melusine swallowed nervously. Her teeth were incomparably strong, and the thought of having one pulled out made her wince—it was a pain hard to endure.

"I won't make you give it for nothing. Give me one tooth, and I'll give you a surprise in return."

It was only after hearing Aslan's promise that Melusine reluctantly opened her mouth. Even though the pliers in Aslan's hand were crafted using forging techniques suitable for divine swords, extracting a tooth from a dragon was no easy task. Aslan could feel how incredibly tough that tooth was—so much so that he almost had the urge to forge a chainsaw for the job.

Maybe using a chainsaw really would be faster.

At last, just as Aslan's strength was about to give out, the dragon tooth finally came loose. The moment it separated from Melusine's body, it began to gradually return to its natural form.

Melusine's regeneration was swift. As soon as the tooth was pulled, the bleeding quickly stopped, though the pain still lingered. At this moment, she looked at Aslan with big, pitiful eyes.

Aslan gently pressed a kiss to Melusine's slightly pouting lips, soothing her pain, and quickly pulled away. Without saying a word, he turned his attention back to the dragon fang, beginning the restoration of the Golden Sword of Assured Victory as if nothing had happened.

Melusine lightly touched her lips. The pain was gone, replaced by a strange new feeling—sweet and full of shock. Aslan had never done anything like this before.

Though she often said she wanted to grow closer to him, she had always respected Aslan's boundaries. Deep down, he still struggled with her appearance. Even if he understood she was a 4.6-billion-year-old dragon, her form was still hard to overcome.

But after meeting Guinevere, Aslan had changed his thinking. He didn't want Melusine to feel what Guinevere had felt. So now, he allowed himself to take just a small step closer.

Melusine covered her cheeks, wriggling a little in place. How was she supposed to describe this feeling? Like a dream. She hadn't expected Aslan to be so forward—if things continued like this, wouldn't they grow even closer in time?

If Aslan ever showed that same bold side of his again, would he be willing to… sleep with her next time?

She had to get their love nest ready quickly. But how should she decorate it? Of course—fill it with gold.

Hidden from Aslan's sight, Melusine's eyes suddenly turned cold. If she wanted to line their entire cave with gold, she might need to take on a few side jobs while he wasn't looking. Robbery, perhaps?

Speaking of which, Aslan should be able to give her a beautiful child, right? As the son of a white dragon, even if he didn't have a dragon's body, he still possessed some racial traits unique to dragons. That meant racial incompatibility shouldn't be an issue. But what would the baby look like? It was an exciting dilemma.

And perhaps from now on, she should take the initiative more often? After all, that was a proud dragon tradition~

Aslan had no idea that his dragon had already begun imagining a distant future.

Right now, he was focused on the Golden Sword of Assured Victory, reigniting the forge with magic and activating his Mystic Eyes to read the sword's properties.

He spun the forging hammer in his hand a few times before striking the sword's blade and the dragon fang in quick succession. Gradually, both began to melt and fuse together. One by one, magical circuits formed as Aslan used enchantments to refine any remaining impurities, making the blade even more pure.

The melted essence of the dragon fang began to repair the internal damage the sword had sustained from being overloaded with powerful magical energy. In that regard, Aslan might actually have to thank Artoria.

If the Golden Sword of Assured Victory were a young cultivator, its inner meridians—originally too fragile—had been forcibly expanded by a violent baptism of spiritual energy. Though it gained strength, it also suffered internal injuries. Now, the melted dragon fang was rapidly healing and stabilizing these channels.

Even if Aslan did nothing more, the sword would be able to withstand far greater magical output in the future—capable of handling even the most explosive power Artoria could release. Of course, there was no way this sword would be returned to her now!

Throughout the reforging, Aslan continued channeling his magic into the blade, shaping it anew—molding it completely into his sword, inside and out. This forging process also served to erase the last traces of Artoria's ownership.

After all, it belonged to him now. How could it still carry the imprint of a former master?

Even the Golden Sword of Assured Victory probably didn't want to keep any of Artoria's marks.

Under Aslan's hammer, the weapon gradually took shape. Compared to its earlier knightly form, the blade was now wider—clearly designed for combat rather than ceremony. The silver body was edged in gold, with Faery script engraved along the blade and a dragon spreading its wings etched into its surface.

Even the hilt bore the image of a coiled dragon, with the original gemstone now transformed into a gleaming dragon's eye.

Aslan smiled as he gazed down at the sword in his hands. Perhaps now it was time to give it a new name. As he swung it lightly through the air, a faint dragon's roar echoed all around. The reborn Golden Sword of Assured Victory shimmered, celebrating both its new form—and the fact that it now belonged to Aslan.

This sword might not match Arthur's Sword of Promised Victory, but it certainly was no lesser than Artoria's.

Aslan ran his hand along the blade, his eyes soft.

"From today on, you shall be known as… the Sword of Glorious Victory."