The next morning, Scáthach arrived at the training grounds and observed her disciples as they trained. Her gaze swept across every movement, every stance, as if nothing could escape her sharp attention.
The disciples who had been relaxing immediately tensed up when they saw her—well, not exactly out of excitement, but out of pure, deep fear. It was the kind of tension that ran through the entire body and made even breathing more cautious.
Arthur, when are you coming back?!
Almost all of them had the same thought at the same time, like a silent chorus echoing in their minds.
Back when Arthur was still in the Land of Shadows, Scáthach would always train him privately. In a way, that served as indirect relief for the other disciples, who could breathe a little easier during those periods.
But ever since Arthur left, Scáthach's focus had completely returned to the training grounds.
Her strict style allowed no room for relaxation, and it was fair to say that, lately, the training had become nothing short of excruciating—to the point that some disciples had nearly considered running away, only to immediately discard the idea out of sheer survival instinct.
"Mother."
At that moment, a clear and familiar voice echoed across the field. A purple-haired girl quickly approached Scáthach, stopping in front of her with her hands behind her back. She leaned forward slightly, studying her expression.
"You seem to be in a good mood today."
"Oh?" Scáthach raised an eyebrow slightly. "Is it that obvious?"
"Of course. I'm your daughter. Not just me—if Arthur were here, he would probably notice it too," Nessa said, letting out a small sigh at the end. "When will I see him again? He promised he'd return as soon as he pulled the sword from the stone. Do you think he's being kept there because of some plan by that woman?"
"He stayed of his own will." Scáthach shook her head calmly. "Don't worry, we'll see him again soon… unless something unexpected happens."
She had no intention of telling Nessa about what had happened the previous night. Revealing it now would bring no benefit—on the contrary, it might even interfere.
In fact, keeping that little secret might prove more useful… especially if it served as motivation.
"Train hard, or you'll fall completely behind when you see him again," Scáthach added.
"I know, I'll do my best." Nessa clenched her fist slightly, her eyes shining with determination. "After I train a bit more, I'll bring Arthur back to Britain, whether he wants to stay there or not!"
Scáthach lightly tapped Nessa on the head, watching her return to the training field before letting out a faint, almost imperceptible sigh.
Though it wasn't pleasant to admit…
To be honest, Arthur remaining in Britain gave her a strange sense of relief.
At least… for now.
---
Capital of Britain
"So it really was Vortigern who did this." Morgan sat on the throne, her fingers tapping rhythmically against the armrest, as if each tap marked the tempo of her thoughts.
Arthur stood before her, upright yet attentive.
"You're saying that the one who opened the portal to the afterlife was truly Vortigern?"
"There shouldn't be much room for doubt." Morgan stretched lazily and let out a casual yawn. "I went to their military camp. There's no trace of Vortigern left. His presence has completely disappeared from this world."
Did Vortigern enter the afterlife himself…?
Arthur pondered silently, sinking into his thoughts.
Is he really that desperate…?
To the point of choosing the unknown over direct confrontation?
However, that also meant something important.
If Vortigern had truly disappeared… then he had completely abandoned the Saxons.
And if that were the case…
How could this war even continue?
The Goddess of Death had been on their side from the very beginning. The balance had never been fair.
In fact… there had never been any balance at all.
From the moment Arthur pulled the sword from the stone, everything had already been decided.
So… this has all been part of Morgan's plan from the start.
This woman… is truly dangerous.
Still, from that perspective, the end of the war seemed near.
Probably… less than three months.
After that… he would return to the Land of Shadows.
"By the way, Morgan… shouldn't you start thinking about how to build your prestige now?" Arthur asked suddenly.
If everything would truly end within a few months, then Morgan needed to act within that timeframe. It wasn't enough to simply possess power—people needed to see that power in action.
Morgan's eyes gleamed faintly, a smile forming on her lips.
"That's true." She crossed her legs elegantly. "I'll start working on that. You focus on eliminating the Saxons. Without Vortigern, they must be in internal conflict. Take advantage of that weakness and end everything in one blow."
Arthur nodded, but his gaze lingered on her for a moment longer than necessary.
That dream… did it really happen?
Or was it just his imagination?
Asking directly… would be strange.
"By the way…" Morgan tilted her head slightly, watching him with interest. "How was your experience meeting your master last night? Were you moved?"
Arthur blinked, pulled out of his thoughts.
"It didn't move me at all," he replied quickly.
"Really?" Morgan sighed, clearly unconvinced. "Then why did you act so… intimate the moment you saw her? I could do the same for you, you know. But clearly… you prefer your master."
"I thought I was dreaming!" Arthur shot back immediately.
"Oh… so you thought it was a dream… and that's why you decided to embrace your master?" Morgan smiled meaningfully. "So that's what you truly desire?"
Arthur: "..."
He opened his mouth to respond… but no words came out.
Because, deep down…
He couldn't deny it.
That night… he truly believed it was a dream.
And that was exactly why he allowed himself to act that way.
To embrace… to lie down… to trust.
Things that, in reality, he no longer did so easily.
Even so… his master said nothing.
Does she still see me as a child?
Probably.
It made sense.
She had watched him grow from the very beginning.
Arthur sighed silently, lost in his memories.
But… that gentle look in Scáthach's eyes that night was rare… extremely rare.
And perhaps, precisely because of that, it left such a deep impression.
"Wow… you're practically smiling to yourself," Morgan commented, narrowing her eyes. "Seems like you were happier than you want to admit."
Before Arthur could react, she flicked his forehead firmly.
"Thinking about another woman in front of a woman is the greatest taboo."
Arthur brought a hand to his forehead, grimacing slightly.
"Scáthach is my master. What's wrong with me missing her?"
"So you don't like her?" Morgan tilted her head, watching him like a patient predator. "That kind of feeling… between a man and a woman… doesn't exist?"
Faced with that piercing gaze, Arthur remained silent for a few seconds.
"Maybe… just a little."
And then, almost like a desperate attempt to defend himself, he added:
"But I absolutely don't have that kind of thought about you—"
"Oh, really?" Morgan smiled, her expression slowly turning more provocative.
Arthur swallowed.
Recent… and dangerous… memories flashed through his mind.
Okay…
Maybe… just a little.
(End of Chapter)