Nobody knows how to be a villain better than me.

In just a fleeting moment, everyone felt a chilling sense of something non-human.

The dragon—Vodiggen!

Morgan murmured to himself, looking up at the monster dwelling within the dragon's remains.

So that's it! This is the true face of what wants to lead Britain to ruin.

A dark being that inherited the very essence of the Hogwarts' calamity.

The snake, having grasped the root of the problem, suddenly understood.

"You've finally arrived..."

A faint whisper came from the decaying jade throne, echoing in the empty heart chamber of the dragon's skeleton.

"Are you waiting for me?"

Morgan murmured thoughtfully, holding his wand, and stepped forward.

Vortigern rose and laughed heartily, looking at the witch with admiration.

“Morgan, my dear niece, you have inherited the mysterious blessing of another side of Britain. You are even more outstanding than I imagined. While the King of Knights is still fighting the Wild Hunt, you have single-handedly taken the lead in resolving the insect and beast plagues in the South and followed the clues all the way to find the remains of the Swamp Dragon. Amazing!”

"This is not my achievement alone, but the result of the joint efforts of my partners."

Morgan glanced at the crowd behind him, responded indifferently, then a cold glint appeared between his brows as he looked mockingly at Vortigern on the decaying jade throne.

"Of course, all of this is thanks to you, Your Majesty..."

Vortigern was unfazed by Morgan's mockery, and his sighs carried a profound meaning.

“Uther misjudged you this time. You are far superior to that so-called creator! The throne should rightfully belong to you.”

"So, you were beaten into this state by a creation inferior to me? How pathetic."

The witch sneered, her sharp words causing Voodoo to catch his tongue as he tried to extend his goodwill.

The black mist surrounding the king churned and churned. After a moment of silence, Voodoo slowly spoke.

"Morgan, why harbor such strong hostility towards me? The faith of gods and men is rising. The cities they have built have driven the monsters out of the forest; they have cultivated the land and banished the fairies to the wilderness; they have torn the sky apart and dispersed the ghostly thunder... The mystery of nature is gradually dying on this land. As protectors of this island, we are both being abandoned by this world. We should have a common enemy. Instead of fighting each other, how about we talk about cooperation?"

Vortigern paused, his gaze sweeping down at the witch beneath the throne, a provocative glint in his eyes.

"Don't you want to take revenge on Uther and reclaim everything that is rightfully yours? I can help you achieve this wish and rebuild Britain!"

However, Morgan laughed.

That smile was full of contempt and disdain.

"What I've lost, I can take back myself; I don't need anyone else's help! Whether I succeed or not, I will never cooperate with those insects who betrayed this land and the entire Celtic civilization!"

Vortigern's gaze immediately darkened, and surging black flames clung to the lowly king's body, forming a massive dragon's shell, while a muffled, thunderous sound rolled forth.

"I did underestimate you. In that case, stay..."

If he can devour this power, he will have the opportunity to unify the two mystical realms of southern and northern Britain and fight the god-man Camelot once again!

Chapter Sixty: Justice Surrounds and Beats, Evil Dragon Falls!

"Roar!"

The decaying palace constructed from dragon remains trembled violently as the hundred-meter-long demonic dragon, transformed from Vortigern, roared and swept in, carrying a crimson and black ethereal turmoil.

Its wings are like knives, and its claws are like spears.

"And so, finally here, the gloomy lake, the end of the road, the raging torrents, the desolation of winter, turning everything reflected in the eyes to ashes! — From this point on, fall into ruin, its name is Utopia, its name is Avalon!"

Morgan withdrew swiftly, his lips and teeth moving rapidly as he chanted a high-speed incantation.

In an instant, accompanied by the surging of divine commands, the surrounding space suddenly distorted, and the fortress formed by her will rose from the void and darkness behind her.

The witch of Britain, like a queen of winter, reigns before her dark blue throne, proclaiming her rule over the land of Britain.

The moment Morgan raised his hand and pressed down, the sky shattered like a mirror, and twelve magically woven blue-black ether spears, shaped like inverted spires that could destroy the world, began to crush the ground inch by inch.

At the same time, the dragon, which had taken flight, had layers of dark blue-black frost condensing on its wings, making it move sluggishly, and the surrounding space was constantly being squeezed towards the center.

The entire world seemed to have become a living coffin, and these twelve spears of light were like long nails embedded in the lid.

This is the latest technique created by Morgan by combining his knowledge of the four great magics: "Mirror," "Tower," "Courtyard," and "Coffin." Its power in Britain is close to that of the law.

Without a doubt, Morgan, as the final witch blessed by this island, has reached a level of unparalleled mastery in magic.

The twelve spears of light fell one after another, and the demonic dragon, struck hard, roared as it was slammed to the ground, like a large specimen nailed to death.

Golden-black dragon blood gushed out from the wound, splashing around and making a sizzling, corrosive sound.

Did you win?

Morgan was nearly exhausted from using her still-imperfect spell with all her might, but seeing the mountain of demonic dragons in front of her being hit one after another, the witch couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief and relax her mind slightly.

However, in an instant, the dragon's dim, vertical pupils narrowed, and it flapped its wings and took flight, shaking off the ether spears that were embedded in its joints. The seemingly ferocious but actually quite shallow wounds healed at an extremely fast speed.

Oh no! Magic resistance!

Morgan's pupils contracted slightly, and he instantly understood the crux of the matter.

Dragons are born with extraordinary magical resistance, also known as magic resistance.

As the British white dragon blessed by a mysterious force, Vortigern's magical abilities, under the blessing of this land, are almost at the pinnacle level.

Therefore, this monster can nullify magic circles and grand magic, and even the composite magic that Morgan has created so far cannot seriously injure Vortigern.

Unless a targeted "dragon-slaying magic" is used to break through the dragon's scales and penetrate its defenses, the fatal blow just now might not be effective.

According to the battle report from Barden, Artoria severely injured Vortigern with a single blow, which made Morgan seriously underestimate the dragon's magical resistance and cunning.

Just now, the dragon had used its falling momentum to quietly close the distance between itself and the caster in front of it.

Now, a hundred meters away can be covered in an instant.

A witch whose talent is entirely focused on magic has no way to avoid her and no time to react.

"Draw back the curtain of night, proclaiming the twilight of the world; life will eventually decay, and mystery will inevitably die..."

The dragon's chanting spread out, and the entire palace-like dragon skeleton tomb trembled violently. The remaining magic and radiance on the dragon bones flowed like a thousand rivers into the sea, converging on the dragon's body that was suspended in mid-air.

"...Experience the rage of those who have been abandoned, and bestow upon you the despair of your end—the fury of a dying nation!"

In an instant, the chilling proclamation fell, and all the light in the spirit tomb was devoured by the demonic dragon, plunging the world into boundless darkness and chaos.

The next moment, a radiance comparable to the sun burst forth from the sky.

That's dragon flame! A cursed fire that annihilates all life!

Crimson and black flames spewed from the dragon's mouth, pouring wildly towards Morgan.

As destruction loomed, the witch stood rooted to the spot, neither flinching nor dodging, a faint smile blooming on her slightly upturned lips.

Because, Vortigern also guessed wrong.

She had said before that filling the calamity had never been done by her alone.

The same applies now!

"Buzz!"

Just then, the ether in the air trembled, and the cursed fire that had annihilated everything transformed into harmless cherry-red petals, scattering across the sky and adding a touch of dreamlike beauty to the dark dragon skeleton.

Holding her magic wand, Mary smiled and waved at the roaring dragon in mid-air, then slyly shrank into the shadows to the side.

But before Vortigern could unleash his fury again, a dazzling golden beam of light suddenly rose from behind Morgan, its terrifying pressure causing the dragon to tremble uncontrollably and feel a sense of crisis.

"Ex—calibur!"

In an instant, as figures intertwined, the Star Sword Wielder, who had been preparing for a long time, coldly unleashed the true name of his Noble Phantasm.

In an instant, the golden light that shone like stars, carrying the might of thunder, surged forward.

"boom!"

Instantly, the earth shook violently, and the entire Dragon Remains Tomb trembled violently.

As the smoke and dust cleared, the demonic dragon that had crashed into the dragon bone pillar had a huge gash torn open in its chest, its heart pierced by a spiraling sword light.

"Roar……"

The dragon form that Vortigern manifested collapsed like a punctured soap bubble, accompanied by a final roar filled with resentment and rage.

The fairy knights, who were completely unable to intervene in this clash of titans, could only stare blankly at the unbelievable miracle before them.

There was nothing they could do but watch in awe and reverence.

...I don't know exactly how much time has passed.

The lingering black fog has completely dissipated.

On the collapsed, decaying jade throne, there was only the figure of a dying man with a hole pierced through his chest.

This is Voodoo Grenadier, the much-criticized and despicable king.

The shadow that had covered him had vanished, and the ferocity that had once filled his body had completely disappeared.

All that could be seen there was the sorrowful figure of an old man, his body etched with anguish.

The old man, filled with resentment, stared at the witch before him, unwilling to ask any questions.

"Why resist? Why deny? Why claim to be human?"

"Fairies, dragons, giants—which of these powerful creations doesn't deserve more recognition than lowly life forms like humans? What right do these weak worms have to replace us?!"

"Human will is insignificant; the mystery that you and I have preserved should be the masters of the earth!"

Morgan glanced back, his gaze sweeping over Bavanshi and Bagst before finally settling on Samael. Seemingly struck by a thought, he paused for a moment, then turned and pondered before responding.

"Whether they are fairies, giants, or dragons, their essence is 'purity.' They decide between good and evil based on emotions, making it difficult for them to form a rational framework. Forcibly elevating them to the level of civilization will inevitably lead to the collapse of the world..."

Then, the witch paused, her calm tone revealing both understanding and感慨 (a sense of感慨 - mixed feelings of emotion and reflection).

"Their era has long since passed, their former glory has come to an end, it's time to hand over the power of the earth to a more suitable ruler..."

In the dim light, Samael nodded with satisfaction.

Having witnessed the true nature of fairies during his journey through the Nameless Forest, Morgan no longer clings to restoring the land's former mystery and respects the choices fate has made.

Chapter Sixty-One: The Coronation of His Majesty Morgan (3/3)

“You win, Morgan…”

The old man on the decaying jade throne remained silent for a moment, then coughed up a mouthful of blood and spoke in a hoarse whisper.

However, Vortigern immediately sneered, a mocking glint in his dark eyes.

"But this struggle will not end; it's only just begun! You can never change the destiny you carry within you!"

Samael's brow twitched, a thought flashing through his mind. He immediately understood that Vortigern was referring to the entanglement between the sisters Artoria and Morgan, which, like his relationship with Uther, would lead to an irreconcilable extreme.

“They have their choices, and I have my answers. Even if fate is irreversible, I will never become like you, betraying this land and harming my own people!”

Morgan gave a cold snort, his gaze firm and clear, revealing no trace of the witch who would so easily divide the Knights of the Round Table and overthrow Camelot.

A complex expression surfaced deep within the ancient serpent's pupils.

Samael vaguely remembered that in a future that shouldn't exist, the six great fairy clans killed the horned god Cornunus, replaced humans, and became the rulers of Britain.

Morgan, a goblin sent from the Inner Sea of ​​Stars, was supposed to guide the six goblin clans to repent and then eradicate the culprit that distorted history and destroyed Britain.

However, when she came to the surface and was hidden and adopted by the Rain Clan, growing up surrounded by love, she went against her original intentions and spared no effort to ensure the continuation of this distorted history.

Even though the Rain Clan that raised her was besieged and wiped out by other clans because they were hiding the savior, she did not choose to resent, but instead chose to forgive.

Even though she was betrayed by the hopeless fairies time and time again, she still spared no effort to suppress the ever-emerging disasters and save the land and the surviving lives as much as possible.

Even if the Starry Sea once again sends a savior to restore history, she still chooses to fight against the mission she is meant to bear, refusing to begin the pilgrimage and refusing the long tolling of the calamity bell.

Even though that world was destined to die, doomed to have no future, and destined to be misunderstood by few, she still crowned herself queen, using tyranny to sustain the existence of Britain...

Even in her last breath, all she thought about was returning to the throne, becoming a pillar of strength, activating the barrier, and prolonging the life of Britain as it faced its end.

No matter how filthy and corrupt, no matter how many sins it has been tainted with, it is still her land, and her people are still her subjects.

That was the earthly paradise she had created with countless efforts...

Yes, Morgan was not a schemer by nature. From the moment she temporarily set aside her grudges in Cornwall and stood up to stop the disaster, it was enough to prove that this witch initially loved this land just as deeply.