"ROAR!"
The decaying palace formed from the dragon's remains shook violently as the hundred-meter Demon Dragon Vortigern had transformed into swept toward them, roaring amid a raging tide of red-and-black Ether.
Its wings were blades. Its claws were spears.
"Here it begins, and here it ends. The darkened lake, the Land of Terminus. Raging waves and surging tides herald winter's killing frost, reducing all reflected in these eyes to ash! Fall from grace henceforth. Its name is Paradise, and that Paradise is Avalon!"
Morgan rapidly retreated as her lips moved at extraordinary speed, chanting High-Speed Divine Words.
In an instant, the power of those Divine Words shook the surroundings. Space itself abruptly distorted, and a fortress wrought from sheer will rose from the darkness of the void behind her.
The Witch of Britannia stood before a blue-black throne like a Queen of Winter, proclaiming her sovereignty over the land of Britannia.
The moment Morgan pressed down with one hand, the sky shattered like a mirror.
Twelve blue-black Ether spears woven from Mana descended inch by inch toward the ground, shaped like inverted spires capable of destroying the world.
At the same time, layers of blue-black frost formed across the wings of the Demon Dragon as it tried to take flight, slowing its movements. The surrounding space continuously compressed toward the center.
The entire world seemed to have become a living coffin, while those twelve spears of light were the nails being driven into its lid.
This was Morgan's newest Shiki, created by combining her knowledge of four forms of Grand Magecraft, "Mirror," "Tower," "Garden," and "Coffin." On the land of Britannia, its power approached the level of law itself.
There was no question that, as the Witch of the End blessed by this island, Morgan's mastery of Magecraft had already reached extraordinary heights.
The twelve spears of light struck one after another.
Under the repeated impacts, the Demon Dragon roared as it was smashed into the ground, resembling some enormous specimen pinned in place by giant nails.
Golden-black dragon blood sprayed from its wounds and splattered everywhere, hissing as it corroded whatever it touched.
Did it work?
Morgan had poured nearly all her strength into this still-imperfect Shiki and was close to exhaustion. Seeing the mountainous Demon Dragon struck again and again, she could not help letting out a slight breath of relief, her concentration loosening for just an instant.
Then the Demon Dragon's murky yellow vertical pupils narrowed.
Its wings spread.
With a violent shake, it actually dislodged the Ether spears embedded in its joints. The wounds that had appeared so gruesome were surprisingly shallow, and they began healing at astonishing speed.
Damn it. Magic Resistance!
Morgan's pupils contracted as she immediately understood what had gone wrong.
Dragonkind naturally possessed exceptional Magic Resistance.
And as the White Dragon of Britannia, blessed by the island's Mystery, Vortigern's Magic Resistance was pushed by the land's protection to almost the highest possible level.
This monster could render Magic Circles and Grand Magecraft ineffective. Even Morgan's newly created composite Magecraft was incapable of dealing a truly serious wound to him.
Unless they first used specialized Dragon-Slaying Magecraft to break through his scales and defenses, that supposedly lethal strike from moments ago would never have achieved its intended effect.
According to the battle report from Mount Badon, Artoria had severely wounded Vortigern with a single blow.
That had caused Morgan to drastically underestimate both the Demon Dragon's Magic Resistance and its cunning.
Just now, Vortigern had used the momentum of his fall to quietly close the distance between himself and the spellcaster before him.
A hundred meters meant nothing now.
He could cross it in an instant.
Morgan, whose talents had been invested almost entirely in Magecraft, had nowhere to evade and no time to respond.
"Draw open the veil of night and proclaim the twilight of the world. Life shall inevitably decay, and Mystery shall inevitably perish..."
Dragon Speech rang out.
The enormous Spiritual Tomb formed from the dragon's remains, vast enough to resemble a palace, began to shake violently. The residual Mana and radiance within the dragon bones streamed toward the airborne Demon Dragon like countless rivers flowing into the sea.
"...Feel the wrath of those of us who were abandoned. Receive the despair of your end. Fury of the Dying Realm!"
The grim proclamation fell.
In an instant, every trace of light within the Spiritual Tomb was swallowed by the Demon Dragon, and the world seemed to sink into boundless darkness and chaos.
Then a radiance comparable to the sun erupted from above.
Dragonfire.
A cursed flame that annihilated all life.
A torrent of red-and-black fire poured from the Demon Dragon's jaws, crashing down toward Morgan.
Yet with destruction bearing down on her, the witch remained exactly where she was.
She neither dodged nor retreated.
Instead, a faint smile appeared at the corners of her lips.
Because Vortigern had made the same mistake.
She had already said that quelling the calamities had never been something she accomplished through her strength alone.
And that was still true now.
"Buzz!"
The Ether in the air trembled.
The cursed flames capable of annihilating everything transformed into harmless cherry-red petals, scattering through the air and lending the dark interior of the dragon's remains a strangely dreamlike beauty.
Mari hugged her staff against herself and cheerfully waved at the roaring Demon Dragon overhead.
Then, with impressive shamelessness, she immediately slipped back into the nearby shadows.
But before Vortigern could vent his fury again, a dazzling band of golden light suddenly rose from behind Morgan.
The terrifying pressure made even the Demon Dragon tremble uncontrollably as an overwhelming sense of danger seized it.
"Excalibur!"
Figures crossed.
The wielder of the Holy Sword of the Planet, who had been gathering power for some time, coldly released the True Name of his Noble Phantasm.
Golden light bright enough to illuminate the stars erupted forward with overwhelming force.
"BOOM!"
The earth shook.
The entire Spiritual Tomb formed from the dragon's remains convulsed violently.
When the dust finally dispersed, the Demon Dragon had been hurled into one of the towering dragon-bone pillars.
A massive hole had been torn through its chest.
Its heart had already been pierced by the spiraling sword light.
"ROAR..."
The Demon Dragon body manifested by Vortigern collapsed like a punctured soap bubble.
Along with it came his final roar, overflowing with resentment and rage.
The Fairy Knights, who had been completely unable to intervene in this clash between monsters, could only stare blankly at the unbelievable sight before them.
There was nothing they could do except watch in shock and awe.
...
No one knew how much time passed.
At last, the lingering black mist completely disappeared.
Upon the collapsed, decaying throne remained only the figure of an old man with a gaping wound through his chest, hovering on the brink of death.
This was Vortigern.
The infamous Usurper King.
The shadow that had once covered him had vanished, and not a trace remained of the dreadful presence that had once filled his entire body.
All that remained was a sorrowful old man, his body and face marked by a lifetime of anguish.
The dying elder stared at the witch before him with resentment and unwillingness.
"Why do you resist? Why do you reject it? Why insist on calling yourself human?"
"Fairies, Dragonkind, giants. Which of those more powerful creations is not more worthy than a lowly lifeform like humanity? What right do such weak worms have to replace us?!"
"The will of humanity is insignificant. The Mystery that continues through you and me should be what rules the surface!"
Morgan glanced back.
Her gaze passed over Baobhan Sith and Barghest before finally settling on Samael.
As if something had come to mind, she fell silent for a moment.
Then she turned back and answered calmly.
"Whether fairies, giants, or Dragonkind, their essence is 'purity.' Whether good or evil, they act according to emotion and struggle to build rational structures. If such beings are forcibly elevated to the level of civilization, the result will inevitably be the collapse of the world..."
Morgan paused.
Her calm voice now carried both understanding and a trace of emotion.
"Their age has already passed. The glory they once possessed was always destined to end. It is time to hand authority over the surface to a more suitable steward..."
In the dimness, Samael nodded with satisfaction.
After traveling through the Nameless Forest and witnessing the true nature of fairies for herself, Morgan was no longer obsessed with restoring the Mystery this land had once possessed.
She had finally accepted the choice given by fate.
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