— — — — — —
"Why do eras collapse?"
Tom asked another question Morgan le Fay couldn't answer.
The witch absentmindedly rubbed the hem of her black dress, her blue eyes drifting for a moment before she spoke slowly.
"Destruction is inevitable. You can think of a civilization as a living being. Death is only natural."
"It might be a natural disaster. It might be man-made. The cause and process may differ, but the outcome is already decided."
"I didn't last until the very end, so I don't know how long our era continued after I… fell. But judging by the situation back then, it probably could have held on for a few thousand more years."
"Lady Morgan, how did you die?" Ravenclaw asked curiously. "Was it Merlin?"
"Him?" Morgan let out a scornful laugh. "Merlin killing me? Give him ten thousand—"
She paused, then corrected herself.
"—a hundred years, and he still couldn't do it."
That abrupt change in numbers made everyone twitch.
How do you manage to sound both fierce and cowardly at the same time?
"I didn't die," Morgan added, emphasizing her words. "My body was destroyed, but my soul only fell into a deep sleep."
The tips of her ears turned faintly red, clearly trying to cover up the awkwardness from before.
"Merlin is the child of a human and an incubus. I'm descended from humans and fairies. Neither of us are truly human. Living for thousands of years is nothing unusual."
She let out a soft sigh, exhaustion slipping into her voice.
"I was just… tired of living. Betrayal from those close to me chilled my heart. And then there was Merlin… everything started to feel pointless. So I chose to sleep instead."
"Maybe while I slept… my consciousness just faded away."
"…"
The group fell silent again.
At this point, they were starting to think something was fundamentally off about Morgan. The most absurd things seemed perfectly normal when it came to her.
Did she have some kind of cursed luck?
Thinking that, Tom subtly shifted closer, pressing himself right up against Jeanne—just to put a bit more distance between himself and Morgan.
The girl blushed faintly, adjusting her posture so he could lean more comfortably.
Morgan didn't notice at all. She seemed completely lost in her own thoughts, treating Tom and the others as an audience as she rambled on about her past.
Most of it could be summed up in two categories: family drama, and getting screwed over by Merlin.
Put together, it was basically the legend of King Arthur… just messier, stranger, and far more miserable than the stories told.
Jeanne looked at the beautiful… elderly witch with genuine sympathy.
Morgan had failed at almost everything she tried. Every move she made against Merlin somehow backfired on her instead. Even Jeanne, who was usually kind-hearted to a fault, started to form a less-than-flattering opinion of Merlin.
How could someone be that awful?
But aside from Jeanne, the others—including Ariana—were only half convinced by Morgan's version of events.
At most, they believed fifty percent.
After all, people tend to cast themselves as the victim. And Morgan wasn't just anyone, she was practically the Witch Queen. Who knew how much she had polished her own image, or how much blame she'd shifted onto Merlin?
Then again… Merlin didn't exactly sound like a good person either.
Honestly, neither of them did.
After venting for a while, Morgan's mood improved, though she soon realized she might've shared a bit too much of her embarrassing past. A faint blush crept across her face.
Fortunately, Ravenclaw steered the conversation elsewhere, asking about magical knowledge from Morgan's era.
According to her, the time she lived in was the Sixth Era.
Before that, there had already been five recorded eras that had fallen.
Which meant the current era was the Seventh.
And why was Morgan so certain?
Because she knew her own limits.
For her curse to send Merlin all the way into this era was already a miracle beyond miracles. Who knew how many years separated them?
But what she found really surprising was that this era still had magic users.
After the Sixth Era suffered its catastrophic collapse, its legacy was cut off. Supernatural power should have faded away, leaving behind a world of ordinary people.
But in truth, that was already happening.
The wizarding population had stagnated for years, constantly pushed back by Muggles. Magical creatures were slowly going extinct.
Give it a few hundred… or a thousand years, and wizards might truly disappear.
Of course, that was assuming Tom never showed up.
Now that he had, the Seventh Era would not end in decline.
It would become eternal. At least, that's what he believed.
Tom's drive to grow stronger had never been fiercer in all his years of learning magic, so he began showering Merlin with praise.
"WHAT??"
After learning that Merlin was revered as a "god of magic" in his era, Morgan immediately felt irritated. She puffed out her chest and declared, "What does Merlin even know about magic? He's a shameless liar and a thief, just stirring up trouble with a bit of talent."
"If you want real magic, you should be looking at me, Morgan le Fay, the Fairy Queen. Give me some time. Once I get used to your era's system, I'll make you stronger in no time."
Tom forced a thin smile and nodded.
…Sure. Whatever makes you happy.
To be honest, he had zero confidence in her. She seemed completely unreliable. Still, it was worth giving it a shot.
"Go pick a place to stay first," Tom said, deciding they'd talked enough. "You might be here for a while."
Morgan lit up immediately. She dragged Ravenclaw along with her, clearly eager to continue chatting. The two quickly slipped into their own world, whispering about things only they seemed interested in.
As for Ariana and Jeanne… Morgan didn't pay them any attention at all.
Watching the two walk off—no, their backs as they left—Tom suddenly felt a faint sense of dread.
Morgan might be a witch, but Ravenclaw wasn't exactly harmless either. She had a mischievous streak a mile wide, and her thoughts were just as hard to predict.
Put those two together…
Who knew what kind of chaos they'd stir up?
Tom shook his head and dropped the thought.
Not his problem.
The only one who might suffer was... Andros.
Whatever. As long as they didn't drag him into it, he didn't care.
...
By the time they reached the residential area, Morgan and Ravenclaw were getting along even better. Morgan might seem a bit airheaded in some ways, but when it came to magic, she was unquestionably top-tier.
Strangely, though, they didn't talk much about magic at all.
Most of their conversation revolved around the current world, the study space, and bits and pieces about Tom.
Morgan was in a surprisingly good mood now, completely different from when she had first arrived.
Back in the Sixth Era, she had genuinely felt like there was nothing worth living for. Failure had followed her her entire life, and everything felt dull and meaningless.
But this place was different.
No Merlin. No King Arthur. And so many strange, new things to explore.
And she had a student now… one who would never betray her. That was enough.
…Well. More accurately, this time she wouldn't be the one to betray her student. But it was the same, right?
---
Meanwhile, Tom was in the Meditation Room, studying ancient arcane patterns, completely unaware that the "favorability" representing Morgan in his mind had just skyrocketed, shooting straight up to thirty-five.
"...Century King, Legend, Wizard King, God of Magic…"
After hearing Ravenclaw explain Tom's classification of power levels, Morgan nodded in approval. "Clear divisions, and the titles are fitting too."
By Tom's system, she was classified as a 'Wizard King.' Quite fitting for someone called the Witch Queen, right? Must be that her student wished for her.
Seeing Morgan's eyes curve into a satisfied smile, Ravenclaw knew exactly what she was thinking and couldn't help but sigh inwardly.
Wears her heart on her sleeve. No wonder she gets played so easily.
"Come on," Ravenclaw said. "Let's go decorate your new place. Like Tom said, you'll be staying here for a long time."
Morgan nodded happily.
She was going to turn this place into her own Avalon.
.
.
.