Chapter 261: Unexpected Bonds and Unusual Battles

Upon hearing Lott's words, Mordred fell silent. After all, he wasn't wrong. Merlin's morals were as questionable as Da Vinci's sense of responsibility. It wasn't that they didn't have any, but you couldn't rely on them to have much either.

"In any case, Ritsuka and I understand what Merlin is like. When the time comes, we'll make the choices we need to," Mordred said seriously to Lott.

"Good, as long as you're aware. I trust both you and Ritsuka Fujimaru," Lott responded with a nod.

With that, he turned to leave, and Mordred prepared to go as well.

"Well, since there's nothing else, I should get going," she said, but Lott stopped her with a mischievous grin.

"Hold on a second. Are you and Altria going to part without expressing the feelings you never got to share back then?"

Before Mordred could respond, he walked off, leaving her flustered.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Mordred called after him, but he had already disappeared. She turned back, feeling awkward, only to find Altria standing there, holding a plate of snacks and looking like she was about to stuff her mouth full.

Noticing Mordred's gaze, Altria paused, looking embarrassed. Then, with a serious expression, she extended a snack to Mordred.

"A knight must never let their energy levels drop. Here, have something to eat," Altria offered, her tone sincere.

Mordred stared at her for a few moments, then waved her hand dismissively. "No, I don't need it."

"Hmm?" Altria looked puzzled.

"Just... give me a moment," Mordred muttered, trying to find her composure. At this moment, she missed the stoic King Arthur from another timeline. That Altria, who couldn't understand people's emotions, was much easier to deal with than this overly enthusiastic and youthful one.

This is terrifying, Mordred thought seriously, feeling completely out of sorts.

...

Lott returned to the stands. Ritsuka Fujimaru, noticing him, immediately asked, "Your Majesty Lott, is everything okay with Mordred?"

"Don't worry, that's Altria we're talking about. Mordred hasn't rebelled in this world, so she'll be fine," Lott reassured her with a smile, waving his hand dismissively. He glanced at Morgan and gave her a reassuring look as well.

Morgan, catching his glance, subtly made an 'OK' gesture with her fingers. This sign, introduced to the world over a thousand years earlier by Lott, had made its way into common usage, just like Churchill's famous victory sign.

"By the way, who's up next? Is the match going to be interesting?" Lott asked, deciding to shift his attention to the upcoming fights.

Morgan pointed towards the arena below. "The next match should be very interesting."

Lott looked and noticed who the competitors were. It was a mother-daughter match—or rather, a spiritual mother-daughter match—between Mash and Melusine.

"Miss Melusine, how are you?" Mash greeted, her voice tinged with a mix of politeness and confusion.

She knew from Lancelot about Melusine's unusual status. Looking at this petite motherly figure, Mash wasn't quite sure how to react.

"I'm fine," Melusine replied, though there was an odd look on her face. After a moment's hesitation, she spoke up, "If I win, can you rest your head on my lap and let me pat it?"

"Huh?" Mash's cheeks turned crimson at Melusine's unexpected request. She knew Melusine wasn't being inappropriate; she just wanted to dote on her 'daughter.' After a moment's thought, Mash nodded slightly.

"Okay, but Miss Melusine, you'll have to beat me first," she said, determination returning to her voice.

"That's the spirit!" Melusine's face lit up with excitement. She charged forward so quickly that Mash barely had time to react.

At the last second, Mash managed to raise her shield, but the force of Melusine's blow pushed her back several steps. Her strength is incredible! Mash thought, her heart racing.

But Melusine wasn't giving her any time to rest. With relentless energy, she attacked again and again.

...

The outcome of the match was inevitable. Melusine's strength far surpassed Mash's. And with the intent to merely dote on her daughter, Melusine's fighting spirit was unwavering, while Mash couldn't muster the same resolve.

In the end, Mash was overwhelmed. Melusine's sword pressed lightly against her shoulder, signaling her victory.

With a gentle smile, Melusine asked, "So, will you agree to my request now?"

"Yes, I will," Mash said, nodding with a sigh. Even if she hadn't lost, she wouldn't have refused Melusine's request. As she walked over to Melusine's side, she closed her eyes and waited quietly. Melusine, almost giddy with excitement, tentatively reached out and patted Mash's head.

So soft, so comfortable, Melusine thought, her heart swelling with contentment.

The audience, observing the scene, looked on with curiosity. What's going on? They wondered. First, someone was dragged away after losing, and now there's a head-patting session going on. What's next?

They were left baffled. But despite the strange spectacle, no one dared voice any complaints. The strength both Mash and Melusine had displayed was enough to silence any criticism.

"Okay, that's enough," Mash eventually said, opening her eyes and looking at Melusine with a hint of exasperation. She could almost feel the eyes of the audience on her, filled with curiosity and bewilderment.

"Just a little longer," Melusine pleaded, not wanting the moment to end. This was her chance to show affection to her 'daughter,' and she wasn't ready to let go just yet.

"But others are waiting to fight," Mash pointed out, trying to be reasonable.

Melusine wasn't deterred. "Oh, that's fine. You can just come with me to my lounge. It's quite spacious."

Mash hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Alright, alright."

With that, Melusine took Mash's hand and led her off the field. As they passed Lancelot, Melusine threw him a triumphant look, as if to say, See? I'm much better at this than you.

Heh heh, she thought smugly. I've got this under control.

Mash followed along, carrying Melusine, who was still in her childlike form. To an outsider, it looked quite harmonious and sweet.

Lancelot, watching them leave, could only smile wryly. There's no way I could manage something like that, he thought. Even if I tried, it wouldn't suit me.

And even if he could, he knew he'd never have the heart to do it himself.