Chapter 147: The Final Clash

In the previous battle, Altria and her companions had struggled to hold their ground against Vortigern. Now, the tables had turned completely. Altria and Galahad had Vortigern firmly on the defensive, pressing him back with relentless attacks.

In just a few exchanges, the area around Vortigern became fraught with peril. Suddenly, Galahad exploited an opening and struck at the spot where Vortigern had been wounded by Scáthach the day before.

Vortigern's face went pale as he felt the mounting pressure. Just then, Lott charged in on horseback, gripping his long sword tightly, refusing to draw it until the critical moment.

"Vortigern, prepare to face my vengeance!" Lott shouted, determination surging through him.

Unlike before, when Lott might have preferred a stealthy approach, he recognized that the time for subtlety was past. This was Vortigern, a formidable opponent who would not be easily surprised.

Vortigern, aware of Lott's presence, remained composed. He had witnessed Lott's strength in previous encounters and felt confident. Does he dare come and die this time? Vortigern thought, realizing this was possibly his only chance to turn the tide of battle.

Despite being on the defensive, Vortigern began to gather his strength, waiting for the moment Lott closed in. He believed that if he could defeat Lott, the heart of Camelot would falter.

Both combatants prepared for a climactic confrontation, the air thick with tension as they approached each other.

Finally, they faced off, the clamour of the battlefield fading into the background. Vortigern raised his massive sword, the sunlight glinting off the blade, making it shimmer ominously. Altria and Galahad instinctively closed their eyes against the blinding light.

Lott, however, stood firm, his resolve unshaken. He was ready to confront the embodiment of power standing before him.

"Die!" Vortigern bellowed, his sword crashing down.

"Not if I have anything to say about it!" Lott countered defiantly.

With that, he drew his sword, Valias, a blade that rivalled Vortigern's strength. As the sword came free from its sheath, a brilliant aura enveloped it, radiating with vibrant energy. The sword hadn't seen battle since Charlemagne's time, but now it was unleashed, shimmering like a beacon.

In a flash, Lott's sword met Vortigern's attack, the collision sending shockwaves through the battlefield. Vortigern tried to evade, but Lott's strike found its mark, and with a scream of agony, Vortigern lost an arm.

"What is the name of this sword?" Vortigern gasped, clutching his wound.

"Valias," Lott replied with grim satisfaction.

"And the blade?" Vortigern continued, his voice strained.

"Langinus," Lott stated, his eyes fierce.

"I see," Vortigern said, looking around, his expression shifting to one of acceptance. "This is not the end. I will regroup and return to Wales. You have not seen the last of me."

"Do you truly believe you can escape? You're barely able to fight!" Lott shot back, not letting Vortigern slip away easily.

But Vortigern merely smiled, a knowing glint in his eyes. "If my body cannot fight, then I shall abandon it."

Before anyone could react, a strange transformation began. Vortigern's form shifted, and in a blinding flash, he morphed into a magnificent dragon, a creature of immense power and terror.

"Now, let us see if you will be heroes of slaying dragons, or if this island will become my paradise," Vortigern declared, his voice now a thunderous roar as he took to the skies.

With a single powerful beat of his wings, he unleashed devastation upon his remaining soldiers, sending them scattering and causing chaos among their ranks.

The battlefield fell silent in the aftermath of Vortigern's transformation. With their leader gone, the remaining troops—many of whom had been hastily conscripted from the Saxon tribes—were left without direction.

They were no match for Camelot's forces, who rallied around Lott, Altria, and Galahad, ready to reclaim their ground. The remnants of Vortigern's army stood demoralized, lacking both the will and the strength to fight on.

"What do we do now?" a young soldier asked, looking to Lott for guidance.

Lott scanned the chaotic scene, the weight of their victory settling on him. "We don't need to pursue him. Let's focus on securing our territory and ensuring these soldiers can't regroup."

Altria nodded in agreement. "We can't let Vortigern's forces recover. They're too scattered now."

Galahad stepped forward, his expression serious. "Let's help those who are willing to surrender. We need to send a message that Camelot shows mercy to the defeated."

With the resolve of Camelot's forces behind him, Lott initiated a counter-offensive, aiming to quell the remnants of Vortigern's army. The tide had turned; the dragon might have fled, but the battle for Camelot's future was far from over.