[110] I Am The Baddes One!

"Ahaha~ I'm so happy! You're my daughter too!"

Looking at the green-haired girl joyfully holding her hand, the witch's head was filled with a huge question mark.

...What?

My hubby just took a nap, and now he's brought back another mother?!

Want to be hubby's mama?

No fucking way! I'm already his mama! What audacity to try to take my son!

Where did this troublesome woman come from, daring to invade my home?!

"Ah, it's Morgan~ How cute! Snuggle, snuggle~"

The green-haired girl buried Morgan in her arms, nuzzling her affectionately. This sudden show of motherly love left the witch momentarily stunned.

"You..."

Despite Tiamat's meager breast, Morgan couldn't help but feel a chuckle rising.

Those flat curves still seemed to hold an endless reservoir of love and maternal care.

...It almost made Morgan remember her own mother, the great witch Igraine.

Her mother's embrace had been just as gentle, making one want to lose themselves in it.

"Ugh! Let go of me!"

Struggling out of Tiamat's embrace, the witch's face turned slightly red.

"Do we know each other? Why were you crawling out of my dear hubby's bed?!"

"Uh..."

Looking at the witch who had pushed her away, Tiamat's face immediately showed a somewhat dejected expression.

"Don't you like Mama?

"Morgan, do you hate Mama...

"Sniff..."

Her pink eyes shimmering, tears welled up in the corners of her eyes, making the witch feel at a loss.

The whole White Dragon family knew that this witch was the worst at dealing with children!

"No, who are you, anyway?!"

The witch rarely found herself at a loss.

"Out of nowhere, you just hug someone and call them daughter! Does my dear hubby even acknowledge a mother like you who doesn't understand restraint?!"

She seemed harmless.

But in reality, she was extremely dangerous.

This girl's aura, even in her current weakened state, made the witch's heart race.

This was just the girl's disguise, with sufficient magical energy, she could flatten the Clock Tower in one blow!

"Clearly, Morgan~

"This one is a Beast."

The blonde girl rubbed her chin, watching the scene unfold with great interest.

"No summoning ritual... yet descended as a spirit, this is the unique power of the Beasts, Independent Manifestation.

"Though it seems weakened, it's still independent manifestation. My dear Master~ where did you bring back such a Beast from this time?"

"A Beast?"

The witch's gaze sharpened.

Her hubby was also a Beast.

"To put it simply, I responded to a summons, descended from my Throne, and visited a Singularity in Uruk."

Rubbing his swollen temples, Reinhard slowly sat up.

With Tiamat clinging to him like an octopus, Reinhard smiled helplessly. Under the witch's slightly wary gaze, he patted Tiamat's head, soothing this pitiful-looking girl-mama.

"...I saw our daughter, my dear."

The witch's expression wavered for a moment.

Everyone present was in the know, so it wasn't hard for Reinhard to explain. In a few words, he made it clear.

"Well... Manipulating minds, laying traps in every detail, and using all available resources to achieve goals, without any hesitation in pursuing continuity.

"How should I put it, it's indeed the method of the Counter Force. Its way of making an impact is too unpredictable. The thought of humanity's future being influenced by such things is nauseating."

Thinking about the time she had worked for the pus-filled, filthy Nurgle, Tezcatlipoca felt like throwing up.

She hoped her Master could give it his all and, like her, transform the Four Chaos Gods into innocent little girls.

"So... it was another me who summoned our daughter to Faerie Britain?!"

"Exactly." Reinhard nodded vigorously.

Morgan was at a loss for words. Now that they had caught the culprit, she didn't know what to say.

"Don't worry, you saw it yourself... our obedient daughter is doing quite well, bathing every day. I even taught Melusine some skills, so she won't face any troubles over there."

Reinhard pondered for a moment.

"Since that Faerie Britain could use the Albion void of Faerie Britain to summon our daughter, it means we could use our Albion here to summon her back. The logic is sound."

"Grr..."

The witch clenched her teeth.

Daring to take her daughter, if she ever met that Morgan, she'd make her pay. She'd grab her and use her as a cushion for her husband.

"And there's another bit of intriguing news, everyone."

Saying this, Reinhard reached into his pocket, fumbled for a moment, and pulled out... a pack of fries.

Everyone in the room was stunned.

"Master, where did you get those fries?" Tezcatlipoca eyed the golden, crispy fries, which seemed freshly cooked.

"No sign of Imaginary Number Magecraft..."

Reinhard pointed at the ceiling and smiled mysteriously.

"God sent them."

"???"

"These pigeon-brand fries are amazing, way better than others."

Reinhard kept pulling fries out of his pocket, giving a pack to each person. Tiamat's tear-streaked face turned into a joyful smile as she received hers.

"Good stuff... can't pass up the rare chance to mooch off that Pigeon."

Tezcatlipoca tilted her head back and devoured a pack in one go, crunching happily.

Waver, however, hesitated, holding the fries up to the light, worried they might be some divine being's flesh.

"They really seem to be fries... I'm so confused."

"This isn't important." Reinhard waved his hand. "What's important is, Marisbury's Servant... I've found out from the Old Man of the Mountain... it's the King of Magecraft, Solomon."

"Really?"

Tezcatlipoca scratched her head.

"That's a big deal, though not quite at the level of a Chief God. Still, he's a Grand Caster, so in two months, he could turn Fuyuki into his territory, draining the Holy Grail's energy completely."

As a Grand Servant herself, Tezcatlipoca knew the Grand Servant candidates like the back of her hand.

"Marisbury shouldn't be able to summon the King of Magecraft. Could his relic be one of Solomon's Ten Rings? Is this an overpowered Solomon immune to all magecraft?"

Tezcatlipoca swung her slender legs, frowning.

"This is tricky, but for Master, it's not really a problem..."

The blonde girl smiled, gesturing to the witch.

"After all, we're the real deal here."

"If it's the King of Magecraft, his magical prowess indeed matches mine."

Saying this, Morgan's face showed a cold smile.

"Solomon, not bad.

"But still... he's just a Servant."

A Servant's saint graph is too limited compared to their full form in the Throne of Heroes.

Reinhard glanced at his lineup.

The Witch of Britain, the Aztec Chief God, and the Primordial Mother.

This didn't even include his own combat power. 

"We're not clear on the full situation yet.

"But I suspect Solomon's descent might be connected to Chaldea's Human Order Incineration. There's a subtle link."

"In any case, there are still five other servants to counter him. If Artoria and Alcides are summoned, they might even join our side."

Reinhard quickly made the final decision.

Surrounded by his allies, the black-haired youth smiled.

"When the time comes, we'll just capture Solomon and Marisbury and give them a good beating."

...

Reinhard threw the stack of documents onto the desk and rubbed his temples, feeling the weight of exhaustion.

Having just returned from Uruk, he was faced with several hours' worth of administrative tasks regarding the Clock Tower's ongoing reforms, all waiting for his approval and decisions.

Once Reinhard returned from his jaunt to Asia, the Clock Tower would officially announce that Morgan le Fay would be the new Director... a piece of news that would undoubtedly shock the entire moonlit world.

Although it hadn't been officially declared yet, with the cooperation of the lords, Reinhard had effectively become the real power behind the Clock Tower.

So...

"Review, review, and more review...

"These nobles even need to consult me on which brand of notebooks or laptops to buy. Damn, can't these lords use Google?!

"Oh wait, they probably can't... or maybe they don't even know how to turn on a computer?

"My evaluation of them might be spot on.

"Tsk... it's like reliving my youth."

Following the lineage of Ember King Alvin and Wise King Kratos, Reinhard was now celebrated as the King of the Clock Tower in reality.

The thrill of wielding power had always enticed many throughout history.

Many, upon achieving power, began to indulge and enjoy life, which was quite understandable.

If Reinhard wanted to slack off, he could easily issue a decree that all female magus in the Clock Tower must wear black silk skirts from now on!

That idea might actually work, he made a mental note of it.

But slacking off wasn't an option... he's not like that.

The pressure of chaos looming overhead didn't allow Reinhard any leisure. Promoting magecraft and advancing the grand plan of elevating all of humanity's spiritual energy required his direct oversight, leaving no room for error.

The lords' thoughts were varied, and their outward loyalty masked their true intentions. Reinhard could see through this, but for now, he had to work with what he had.

Until he developed a more systematic cadre of professional operatives, he had to rely on his unique skills.

Counting on loyalty was laughable.

Absolute loyalty was a rarity, anything less was essentially disloyalty.

It was like the Emperor's twenty gene-primarchs... being able to count on even one Guilliman or one Sanguinius to hold the fort was a blessing.

During the Great Crusade, everyone was united and harmonious.

But once the Chaos Gods' corruption took hold, the rapid moral decay set in, leading to countless betrayals, epitomized by sons rebelling against their father.

The Golden Throne might as well have given hemorrhoids to its occupant.

The so-called grand cosmic opera of human order was merely cyclical repetition.

Reinhard understood this perfectly.

A corrupt official must be cunning, a virtuous official must be even more cunning.

To be a wise king, he had to be craftier, more devious, and possess unwavering determination.

Sadly, despite sitting above chaos, Reinhard's spirit was still human.

Though he appeared to have slept for three hours, he had actually labored in Uruk for a day and a night, maneuvering against the forces of suppression.

"I want to take it easy, my dear."

The black-haired youth held the witch's hand, pressing Morgan's cool hand to his face, feeling the familiar, soothing warmth of her touch.

"I need a kiss from my witch to feel revitalized."

The witch lowered her deep blue eyes and kissed her husband's cheek.

"Ah, I feel energy surging back."

Doubt Ritsuka, understand Ritsuka, become Ritsuka!

When tired, a kiss from a loved one can indeed invigorate the soul.

But... my assertiveness surpasses hers by far.

Reinhard cupped Morgan's face, pulling her down for a passionate kiss. Their tongues entwined with familiar fervor, causing Tiamat, standing behind them to pout.

ᗜ‸ᗜ

Naughty children! Kissing in front of mommy, naughty brats!

"Leave it to Waver and Reines. I think Heartless can be useful too. You haven't spent much time with me lately, hubby."

"I need to oversee some critical directions myself... but you're right, my dear."

Seeing Morgan's somewhat resentful expression, Reinhard couldn't help but tease her by tweaking her nose.

"How long exactly has it been?"

"Quite a long time..."

The witch seriously counted on her fingers.

"It has been a full eighteen hours since we last enjoyed our marital bliss!"

She emphasized the number, as if eighteen hours felt like eighteen thousand years.

"It does seem like a long time."

"Right..."

The witch nodded earnestly, her deep blue eyes narrowing playfully. She leaned in closer, nuzzling Reinhard's cheek with her delicate nose, breathing in his scent.

"Then, take an entire day off just for me, dear."

The witch paused, and then her crimson lips began to wander, finally brushing against Reinhard's ear. Her soft, alluring voice was filled with a firm possessiveness.

"I'm not asking for your opinion…"

She bit out each word deliberately.

"Fill me up ❤️, that's an order."

With a flourish, Reinhard swept the mountain of documents off the desk, sending papers flying like a snowstorm.

The witch's soft, trembling body, already starting to heat up, was lifted by Reinhard's strong hands and pressed firmly onto the desk.

The room filled with the haze of their heated breaths. Her silver hair fanned out behind her head, and Reinhard looked down at the witch's deep blue eyes, now sparkling with a hint of pink.

As the couple prepared to fulfill their marital duties, they suddenly became aware of a subtle gaze.

They turned their eyes toward the green-haired, pink-eyed girl standing in the room, her face pouting.

"Stare...."

"???"

Where did this overseer come from?

If it had been Artoria or Gray, Morgan might have felt a different kind of excitement. But facing this sudden appearance of the Primordial Mother, she was too adorable, making Morgan feel an overwhelming sense of guilt for being intimate with Reinhard in front of her.

Reinhard scratched his head.

"Uh, Tiamama, could you give us a moment?"

"Why should I leave?" Tiamat tilted her head. "Reinhard, Morgan, aren't you going to do something naughty? Go ahead."

"Do you really want to watch us being intimate?"

Morgan was at a loss for words.

"Eh?" Tiamat poked her own cheek, genuinely confused. "Why can't I watch?"

"Don't tell me you want to join in!"

"Of course, I need to help Reinhard make lots of adorable children!"

"Ahem…"

Reinhard let go of Morgan and guided Tiamat out of the room, hands on her shoulders.

"Wait… Reinhard, don't leave mama behind!"

"Just two hours, it'll be quick."

For Reinhard, two hours were enough to exhaust the witch, draining her energy completely.

"No! No way!" Tiamat made a big X with her hands. "I can't let Reinhard out of my sight for even a moment!"

The door closed firmly, but Tiamat immediately phased through a swirling vortex that opened, hugging Reinhard tightly again.

"Fine... let her watch. Let her see everything."

The witch let out a derisive laugh. She didn't believe for a second that she would lose to the modest Tiamat.

The Primordial Mother? How petty!

Everyone knows, dear Reinhard likes things grand.

If she wants to watch, let her! Even if she's a beast, it doesn't matter.

I will savor my beloved right in front of you, making you envious and jealous!

"I will ensure you won't be able to leave this room for the entire day, hubby."

The witch loosened the tie of her office outfit, a cold, disdainful smile forming on her lips.

Her long legs, clad in black stockings, stepped confidently in red-soled high heels as she sauntered towards Reinhard.

"Today, I'll show those lowly women what it truly means to be the rightful queen!"

Half an hour later.

Reinhard, clothes disheveled, pushed open the office door, dragging a clinging Tiamat by his leg as he went to fetch water for the dehydrated witch.

...

A spiral pattern on her lower abdomen emitted a strange burning sensation, as if her fingertips were still lingering on her skin.

The girl's continuous, delicate breaths filled the air in the Chaldea dormitory with an ambiguous heat. Her full thighs rubbed against a soft pillow, fantasizing that the pillow in her arms was her lover's well-proportioned body.

The red-haired girl bit a corner of the pillow, her body trembling as her face flushed an unusual shade of red.

"Alvin...

"Alvin...

"Ah! Alvin!!!"

The sensation was like capturing moonlight in her hands, a fragrance permeating her clothes. The sheets of her bed in the Chaldea dormitory were once again soaked.

Ritsuka Fujimaru, breathing heavily, slowly sat up. She looked at her fingers, feeling a mix of shame and embarrassment.

It had already been almost ten times.

She was on the verge of dehydration, but she couldn't stop.

Since the parting at Uruk, the Grand Temple of Time had inexplicably fallen silent, and Chaldea experienced a long-awaited period of peace. The Servants were busy collecting materials at various Singularities, striving to enhance their saint graph, preparing for the ultimate battle.

The atmosphere at Chaldea had completely shifted. Everyone was now fighting for humanity rather than just for human order. The summoned Heroic Spirits were drawn to the girl's charisma, forming bonds with her during their journey and contracting with Ritsuka Fujimaru in Chaldea.

Having understood the reasons, there was no hesitation in their choices. After all, many of the Servants had long been discontented with the rigid constraints of human order and the suppression by the Counter Force... especially one particular woman in Chaldea.

In fact, after confirming their strategy to negotiate with Goetia, both the staff and the Servants felt a renewed sense of purpose and morale.

Chaldea had never been more united.

Yet, this made Ritsuka Fujimaru uneasy.

Because... everyone spoke of preparation, accumulation, and reserves. Even if negotiations with Goetia failed, they would still have a fighting chance.

But she couldn't wait to head to the Final Singularity.

Because... Alvin had said he would come.

It had already been a week! She was going crazy not seeing Alvin! Her body felt like it had ants crawling all over it!

Damn it, Goetia, why did you have to disappear at this crucial moment!

"I appeal to human order! Why can't I declare Alvin as my husband? Goetia, bring the head of human order to see me!"

The Grand Temple of Time drifted into imaginary space, and Chaldea struggled to lock onto its location. Romani, seated in the command center, grew increasingly silent, deep in thought. The doctor seemed to realize something.

Clearly, Goetia was deliberately avoiding Chaldea.

Goetia was waiting... for someone.

The answer seemed to be right there.

Was it Alvin?

Ritsuka had mentioned that Alvin promised to assist Chaldea at the Final Singularity.

So, Goetia was waiting for Alvin to be available?

Recalling Alvin's demeanor, Romani Archaman's mind hazily conjured an image of a figure.

A black-haired magus.

One of the 47 Masters frozen in cryogenic sleep.

Also, the leader of Team A...

Kadoc, Ophelia, Hinako, Pepe, Kirschtaria, Beryl, Daybit.

Above these seven extraordinary magus summoned by Marisbury, there was an exceptionally mysterious leader who rarely showed up in Chaldea.

Who was he again?

Thinking this, Romani was startled to realize that he couldn't remember what this mysterious leader of Team A looked like.

He couldn't even recall his name.

After all, he was just the chief medical officer.

All data on Team A had been destroyed along with Lev's grand explosion.

It felt like something was on the verge of being remembered, but a sharp pain spread from Romani Archaman's brain, making it impossible to think further.

Romani clutched the ring in his hand.

If the negotiations with Goetia ultimately led to destruction...

Then... he himself would become Chaldea's final safeguard.

Ritsuka, keep going!

The returning you seemed filled with joy and confidence. Now, you should be meticulously drafting battle plans, right?

...

Accompanied by a tingling sensation like an electric shock.

The already damp bedding was once again soaked.

The girl's skin burned as if engulfed in flames.

Ritsuka Fujimaru traced the spiral pattern on her abdomen, feeling the same burning sensation, as if it were his fingertips.

So, it must be Alvin, thinking of her, right?

With his face in her mind, the silver-haired young man, she imagined him, gently lowering her hand...

The red-haired girl, unable to sleep all night, once again shyly bit down on her pillow.

What is Alvin doing at this moment?

...

"Ritsuka Fujimaru?"

Listening to Reinahrd's narrative, the witch wanted to scoff, but immediately couldn't help but bite her lips tightly, her swaying figure like willow leaves dancing in the wind.

"The last Master of humanity, huh? Quite a pitiful little fellow. If I ever meet her in person, I might actually want to get acquainted."

"Feels like her resilience is commendable, and at least her starting speed isn't bad. Proactive, I admire that. Among those lowly girls surrounding you, there's some top-notch talent there."

"In the future, what's left of me, I might as well prioritize giving it to her."

"Cough... you've been dehydrated once already, dear. Don't be so sharp-tongued with your critiques here."

"N-no worries... just dehydrated, just need water... replenish your fluids for me, hubby, don't stop..."

...

Seated in Camelot's lavish palace, the silver-haired queen stared blankly at the portrait before her.

On the canvas, the strokes depicted the graceful and handsome visage of the silver-haired youth. His eyes, a compassionate shade of iron gray, seemed to possess a certain enchantment, drawing all attention like a swirling vortex.

Behind the queen, hundreds of failed paintings had accumulated into a small mountain in the corners of the palace.

This particular painting of Him was, by far, the queen's most satisfying creation to date.

"Mother!"

At the queen's side, a red-haired woman tugged at her arm, emitting an irritated whine.

"What's so fascinating about this? You've been staring at this painting for three days now. I just don't understand. He's just a human, after all. What's there to see?"

"Apologies, Baobhan..." The silver-haired queen squeezed her daughter's hand gently. "I simply couldn't resist."

"Tch, is this the Daddy that Melusine always brags about? The towering, handsome, and capable one?"

"Well..."

"Then let her go see her Daddy!"

The red-haired woman rolled her eyes.

"Melusine never even acknowledged you as her mother! She addresses you as Your Majesty in the most formal tone possible!"

"None of you provide me the peace of mind she does, so I let her govern the country in my place... She does even more than I do... and now I realize, all these wonderful governance strategies are inherited from her father."

The queen's voice trailed off vaguely.

"She has her own mother, another me... It's not intentional, I'm sorry, Baobhan, but taking her daughter is an indisputable fact."

The silver-haired queen wore an expression tinged with guilt.

"Fot send her back... I can't do it."

"I didn't intend to summon Melusine, but my blood soaked into Albion's pores, sensing my distress, she emerged from the void on her own... I... I can't send her back."

Is it that she can't send her back?

Or... is it that she doesn't want to?

Gazing at the silver-haired youth in the painting, the queen's eyes seemed to freeze in place.

"Another me, a figure in human history... with such an outstanding husband."

Mixed feelings of envy or jealousy slowly welled up in the queen's heart.

Ah...

If only she had her own Alvin, to govern Faerie Britain alongside her, how wonderful would that be?

"Then why don't you just take him?"

Seeing the queen's absent-minded expression,

Baobhan Sith covered her face, laughing with a hint of delight.

"If you can summon Melusine, then through her as a medium, you might be able to summon this Son of the White Dragon too, you know."

The queen's gaze suddenly flickered.

She looked at the portrait of the silver-haired youth before her, struggling and hesitating, shifting her gaze away only to return it, and repeating the process.

In the end... the queen slowly clenched her palms.

"I... I'll give it a try.

"If the Son of the White Dragon can come, Melusine will be happy too, right?"

With such a base motive convincing herself.

The queen felt that the other version of herself would understand, right?

...

"Another me?"

Morgan couldn't help but feel a twinge of irritation upon hearing this. With assistance from Tiamat, she was tirelessly shoring up the precarious defenses.

When she couldn't hold on any longer, Tiamat would step in with her boundless affection, kindly providing support, never encroaching on Morgan's territory. Yet, this somehow made the witch feel a bit inadequate.

Tiamat... was so gentle.

Whenever Morgan faltered, she would infuse her with magical energy, and facing opponents that even Morgan struggled against, Tiamat seemed utterly unfazed.

Whenever she thought about this, as if trying to prove her own worth, the witch's movements became increasingly intense, albeit only accelerating her own demise.

"I haven't even settled the score with that other me yet after she snatching my daughter away.

"When we break through to that Faerie Britain, we'll tie her up and use her as a cushion for you, hubby. I'll laugh loudly at her, mocking that without your help in nurturing, her breast must be lacking.

"After all, I know myself best. She's never going to resist your charm.

"My evaluation is, let her follow behind Artoria.

"But don't let me catch that other Morgan."

...

"Only two more months until I can see him. If only I had the clairvoyance talent like Lord Solomon, it would be so much easier.

"Then, I could see him now, see how he's doing at the Clock Tower.

The King of Knights with her golden eyes lowered, slowly wiped the black lance in her hand.

It was just a projection, nothing compared to His lance, but at least it held memories of each other.

No longer showing indifference and coldness in front of outsiders.

Her voice sounded somewhat hesitant and fragile at this moment.

"Will Alvin be bullied by those magus?

"No, with Alvin's character, I'm sure he's the one bullying them."

"At the Round Table conference, I saw him through the seal... he still shines so brightly.

"He... wiped my tears for me.

"Surely, he must have me in his heart?"

"..."

The silver-haired old man stood atop the mountains of Fuyuki, the land beneath his feet transformed by his Britannian body, turning towards the environment of the Age of Gods.

Vortigern.

Summoned as Rider, the beast he rode was the entire city of Fuyuki.

Under Vortigern's assistance, King Solomon would envelop the entire city in a grand magecraft, creating a huge barrier akin to a Singularity.

But... hearing his niece's bitter words.

As the old king of Britannia, his expression couldn't help but falter.

Alvin... Did you turn the Red Dragon into this appearance?

You truly are a sinful fellow, I shouldn't have let you out in the first place, son.

"Can you stop talking like that, Mother."

Next to him, Mordred sighed softly.

"Does your constant mention of Father imply that he is aware of your concern for him? You seem to portray yourself as if you are very close to him, with a very intimate relationship."

Artoria took a deep breath and smiled brightly, "I'm a bit closer to him, my dear daughter."

"If I call him Father, maybe he'll respond." Mordred said word by word, "But if you call him husband, will he respond to you?"

"..."

"The whole aura around you screams you're a loser. Even news about Father still being alive was told to you by Auntie... hearing such news, I've completely lost faith in you."

Mordred sighed, rubbing her head.

"When we're in battle, remember to stand a bit further from me, so I won't be affected by your failure rate."

"Mordred, you're really disrespectful. Is this how you talk to your queen?"

"You weren't gentle when you stabbed me, were you?"

"Wasn't that because of your rebellion?" Artoria smiled, "Tell me, who has been influencing you? Who told you those things about your father? Kay? Gareth? Or perhaps Percival?"

"I heard it myself." Mordred lowered her gray eyes, "Try to focus, and you can hear the voices. All the Knights of the Round Table talk about it, people discuss it... only you can't hear."

Artoria frowned.

No... she knew the Knights of the Round Table viewed the Battle of Londinium as a disgrace and would never bring it up.

As for people... who knew the details of that battle?

However, Artoria didn't believe Mordred would lie about something like this.

So...

Artoria lifted her head, looking at the night sky above, the faint golden eyes seemingly wanting to open a hole in the sky with the lance in her hand.

Feeling like she had fallen into a speechless melancholy again.

Mordred lowered her eyes, too lazy to speak anymore, took out a cigarette from her coat, and lit it up, puffing smoke into the air.

"Where did you learn to smoke?" Artoria furrowed her brows.

"Learned while I was alive." Mordred quirked her lips into a smile, "You wouldn't know, huh."

"Stop it." Artoria approached, wanting to take the cigarette from her daughter's hand.

Mordred just silently stepped back.

Just like that... a distant half-step.

Leaving Artoria somewhat bewildered in place.

Are you serious about taking a half-step back?

"Mordred..."

Artoria turned her gaze slightly sadly, shaking her head.

"I apologize, Mother, I didn't even know about this."

Mordred's hand holding the cigarette trembled slightly, but the motion of smoking didn't stop.

"Your father wouldn't like you smoking, Mordred."

The old man's deep voice echoed vaguely.

"He would feel uncomfortable smelling smoke."

Though it was a guess, it couldn't be considered a lie, Vortigern certainly understood his son's character.

The golden-haired girl immediately extinguished the cigarette butt on the ground, forcefully crushing it beneath her foot, nodding repeatedly.

"I'll remember, Grandfather."

Artoria's lips buzzed slightly, rubbing her hair strands with some regret.

Vortigern looked deeply at Artoria, his eyes somewhat reproachful, tinged with sighs and helplessness.

"Don't learn from your mother."

The old man patted Mordred's shoulder.

"It's impossible, never in this lifetime." Mordred smiled, "I will earn Father's love."

"Hmph..."

Artoria took a deep breath, her faint golden eyes staring at Vortigern.

"Uncle, I respect you, so I'm willing to call you uncle, but you're not even willing to call me niece."

Vortigern looked at her with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"You're hesitant, aren't you supposed to call me father, Artoria?"

Artoria's expression froze on her face.

"I..."

"You see, you can't even dare to call a name, granddaughter."

Mordred, hands in her pockets, lazily kicked away the cigarette butt under her foot.

"I'm utterly disappointed in my mother, everything she learned, she learned from Father, and yet she didn't learn a thing. Ah, to think such a person is my mother, it really feels pathetic."

"She's just accustomed to it." 

The bulky figure of the silver-haired old man raised his hand and gently rubbed his granddaughter's head.

"It's Britannia who molded her like this, don't hurt her feelings like this again."

"Uh-huh." Mordred nodded vigorously.

Staring at the silver-haired old man in front of her.

Having seen her father Uther's face, Artoria's expression was somewhat dazed for a moment.

Her lips buzzed.

She hesitantly murmured that address.

"Father...?"

"Calling me that won't change anything." Vortigern passed her side and patted her shoulder.

"As his old man, I have no objections.

"And I never interfere with Alvin's decisions.

"So, go and fight for it yourself.

"My dear niece.

"Don't let... Alvin down again."

...

"Artoria?

"She's already been left behind by Ritsuka Fujimaru.

"If she keeps losing like this, losing to Gray, losing to Reines, losing to Marie, even losing to Mordred, then she won't have a chance...."

Upon hearing Artoria's name.

The witch couldn't help but sigh for her stubborn sister.

"Every step she takes, it makes me smirk. If she likes it, why not just say it out loud openly... if she hadn't followed Merlin and went straight to Londinium, who would dare to stop her?

"Pretending to be me, will only provoke your resistance.

"So... it's all Merlin's fault.

"I nailed him to the Tower of Avalon, sentenced him to eternal incineration, and yet, I regret it. That creature, infused with emotions, was merely a tool for the Counter Force.

"It's all the Counter Force fault, my poor Artoria.

"So, let's unite the whole of Britannia, and burn the Counter Force to ashes, hmm? Hubby... don't show pity, just love fiercely.

"After all, it's the faction of Britannia. I'll show her a little compassion, and dealing with those bad women who will come after you later.

"You're just too gentle, hubby, that's why you're liked by those bad women."

"Then, are you a bad woman too, my dear?"

Facing Reinhard's question.

The witch, soaked through, slowly leaned in, pressing her forehead against the black-haired youth's, kissing his lips, her sapphire eyes shimmering.

"Of course, I am the baddes one...

"So, naturally, I love you the most."