Chapter 252: The Duel and Scotland's Dilemma

Lott's grip tightened on his sword as he felt his power surge. Even though he knew Scáthach was far superior, he had to push himself to the limit.

"But now, I still have to give everything I have to defeat you," he declared.

Scáthach sidestepped gracefully, effortlessly dodging his attacks. Lott lunged forward, swinging Joyeuse, the sword radiating a brilliant array of colors. The vibrant light could easily overwhelm most opponents, but against Scáthach, it was insufficient. Her spear, Gáe Bolg, sliced through the light as if it were nothing, her movements fluid and precise.

Swipe… swipe…

A flurry of rapid stabs passed through Lott's defensive stance, reaching dangerously close. It wasn't just skill—it was speed. Pure, relentless speed. When one's speed was as overwhelming as Scáthach's, technique became secondary. Her attacks, though lacking in complexity, were devastating because they were almost impossible to counter.

To suggest that Scáthach lacked skill would be like claiming the ocean had no waves. Her mastery of combat was absolute.

Within moments, sweat began to bead on Lott's forehead. Each strike demanded his utmost concentration. He had to stay focused.

He adjusted his stance, readying himself to block her spear. As Scáthach observed his reaction, a small nod of approval escaped her.

He's improving, she thought. When we first met, he relied on tricks and strategies, anything to gain an advantage. Now, he's willing to face me head-on.

Scáthach respected all forms of combat, but true power lay in the courage to confront an opponent directly. If Lott had continued to rely solely on cunning without the strength to back it up, he would never have become a true warrior.

But then, she noticed Lott pulling something from his coat. A pistol.

"Oh?" Scáthach's eyes widened slightly in surprise and then in admiration as he aimed and fired.

"Even though I've had to resort to this," Lott said with a grin, "I'm still willing to stand and fight you!"

Scáthach deftly dodged the bullet and continued her advance. Lott, realizing the futility of his current strategy, began to retreat.

"Wife, help!" he shouted, his voice exaggerated, but the desperation genuine.

Morgan couldn't help but laugh at his antics. This man... always so dramatic. Yet, despite her laughter, she readied her magic.

"Let's show her what the rulers of these lands can do!" Morgan shouted. She released her magic, the ground beneath her feet glowing with raw power. Smoke and dust began to rise, swirling around them as Lott, bolstered by her spells, engaged Scáthach again.

The black smoke thickened, obscuring the view of the battlefield. The onlookers outside strained to see what was happening inside.

"Does Morgan really have such power?" Ritsuka Fujimaru whispered, astonished. She recalled the stories she had heard in Chaldea about a darker, more ruthless version of Altria. This was not what she expected.

As the smoke cleared, Lott stood, holding Morgan in his arms. Across from them, Scáthach remained composed, her expression unreadable.

"Do you want to continue?" Lott asked, his voice calm but challenging.

"No, that's enough for now. It's time to rest," Scáthach replied with a gentle smile, lowering her spear.

"Well, of course," Lott agreed, relief evident in his voice.

Scotland's Choice

News spread quickly throughout Scotland: Morgan and Lott, the rulers who had unified England, were now in their land. The announcement sent shockwaves through the Scottish kingdoms. Although many had anticipated this moment, the reality of it was terrifying.

The Scottish kings knew that Lott and Morgan wouldn't be content with just England. Their ambitions stretched across all of Britain. Camelot was to become the only power on these islands.

But how could they resist? The disparity in strength was too vast. Had the gap been narrower, the kings might have rallied their forces, but against such overwhelming power, even unity seemed futile. The kingdoms were fractured, unable to unite under a single banner. Instead of fighting Camelot, they would end up fighting amongst themselves.

Lott hadn't come to fight, at least not immediately. Instead, he and King Leodegrance had struck an accord. Leodegrance was a formidable ruler in his own right, with significant influence throughout Scotland. His alliance with Lott made it almost impossible for the other kings to form a cohesive resistance.

Even if they could muster a coalition, their strength was nowhere near that of Camelot. Scotland's population and resources paled compared to England's, and Camelot's military might, enhanced by Roman-inspired tactics and advanced weaponry, was unmatched. The magical weapon Camelot had deployed in their last conflict was still fresh in everyone's minds—its destructive power beyond anything they could counter.

War seemed unwinnable. And just as the kings were beginning to despair, another piece of news spread like wildfire: Camelot wasn't there to conquer through force. Instead, they announced a martial arts tournament.

The tournament was open to all Scottish warriors, with the prize being training from Scáthach herself, the legendary queen of the Land of Shadows. The kings, though skeptical, saw an opportunity. Lott and Morgan intended to win their submission through a show of strength, not bloodshed. It was a bold strategy—one that could potentially sway the hearts and minds of the people.

Understanding their intentions didn't mean they could refuse. A tournament, a fair contest, was an honorable way to settle disputes. If they lost, it would confirm Camelot's superiority. If they won… well, they would become legends.

Many warriors, eager for glory, took up their weapons and headed towards King Leodegrance's castle. Even though the tournament didn't offer food or lodging, the grounds outside the castle were packed. Some came to fight, others to witness history.

Standing atop the castle walls, Lott held Morgan close, watching the bustling crowd below.

[I wonder if there's a hero among them, someone who can rise against overwhelming odds, someone who will become stronger through adversity… It's a shame I'm not the protagonist in this story. I'm the villain, watching from above as the heroes gather below.] He mused, a small smile playing on his lips.

This tournament wasn't just about Scotland's fate. It was a test of Camelot's strength and legitimacy. And Lott, the orchestrator, was eager to see who would step forward and who would fall.