Perhaps because of the blood of the White Dragon flowing within him, Aslan found that the darkness permeating this island exerted a strong influence on him as well. In other words, if he chose to absorb the darkness present here, his strength would rapidly increase in a linear fashion. However… at that point, his form might undergo a complete reversal.
Aslan Alter? A dragon knight wielding a demonic sword and spear, astride an evil dragon?
Even if he didn't actually become that, wouldn't others still come after him to take him down? Besides, Aslan didn't think black armor suited him at all. Sure, they said "black is twice as strong," but wasn't it still too early to step into that phase?
Still… if this black mist could empower him, then he couldn't afford to let it go to waste!
"Ah—!!"
The holy sword in Aslan's hand swept sideways, slicing through the air with overwhelming magical power. A radiant arc trailed behind it as it carved a deep gash into the ground, cleaving the charging, monstrous fairies that had burst out of the forest in one stroke. Though he had once shared a decent relationship with the fairies, it was better for him to personally end their suffering than let them wander endlessly in this creeping darkness.
And they were not the only ones. Even though the enchanted dagger he had thrown earlier had detonated like a missile, causing significant damage, this forest was simply too vast. Surely, more fairies would soon come charging from within.
"All units, brace yourselves!" he commanded. "Even if the ones charging at you were once your lovers—be they girlfriends or boyfriends—remember, they're now lost to the darkness. Cutting them down is mercy."
Initially, Aslan had only intended to say "girlfriend," but then he remembered that the knight order included female members too. And this was Britain, after all, so "boyfriend" had to be added in fairness—there were male fairies, after all.
Still, in the place he lived, male fairies were rare. Perhaps it was because every female fairy had already chosen him—the unreachable "white moonlight" of their hearts—as the one they adored. Other male fairies simply couldn't become their "scarlet cinnabar mole." So rather than remain lonely here, perhaps they had gone elsewhere to seek their own girlfriends.
If beauty were a crime, then Aslan would be deeply guilty indeed.
After scanning his surroundings and confirming that the fairies charging forth weren't especially powerful, Aslan dismounted. He retrieved several pieces of metal from his personal magical storage, then swiftly began forging them with a hammer. The metal took the shape of a bottle, and as he inscribed one fairy rune after another onto its surface, the container began to absorb the black mist enveloping the island.
This gas, like the embodiment of ultimate darkness or a rift in the world itself, was rapidly sucked into the bottle. Aslan also forged a matching lid and etched it with multiple sealing runes, but chose not to seal the bottle just yet.
After all, there might never be another chance in his lifetime to collect something that could simultaneously strengthen him and trigger a reversed state. This substance was consumable, not something that would permanently remain in his body. If he gathered enough now, then in a future battle—should he find himself on the losing side—he could uncork the bottle and take a swig. His wounds would instantly heal, his power would shift from light to dark, and even grow several times stronger, enough to catch his enemy completely off guard. Especially if that enemy was someone specifically designed to counter him.
Taking a deep breath, Aslan steadied himself and resumed fighting. Once the fairies here had been dealt with, the entire unit would press forward again.
Their unstoppable momentum naturally attracted the attention of Vortigern's forces. Though Vortigern was an evil dragon, he undeniably possessed a certain charisma. Somehow, he had managed to gather true followers—loyal to the core. It sounded absurd, sure, but who knew what kind of people would willingly serve someone like him? Psychologically unbalanced, perhaps.
One such subordinate now bowed her head before the decaying throne upon which her king sat with his eyes closed in quiet repose. Her gaze softened.
Their king… was growing more and more imposing. Truly dragon-like. A being destined to plunge Britain into darkness—just as it should be.
"My lord, we have yet to locate the fleeing King Arthur," she reported. "But we've discovered another group advancing toward us. Judging by their attire, they seem to be part of Arthur's army."
Vortigern cracked his eyes open and yawned.
Why did people always struggle so pointlessly?
"Let them come, then. It'll only take a single swing of my sword to end them. But if any of you wish to deal with them beforehand, I won't object. This nation is fated to be destroyed. The moment I sat on this throne… the ending was already sealed."
Hearing these words, the subordinate's eyes filled with admiration. How domineering, how arrogant—and it was precisely that domineering arrogance that made her so infatuated. Truly, no one was more alluring than her king. What bad man doesn't appeal to a woman with a fallen heart?
Yes, this subordinate was a woman. Behind her eyepatch, she stared with a lovesick gaze at the lazy figure on the throne. Her cheeks flushed pink.
If only she could bear this king's child… Even if it were only a way for him to pass the time, she wouldn't mind.
An evil dragon destined to destroy the land—he would never entrust his heart to anyone. Love, family, friendship—none of it would reach him. He was fated to remain alone in the darkness, watching the world spiral into ruin.
The subordinate pulled her gaze away, her face blooming into a radiant, corrupted smile.
"I won't let any outsiders disturb your rest. The fate of this land is already set. All that remains is for them to wait silently for the end."
Damn that King Arthur!!
As she turned away, her face twisted with savage fury.
This country was meant to perish—who did Arthur think he was to try and change that? Wouldn't it be better to just quietly wait for the end? She could spend those last days peacefully with her king…
And maybe, just maybe, in the very end—her unrequited feelings might finally be answered?
"Damn it! Arthur! Why didn't you and your knights all die under our king's sword?!"
She took a deep breath.
"Calm down. I have to stay calm. Leaving the king's side now… is for the sake of his dream."
A manic laugh escaped her lips.
"Heh… heheheh! That's right. Calm down, and kill them all!"