King Uther felt death looming over him.
He wanted to give up.
But in the end, he forced himself to stand, leaning on his sword.
If I die, then Lot and Morgan's plans will fail.
Camelot will fall into the hands of the Vortigern.
Then, all will be lost.
I'd have no choice but to leave the restoration of the kingdom to Artoria.
But that… would be far too difficult.
I'd rather grasp fate with my own hands.
Clutching his broken sword, he charged at Vortigern.
After all the schemes I've plotted, to end up with such a fate—how could I ever accept it?
Did I drag my daughter and son-in-law down?
I, King Uther, will never be inferior to anyone.
Better to die standing
As for what comes after—whether it's Morgan or Artoria who prevails—that's up to them.
Merlin will aid Artoria, while Morgan has Lot's support.
The two sides are evenly matched.
And the final outcome?
All I want is victory now.
King Uther launched his assault on Vortigern.
The blood of the Red Dragon within him boiled.
As it turned out, only those unafraid of death survive to the end.
Vortigern might be a formidable warrior, but his soldiers were far from it.
With their home base raided, their morale had crumbled.
At this point, Vortigern's army would probably lose two men in a fight with dogs over a bone.
King Uther's forces, though fewer in number, had their spirits lifted after he spent his entire fortune to reward them—their morale was far higher than the enemy's.
Moreover, during the battle, dust clouds rose from the rear of Vortigern's army, as if reinforcements had arrived.
This only made Vortigern's troops even more desperate to retreat.
In the end, though Vortigern left several fatal wounds on King Uther's body,
Camelot remained firmly in King Uther's grasp.
Vortigern failed to capture the city.
As for the dust clouds from the rear—when Vortigern pursued, all he found were warhorses with small trees tied to their backs.
And the one controlling them?
Vortigern only caught a glimpse of a figure clad in white, holding an apple, looking utterly shameless.
Was he cursing the departed Merlin?
Or King Uther, standing atop the city walls?
Or perhaps his own useless subordinates?
"Sacrificing these fools to empower myself would've been more useful than this."
Vortigern glared at his men, thoughts swirling darkly in his mind.
Meanwhile, atop the walls, King Uther wore an expression of relief, as if he had narrowly escaped death.
Compared to the war at Camelot,
Lot's current situation was nothing short of blissful.
What was the greatest joy in life?
Using the enemy's belongings,
enjoying the enemy's food,
He lay sprawled on the bed, while Morgan reclined against the headboard, propping her head up with one hand as she gazed at him.
not a stitch of clothing between them.
It seemed they had engaged in a battle no less intense than the one at Camelot.
[Darling, lighter… and a little higher.]
Morgan gently traced her fingers along Lot's back—smoother and fairer than any woman's.
Lot was thoroughly satisfied.
[Ah, my wife is truly amazing. I didn't even have to say anything, and she already knew where to scratch. Heh, seems like my training has paid off.]
Hearing his thoughts, Morgan was torn between amusement and exasperation.
This horndog… Why can't you just call it a heart-to-heart connection?
I should be the one training you!
With that thought, she pinched his ribs.
Lot instantly shot up like a startled cat.
Though his body was sturdy, he was terribly ticklish—a weakness Morgan had long since uncovered.
Morgan grinned triumphantly.
Hah! Still think you can train me?
"Morgan, what was that for? I didn't even do anything wrong…"
Lot pouted, looking genuinely wronged.
Morgan put on her most unreasonable expression.
Then, after a pause, she asked, "By the way… Do you think Father will be alright?"
"Relax, your father's strong. He'll be fine."
Lot casually sprawled across Morgan's lap, his tone indifferent.
"With their rear in chaos, there's no way Vortigern can keep fighting. Don't worry—once we win here, it'll be a major victory for Camelot."
He gave Morgan's thigh a light pat.
He seemed utterly unconcerned about his father-in-law's safety.
But Morgan could hear his true thoughts loud and clear.
[Truth is, King Uther's in serious danger. Even though I've asked Merlin to create a diversion, there's no guarantee of his survival. But Morgan doesn't need to know that. She's already worried enough about her father, and his situation is far more perilous than she realizes.]
[A frontal defense is hopeless. Our only chance is striking from the rear—but even that's risky. Still, Morgan doesn't need to know any of this. I'll protect her, no matter what—physically and emotionally.]
[Father-in-law… You'd better hold on. I have no idea how to comfort Morgan if something happens to you.]
[So, I'll just keep her from worrying. Later, I'll continue preparing for battle, making sure my troops can crush Vortigern's forces.]
[Besides… Morgan looks really cute when she's confident in victory, doesn't she?]
Blinking innocently, Lot looked up at Morgan and said, "Instead of worrying about that, why don't we focus on making our child? I have a feeling our future kid will be the key to defeating Vortigern."
Trying to shoulder everything alone, keeping it all to yourself…
Morgan's eyes stung, but she held back her tears.
With a deliberately dismissive tone, she huffed,
"No. I'm tired. I'm going to sleep. If you can't control yourself—"
"If I can't control myself, then what?"
Morgan yanked all the blankets over herself, bundling up like a cocoon.
Did you think I'm some fragile Girl?
I'm not some delicate woman who needs your protection.
She bit her lip, forcing back the tears.
No way I'm letting this horndog see me weak.
She inhaled sharply through her teeth.
For all his strength…
He's still just a horndog at heart