Fate: Typemoon - My Dragon Knight

Over 1000 years had passed. It was truly a long time. It was also a lonely and distant journey for one person. Everything from the past had gradually become a laughing matter with the passage of time.

Time can change a person. The rationality that was once problematic had long since returned to normal in the flow of time. There had been anger, there had been sadness, there had been regret, and there had been confusion. During this long journey, this witch had even contemplated whether she should bring that "cheap sister" of hers back to this world.

It was just that before she could make this decision, she had inexplicably been transformed into a Heroic Spirit, or more accurately, a Servant-like existence. Perhaps it was because the Human Order was incinerated. So even though she had a long lifespan, in the context of a future that had been destroyed, she was considered dead. Was that why she was being perceived by other Servants in this way? For centuries, she had walked this land without being discovered by anyone. Didn't that prove that her concealment magic had already become very strong?

Then one day, a ring of light appeared in the sky. Next came the reappearance of the Round Table Knights, who had long since disappeared into the dust of history. And then there was that incredibly annoying woman, who was clearly not Artoria yet called herself the master of Camelot.

To be honest, the long years and passage of time had already smoothed away this witch's various radical thoughts. Whether it was the pleasure between men and women, the excitement of tormenting others, or the joy of her own willfulness, these things had all become boring and tiresome in the flow of time. So, at first, this witch had no intention of joining any resistance army or similar existence. She was perhaps like a devastatingly beautiful woman who had suffered setbacks or gone through self-reflection. Or perhaps describing her as a hidden, talented woman was more appropriate. But recently, one thing had made her change her mind.

Since those who appeared were the Round Table Knights, the one who commanded them was naturally King Arthur. King Arthur was the king of Britain. So, were the knights of Britain this cruel? So many long years had passed. How was Artoria? How were the Round Table Knights?

"Boring. I grew tired of discussing these things long ago."

But there was one point that this witch from the Isle of Britain absolutely could not accept. She didn't care how the Round Table Knights were judged, nor how King Arthur was evaluated. But Great Britain absolutely could not be dragged into this, nor could it bear a bad name because of this group!! Her homeland... the place of her birth was the one thing that this witch, after a journey of a thousand years, still held in the softest part of her heart. Therefore, that "sister" of hers who had appeared from who knows where, and that unfilial son who had brought a bad name to her homeland, both needed to be re-educated by her!

Coincidentally, after she had inexplicably become a Servant-like existence, she had also mysteriously gained the Ruler class. Well then! She would be the one to pass judgment. This nonsensical New Camelot should not exist! This Round Table that had, after she had spent hundreds of years cultivating her mind, angered her once again, should not exist!

In the name of the Witch of Great Britain—Morgan—I hereby pass judgment!

If one were to look into Morgan's light-blue eyes right now, they would discover the fury simmering beneath their calm surface. And all this fury, at its root, could be summed up in one sentence: "Damn it! Unfilial son is asking for a beating!"

And so, watching the Holy Lance's attack descend from the sky, this witch, without another word, activated her own Noble Phantasm. Although it was somewhat annoying, when dealing with these unfilial sons, this Noble Phantasm wasn't so hateful. Besides, after so many long years, having seen through it all, she could live with the annoyance. It was her past, after all. Since it was her own past, there was nothing she couldn't face directly.

"This is the ruined dream I cannot bear to see. No recompense, no salvation to be had. At the world's end, a bird sing of tomorrow. Let this be sign—[Roadless Camelot]!"

It was the chalk-white castle of Camelot that Morgan had spent her entire life trying to enter but ultimately failed to achieve. The rules of the world itself had not chosen Morgan to become the King of Britain. Unfulfilled wishes turned into sighs, and eventually into hatred. A twisted desire for control and a sense of privilege, a burning homesickness and anger towards humanity, and a loathing for Artoria, who was the same existence yet could sit on the throne of Camelot, transformed Morgan into the "Destroyer of the Round Table." When her way of being was manifested in magical form, it became this Noble Phantasm. It was the culmination of all her grudges, her desire to instantly tread the path she could never reach and destroy it completely.

To use this Noble Phantasm to tell that woman sitting in this Camelot what her purpose was this time, was simply too fitting.

The two powerful forces collided in mid-air. The dark blue flames were clearly filled with an aura of destruction, yet at this moment, the people hoped with all their might that those destructive flames could completely devour the golden light filled with holy and majestic power. If this were in the distant past, Morgan would surely have laughed with great pride and said flauntingly to Artoria: "See? The people chose me this time, not you!"

Gawain had been smiling, waiting for the Lion King's Holy Lance to fall to the ground and annihilate all these rebels. But what he got instead was this scene. Looking forward, Gawain's eyes widened. He saw a person he absolutely did not want to see. "Morgan..."

As a Knight of the Round Table loyal to King Arthur, even though the woman before him was his mother, Gawain had no desire to call her that. The reason was simple. The person before him was the Destroyer of the Round Table, the witch who was an enemy of the King, the one who had caused his King so much trouble. If he could, he really wanted to draw a clear line between himself and this woman.

"Unfilial son! Look what you've all done! How dare you tarnish the name of Great Britain like this! I originally thought you had grown into sufficiently outstanding knights, but it seems you are still far from it!"

Morgan only glanced at Gawain before completely ignoring the unfilial son. She fixed her gaze on the depths of this white city. "Lion King... I shall call you that for now. I stand here today only to tell you this: The Camelot you have built, the Round Table you command, I will destroy them with my own hands. This time, even if it is but a fleeting dream, it is I who shall rebuild Britain!"

Although a thousand years had already let this witch let go of her obsessions, with such a rare opportunity, Morgan also wanted to prove herself. What's more, it just so happened that she needed to oppose them!