Tiamat, I'm Going to Find a Girlfriend! (Ending)

Hope and despair always seem to walk hand in hand. Morgan felt she understood this sentence more deeply than anyone. Ian crushing Tiamat's crystal to save her was, admittedly, an incredibly moving act; but—why did he have to say such a thing right after saving her? "How can I make Artoria become a king worthy of Britain faster?" Why... Why... Why is it always Artoria!

"Impossible! Absolutely impossible! Artoria will not be the King of Britain! Ian, don't you dream of it!" Morgan shrieked hysterically, then began to sob uncontrollably. She covered her face, her hands trembling. "Why... after having me... do you still need Artoria... Why?!" The beautiful future shattered like glass with a single sentence. Morgan couldn't hold it in any longer. She cried like a little girl. If this is how it's going to be, then dying in that dream just now wouldn't have been so bad, would it? I... have never truly possessed anything!

But it was at this moment that Morgan felt a warmth. She looked up and found that Ian had, at some point, embraced her. Though, there were still traces of wine at the corners of his mouth. "Don't cry. It makes it hurt here." Morgan followed his hand and saw that the boy was pointing to his own heart. A glimmer of light returned to the princess's eyes. It was almost the exact same spot he had indicated when he confessed to Artoria. Is he hurting for me?

No. Morgan turned her face away. That's not it. If he really felt sad for me, he wouldn't have said those things just now. "You're lying to me—" For a moment, Morgan found herself standing in the same position as Tiamat. "Don't be like this..."

"But I'm not lying to you, Big Sister Morgan. I do want to know how to help Artoria become a better King of Britain, but—" Ian's gaze fell upon Morgan before him. To be precise, upon her exposed stores of nourishment. The fine wine the princess had prepared still lingered on them, emitting a fragrant aroma. For a dragon, this was the most delicious food imaginable. "You are very good to me," the boy who had chewed the crystal said without reservation. "So, your crying is unacceptable to me. What should I do to make you stop crying?" "You don't need to say these things—" Morgan looked at the boy, whose hands were planted on either side of her head. She admitted her heart had wavered when he first spoke. But only for an instant. "The scent of your mother should be gone from me now. Trying to please me won't give you any chance to reminisce about her."

"I do like my mother's scent," Ian said, looking directly into Morgan's eyes. "But that doesn't mean I only like her scent. Big Sister Morgan, Your Highness," the boy used the titles she had taught him, "I could always smell your own scent. You don't smell fragrant at all. In fact, you have a faint musty scent, like something that hasn't seen the sun in a very, very long time. But—your taste is very sweet." Ian licked his lips, as if recalling something. "I don't know why that is. But, I like it very much." The boy gradually transformed into a half-dragon, half-human state. "So, I think you can definitely help me." Ian lowered his head and bit Morgan's neck. "Tell me—"

"..." Looking at Ian, who had turned the tables on her, Morgan was silent for a moment, then wiped her tears away. "Ian, do you know what you're saying? Are you trying to say you like me, while also telling me your heart is with Artoria?" "Is that what I'm expressing?" Ian asked back. "What else could it be—" Morgan, in turn, bit Ian's neck, suckling at it. A dragon's skin was tough, but she had to do it. "Come out. You're already so tense, aren't you? It doesn't matter if it's not inside." "..." "Don't think you can get away with silence." Morgan kissed Ian's cheek, her hands hooking behind his neck. Her legs also hooked around his waist, as if she were climbing a bar. "After eating so much... did you think you could get away without leaving something in exchange? Impossible, you fool."

The dragon's eyes widened. Gurgle, gurgle— Morgan felt a heat. It came with the dragon's breath, seeping through her skirt, all the way to her lower abdomen. It was so hot, like a piece of red-hot charcoal. If something like that landed elsewhere, it would probably cause a burn immediately. But this sensation became a sobering agent for Morgan. "I really don't know how you dare say such things—but... I will win. Your body, your soul, your everything will belong to me." The princess spoke, then pushed up slightly, her body suspended by Ian. She clamped down. The dragon's body and the princess's body clamped down on something together. More heat flooded into Morgan. A dragon's constitution was truly extraordinary. "It, too, will eventually enter willingly." "And if you're asking what can help Artoria become a king worthy of Britain faster—then go and obtain a true position as a knight. She will definitely have need of you. But Ian, I'm telling you beforehand," Morgan's gaze became filled with possessiveness. Her body clamped down even harder. "Just because I say this, doesn't mean I will stand by and watch you help her. I... will never give way again."

CRASH— CRASH— Thunder rumbled across Britain once more. At the same time, within the Sea of Life, feeling deceived, Tiamat swept through her domain with flames, as if she had gone mad. "COME OUT! SHOW YOURSELVES! ARTORIA, MORGAN, YOU WICKED WOMEN, YOU'RE STILL DECEIVING MY SON! I WILL KILL YOU!" However, there was no response—only Tiamat's own solitary wails. The Sea of Life was boiling. Tiamat's resentment grew deeper and deeper. Speaking of which—that place is called the land of Britain, isn't it? That's right, if I destroy that place! Then I can bring Ian back! Tiamat's magical energy radiated outwards. She would save her son from the clutches of those wicked women, no matter the cost! Therefore—any human who can accomplish this, no matter how base and ugly you are, you are permitted to borrow this anger!

In a distant camp, a man of King Uther's age, but with far more vigor, looked up at the sky. "Lord Vortigern, what is it?" his guard asked. "..." Looking at his own hand, the unresponsive Vortigern picked up a stone. He clenched his fist. And opened it. The stone had been reduced to dust. Vortigern let out a cold laugh. "Is that so? So that's how it is? Then it seems something must be done—"

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