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

Inside a tavern in Camelot. With a grand wave of his hand, Merlin had a table full of food and drinks brought out for Ian and Mélusine. "Eat as much as you like, don't be polite with me." "I wouldn't dare eat so casually," Mélusine said, eyeing the food on the table. Though she was petite, it didn't mean she was simple-minded. "You're asking me how I appeared in Britain? Is that a question I absolutely must answer?"

"Of course, it's necessary," Merlin said with a smile. "The identity of every Knight of the Round Table should be clear, shouldn't it? Just like Sir Ian here, who was a colleague from the village where the King used to live. A clear background will help you be better accepted, no?" "But I haven't even said I want to become a Knight of the Round Table yet—" Mélusine retorted with some dissatisfaction. "Are you trying to investigate my household registration?" "However..." she continued, propping her chin on her hand, "it's not something that can't be said. I came from across the sea. The people there prefer to call me 'Lancelot.' I just personally prefer the name 'Mélusine'—"

"You're not deceiving us, are you?" Merlin asked. "Is there any need to deceive you?" Mélusine shot back. "The facts are the facts. If you don't believe me in the first place, there's no need to ask." "The facts may indeed be so," Merlin said, picking up his drink. "But memories can be deceiving. Mélusine, could you be a little more specific?"

"..." Mélusine frowned. Although she disliked Merlin's questioning, out of basic courtesy, she still made a token effort to recall. "I found a high cliff on the other side of the sea. Using that as a starting point, I spread my wings and crossed the entire ocean. I landed in a forest and met this guy. After that, I came to Camelot. Oh, right, I also saw a rainbow when I was crossing the sea. That's enough, right?" Mélusine glared at Merlin. "That's detailed enough, isn't it?" "But Mélusine, don't you find it strange?" Merlin asked. "Why is it that only you have wings? Most people don't have such things—" "..."

Merlin's one question silenced Mélusine. She had, indeed, never thought about that problem. "How should I know?! Go ask the wingless people! And speaking of which, isn't this guy also..." Mélusine was about to use the boy beside her as proof that "having wings is a normal thing," but she suddenly realized something. He... isn't exactly normal to begin with. To be able to take five consecutive strikes from her Arondight and remain completely unscathed... that was the mark of a monster, wasn't it? Wait. In that case, am I a monster too? Suddenly understanding, Mélusine began to panic.

"It seems you've completely understood now—" Merlin said, putting down his cup. "Things with wings aren't necessarily good things. And what one perceives as correct is not necessarily the truth. Mélusine, you—" Before Merlin could finish, he was sent flying, crashing headfirst into the tavern wall. The "culprit" was none other than Ian. "I really shouldn't have listened to another word from you," he growled, hot breath pluming from his mouth. If his battle with Mélusine could be described as excitement, then he now was the very picture of rage. "Bringing someone over just to spout a bunch of nonsense... what rubbish. I've decided. The next time I see you do this—no, the next time you dare open your mouth like this in front of me, I'll throw you in the river and let you talk to the fish." "Mélusine, we're leaving."

The petite swordsman hadn't even reacted before Ian had hoisted her onto his shoulder. Under the astonished gazes of everyone in the tavern, Ian carried the struggling Mélusine out. "You idiot, put me down! Is there something wrong with your brain?!" Mélusine used every insult she could think of, but found she couldn't escape at all. This boy had a physique and strength that completely overwhelmed her, and he was invulnerable to boot. But— Mélusine soon stopped struggling. Because she realized this dragon was now very angry. "Ian, you..." "You're not a monster," he said. "Mélusine, you are not a monster."

Ian repeated the words. His body temperature had clearly risen, something Mélusine, who was skilled with ice, could feel instantly. "You... are you angry for me?" "Mhm." Ian nodded. "That guy is always spouting nonsense. You just have an extra pair of wings, can fly and stop abruptly in mid-air, know how to create afterimages, and also know how to control frost. What's the difference between that and a normal person?"

"..." Mélusine further confirmed that Ian's thought process was different from that of a normal person. "That's already very different from a normal person..." "But—" Mélusine, still on his shoulder, looked back at Ian. "You... you're this loyal? He didn't say a single word about you, yet you got so angry for my sake..." "Because Mélusine is an opponent I acknowledge." "Eh?" Mélusine was a little moved. But that feeling lasted for less than a second, because Ian's next sentence was: "The thought of fighting you makes my whole body get excited. It makes me want to..." "Absolutely not!" Mélusine's legs kicked wildly. "I am never fighting you again in this lifetime! That was a humiliation!" "Then are we friends?" Ian suddenly asked. "..." Mélusine was silent for a moment, then answered in a small voice, "I guess so. Why not... I've never had a friend before."

At the same time— An old man ascended a mountain peak in Britain. He did not seem weakened or out of breath from such a climb. It was Vortigern, the other dragon lurking in Britain. He should have launched his invasion long ago, killing his own brother, King Uther. If history had followed its original course—but now, everything was different. Ever since he had obtained that power beyond imagination, Vortigern had found he had something more important to do. At the foot of the mountain was an abyss. But from within that abyss, Vortigern could see something. "The seed of the 'Tree'—so, you have already fallen here?"

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