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

The Fantasy Tree. A powerful existence that absorbs magical energy from the leylines, in turn influencing reality and replacing proper history with a subjective fantasy. Upon its completion, it forms a "Lostbelt" capable of changing established history. In the original history, you might just be an ordinary person. But once the Fantasy Tree grows and blossoms, you could become an existence completely different from that concept. For example—a butterfly with wings.

For this reason, to Vortigern, the Fantasy Tree was like a precious treasure. If—if the White Dragon who wished to save Britain was destined to be destroyed by that damned man-made Red Dragon, then he would just have to deny that history. No one ever said there wasn't a possibility for the White Dragon to defeat the Red Dragon.

In the past, Vortigern could not find even a sliver of hope to realize this tragic wish. But now—things were different. He had heard that voice. "Whoever you may be, as long as you can destroy Britain, you may borrow this power!" Even though he had heard a terrifying voice—even though he felt the life-threatening cost—there was nothing left to fear. The moment he grasped that power, Vortigern found he had obtained the possibility of realizing his tragic wish.

"Lord Vortigern—what should we do next—The Saxons have already arrived in Britain, as you requested." "Wait a little longer. Just a little longer—" Vortigern looked down at the abyss at his feet. In those eyes that had witnessed countless ages, a small flame still burned. "It won't be long now."

A few days later, in the royal court of Camelot. As if sensing something, Mélusine, walking through the court, turned her head to look into the distance. She felt as if something was unintentionally influencing her. "What are you looking at?" Ian's voice sounded. He was looking at his friend Mélusine with a puzzled expression. "This has happened several times now." "I don't know either—" Mélusine mumbled. "I just feel like someone has been calling my name all day today." "Could it be me?" "Not you! How could it be you, you idiot!" Mélusine denied the possibility without hesitation. "It's a very distant voice." "In which direction?" "That way—" Mélusine pointed into the distance. But she quickly realized what was happening and grabbed Ian. "Don't you dare transform! I was just talking! Right now, take me to King Arthur!" Having successfully prevented Ian from taking off on an impromptu trip, Mélusine clutched her chest and breathed a sigh of relief. However, this relief did not last long. She soon began to worry again. "Um... Artoria... she really won't blame me, will she? I've looked into it; that was a very precious sword, right?" Just as Mélusine confessed, she had initially thought it was just one of Artoria's ordinary swords. But after a few days of research, she discovered that was not the case at all. That blade, called the Sword of Promised Victory (Caliburn), was not only the symbol of Artoria's kingship, but also a legendary weapon that many knights in the past had failed to draw. Such a precious item was rendered useless simply because of her momentary battle lust. Mélusine sucked in a cold breath. No matter how she thought about it, she didn't feel this was a crime that could be easily forgiven.

"It's fine," Ian replied. "I drew it too." "Oh, you drew it too, so then—huh?" Mélusine felt like she had just heard something incredible. "What did you say? You drew Caliburn?" "Yes." Ian nodded, his expression as calm as ever. "I drew the sword together with Artoria. The knights of Camelot all know."

"..." Her time with him these past few days had already taught Mélusine that Ian wouldn't lie about such things. If he said it, it meant he really had done it with Artoria. "Does that mean you're also the King of Camelot?" "No." Ian shook his head. "There is only one King of Camelot, and that is Artoria. If you deny this—" Ian's hand rested on the hilt of Excalibur Morgan at his waist. "—even if we are friends, I will still fight you." The killing intent rose and vanished in an instant. Feeling as if she had just woken from a dream, Mélusine pinched her own cheek. After confirming she was in reality, she continued to ask, "Then what about Morgan? I see she's always by your side. What's her status?" "Her Highness the Princess is Artoria's older sister. They... they..." Ian wanted to explain the relationship between the two clearly to Mélusine, but he found he had no words in his mind that could perfectly correspond to and explain it. And so—Mélusine heard this answer: "They are both delicious."

"Huh? 'Delicious,' what does that mean?" The dual-wielding swordsman tilted her head, a confused look in her eyes. In the end, she came to a conclusion: "The relationships in Camelot are so messy—I feel like I've come to an incredible place. But, it's not too bad." Mélusine looked at Ian and shrugged. "At least I've met a rather interesting person."

Chatting idly, Mélusine and Ian walked forward. Occasionally, passing knights would greet the two of them. Finally, after rounding a corner, Mélusine and Ian stopped before a heavy door. This was the throne room, a place only the King and the Knights of the Round Table could reach. All matters that required the counsel of the Round Table were held here. "What a deep place..." Mélusine couldn't help but marvel. But she quickly remembered she wasn't here for such meaningless things. She was just about to knock gently on the door to announce her arrival, but—at that moment, Ian simply pushed the door open. "Hey, wait—" She wanted to do something to remedy the situation, but after seeing Ian walk in alone, Mélusine knew she could only quickly follow.

But— After the door had opened a graceful quarter-circle, what entered Mélusine's eyes was something completely unexpected. Artoria was standing by the window, looking outside with a complex expression. She wasn't wearing her usual heavy armor and skirt armor, but was instead dressed as a knight-princess. Her beautiful, long golden hair was no longer tied up in a special style, but was allowed to fall loosely over her chest. This allowed Mélusine to see the curve of a certain part. It was not a flat line, but the shape of a small bulge. Wait... Artoria is a girl?!

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