Chapter 143 The Demon Dragon King Vortigern
"I'll protect Mor-chan from behind, and my life will be guarded by Mor-chan. After all, I never planned to be the one who is constantly protected," Shirou stepped forward and said.
"That truly is an ideal and reliable relationship," Lamorak remarked with a sigh. Once upon a time, the Knights of the Round had such unity and mutual trust…
"Of course! Shirou is obviously my perfect partner!" Mor-chan said confidently, showing a self-satisfied smile.
Then she glared at Lamorak: "But this has nothing to do with you! And it's more convenient to question you after I knock you down first!"
"Hey, hey, your gentlemanly partner wouldn't want you fighting me here," Lamorak said, shrugging his shoulders.
"No, if you are an enemy, then this battle works to our advantage. Lamorak, if you're willing to explain the situation, then that's another matter." Shirou projected an arrow onto his bow, ready to act. For this figure in the legends—colluding with the witch Morgan, betraying King Arthur, and ultimately being killed—he would show no mercy.
"That's right! Even if you have something to say, fight me first!" Mordred raised her greatsword, charging to attack.
"Retract my previous words. As expected, someone trusted by Mordred is not a simple character. Stand down—I have no intention of fighting you. But if you came here with a human Master, then indeed, that person has not arrived…" Lamorak said somewhat dejectedly.
"How should I know where that fickle, promiscuous woman is? Are you still obsessed with her? One seduction wasn't enough for you? How foolish…" Mordred lowered her head, her expression full of disgust. It was as if she were speaking to Lamorak, yet also to herself.
"No, I chose of my own will to serve that person, and I have no regrets. What I did indeed violated morality; punishment was only natural," Lamorak shook his head, then seemed to relax slightly: "Well, that's also good. Coming here will only mean repeating meaningless slaughter each day."
"What's going on? Ahead, a bunch of messy folks are fighting. Lamorak, if you don't want to fight, explain quickly," Mor-chan said, no longer intending to battle.
Lamorak looked toward the battlefield, now in full chaos, seemingly counting corpses as he spoke: "There's no time to explain. Today's slaughter is nearly over. While you still have the chance, Mordred, take your Master and leave this world."
At the center of the battlefield, barbarians wielding bone knives and hammers, led by a barbarian king wearing a horned helmet with long hair and a beard, charged forward, throwing stones and hammers, knocking knights from their horses.
Large, ferocious monsters, lion-like beasts, and black magical boars charged forward. Knights led their troops, riding warhorses, swinging greatswords in wide arcs. Infantry wielding lances continuously thrust forward. They clashed with barbarians, monsters, and other armies alike.
At the center, barbarians, monsters, and cavalry were all mixed together in chaotic slaughter. Eyes red with rage, they killed indiscriminately—ally or enemy—until themselves killed by another.
The barbarian king grabbed a horse charging toward him, tearing it apart.
Several giant knights in red, yellow, green, and blue armor, each over two meters tall, wielding greatswords, axes, and hammers, charged into the fray. Each strike sent blood and flesh flying.
"Roar!!" A ferocious beast cried from the distance—a massive boar king over ten meters tall, mammoth-like, with tusks piercing every enemy in its path, tossing them aside.
A two-meter-tall knight in green armor was impaled by the boar king. Other knights attacked, slicing off chunks of its back to expose bone.
The center of the battlefield became a hellish Asura's pit. Monsters, barbarians, and knights repeated cycles of kill and be killed.
The silver-lanced Servant had mounted a horse and began retreating.
Da Vinci analyzed each figure on the battlefield, astonished: "Those are enemies from the twelve campaigns of Arthur's ten-year reign. Some were once allies of Arthur who later became foes. Excluding foot soldiers, there are more than ten figures with Servant-level mana readings, plus phantasm-class monsters."
"What in the world? Why are they slaughtering each other so frantically?" Shirou asked, bewildered.
"No reason. They are puppets controlled by Black Mud, repeating the same actions every day," Lamorak explained.
Suddenly, the ground shook. A small hill rose, revealing black spiky, lizard-like ridges.
A deafening roar, far more terrifying than the boar king, echoed across the battlefield. Even Shirou and Mordred at the rear could feel its oppressive presence.
A hundred-meter-long black dragon erupted from the earth, its long neck emerging from underground. Its blood-tinged head breathed out hot winds. When it spread its wings, two mountain peaks were knocked aside.
The dragon was jet black, absorbing all surrounding light as if the night itself had come alive, a void consuming all illumination.
Giant knights unleashed their Noble Phantasms, emitting beams and lightning matching their armor colors. But upon striking the dragon, everything was absorbed, like shadows rejecting light, swallowed by the dragon's black body.
The dragon's long tail swept across the battlefield, slicing giant knights in half and tossing them aside.
Magical lions, boars, and other monsters charged, biting and attacking, yet their strikes could not pierce the dragon's scales.
When the dragon's claws struck, it crushed the injured ten-meter-tall boar king into a pulp. Blood rained from above, mixed with white sticky fluids, splattering the entire arena.
"Ugh! That boar king got squashed! Gross!" Mor-chan quickly adjusted her armor, closing the helmet, concealing herself entirely.
"Mor-chan, come here," Shirou said, pulling her close. He projected a three-meter-tall transparent umbrella, covering the three of them.
On the umbrella's surface fell blood, fat, broken intestines, shattered livers, and greenish bile, dripping in long lines.
Ahead, the dragon continued its rampage, a living meat grinder consuming everything. Soldiers and beasts alike were crushed like ants.
The once-chaotic battlefield was now only a stench-filled silence, with the dragon raising its head and exhaling black flame that absorbed all light. Corpses and armor melted into writhing black mud, absorbed by the earth with a plop, plop.
Shirou again felt the heartbeat of the leyline beneath his feet. The land, alive, absorbed the black mud, enriching the surrounding area.
"Roar!!!"
The dragon kept exhaling black flames, burning all debris to black mud, ignoring fleeing barbarians and knights.
"Retreat! Retreat!" Remaining knights and barbarians ran backward.
"Damn it! Why would such a giant dragon appear here?" Mordred shouted.
"That is King Vortigern, the monster that halved the brilliance of the Knight King's holy sword. The true master of this land. In this world, knights and barbarians are summoned daily, slaughtering each other. The blood of hatred nourishes the land, and the battlefield grows continuously."
"Retreat! Retreat!" Strong barbarians and Servants stopped fighting and fled. Cavalry and infantry followed.
The silver-lanced middle-aged Servant rode forward, leading another horse.
King Pellinore shouted: "Lamorak! Retreat! Why are you still speaking to the enemy? If you die here, you'll become a puppet like that boar king, repeating death daily!"
"I understand, Father. But Mordred is my comrade from the Round Table, not an enemy." Lamorak handed a brown horse from Pellinore to Mordred: "If you want to know what comes next, follow us. Otherwise, just leave on horseback."
"Hmph, my brave son. Since you don't see them as enemies but comrades, I allow you to bring them. If you don't dare follow, then forget it."
"Let's go!" Mordred took the reins, patted the horse, and called out. She jumped up and extended her hand to Shirou: "Get on, Shirou."
"Mor-chan, I can't ride a horse," Shirou said, holding her hand.
"You're useless. You wouldn't even make a squire. Next time I'll teach you. For now, just sit behind me and hold on!" Mordred pulled him onto the horse.
Lamorak rode with Pellinore at the front. Pellinore, on a white horse, didn't oppose them but showed no welcome either, spurring his horse to the rear base camp.
"Shirou, hold tight! Don't fall off!" Mordred shouted.
"Okay," Shirou replied, clutching her waist.
The brown horse carried the two across the grasslands at high speed.
Pellinore led them to a grassy area near a stream, with a camp surrounded by wooden fences, stables, and huts. Soldiers and farmers moved supplies and worked.
A bonfire sent smoke into the sky, with hundreds of people seemingly settled there.
At the camp center was a large white tent—Pellinore's residence and meeting place for his knights.
Pellinore dismounted, handing the reins to waiting soldiers, and approached the tent: "Enter. The great King Pellinore permits you to enter the royal tent."
"Ridiculous. No castle, and not even a proper house. Pellinore, you've really gone backward," Mordred mocked.
"Shut up, brat," Pellinore grumbled. "There's no choice. This place could be destroyed by the dragon any day. Who has time to build castles?"
Pellinore angrily sat on the throne at the top. Below was a long table, with ten or more seats on each side.
Lamorak gestured to the seats: "Please sit, Mordred and your young Master."
"Can you tell us what's going on in this world now?" Shirou asked, sitting next to Mor-chan and facing the tall man.
"I understand. Then I shall explain, and you can decide whether to stay or leave…" Lamorak began.
At that moment, Pellinore interrupted from the throne: "Wait. This is my territory. Before asking questions, explain why you have come here."
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