The crow landed softly on the blackened ground, its claws touching the surface with a dry, hollow sound. For a brief moment, it remained still, as if observing its surroundings. Then, its body began to writhe in an unnatural manner. The black feathers dissolved like smoke, bones rearranged themselves, and the silhouette of the bird was slowly replaced by a human form.
When the transformation ended, where the crow had been stood a woman of breathtaking beauty.
Arthur remained motionless, calm, watching in silence.
Before him was a young woman with long, snow-white hair cascading down to her waist, shimmering beneath the diffuse light of the place. A golden crown rested upon her head with absolute naturalness, as if it were a part of her very being. She wore a tight black dress that exposed her navel and part of her abdomen, creating a provocative contrast against her pale skin.
Arthur was not, by nature, a genius.
His magical talent was neither innate nor a gift bestowed at birth. Everything he possessed had been acquired through study—study taught by the very woman standing before him.
Morgan le Fay.
The elder sister of Artoria Pendragon, a legendary sorceress.
Moreover, she was the very goddess who governed death, prophecy, and war: Morrigan.
[A/N: This was mentioned by Waver Velvet in Lord El-Melloi II Case Files.]
"Greetings, Lady Morgan."
Only when the figure before him became fully clear did Arthur place his hands on the ground and rise with some effort. He composed himself, straightened his posture, and offered a polite bow—impeccable in both form and respect.
"Didn't I tell you that you don't need to be so polite?"
Morgan smiled casually and stepped forward without warning, extending her hand to pinch Arthur's cheek with enough force to cause mild discomfort.
"Why can't you call me 'sister'?" she continued, a playful gleam in her eyes. "Disobedient children need to be punished properly."
"Sit down first." Morgan released his cheek and waved her hand dismissively. "That woman is truly vindictive. If it were me, I wouldn't train you that way."
"Of course… after all, Lady Morgan—"
"Lady Morgan?"
Morgan narrowed her eyes, tilting her head slightly as she stared at Arthur.
For an instant, the air around them seemed to grow cold.
Arthur realized his mistake immediately.
"I mean… Sister Morgan teaches me magic instead of martial arts," he corrected himself hastily. "So, naturally, I don't need to expend as much physical strength."
"That's more like it!" Morgan laughed, satisfied, and lightly tapped Arthur on the head. "I like obedient children."
She stepped back a few paces and crossed her arms.
"Rest a little more. We'll continue the training later."
"Don't worry," she added with a teasing smile. "I won't drain your energy."
She observed Arthur closely, noticing the reluctance written plainly on his face. She knew very well that he didn't want to be here every day—but she also knew he had no choice.
"There's no need," Arthur shook his head and sighed. "Let's start right away. I want to return as soon as possible."
"How much longer do I have to live like this?" he muttered, almost to himself. "If my master knew I was meeting with the Goddess of Death… she'd probably kill me on the spot."
"Oh?" Morgan brought a hand to her lips, feigning surprise. "The way you say that, it sounds like you're having an affair."
She chuckled softly.
"Hiding from your master that you have other women on the side~"
"That has absolutely nothing to do with infidelity!" Arthur covered his face with one hand, peeking at the woman before him through his fingers. "It's just that… you restricted my movements."
About four years ago, Scáthach had left the forest for a short period. Morgan took advantage of that rare opening to enter.
That was when she happened to encounter Arthur.
She demanded—and threatened—that Arthur meet her daily, imposing upon him a curse known as a Geis, a powerful mystical restriction.
The condition was simple and absolute:
[You must not mention to anyone in the Land of Shadows that you know Morgan le Fay.]
That was why Arthur had done everything in his power to hide her existence from Scáthach.
In Celtic mythology, a geis was no trivial matter. Those who violated its prohibitions could lose their powers—or even their lives.
As compensation, Morgan had granted him a blessing: the protection of the Goddess of Death. But Arthur knew that the instant he broke the restriction, that blessing would turn into a curse.
"And… honestly," Arthur continued after a brief silence, "I'm not exactly reluctant. At the very least… I've gained power."
Compared to cruel constraints, the restrictions imposed by Morgan were mild. And over the past four years, she had genuinely taught him countless spells with sincerity—though he had never truly understood her ultimate goal.
"After a while… I got used to it," he concluded.
"You got used to it?" Morgan tilted her head, her white hair sliding softly over her shoulders. She stepped closer, dangerously close, and smiled gently and provocatively.
"Are you a masochist?"
"Don't tell me you have some strange fetish and want to kiss my feet."
Arthur instinctively lowered his gaze.
Morgan wore black sandals that left her feet exposed. Her toes were exceptionally pale, smooth like pearls, with nails painted a vivid red—a contrast that made them difficult to ignore.
"Uh… never mind."
Arthur quickly averted his eyes.
"Let's start the training. I want to go back soon."
"All right, all right." Morgan sighed theatrically. "I just wanted to chat a bit, help you relax. You look exhausted today."
She shook her head.
"But since you don't appreciate that, forget it. I teach you magic every day, and you still treat me like a swindler."
"Well," Arthur replied cautiously, "you imposed a restriction on me the very moment we met. It's only natural that I'd be wary."
He paused.
"But I know you don't want to hurt me. If you did, you could have done so at any time."
Morgan narrowed her eyes, a dangerous glint flashing through her gaze.
"You're perceptive," she said. "So why are you still afraid of me?"
"I…" Arthur scratched his cheek. "I can't really explain it. I just feel afraid… and I feel bad about it."
For a moment, Morgan fell silent.
Then, suddenly, she burst into loud, exaggerated laughter and pinched Arthur's cheek once more.
"It's precisely that honesty of yours that makes me like you so much, Arthur."
"That actually hurts a little," he muttered, not really trying to pull away.
In any case, resisting was pointless.
Perhaps that was exactly why Morgan found it so amusing.
After all, she was a goddess—and goddesses were fickle beings. One moment, they could laugh and play with you… and in the next, they would continue laughing and playing while reaping lives.
Always smiling.
---
(End of Chapter)
Morgan Le Fay -