"Ah… now I'm satisfied."
After squeezing Arthur's face far longer than necessary—pulling, pinching, and kneading his cheeks as if they were dough—Morgan finally let him go. She straightened up and released a slow, satisfied sigh, like someone who had just finished an extremely enjoyable pastime.
Teasing that boy was, without a doubt, infinitely more entertaining than dealing with those crude barbarians who only knew how to solve everything with their fists.
Arthur raised both hands to his face and rubbed his cheeks, which were now slightly swollen and warm. His eyes lifted to the woman in front of him, observing her in quiet attention.
She was… unpredictable.
Arthur couldn't understand what went on in Morgan's mind. Her actions were erratic, her moods shifted rapidly, and her provocations came without warning. Precisely because of that, he saw no reason to resist.
Her pinching his cheeks didn't hurt.
At most, it caused mild discomfort—both physical and emotional—mixed with a strange sensation, like he was merely entertaining someone far more dangerous than she appeared.
"Very well," Morgan said, brushing her hands together as if she had just finished a trivial hobby. "I suppose you're not particularly interested in chatting with me today, so let's get straight to the point."
She looked him straight in the eyes. Arthur had the unsettling feeling that she had read his thoughts with disturbing ease.
"After more than four years," she continued, "your magical power is finally close to complete stability. Starting today, I will pass my abilities on to you."
At those words, Arthur's heart leaped violently in his chest.
His eyes lit up instantly.
"You… you're finally willing to teach me your abilities?!"
For the past four years, his routine had been unbearably monotonous. Every single day, without exception, he simply circulated mana through his body, repeating the same process over and over.
The justification was to improve his magical proficiency.
In practice… it was boring, exhausting, and nearly torturous.
Arthur had long since grown sick of that endless repetition. If not for the fear that Morgan might suddenly appear to interrogate him—or worse, argue with Scáthach over negligence—he never would have maintained such discipline.
Still, the prospect of finally learning something new reignited his enthusiasm.
"Four years ago," Morgan interrupted, her voice growing heavier, "I placed a restriction on you."
The playful expression that usually lingered on her face vanished completely, replaced by a rare seriousness.
"Although that restriction limited part of your growth, it also meant that you received my blessing."
"Now," she continued, "I will teach you my first ability. Even if you never reach my level, it will still… be of great benefit to you."
Without saying anything further, Morgan crouched down. Her nimble fingers picked up a small stone from the ground. She weighed it briefly in her hand, as if calculating something unseen, then casually flicked it toward a nearby bush.
"Awoo!"
A wolf leapt out of the vegetation with a fierce snarl.
It was clear the creature had been there from the beginning, hidden and watching the two of them, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Morgan's provocation was the final trigger that shattered its restraint.
Driven by fury, the wolf lunged forward without hesitation.
Arthur, however, didn't move.
He remained seated on the ground, completely still, his eyes fixed on Morgan. There was no fear in his expression—only curiosity and absolute trust in the woman beside him.
Morgan parted her lips slightly.
Only one word escaped them.
Very soft.
Almost a whisper.
Even so, Arthur understood its meaning perfectly.
"Die."
That was all.
A single word.
The instant the sound echoed through the air, the wolf lost all strength. Its body collapsed heavily onto the ground, as if it had been stripped of its very life essence.
Blood slowly began to seep from its motionless form.
Arthur's eyes widened slightly as he stared at the scene before him, stunned.
What… had just happened?
Morgan hadn't made any gestures. She hadn't cast a spell.
She had simply spoken—and the wolf died.
"This is the ability I intend to teach you," Morgan said, turning to him with a light, almost proud smile. "So? Isn't it powerful?"
Arthur remained silent for a few seconds, processing what he had just witnessed. Finally, he nodded slowly.
"It's… truly impressive."
He paused.
Then, with a calmness that contrasted sharply with the magnitude of what had occurred, he concluded:
"But I don't want to learn it."
Morgan's smile froze for a fraction of a second.
She fell silent, visibly surprised.
She hadn't expected that answer.
"Why?" she asked, raising an eyebrow slightly.
Arthur took a deep breath before responding. His gaze didn't waver.
"What if, in the future, I lose control?" he said seriously. "What if someone dies just because I say a few words…? That would be terrifying, wouldn't it?"
The words hung heavy in the air.
For a moment, Morgan looked genuinely taken aback.
Then—
"Pfft—"
She burst into laughter, partially covering her mouth with her hand as her shoulders shook with amusement.
Arthur frowned.
Only when Morgan noticed the clear displeasure in his eyes did she gradually restrain her laughter. She lifted her gaze and studied him again—this time, truly serious.
"You're right," she admitted. "If someone enters a state of rage and loses their reason, that could indeed happen."
She paused briefly, tilting her head.
"But, Arthur…" Her eyes gleamed with a dangerous light. "I am the Goddess of Death. Do you really think I would have a more suitable ability to teach than this?"
Arthur didn't back down.
"Sister Morgan," he began carefully, using the title with deliberation. "You are not only the goddess of death. You are also the goddess of war… and of premonition."
He lifted his gaze slightly.
"If you wanted to, you could even end an entire war without spilling a single drop of blood, couldn't you?"
Arthur's words caused something rare to happen.
Morgan's gaze changed.
The playful smile vanished, replaced by an expression of genuine interest. She looked at him as if she were seeing something new—not a disciple, but a possibility.
"Your idea is quite interesting," she said slowly. "Does this have something to do with that woman… Scáthach?"
Arthur nodded.
"My master adopted me," he replied. "So I want to repay her. I hope she can reconcile with her sister… at least that way, this war wouldn't continue."
Morgan shook her head, a nearly imperceptible sigh escaping her lips.
"You are weak," she said bluntly. "And I'm not talking only about you. Even Scáthach, in her current state, wouldn't be able to end this war."
She narrowed her eyes.
"Otherwise, she wouldn't have been unable to deal with her own sister for so long."
Arthur felt a tightness in his chest.
Those words struck something sensitive.
"That's only because Master still cares about their blood bond," he shot back, not noticing the sharpness creeping into his voice. "You don't have sisters, so you can't understand her feelings."
In the next instant, the air seemed to freeze.
Morgan's smile cracked—slowly, like ice splintering.
"I… don't have sisters?" she repeated, her voice low and cold.
Arthur felt a chill run down his spine.
It was like waking abruptly from a dream.
Oops.
He had just said something extremely disrespectful.
She wasn't an ordinary woman. She was a goddess who embodied three fundamental aspects of humanity. Regardless of his intent, his words had gone too far.
He had angered her.
Would she impose some strange restriction now…?
Arthur swallowed hard, a flicker of worry surfacing in his chest.
However—
Morgan's serious expression dissolved in the next instant.
She broke into a wide, radiant smile—completely unexpected.
"That's right, Arthur!" she exclaimed. "That's exactly what I like most about you."
She stepped closer.
"You simply can't stay quiet when someone speaks ill of your master." Her eyes sparkled with delight. "You truly cherish her, don't you?"
Before Arthur could react, Morgan reached out and caressed his cheek. Her slender fingers slid to his chin, gently lifting it until their eyes met.
Arthur felt his heart race.
There was something in Morgan's gaze…
Something dangerous—and something satisfied.
"Arthur," she said softly, almost intimately. "One day, you'll come to me of your own accord. Not because of restrictions… but because you will willingly surrender yourself into my arms."
She withdrew her hand, a sinuous smile curving her lips.
What I want most right now… is to stain that pure white flower with my own color…
The mere thought sent a pleasurable shiver through her body.
Ah… calm down. It's not time yet.
We'll surely witness such a beautiful scene later.
My sister will still need him.
Morgan took a deep breath, suppressing the joy threatening to overflow.
"Very well," she said, returning to a casual tone. "Since you don't wish to learn the ability I showed you, then I'll grant you the power of prophecy."
Arthur lifted his gaze, attentive.
"With your current strength," she continued, "if you train diligently, you'll be able to foresee dangerous situations up to three seconds in advance."
Arthur's eyes shone immediately.
"Do you want to learn?" Morgan asked, tilting her head.
Arthur hesitated for a moment… then nodded sincerely.
"Then beg me," Morgan said, clearly amused.
"Please," Arthur replied without hesitation.
Morgan: ...
She blinked once.
Twice.
Then sighed, a crooked smile appearing on her lips.
She had almost forgotten that this child was incredibly straightforward.
---
(End of Chapter)