Morgan's eyes are filled with tears.
Not just her, but Artoria and the others are also in tears.
Unlike the sorrowful sobs from the last simulation.
These are tears shed from happiness.
"Ugh… I still can't get used to this prosthetic limb…"
"You are originally Albion… not many souls of fantasy species can match you… with the current skills of me and Merlin, this is already the best we can do within our responsibilities."
"I know… I didn't think much about it. I will treat this as a gift from you all and use it well…"
Moran lies in Morgan's embrace.
He can smell the charming fragrance that reassures him and see the faces he loves dearly.
For a moment, he doubts whether he is in paradise.
Having such a ridiculous thought.
"Ah… it really feels like a scene that would only appear in a dream… everything is accomplished… it feels so unreal… it makes me feel like I've come to heaven…"
"Not at all, you won't go to heaven; even if you want to, I will pull you back!"
Guinevere said seriously with a stern face.
Even Artoria looks extremely serious.
It is clear that they are very worried. "Brother, your breath has weakened…"
"Ah… I have offered most of my blood, and now I probably only have the title of Albion; in terms of specifications and concepts, I have already fallen from fantasy to the level of humanity, which is what is called a small but light quality scale."
Moran explains to Melusine through magical theory.
In the magical world, there are also precise terms for concepts; generally, there are four levels of concept scale.
Small but heavy, large but heavy, small but light, large but light.
The evaluation of the four levels proceeds in order.
Among them, the highest level of concept scale is small but heavy, similar to Brunestud, Altrouge, and Moran.
Large but heavy is similar to Vortigern and other fantasy species.
Although its existence and power are vast in every aspect, its size also leads to many flaws.
Being small and heavy means that while the flaws are minimized, it still maintains the best output.
The mode of existence is superior to that of large and heavy objects, and the most typical example of small and light objects is humans.
As in the literal sense of being both small and light.
There is no need for excessive explanation.
The least of the large and light refers to entities that do not even have a physical form, similar to information or urban legends, which are ethereal existences.
Such existences are even weaker than humans in terms of duration.
If left unattended, they will also self-destruct.
Now, Moran is experiencing a conceptual degradation.
From being the top-tier "small and heavy" as a living being, he has fallen to the level of "small and light."
This is unimaginable for any living being.
"I'm sorry, Melusine, for letting the bloodline between you and me become so thin. As your older brother, I have failed in my duty…"
"That's not true! Even if you are no longer Albion, I will still regard you as my brother. It was you who saved me when I had nothing and gave my existence meaning. My sword and wings will forever be wielded for you alone."
Melusine leaned forward earnestly.
She was not only a knight but also, as a sister, offered a loyal vow to her beloved brother.
Her platinum long hair and snow-white skin remained untainted even amidst the flames of war, shining brilliantly.
Paired with a face that exuded the beauty of a snow fairy.
All of this was imprinted in Moran's eyes, and he instinctively reached out to touch Melusine's face.
"Brother…"
Melusine's small face flushed.
[Although she possesses a determination far superior to most knights, deep within her soul lies an insecurity that far exceeds others]
[Only because the man before her can shine so brightly]
[Melusine understands this better than anyone]
[If the man before her were to disappear, she would surely revert to that ugly mass of flesh]
[Because that is her true self]
[She still clearly remembers the day in the mud pit when she was embraced by the man before her and gained her soul]
[Having a form, she understood her spirit]
[—She came to know what it means to yearn, to know a love that would never waver and could never be abandoned]
"Well… I'm very happy to be your brother. To be loved like this by little Melusine."
"Brother… I am too…!
To be your sister… to be loved by you like this, Melusine… umm… I am the happiest dragon in the world!"
Melusine excitedly grasped Moran's hand.
The heart of the dragon could not stop leaping.
It was clumsy, as if forgetting the knightly etiquette, but it was also a manifestation of overwhelming joy and happiness.
Even without a blood connection.
Their relationship would not change.
It is such a simple and clear truth.
"This is great, but Melusine, you have to choose a position between being a lover and a sister, right?"
Merlin teased, as if finding a gap to insert her words.
Even if Melusine tried to disguise it, it was useless.
After spending days together, everyone, including Morgan, knew that her essence was just like Lancelot's.
She could be said to be a color dragon holding onto her husband.
"This doesn't need to be chosen, why can't I have both? I am confident I can do both well…!"
Melusine spoke so candidly that it left others speechless.
If it weren't for Moran being completely drained of strength.
He might have directly gotten up to tap Melusine's little head, asking her to be a bit more restrained in her speech.
However, given the current situation.
Everyone was joking with each other, and they had long since understood each other.
"Moran, how much time do you have left?"
Artoria asked the most concerning question.
Although everyone could sense that there was still life within him, they were quite vague about this aspect.
They couldn't judge based on size.
They didn't know how much time Moran had left.
Seeing the amount of blood loss in Moran's consciousness and the conceptual drop to the level of an ordinary human.
They truly couldn't feel at ease.
It was estimated that it was much less than initially expected, fearing that Moran might have less than a few years of life left.
"Very short… extremely short… I'm afraid…"
Moran said with a hint of disappointment.
This statement plunged the emotions of the women into a low state; it seemed that this result was close to their worst fears.
They still wanted to accompany Moran for as long as possible.
Reluctant to accept such a brief time.
However, the sadness on everyone's faces did not last long.
They heard Moran continue, "Probably only a few hundred years left… it's really short…"