Morgan silently took out her staff, took a slight step back, and then cast enhancent and defensive spells on Lot, Artoria, and the others.
Over this period, Morgan had made ample preparations for this battle against Vortigern.
Fine. If that husband of hers doesn't want personally joining the battlefield, then I'll play the role of a support for now.
Just so he won't worry.
Of course, this is only temporary. Sooner or later, we'll step onto the frontlines as well.
As a support, one must still have the heart of a warrior.
Especially as a mage what kind of mage doesn't engage in close combat?
anwhile, Artoria and Galahad charged ahead, swords in hand.
They were true warriors.
Tristan, on the other hand, flipped backward, hooked an arrow with his right hand, drew his bowstring taut, and aid squarely at Vortigern's eye before loosing the shot.
His arrow arrived first.
In the eyes of the onlookers, the projectile shot straight toward Vortigern's face.
At that mont, the dragon shut its eyes.
A tallic clang rang out.
Tristan's arrow struck Vortigern's eyelid only to be deflected harmlessly away.
Everyone present gained a new understanding of the sheer toughness of Vortigern's hide.
This… is terrifying!
That was the thought running through their minds.
At the sa ti, the other Knights of the Round Table nocked their own arrows and unleashed a volley at Vortigern.
A rain of arrows enveloped the dragon in an instant.
Yet every single one was deflected by its impervious scales.
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
Lot fired three shots of his own.
"LOT!"
Vortigern, having been struck by Lot's attacks, grew even more enraged.
anwhile, the knights around Lot shot him strange looks before subtly distancing themselves from him.
Your Majesty… weren't your shots aid at a rather… unsavory place?
"What are you looking at? It was just a coincidence."
Lot remained completely unfazed.
[Since ranged attacks aren't effective yet, if I can't deal damage, I might as well go for humiliation.]
"..."
Even Morgan found it hard to blindly defend Lot this ti.
This was just too embarrassing.
"What are you all standing around for? Get back into the fight!"
Seeing the knights still frozen in place, Morgan hurriedly urged them on.
Under her authoritative glare, they quickly brushed past the awkwardness and resud their assault with ranged weapons.
Vortigern lunged forward, and Artoria and Galahad swung their swords to et it head-on.
A pair of razor-sharp draconic claws descended from above, casting a shadow over the battlefield.
"Haa!"
Artoria and Galahad took a deep breath before charging straight toward the point where the claws would land.
Using their montum, they leaped into the air.
Their blades swept upward in a mighty arc, aid directly at the claws.
Sword energy surged.
Two streaks of light, ford from their slashes, struck the exact centers of Vortigern's descending claws.
The fierce impact collided with the dragon's defenses only for its monstrous claws to tear through the attack.
Then,
the claws clashed directly against Artoria and Galahad's holy swords.
Vortigern's colossal fra blotted out the sky, threatening to crush the two beneath its weight.
Feeling the overwhelming force bearing down on them, Artoria and Galahad tightened their grips on their swords. They pushed upward with all their might, struggling to hold the dragon back.
But even combined, their strength was no match for the demonic dragon's.
The two were forced back, their boots carving deep trenches into the ground.
Vortigern pressed harder, intent on sending them flying.
At that mont, Lot drew Joyeuse and charged straight at the dragon.
He leaped high into the air, aiming a slash at Vortigern's head.
Mid-flight, he shouted down to Morgan below:
"Now! Give everything you've got!"
"Understood!"
Morgan nodded firmly.
She raised her staff high and unleashed a series of spells:
Strength enhancent,
special damage buff,
speed boost,
physical defense reinforcent,
propulsion force increase.
On top of the party-wide buffs she had already cast, Morgan layered even more enhancents onto Lot.
"Go on, Vortigern DIE."
Seeing Lot soar even higher than the dragon's towering form, Morgan muttered under her breath.
Vortigern's gaze locked onto Lot, its eyes fixed on the blade in his hands.
The tip of Joyeuse was none other than the Holy Lance Longinus the very spear that had pierced Christ.
No matter how confident Vortigern was in its current power, it knew full well that a weapon capable of harming a divine being could also deal it grievous injury.
That strike must not land.
anwhile, Artoria and Galahad had also reacted.
Exchanging a glance, they shifted their tactics.
Instead of resisting the claws head-on, they angled their swords to redirect the force, slipping out from under the descending limbs.
Then, in a fluid motion, they flipped onto the backs of Vortigern's claws.
This was a technique Scáthach had drilled into them one they had mastered well.
Once atop the dragon's limbs, Artoria and Galahad spotted two glaring wounds on the scales.
"I think I know who did this."
Judging by the wounds' position and their earlier vantage point, both of them could guess exactly what kind of damage Vortigern had suffered before.
Without hesitation, they raised their swords high
and brought them down with full force.
Scáthach had already taught them what to do.
Now, they would follow through.
Their blades stabbed straight into the unhealed injuries.
Vortigern's wounds, originally inflicted by Scáthach's spear, had not yet closed leaving them as fragile as a potato chip.
Artoria and Galahad's strikes sank deep into the vulnerable flesh.
Agony and the humiliation of that day ca flooding back.
Vortigern let out a deafening roar.
At the sa ti, Lot's slash descended.
His blade arced straight toward the dragon's armored skull.
With both claws grievously wounded, Vortigern had no choice but to unleash the dark energy within its body.
A black miasma surged forth, attempting to engulf and corrode Lot.
It prepared to spew a second wave
but at that mont, Tristan nocked another arrow and fired.
His shot landed precisely where Lot had struck Vortigern earlier.
"Whoops. My hand slipped too."
As the other knights turned to stare at him, Tristan plucked his harp's strings nonchalantly.
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