Chapter 82: Morgan's first test

(Titus's (Lot's) POV)

It had been a few months since I started training Morgan Pendragon to be the next ruler of Britain, the same person who became the reason for Arthur's demise in the legends.

Two essential elements are needed for someone to become a king. Firstly, wealth or money is crucial. To recruit supporters, you either need good sponsorship or be fortunate enough to stumble upon some kind of treasure.

Secondly, charisma. A king is someone people follow, as he can't run a state on his own. He requires support, and people will only back him if he possesses charisma, earned through two specific abilities.

Intellect is one. A king uses his brain to govern the country, recruiting the right people and utilizing them at the right time and place.

The other is physical prowess. Consider this: would you follow a skinny nerdy guy into battle? Unless you know he's capable or you are just high, the answer is no. That's why physical prowess is crucial. You don't need to be the strongest in the world, but at least strong enough to hold your ground.

As for my wife, Morgan Pendragon, she possessed incredible intellect. No, I could say she was ingenious. She could learn many things overnight, like the art of speech, some management rules, and how the economy works.

Yes, she was brilliant. It's no wonder she immediately grasped Chaldea's rayshifting mechanism with just Beryl Gut's description and sent herself back in time.

Unfortunately, she was utterly useless in combat. Someone who hadn't even held a sword in her entire life could easily defeat her in swordplay, even a 10-year-old. Her stamina was slightly below average, and her movements were hazy.

"Uncleee! Uncleee!" Artoria's voice echoed as she played with my beard, her cute green eyes fixed on me.

"What is it?" I inquired, utterly charmed by this adorable little ball of energy.

UwU, she was so cute!! I couldn't resist giving her a kiss, which made her giggle. "Hehe~! Artorrriaa loves unkiee!"

"Aww, I love you too~!!" I replied affectionately.

Artoria continued to play with my beard, and whenever I tried to set her down, she'd start crying, so I often ended up carrying her in my arms.

Eventually, I reached a green field nestled in the heart of the forest, where a woman with silver hair, clad in a casual shirt and trousers, was earnestly practicing swordplay.

For the past few months, we had been residing in the forest just outside the city. I had already summoned Cu Chulainn to handle military matters and Nero Claudius for administration. I'd assigned her as my secretary before leaving her with my work. Despite her complaints, I didn't pay much heed. Medb was there to keep her company.

As I put Artoria down, she protested, but I hushed her with a promise of some honey. Then, I strode toward Morgan, who didn't even acknowledge my arrival. She was understandably upset about being thrust into the middle of the forest, asked to run daily in manly attire, and instructed to wield swords and other blades without any apparent purpose.

Well, I didn't feel the need to explain everything at once; she needed to endure hardships to uncover the answers herself.

I unsheathed my sword and took position opposite her.

"Morgan Pendragon, from now on, you'll face me. Your goal: knock the sword out of my hand without any apparent magecraft or setting traps. Consider me your enemy and show no mercy," I instructed firmly.

"But that's impossible!" protested Morgan. "Why wield a sword when I can use my magecraft to resolve conflicts?"

"Exactly why you need to understand the purpose of holding a blade," I remarked sharply. Then, I raised my voice, "Enough questions, start moving!"

Morgan narrowed her eyes and charged at me.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Morgan moved with precision, her swings swift and forceful. But...

"What in the...?" The sword in my hand remained unmoved, as if she were striking a solid wall.

"Pathetic."

Swing! Cling!!

With a single strike, I disarmed Morgan. "Do you really think an enemy will stand idly by?" I grinned and raised my leg, "And since when did I forbid you from attacking my body?"

"Wha—"

Before she could comprehend, my boot connected with her face, sending her flying.

'I feel like an 1800s husband,' I chuckled inwardly after kicking my wife in the face.

"Woohoo!" Artoria, who watched from a distance, cheered, "Murder! Sister! Murder! Sister!"

What in the world? Where did she learn those words?

I approached Morgan, who lay on the ground, tears streaming down her face, her nose broken and blood flowing. But what stood out most was the raw anger in her eyes.

"Say it! Just admit you want to humiliate me!" she cried, the rage palpable.

Unfazed, I crouched, seizing her hair and meeting her gaze squarely. "Yes, I do want to humiliate you. Make you taste some dirt. It's better for me to torment you than your enemy, Vortigern."

At the mention of Britain's enemy, her eyes wavered. She pleaded, "But... we both know I'll never beat you in this field of prowess."

She was right. If Uther, the so-called rightful king of Britain, couldn't land a single hit, she was far from besting me after just a few months of practice.

I rolled my eyes and sighed, "If you're already contemplating giving up, I doubt your reign would last a year."

Releasing her, I walked back to my position. "If you're done being pathetic, patch yourself up, retrieve your sword, and come at me in 30 seconds or I'll beat the crap out of you."

Gritting her teeth, Morgan managed to get up, her legs still trembling from the previous impact. She was scared but retaliated against my words, moving forward.

For the rest of the day, I sparred with Morgan. She improved slightly, but still fell short by a lot. I didn't understand why Artoria kept cheering for me. Perhaps she just enjoyed seeing me exert dominance.

---

As nighttime fell, we prepared to sleep in our clay shed with a hay bed. After dinner, Artoria nestled herself right on top of me. I attempted to move her, but she began crying and clung to my beard.

"Why are you sleeping so far away? Come closer, and you'll stay warm," I invited Morgan, who was at the edge of the bed. Since it was a single bed, we had to share.

"I don't want to," she replied, clearly still upset. Today, I had given her quite a beating, leaving her silver hair greasy and her flawless skin dirty.

"It wasn't a suggestion, but an order," I asserted dominantly.

After a moment of silence, Morgan reluctantly moved closer, turning her face away.

"You know, your boobs look great. I'm thinking of fondling them! Haha!" I grinned.

"You pi—... do whatever you want," she grumbled, still in a bad mood.

I smirked and gently started caressing her head. Applying a soft healing spell, I slowly eased her fatigue and mended her broken nose.

"Morgan, I didn't want to thrash you but to teach you a valuable lesson. You're a fast learner, and I gave you this task because I know you can accomplish it," I explained. "Think about the strategy instead of cursing me."

Morgan stayed silent, not uttering a word. I assumed she fell asleep. Looking at her, I noticed her snoring peacefully.

"Even in sleep, she's a flawless beauty," I mused, planting a soft kiss on her cheek. For a brief moment, I saw her smile.

After confirming that Morgan had fallen asleep, I began rubbing her back as my hand started to emit a soft glow.

[Morgan Pendragon:

Human: 6%

Fairy: 94%]

[The bloodline is being changed.]

[Morgan Pendragon

Human: 7%

Fairy: 93%]

Morgan Pendragon, as a mixed-race individual, wasn't a full-fledged fairy. She came from a human womb, so she couldn't be a pure fairy. However, her body remained fragile due to this mixed lineage.

Over the past few months, I'd devised a spell to adjust her bloodline. Why? Because being human allowed her to make rational decisions and perceive things from a human perspective rather than merely acting on fairy instincts. As she was destined to lead a human kingdom, understanding humanity was crucial. Hence, the need for a touch of humanity.

Besides, the only thing she'd lose in this process was a portion of her mana pool.

"So, this is the black curse of Britons, huh…" I murmured, gathering energy from Morgan's body and shaping it into a ball.

It was the curse afflicting all Britons. Both Morgan and Uther carried it. They believed this dark energy made them the true leaders of Britons, yet it was actually a curse foretelling that 'All Britons must perish.'

Artoria bore this curse too, but in Morgan's case, it was monumental. She alone carried the curse of millions of Britons. Her fate seemed sealed, regardless of her actions.

The Nasuverse was indeed perplexing. Research needed to be conducted, but I decided to address this curse at a later time.

I chose not to release the curse since it would return to afflict Morgan later, so I absorbed it instead. Being resistant to curses, I'd likely remain unaffected for the most part. I just hoped I wouldn't transform into some towering fluffy doll of curses.

After covering her with a blanket, I settled down for sleep.

===

Morgan's segs now is now on at Ch 99 and soon will be completing her story. Volume 5 will soon over and I will then start Volume 6. It will be for Archer. Can you take a guess who might Archer be? Hint: Its a female.

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