When Kay emerged from the shattered rampart carrying Alter, the fortress courtyard had become a veritable hellscape.
Not a single one of the hundreds of Saxon elite troops remained standing.
Half of them had been engulfed by Jeanne Alter's pitch-black flames, reduced to charred black ashes, while the rest had blown apart under Tamamo's relentless sorcery bombardment or lay strewn about as grotesque stone fragments, petrified by Medusa's [Mystic Eye].
"Oh my, Master! Did you manage to rescue our sister-in-law safely?"
Tamamo approached, her clean shrine maiden robes fluttering without a single bloodstain.
"Yeah. She looks dreadful, but being of the Pendragon bloodline, her vitality is stubborn. She's suffering from severe external injuries and serious mana depletion."
Kay gently transferred Alter into Tamamo's arms.
"Tamamo, please treat her. With that magecraft you used to restore my stamina, she'll recover in no time. She'll need a few days of rest, so instead of pushing on to North Wales, let's use this fortress as our temporary base camp."
"Leave it to me! If she's my master's precious younger sister, then she's family to me! I'll heal her until every pore sparkles!"
Tamamo cradled Alter and whisked her away, her tails swishing as she sought the fortress's most intact chamber.
Kay turned to Jeanne Alter and Medusa.
"Jeanne, Medusa. You two clear out the Saxon remnants in the city beyond the fortress. This time, we'll root the Saxons out of this region and liberate it completely. Spare anyone who surrenders, but deal with those who used Britons as slaves however you see fit."
"Understood. Burn them all to ashes, right? I might as well take a stroll while I'm at it."
"Consider it done. Not a single rat will escape."
The two Servants leaped into the air and vanished into thin air, and Kay strode alone into the castle's interior. It was time to restore order within the fortress and free the Britons held captive there.
The interior was as silent as a tomb.
The Saxon soldiers tasked with defense had all perished outside. All that remained were the castle's stewards, cooks, and servants.
When Kay entered the main hall, the servants huddled in fear in a corner and lowered themselves to their knees. Surprisingly, they were mostly Britons who had lived on this land since the Roman era, reduced to servitude under Saxon occupation.
"P—please spare us! We only cooked and cleaned as we were told!" the elderly head steward pleaded, bowing his head to the floor.
In a voice gentler than his burly appearance suggested, Kay spoke, "Raise your heads. I'm not here to kill you. The Saxon knights and soldiers who ruled this castle have all died outside. Manchester is free now, so rest easy—"
Then, a shout rang out.
"For the glory of the Saxons!!"
A young servant in the back lunged forward like lightning, brandishing a dagger coated in blue poison, his eyes gleaming fanatically under Saxon influence.
Kaang!
The assassin's blade struck Kay's unguarded side.
But—
"…Huh?"
The assassin's eyes widened in horror. The poisoned steel had torn Kay's leather jerkin but failed to penetrate the skin beneath, and the blade bent on impact.
Kay casually glanced down at the slit in his side, then slowly met the assassin's gaze. "Is this the modern Briton welcome? That stung a bit."
The muscles and skin Kay had honed through Scáthach's hellish training were tougher than most beasts. Without channeling mana, an ordinary human's stab couldn't even leave a scratch.
"You monstrous fool—!" the assassin spat in panic, discarding his bent dagger and attempting to flee, but Kay's massive hand shot out like a serpent's coil and seized the man's face.
"The real monsters are you," Kay said as he swung the man out of the hall like a volleyball.
Gyaaahh!
The assassin's body flew through the air and crashed onto the stone courtyard dozens of meters below. A sickening cracking sound echoed as his limbs twisted grotesquely, killing him instantly.
The sheer brutality of the display left the servants trembling, unable to draw breath.
Kay brushed the dust from his hand and approached the head steward, who sat frozen in shock.
"Where were we? Oh, right—I said not to worry. First, round up any Saxon spies hiding in this castle and bind them with rope. Then free the Britons in the dungeons, open the food stores, and feed everyone until they're full. I'll take responsibility for it all."
"Y—yes, right away, my lord!" the steward choked out, tears streaming down his face as he bowed repeatedly.
Thanks to the swift action of the Briton servants, control of the fortress was restored in no time.
Once the situation was under control, Kay headed for the command chamber at the highest point of the castle.
He sat down and took out a talisman Tamamo had given him. With a simple infusion of mana, it would establish a voice link with a designated target—Tamamo's custom communication talisman. The target was the Lancer waiting in North Wales.
Kay poured mana into the talisman. It flared to life, and faint ripples of magical energy formed in the air.
"…Brother?! Brother, is that you?!"
Lancer's anxious, trembling voice came through the ripples.
"Yeah, it's me. Lancer. Keep it down, will you? You're hurting my ears."
"Are you wounded?! Have you reached Manchester? What about the enemy forces…!"
"It's all over."
Kay's calm words cut off her breath on the other side.
"…What? Over…?"
"We've retaken the Manchester Castle Field fortress. We're mopping up the Saxon remnants. And… we safely rescued Alter from the dungeons. My Servants are treating her now, so don't worry. After a few days of rest, she'll be back to throwing a tantrum for more hamburgers."
"You rescued Alter?! And the enemy commander? What about Taquin, who was called the strongest Saxon knight? What happened to him?!"
Lancer's voice brimmed with shock and delight. Taquin had even defeated Alter once—a monster in his own right.
"Taquin? Oh, you mean that snake-eyed punk. One punch to the gut, and he kicked the bucket. His corpse is probably lying in the dungeon."
Kay propped his foot on the desk and snorted.
"One punch from my fist burst him wide open. Didn't even draw my axe. I just blocked his first strike with my left arm, then sent him flying with my right."
Lancer fell into a stunned silence on the other end of the link.
The Kay she remembered from five years ago was gentle and good with cooking, but not nearly as powerful as his sisters. Yet the voice over the comms was that of a true strongman—someone who could tear a superhuman monster apart without breaking a sweat.
"…Brother. What on earth happened during those five years in the Abyssal Realm? How many times did you have to break every bone just to grow this strong…?"
Lancer's voice trembled with every word.
It was a joy to know her brother had become powerful, but the thought of the hellish time he must have endured left her heart aching.
Kay gazed up at the moonlit sky and answered softly, "Don't cry. I did it all because I wanted to. I wanted to protect you all. Even when my bones were breaking and my flesh was torn, I hung on to the thought of going back to feed you. So don't worry about me."
At that tender reassurance, Kay heard a soft sniffle from the other side of the link.
"Once Alter wakes up and gets back on her feet, I'll bring her to North Wales to join you. We'll figure out how to deal with the rest of the Saxons and Vortigern then. Over and out."
"…Yes. I'll wait, Brother. Please be careful."
The ripples faded, and the command chamber fell silent once more.
Leaning against the window frame, Kay looked down at Manchester's nightscape. The Saxon torches were extinguished, and in their place, warm bonfires lit by liberated citizens glowed throughout the castle grounds.
"The family is finally coming together."
Pieces of the puzzle from the lost five years were slowly clicking into place.
"Now then, shall I go start cooking some porridge? I brought plenty of rice I grew and harvested in the Abyssal Realm."
Kay decided to make porridge for Alter, using the rice he'd grown with Scáthach and Tamamo's help down in the Abyssal Realm.
He planned to toss in plenty of seafood or meat—she'd love that.
Meanwhile, in a small hut somewhere in Britain, there was a cellar where a woman labored over some research.
Morgan le Fay.
The irresponsible mother who had abandoned her child by throwing her at Kay and then left.
A girl approached her.
"How is the research coming along?"
"Ah, splendidly. It will grow smoothly."
The hooded woman eyed a massive test tube in the corner.
"…Keep your promise. After all the help I've given you."
"Of course I'll keep it. Honestly, you're a foolish woman yourself—serving that man for five years."
"Like you, still hung up on the throne?"
At that, Morgan glared, and the hooded woman shrugged coolly, as if to challenge her to do something about it.
No matter that Morgan was touted as the most powerful witch in Britain, standing shoulder to shoulder with Merlin—she didn't bother fighting the monster before her.
After all, they were partners. A knight who had sought out the witch five years ago when she visited Orkney, hoping to find her long-lost brother.
"This facility never fails to astonish," the woman said.
"Naturally. This place preserves technology from the distant Age of Gods. Did you think creating a new lifeform would be simple? This is my masterpiece, crafted from the cells of every Pendragon in existence."
"A masterpiece…"
"What's the matter? Feeling guilty now?"
"No. I'm just wondering whether this child is my daughter or my niece."
"What difference does it make? She is simply the heir who will become the true ruler of Britain."
"…Mages all see the world the same way in the end. I only hope Caster doesn't end up like the two of you."
"Hmph. Such is the way of magecraft."
The woman shook her head. Even if they were sisters by oath, as mages they were something other than human—she could never empathize.
And yet, as Morgan said, she did feel a twinge of guilt. She had cooperated to rescue her brother and, in the process, helped create a new lifeform.
She gazed solemnly at the tiny being in the test tube—her daughter yet also her niece, a Pendragon destined for greatness.