[The golden sword erupted with a surge of blood pool waves]
[In an instant, it eroded and swallowed the Saxons' left flank, the ground turning into a hell of boiling blood]
[An unprecedented demonic nature was being nurtured]
[The golden sword itself was born from the blood of Medusa, you used it to create countless descendants, now it devours human flesh, bringing back the fantasies that once disappeared from this world]
[At this moment, the blood pool is the womb of a beast]
[The expanding blood bubbles were as huge as hills, and the divine beast Cerberus, bestowed with the principle Idea Blood, was born from it]
[The blazing flames that enveloped its body instantly evaporated the blood sea, leaving only dried blood on the ground, the world seemed to turn red because of its appearance]
[The abominable giant beast wrapped in scorching flames]
[Looked like it had escaped from the mythical world]
[This sight drove the witnessing soldiers mad, but it was also an undeniably real existence here]
[The result, needless to say]
[Massive chaos appeared in the Saxons' army, they all lost their will to fight]
[It's impossible to win against a monster of this level]
[As long as one still clings to common sense, it's impossible to fight against this transcendent existence]
[The beast's howls seemed to be cheering for its master]
[Achieve victory! Achieve victory!]
[Swords, spears, and halberds, along with armor, are melting in the flames.]
[The soldiers had not even approached the three-headed dog before being consumed by the heat spilling from the flames during their escape.]
[There was not even time to feel pain.]
[Before they could feel anything, they would turn to dust and scatter; this was the final mercy bestowed by the Light King.]
[The Saxon army has already collapsed.]
[The symphony composed of screams is growing weaker; originally, there were eight thousand Saxons.]
[Now, nothing remains.]
[The coalition army does not even know where they are, as if they have fallen into a nightmare.]
[The soldiers of the coalition, faced with this terrifying scene,]
[Struggle to suppress the cries in their throats; these are the whimpers of those who have crossed the threshold of fear and anxiety.]
[It is like the mournful wail of a child—no, it is the lament of someone whose mind has regressed to that of a child.]
"Hmm, you finally came."
Moran gazes into the distant darkness with an elegant smile.
The surrounding noble kings tremble.
Although they do not understand the meaning behind these words, they can no longer bear it.
"Vortigern, I thought you would hide for a while longer. Now, it's time for you to give me a response, isn't it?"
"Hmm, Albion, I do not dislike your proposal. It is possible to see the continuation of the British divine era. Even the island of Britain believes this is a feasible policy."
A gloomy voice echoes in the air.
An old man, wrapped in a decaying aura and dressed in black armor, floats in the air.
Behind him are a pair of rotting wings.
His wrinkled face shows no signs of joy or anger, and his sunken eyes resemble a mad whirlpool, with only a hint of rationality swirling within.
"However, you know I won't let go easily, right? In the end, I still cannot accept your unreasonable demands."
"Ha, is that so? What a stubborn old man. Vortigern, you are an indispensable part of my future construction; you should know I won't let you escape, right?"
Moran's smile is quite pleasant.
He senses that Vortigern also possesses a sense of déjà vu.
It is likely that the other party also remembers their previous fight, which is why he speaks these words.
Vortigern loves Britain deeply.
Even if he acknowledges Moran's plan, he does not intend to easily hand it over; if he were to give it away, it would have to be to someone stronger than himself.
If it were someone weaker, that would not do.
Because if he cannot save Britain, then someone weaker than him certainly cannot either.
Thus, his opponent must be stronger than him.
Even when facing Moran, who has once defeated him, Vortigern still appears full of fighting spirit.
"If you are defeated, you will submit to me."
Moran raises his hand to the side.
A dazzling light that pierces the darkness flies over, and the golden sword returns to his hand like a loyal dog.
"Humph! Arrogant fool! If you defeat me, I will willingly bow my head to you!"
"The oath is established. Then, let the battle begin."
[The two strongest mysteries of Britain reach a consensus.]
[A smile appears on both of their faces.]
[Both sides have the idea of saving Britain.]
[Although very reluctant, the dragon Vortigern knows that Moran can indeed save Britain.]
[His roar at this moment is the dignity and restraint of the dragon, and it is the final test for the island of Britain.]
[Vortigern does not directly engage you in battle here.]
[He turns and flies towards the waters of the British Isles; this is not an act of fleeing; you know his intent.]
"Beloved dragon of Britain, let it be as you wish. It is indeed not good to cause chaos on the island…"
"Moran, what is it now?"
"Merlin, go inform Morgan. Tell her that the final mysterious battle between my army and Britain has begun."
Moran instructs Merlin.
Merlin gazes at the domineering Moran, slightly lost in thought.
Her heart stirs with ripples.
It is unclear whether she is excited for the upcoming war or simply fascinated by the man before her.
With a wave of her staff, she transforms into fluttering petals.
She temporarily leaves the front lines.
[Tintagel seems to sense the master's intent.]
[Even the earth begins to tremble.]
[The hellish three-headed dog that annihilated the entire Saxon army approaches the coalition army.]
[The coalition army, having just witnessed that hellish scene,]
[Many are frightened and scream.]
[The armies brought by the tribal kings and nobles look at the increasingly approaching hellish three-headed dog.]
[The taut string in their minds snaps.]
[The soldiers would rather abandon their immobile horses than escape. Having just seen that hellish scene, no matter how lacking in imagination they are, they would think that they are next.]
[Most of the incoming soldiers have fallen into chaos.]
[Their fleeing figures are too embarrassing.]
[Those who remain are either completely captivated by the power of the Light King or have fallen into madness.]