Chapter 1669 - 1140: What Is Truly Right? (3)

Lancelot is the strongest pure-blood dragon species, and Bagster is a cursed atavistic being.

Such special existences, even the Paradise Fairies, pale in comparison in terms of uniqueness.

Morgan can suppress both Bagster and Lancelot mainly due to accumulated strength over thousands of years; during the fairy epoch, even as the savior Ash, she wouldn’t have been able to defeat Lancelot and Bagster.

It was imaginable how special and powerful they were.

However, it was these extraordinary and powerful beings who had to remain wary and apprehensive of a mere human.

"As long as that person is around, we cannot easily achieve victory in this battle." Lancelot, uncharacteristically heavy-hearted, spoke, "You’ve already lost; next, it’s my turn to face him, right?"

The mere thought of the previous encounter where she was powerless against the opponent ignited both resentment and defiance in Lancelot’s heart.

She had always considered herself the strongest.

Even if the opponent was Morgan, Lancelot didn’t believe she would be effortlessly defeated.

What is a dragon?

A dragon is synonymous with strength!

The dragon species is the strongest species.

This isn’t boasting; it’s a fact.

Even with gods still existing in this world, pure-blooded dragons are celebrated as the strongest species, and that speaks volumes.

So, whether the opponent is Morgan, Bagster, Woodworth, or anyone else, Lancelot doesn’t think she’d lose to them.

Yet she lost to Reiger, to a mere human.

And the words he said at that time set alarm bells ringing in Lancelot’s heart.

From that moment, Lancelot understood.

That man would destroy what she cherished most.

He was both the most dreadful and detestable enemy.

"I must defeat him."

Lancelot murmured thus.

"It seems you’ve made up your mind."

Bagster didn’t know what Lancelot was thinking but could sense the atmosphere emanating from her body, realizing that this unique fairy dragon of all Britain was about to unleash her true nature, just like herself.

"I don’t know what you’re thinking, Bagster."

Lancelot quietly declared.

"All I can tell you is, that man poses too much of a danger to me."

"So, in this battle, we must secure a victory."

"At the very least, we must defeat that man."

Bagster did not refute this.

No matter what she was thinking, if the alliance army hoped to gain victory in this battle, defeating that man was the only and most crucial premise.

"I’ve already lost."

Bagster said, perhaps out of some inexplicable mentality.

Lancelot’s figure had once again soared to the sky, leaving behind soft-spoken words.

"Then I shall never lose."

And alongside her words came the sounds of battle cries.

At dawn, along the southern and northern borders of Camelot, billowing clouds of smoke began to surge.

Watching the army charging this way, Bagster tightened her grip on the sword at her waist.

"...What should I do to make it right?"

Even as war erupted and enemy forces approached, this question still lingered in Bagster’s mind.

Until the alliance army had reached Camelot’s front, attacking the main gate, Bagster hadn’t found the answer she sought.

"Perhaps I really need to talk to them."

Bagster turned her gaze toward the center of the enemy, focusing on that group.

There, led by a fairy girl holding aloft a chosen staff, was the group that caught Bagster’s eyes.