Fate: My Wife is Morgan Le Fay (Patreon)

Chapter 35: Vortigern’s Final Charge

A shift occurred in Vortigern’s mindset.

His subordinates were utterly useless.

Rather than relying on them to make a difference, he might as well handle things himself.

Damn it!

These idiots all deserved to die.

Back in his command tent, Vortigern found all his generals staring at him.

Boss, our rear has been completely destroyed.

That really hurts.

At this point, it didn’t even matter whether the ones who had struck them were the Romans or the Britons.

The fact was—they had been struck.

And that meant they needed to hurry back and deal with whoever had done it.

Vortigern was frustrated but had no choice.

He was furious.

How can I conquer Britain with this band of worms?

But the real problem was—

Apart from the generals and lords who wanted to return home, the rest of the tribes and leaders under his command would likely only offer him everything except real assistance.

"One last time. We will launch one final assault. If we fail, we will withdraw," Vortigern said through gritted teeth, looking at his subordinates.

He had long since realized what kind of men followed him.

They were truly pathetic.

At that moment, Vortigern couldn’t help but think of the man who had maneuvered behind him, bypassing his forces to land a deadly strike on his home base.

That plan—there's no way Uther could have come up with it.

Then who was behind it?

Vortigern pondered this.

His subordinates looked uneasy at his decision. Some wanted to protest.

But before anyone could speak, Vortigern waved his hand forcefully.

"I will not allow you to refuse. If any of you wish to object, then challenge me to a duel. Defeat me, and you can decide our course of action."

Duel you?

We're not idiots.

If we were strong enough to beat you, we wouldn’t be following you in the first place.

They cursed inwardly but dared not voice their thoughts.

"Good. Since no one objects, we move forward. Gather the troops. This is our final stand—give it everything you've got," Vortigern said coldly.

The reluctant commanders had no choice. They would have to go all in.

<+>

"Phew... I can finally rest for a moment," King Uther said with a bitter smile, sitting atop the castle walls.

Though he had been prepared for a prolonged siege, he had underestimated Vortigern’s sheer determination.

A few days ago, Merlin had informed him that Lot and Morgan had successfully captured Vortigern’s stronghold.

Given that, he had expected Vortigern's offensive to weaken.

Yet, against all logic, the enemy attacks had only intensified.

Uther had been forced to fight desperately to hold the line.

"If I lose this war because of this, I truly won’t rest in peace," he muttered bitterly.

Closing his eyes, he prepared to get some much-needed rest.

The latest enemy assault had just been repelled.

Surely, they would also need time to recover.

No one attacks immediately after finishing one assault.

Men, after all, need a break—like a “post-battle clarity”.

Going again immediately after the first round? That’s something a machine gun does, not a human body.

"I'm going to sleep for a bit—"

Uther was just about to give orders when—

He froze.

What?

The enemy is attacking again?

What the hell? Your “clarity” is this short?!

Uther cursed internally.

But then, looking at the sheer number of enemy troops and seeing Vortigern personally leading the charge, he realized—

This wasn’t just another attack.

This was an all-out final assault.

Realizing the gravity of the situation, Uther stood up, gripped his sword tightly, and shouted,

"All men, prepare for battle!"

The knights of Camelot were exhausted.

But their loyalty to King Uther remained unwavering.

As the enemy prepared to charge, the defenders braced themselves for battle.

At the very front of the assault, Vortigern’s entire body had turned pitch black, like a dragon of darkness that devoured everything in its path.

Even King Uther, despite his years of battle experience, couldn’t help but take two involuntary steps back.

Two steps.

He gritted his teeth, steadied himself, and raised his sword once more, channeling every ounce of strength into his attack against Vortigern.

Their blades clashed.

Uther was immediately at a disadvantage.

He had never been a match for Vortigern in pure combat, and after days of intense battle, his body was utterly exhausted, riddled with wounds.

Now, he was barely holding on.

Feeling the pain rip through his arm as he adjusted his grip, Uther spoke through gritted teeth, "You're fighting like this... because you have nowhere left to retreat, don’t you?"

"...Yes."

Vortigern paused for a moment before nodding honestly.

Then, without hesitation, he swung his sword again.

In battle, there was no room to allow an opponent to catch their breath.

"Who came up with this plan?" Vortigern asked as he pressed his attack.

"Heh, do you think I’d tell you?" Uther grinned.

Even if I die, even if White Chalk City falls, Vortigern’s attack will end here. As long as time is given to develop, Lot will surpass Vortigern. And then, he will avenge me.

For now, I just need to hold out and protect Lot.

"Hmph, no matter. Once I take White Chalk City, I will find my answer. And when I do, I will hire this strategist with twice the price you paid him."

Vortigern scoffed.

He expected Uther to either sneer in disbelief or pale in anger.

But instead, Uther’s expression turned strangely... amused.

As if he were struggling to hold back laughter.

"What’s that look for?" Vortigern demanded.

"My dear brother..." Uther grinned, "That’s a price you simply cannot afford."

Brother.

You are a man with no heirs.

Where exactly will he find "double the price" to pay Lot?

"You may refuse to tell me, but I’ll find out sooner or later," Vortigern said, suddenly uneasy at Uther’s reaction.

With a fierce swing, he launched another assault.

Uther had already accepted his fate, but that didn’t mean he would go down without a fight.

He parried desperately, striking back with what little strength remained.

They clashed again and again.

Then—

Snap!

A crisp sound echoed through the battlefield.

Uther’s sword shattered.

"Cough—"

Blood spilled from his lips.

He had lost.

A bloodthirsty grin spread across Vortigern’s face.

"Uther, our battle must come to an end."

With that, he raised his sword, preparing to deliver the final blow.