Although I didn't manage to explore medieval Great Britain or beyond as I had originally planned—living almost in seclusion with Morgana—I still learned many interesting things.
I missed the rise of King Arthur and the formation of the Knights of the Round Table, but I did get to meet them… as rivals. I must admit, even though they were Muggles, those knights were impressively capable. I'm sure their magical equipment played a role, but I also suspect they had some kind of technique or training method that allowed them to surpass the human limits of their time. Otherwise, many of their feats would be unexplainable. Perhaps they were Merlin's experiments...
Speaking of Merlin, I must acknowledge that, like Morgana, he is a formidable adversary. It's not surprising, considering he is a reincarnator with vast knowledge and accumulated experience. In some aspects, he's even superior to Morgana, though more because of their differing approaches than sheer power. Fighting Morgana is like playing Russian roulette: her attacks are unpredictable, and while most seem harmless, any of them could be the deadly poison that finishes you off. Merlin, on the other hand, is more straightforward. His power is consistent, brutal, and methodical—but not without some interesting tricks.
I remember the look that bearded old man gave me when he realized there was another wizard on his level. It was very similar to the one Morgana gave me the first time. In our first clash, I was able to analyze several of his techniques, and I clearly noticed Morgana's fury when she saw Merlin using spells that consumed divine power. Yes, like her, he possessed it too. The problem was that many of those spells drew from the same power source they both shared… and when Morgana found out it was being depleted, she was far from pleased.
There was no victor in that battle. Even though it was two against one, Arthur's arrival complicated everything. He wasn't a powerful wizard like Merlin. In fact, I think he's a squib or something similar, since he can perceive and understand magic better than Muggles but cannot use it actively. The real problem was his sword: the legendary Excalibur. That magical artifact exceeded my expectations. When it appeared, it emitted a sudden glow and a strange power I can only describe as "sacred." That power tried to suppress both Morgana and me.
I felt how that part of me that embodies pure evil resisted that force. Even the sin essences I was channeling were temporarily suppressed. Morgana was affected too: some of her abilities, deemed "malevolent," were nullified. It was a strange feeling… as if the weight of all the lives I had taken was suddenly holding me back.
It was an unexpected situation—and a very annoying disadvantage. But luckily, I still had Elise's goodness inside me. Thanks to that, although I was stunned at first, I managed to regain control and recover part of the fight.
So that was the scene: two powerful wizards (Merlin and me), a relentless Arthur, and a Morgana weakened by Excalibur's magical suppression. Her only way to counter it was by using divine power, but she didn't want to waste it. That's why she never truly fought at full strength.
In the end, the battle concluded with no clear victor. Both sides decided to retreat: they went back to Camelot, and we returned to Avalon.
...
During that time, I also witnessed something I wasn't expecting: a side of Morgana I didn't know, or at least one she rarely showed. Perhaps it wasn't completely different from the Morgana I knew, but it was different enough to leave me unsettled.
Morgana had apprentices. Several girls of various ages—the youngest around nine, the oldest about seventeen—whom she taught personally. It was quite a surprise to see her in that role. The enigmatic, cold, and calculating woman I knew transformed before her students into someone more... human. More patient. I would even dare say: affectionate.
Not that she stopped being intimidating. She still commanded respect and didn't hesitate to use fear as a teaching tool if any of them made a careless mistake. But behind her severity, there was something deeper: a genuine desire to shape, to guide, to leave a mark.
We talked about it. I couldn't help but half-jokingly complain about why she could be kind to them but not to me. That's when she spoke to me about her philosophy: the immortality of legacy. Unlike her usual ambition for power and survival, in this matter she held a surprisingly altruistic view. For her, teaching was a way to remain, even if her name was lost to history. It was enough for someone to inherit her knowledge.
She was so different from the Morgana I knew… I couldn't help myself. I took her right there, on the old desks where her students had been working just hours earlier.
Another curious thing was finding among her students two young girls with the surname Ravenclaw. Yes, that family. I found it so interesting that, shamelessly and to Morgana's annoyance, I presented myself in one of her classes as a "guest student." The confused looks on the girls' faces and the absolute exasperation on Morgana's face were unforgettable.
I watched her classes with more interest than I had expected. Perhaps because, deep down, they reminded me of the future plans I've been hoping to realize for my own daughters yet to be born.
It was a nice time... until that day came when I ended up fucking the teacher in front of her students... and then the orgy with the students...
Indeed, she wouldn't let me return. And, apparently, several students suffered the consequences: not only for the alleged "aggression" toward their teacher that day when they collaborated with me, making her moan, but also for their questions about my possible return, accompanied by flirtatious gestures like fixing their hair. Morgana was quick to punish such behavior with drastic measures, such as leaving them bald.
...
Over time, I felt the campaign was coming to an end. The battles against Merlin grew more intense, and the armies of Camelot and Avalon were marching toward a final confrontation.
That's when I found myself caught up in one last great episode of this story. An event that, like many others, I was completely unaware of. Even in the future, historical records would remain confusing and fragmented about it.
Morgana had a goal in mind. A wicked, dark… and dangerous one. Her target was a powerful entity — not exactly a goddess, but an ancient being revered by some as if she were.
She asked me for help. And although what had happened with her class kept me indebted, I probably would have agreed anyway. Morgana claimed she could do it alone, but if I had the chance to add my skills and Elise's, why not take advantage?
Still, as a precaution, I left Elise behind. Her magic was untrained and her combat experience limited. We decided she would stay "to guard the fort."
Together with Morgana, we reached a deep, mystical lake. Our destiny was hidden in its waters: a submerged palace. We moved stealthily, using enchantments, disguises, and secret routes. Even when we were discovered, we had already reached the inner chamber.
There stood our target: Nyneve, the Lady of the Lake.
Morgana had warned me about her power. Not only was she beautiful, but her presence was overwhelming. Her magic flowed naturally, ancient and strange, and in her aquatic sanctuary, she held the advantage. But Morgana had come prepared.
The poison she crafted was devastating. A mix of dark art, divine essence, and curses that unsettled even me. Some of those curses, I learned afterward, had been used on me before.
Once wounded by the poison, the Lady of the Lake, Nyneve, was doomed. Hours later, the poison began to take effect. We had sealed all her possible escape routes, even blocking any spatial movement. What's more, her lake, once crystal clear, had darkened; Morgana had poisoned it completely to worsen the situation.
We watched her fade slowly, reduced to the weakness of a newborn deer, with no trace of her magic left. The poison turned her pale and even a bit purple, dimming her inner light like a withered flower, but strangely, her beauty still endured.
She was chained in the center of her own sacred hall while Morgana prepared the next step. She explained that Nyneve wasn't exactly a demigod — since she didn't have the potential to ascend as such — but a magical creature with a divine lineage. It was she who had delivered the second generation of Excalibur to Arthur, and according to Morgana, she had always supported Merlin when he needed it most.
She wasn't immortal, but long-lived. Her lifespan stretched up to five hundred years. Even stranger, she belonged to a lineage that practiced a form of reincarnation. When she died, her body would be gathered into a cocoon in the depths of the lake, where she would slowly be reborn as the next Lady of the Lake.
I couldn't say whether that means it's always the same one… or simply the next.
"She's pretty, don't you think? Pure, immaculate, like an untouchable saint," Morgana hissed with disdain, holding Nyneve's chin. "Why don't you use your dick for something good this time and make sure to destroy that purity," she said maliciously.
Morgana longed to profane this pure being, and my presence had given her new and twisted ways to achieve it. She had devised a truly evil plan after discovering that this might be, perhaps, the last life of the Morgana she knew; if that was the case, she planned to utterly defeat her rival, including her best allies.
Morgana insisted I employ my worst methods, even suggesting some herself. The beautiful water spirit before me radiated a purity that made touching her seem an unforgivable sin, but nothing could stop me, especially with Morgana at my side, watching with an expectation I hadn't seen in her since the incident with Elise. Not even that pitiful gaze, pure and full of innocence, which seemed to appeal to my goodness, had any effect.
I advanced. The tattered remnants of the robes from our struggle were swiftly torn away, and the pure fairy was possessed right there. The scream of her shattered purity echoed through the underwater palace, a siren call that could enchant any man, as seductive as the first drop of blood staining the ground, sealing the end of an innocence.
For hours, moans resonated as a being of immaculate purity was dragged into madness by the immense pleasure of forbidden arts. Morgana didn't merely stand by and watch. After a few minutes of reveling in the humiliation of a rival at the hands of one she could, in part, call her man, she pursued a far greater objective. She'd prepared countless horrors for this moment and unleashed them without pause: the magic circle glowing around us, the sacrifices. But the most horrifying sight was watching her carve tattoos onto Nyneve's very skin—marks that, judging by the unfortunate woman's heartbreaking screams, boded nothing good, and which exuded an incessant malignant aura. All of this transpired while my depraved and lustful act didn't merely stop at taking her purity, but profaned other corners of her body.