Chapter 1980 Flawed Creation

Chapter 1980 Flawed Creation

Morgan opened her eyes in the darkness. She had fallen asleep while sitting on the cold stone floor, her back leaning against a slab of crumbling stone. The wind was howling as it passed through the ruins of the main keep, and pale moonlight poured through the gaping holes of its partially collapsed dome. Taking a deep breath, she leaned on her sword and stood up. Her vermilion cloak had turned to tatters, and her black armor was broken and battered. Dismissing both Memories to give them some time to mend themselves, Morgan felt a cold wind caress her skin gently. It was a pleasant feeling, especially after days spent in frenetic fighting.

Her black tunic fluttered slightly, revealing how littered it was with tears, most of them crusted by blood. She sighed and listened to the sounds of the ruined castle, trying to evaluate if there were any immediate threats. It did not seem that way. Her companions would have warned her if the enemy was launching another attack... or if something else was. They would not have been eliminated without a fight, either, and there was no chance that she would have missed such a disturbance.

It seemed that Mordret was still licking his wounds after the last assault, just like they were.

'Good...'

Instead, the fault lay with her teachers, and the very form they were trying to mold her to... In truth, it was not just the King of Swords who had become disappointed in his daughter after Antarctica. Morgan had become disappointed in her father, too.

'Good thing I did.'

Looking at a beautiful, discarded sword that lay at her feet, Morgan smiled wistfully. She would have probably become an actual sword if she had continued to follow her father's will blindly. That would be quite a fitting Transcendent Transformation for a girl who had been raised to be a perfect tool... a pretty, deadly blade to be wielded by someone else. However, Morgan did not really want to be a sword, nor did she want to be wielded by another's hand. That seemed like quite a pathetic fate to her.

So, her Transcendent Transformation had turned out to be something else. Of course, she could still transform into a sword — if she wished to.

But that was not at all the only thing she could become. Picking up the abandoned sword, Morgan silently absorbed it into her body and smiled. '...How nice. I should have done this much sooner.' A moment later, her figure rippled, turning into a river of liquid metal. It flowed across the moonlit hall, drowning it. The violence of its passage put cracks into the marble floor and made slabs of stone crumble to dust. Sweeping every abandoned blade that lay forlorn on the below the dais, Morgan climbed the steps and swallowed the ancient anvil, as well. Finally, the river of liquid metal coalesced back into a human figure. A moment later, it regained color, and Morgan was back to her original self. Looking up, she observed the radiant remains of her shattered moon and sighed. "Time to face another day."n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om