"I trust you," Jin-Woo said, voice low. "You can use magic. Not magecraft. Magic. Like I do."
He looked her in the eye. "You're destined to be loved… and you will always be the best queen."
Morgan's breath caught. Tears welled in her eyes, not from pain—but from that unbearable thing she rarely felt: being needed. Being believed in.
Most would've shouted, cursed, blamed her if she failed. But not him. He still trusted her. Her lip trembled. Her voice cracked, but she raised her hand anyway.
With a sharp breath—she invoked it. "The Lake of England."
The name carried ancient weight—echoes of Avalon, of legends buried under steel and empire.
Above the city, the air folded. And then it appeared—a sphere of pure water, vast and shimmering, as if the soul of Britain itself had wept upward into the sky.
The orb engulfed Koros-Strohna, softening the gravitational surges from the dovin basals. The anomaly stabilized. The sky didn't collapse. The people on the ground didn't die. She had done it.
Morgan clenched her teeth, forcing one last breath into the chant—and then used short-range teleportation. Three kilometers.
Koros-Strohna shimmered—blinked—and gently displaced itself upward, like a leviathan rising from one cloud into another.
Morgan collapsed. Her body hit the cobblestones with a hard thud. She didn't cry from the pain—but from the weight of it all.
"I'm sorry… Jin-Woo…" she whispered, eyes closed, lashes wet. "I only… managed three kilometers…"
He didn't speak right away. He walked toward her—calm, unfazed by the chaos, his coat brushing through the settling wind. Then he knelt.
He lifted her gently, letting her head rest on his thigh. She could barely breathe—but his presence was warm.
Then he leaned down—and kissed her lips. It was brief. Quiet. But it carried meaning.
"You've done enough," Jin-Woo said softly. "Thank you… Queen Morgan."
He brushed his thumb along her cheek, brushing away a tear. "…My beloved queen."
And for the first time in her long, bitter reign—she didn't feel like a queen holding together a crumbling kingdom. She felt like someone who finally had someone… at her side.
Morgan's lips parted, trembling. Her voice was hoarse, but it still came from her heart.
"Jin-Woo… Shadow Monarch…"
she whispered, barely able to look at him, "…can you… will you accept me?"
"Please accept this lowly being from a primitive world. I have nothing left. No title worth clinging to. No history I'm proud of. But there is no one—no one—who can replace you. I… I hope you'll accept me as your second wife…"
Jin-Woo's arms wrapped around her instantly, strong and sure.
He held her tight, like she belonged there. Like it was the most obvious answer in the world.
"What do you think I've been doing from the beginning?"
he murmured into her hair. "You want to know why I came to this world? Especially your Lostbelt?"
He pulled her just enough to look her in the eyes, his gaze unwavering.
"I didn't come for Daybit. I didn't even come for Ritsuka Fujimaru—my reincarnated brother, who I'll kill without hesitation."
His voice softened, but it didn't lose any of its truth. "I came for you, Morgan."
He rested his forehead gently against hers. "Thanks for being my hero."
And that was it. That was the moment Morgan broke. The Queen of Fairy Britain—who ruled alone for millennia, who was betrayed, abandoned, silenced—collapsed into his arms like a child denied comfort for too long.
Her fingers clutched at his coat as the tears poured freely, her breath hiccuping between sobs.
"I… I've lived for over many millenia , Jin-Woo," she whispered between choked gasps. "I've ruled. I've fought. I've killed. And every year I sat alone… every year I waited for someone, anyone, who'd reach out."
She pressed her face into his chest.
"I was betrayed by the knights I gave everything to. Mocked by gods. Twisted by history… and yet…"
Her tears soaked through his clothes.
"…just these few hours with you… they filled something in me that all those centuries never could."
She looked up at him, face flushed and raw with emotion. "Please don't leave me."
Jin-Woo didn't answer with words. His arm simply tightened around her again—and held.
But the moment broke when a familiar voice edged into their reality.
"…Are you a foreigner servant?"
Jin-Woo turned his head. Waver Velvet—Lord El-Melloi II—stood nearby, his posture wary, his eyes sharp. His coat was slightly ruffled from the chaos earlier, but his gaze was steady, calculating, like someone trying to make sense of everything and failing to make the math work.
Jin-Woo tilted his head.
"If I die, maybe I'd get summoned," he said coolly. "But that won't happen. I already died once. And came back."
Waver blinked, not sure whether to categorize that as a joke or an existential threat.
Before he could respond, a slow ripple spread through the air.
Clapping. Light at first. Scattered. Hesitant.
Then more joined in. Civilians who had finally shaken off the day-long paralysis caused by the Force clash within Caedus's Holocron. Families. Locals. Tourists. All standing now in the narrow Camden Market paths—faces pale, clothes dusty from collapsed stalls and flickering lights—but alive. And clapping.
Applause filled the street.
"Thank you!"
"Thank you for saving us!"
"That woman—she stopped it!"
"You protected us… thank you!"
A cluster of children broke through the line, rushing toward Morgan. Their parents tried to call them back—but the kids had already surrounded her, eyes wide and shining.
"Miss silver-haired lady!" one of them said, clutching her hand. "You saved my dad! He was stuck behind a wall!"
"My mom said you're like a young queen," another said, pointing at her with a big grin. "Are you a real queen?"
Morgan froze.Her eyes twitched. She looked at Jin-Woo. Then the kids. Then her own reflection in one of the cracked glass panels nearby. And finally, back to the children holding her hands.
She inhaled.And smiled, softly. Quietly. Her heart full in a way it hadn't been since Camelot was still whole.
This is all Jin-Woo's fault, she thought. That damn triangle crystal of his…
But if this chaos brought me to him… then maybe… it's the best thing that ever happened to me.
Jin-Woo, meanwhile, slowly rose to his feet, brushing off his coat. His eyes swept the market around them.
Some stalls were crushed. A few buildings had cracked windows or leaned awkwardly. And high above—eclipsing part of the overcast London sky—the vast, fleshy shape of the Koros-Strohna still loomed.
At 12 kilometers in length, it wasn't just a ship. It was a second sky.
Jin-Woo narrowed his eyes, his voice low as he whispered inwardly, "Offensive Bias. Have you been scanning the Koros-Strohna since it appeared?"
A familiar, cold, mechanical voice rang back in his mind.
"Affirmative. Scanning began the moment the vessel first broke atmosphere. Neural-lattice data is extensive. Estimated time to complete full bioarchitecture and memory weave mapping: 12 minutes remaining. Once scanning is complete, I will execute Slipspace relocation to Installation Halo 07 as per protocol."
Jin-Woo gave a faint nod to himself.
"Good," he murmured. "The last thing this world needs is an alien invasion—especially one that starts inside their heads."
He glanced upward again. Even though the Yuuzhan Vong aboard the worldship weren't attacking per his order .
Their very existence was a threat. A nightmare of biotech and heresy that no Earthborn mind could easily comprehend. Just their presence—hovering in the sky like a watching beast—was enough to make every military satellite, every occult organization, and every magical association scared to death
Jin-Woo's gaze never left the sky, but his senses flared the moment the approaching footsteps crossed the threshold of calm. He didn't even need to look to know who it was.
Daybit Sem Void. And beside him—her heels tapping unnaturally quiet across the stone—was Koyanskaya.
Still beautiful. Still eerie. Still with a gaping, elegant wound carved where her heart once was.
She didn't speak. She didn't need to. The faint scent of foxfire lingered around her presence like perfume mixed with blood. The very absence of her stolen heart pulsed faintly in the air around Jin-Woo like a claim no god could undo.
"You're walking freely outside your Lostbelt," Jin-Woo said without turning.
"Transportation," Daybit replied evenly. "She's convenient that way. And desperate." He gestured with a tilt of his head toward Koyanskaya. "She still wants her heart back. But you've yet to return it… correct, Jin-Woo?"
Jin-Woo remained silent. His eyes narrowed slightly.
Daybit didn't press the point. He shifted his gaze toward the sky—toward the vast biological monstrosity that was Koros-Strohna, still floating ominously like a second moon above London.
"I'll get to the point," Daybit said. "That thing in the sky—is that one of the vessels Offensive Bias fought when he purged the Flood?"
Jin-Woo shook his head once. "No. The Flood… is a hundred times worse. What you're seeing up there?" He finally looked at Daybit. "That's the kinder version. Easier. Manageable."
"Kinder," Daybit repeated, eyes cold, calculating. "Interesting framing for a twelve-kilometer alien ship."
Jin-Woo didn't flinch.
The silence lingered for a second—before Daybit's expression shifted. Subtly. He took a step closer.
"You're aware I watched your fight with Caedus."
Jin-Woo's gaze returned to the Sith Holocron on the food stall table, still crackling faintly with green light. "I was fighting a Sith Lord who try hijacked my soul. I didn't have time to care about spectators. But if you were there…" He glanced at him sidelong, eyes narrowing. "Then you saw it. How strong the Force really is. You know I wasn't exaggerating."
Daybit's expression remained calm—flat, analytical—but his eyes held weight.
"I saw it," he said again. "Even bound. Even with my mouth sealed by the Arena's rules. I saw everything. The Jedi self of Caedus… Jacen Solo, as Caedus called him. He was fractured —but powerful. And if Lostbelt Queen Morgan hadn't tricked him—split his concentration between who was real and who wasn't—she'd likely be dead right now."
Morgan crossed her arms with a tired huff. she gave Daybit a sharp look.
"Crypter from South America, at least give me some praise, will you? That man—Jacen Solo or Caedus, whatever name—he was like a walking beast-class anomaly. If you ask me? If our world had its own system, he'd be classified as a world threat."
Daybit tilted his head slightly.
"Worse than most magecraft I've ever seen. It's horrifying. He summoned the dead—ghosts phasing in and out like short-range teleportation units. That Force lightning wasn't a spell. It was pure emotion weaponized. Instinct channeled into devastation."
Then he turned toward Jin-Woo again. "And I've decided something. Once I become your Surefire, I want another specific reward in return."
Jin-Woo's brow twitched. "Oh?"
"I want every Crypter who volunteers to join your mission," Daybit said flatly, "to be granted midichlorians. And access to the Force."
Even Koyanskaya, still holding her tongue and with a hole still carved into her chest where her heart had once been, twitched visibly at the statement.
Waver—who had been silent this entire time—snapped upright, looking completely shaken. "Wait… wait. Hold on. You're saying it's possible? That the Force—whatever that is—can be bestowed on someone else?!"
Jin-Woo didn't even spare him a glance. His focus was locked on Daybit.
"That wasn't the deal," he said calmly. "The original agreement was simple—I'd grant you Force power. Only you. You're raising the bar now, Daybit. And I don't like that."
"You want more? Then raise my midichlorian count to one hundred thousand. For real. Not just a third of it piecemealed across my missions . Do that—during what will likely be the biggest mission I've ever had—and I'll reconsider your request."
He paused, letting the weight of his words settle, then added with a quiet, cold smirk:
"Once my plan is formulated … we'll talk."