"Ghk...! Gaaah!"
An immense pressure descended over my entire body, making every bone scream and crushing down on my organs.
The very density of the air seemed to turn into sticky lumps of lead, forcing me toward the ground.
Every breath felt as though it were scorching my lungs, and even taking a single ordinary step brought pain that felt as if the muscles in my thighs were about to burst.
"Medea...! Hah, hah... You can raise the output a little more!"
"Are you out of your mind? At this level, an ordinary person would already have had their bones pulverized into mush. Pendragon or not, your body will not withstand any more than this!"
Seated atop a boulder at the edge of the clearing, Medea shouted at me as though she could not believe what she was hearing.
What she had cast upon me was a Magecraft from the Age of Gods: [Atlas: Pressure], a gravitational spell that manipulated the density of the atmosphere to inflict overwhelming pressure upon its target.
Of course, if she brought it down at full power, I would genuinely end up flattened like dried squid, so she was carefully regulating its output.
At maximum output, it could make even Berserker Heracles fall to his knees. Rin had managed to force Heracles to kneel temporarily with her jewel Magecraft, after all.
Though it had used up all her jewels.
I pulled my bloodied lips into a grin.
"Heh... Now this finally feels like gravity training. I will keep honing myself like this until, one day, I can withstand a hundred times gravity."
"A hundred times? Ha. You certainly dream big. Even I cannot make the atmosphere a hundred times denser. What in the world is inside that head of yours to make you come up with such a barbaric idea?"
Medea let out an incredulous sigh.
"Greece had no shortage of renowned heroes, but not even Heracles or Achilles would have used a training method so close to idiotic self-harm. Chiron was not the sort to teach something like this, either. You are only ten years old. Do you want your growth plates to close and leave you a runt for the rest of your life?"
There was unmistakable concern in her words.
Though she spoke sharply, I could sense her kindness in the way she meticulously adjusted the spell’s power so that I would not be hurt.
"Ghh...! I have to overcome this much. I have to become overwhelmingly strong... so that I can protect the people precious to me without fail."
With a strained smile, I pushed through the crushing pressure and took a step forward.
Crack!
The ground split like a spiderweb beneath a single stamp of my foot. Twisting at the waist, I drove my fist and then a kick into the enormous granite boulder before me.
Boom! Craaash!
Fragments of stone flew in every direction. My bloodied fists swiftly healed, only to split open again and again.
The dragon’s heart spun fiercely, cramming Mana into my body as it destroyed and regenerated my muscle fibers.
Watching this brutish, desperate training, Medea furrowed her brow and asked,
"By the way, Arthur. You said you have trained this brutally every day since you were little, so why do you not have a single scar? If you trained like that, your entire body should be covered in them."
"Oh, this?"
I caught my breath, scattering beads of sweat as I answered.
"Honestly, I wanted a few scars myself. Scars are symbols of effort and romance, you know. They are like medals. But Merlin made such a fuss about it."
"Merlin did?"
"Yeah. She said our adorable Artoria would be sad if she saw her brother covered in scars, so whenever I got hurt, she healed me perfectly before even a scar could remain. My skin is probably smoother than that of most noble ladies by now."
Medea gave a disbelieving laugh.
"So the reason you train under this crushing pressure until you are drenched in sweat is just because you do not want to make your sister cry?"
"Do you think that is all? I need to build up insane stamina through training like this, so that later I can make a harem and satisfy my desires all night long. Right?"
"Honestly... Every time you open your mouth, it is about women."
Medea shook her head in disbelief. He was a boy utterly honest about his desires—so much so that he could even seem frivolous.
Yet after watching me for the past several days, Medea had seen through to my true nature.
It was no lie that I was honest about my desires.
But my foremost priority had always been the safety of those precious to me. My sincere wish to fight for my sister and for the people I held dear.
For their sake, I was the sort of man who could cast aside without hesitation even that harem I spoke of so often.
The sight of my back—grinding down my bones while awake and shedding blood without rest even in my dreams—proved that sincerity.
Just as an inscrutable emotion stirred in Medea’s violet eyes, I lowered my fist and turned toward her.
"So do not worry, Medea. One day, when I conquer Britain and become the greatest king, I will make you happier than anyone else too."
"...Hah! That is absurd."
Medea snorted, trying to hide her reddening cheeks.
"Try saying such sweet things after you have outgrown being a little boy, will you?"
I snickered at her provocation. A little boy, she called me.
Because I had grown at an absurd rate for my age, there was barely ten centimeters of difference between our heights now.
"Training is over! Release [Atlas]."
At my signal, Medea withdrew her Magecraft.
The crushing pressure vanished in an instant, and as the tension left my body, I toppled straight onto the ground.
"Haaah... Damn it, I am dying."
As I lay spread-eagled and breathed heavily, a rich floral fragrance suddenly washed over me.
"Our little king has been putting himself through another ridiculous ordeal today, I see?"
Merlin had appeared without my notice, her white hair fluttering as she sat down beside my head. Warm healing light flowed from her fingertips, restoring my torn muscles and wounds in an instant.
"There we go."
The moment my treatment ended, Merlin hauled up my upper body from the ground. Then she pressed my face deep into her soft chest.
"Good work, Arthur. Here, have my chest. It is a special reward for our little king who trained so diligently today~"
"Mmph, mmph...!"
The suffocating fullness and softness.
An ordinary ten-year-old would have recoiled in shock, but I did not pull away. Instead, I naturally reached out and began firmly kneading her breasts with both hands.
"Ahh... Merlin’s chest really does have a strangely reassuring feel. All my fatigue is melting away."
"Hngh... H-hey! Arthur, wait... I never gave you permission to touch—ah♡"
Merlin had tried to tease me, only to be counterattacked by my straightforward physical affection. Her cheeks flushed as she burst into laughter. It was an awfully heated scene of intimate contact in broad daylight.
Watching from right beside us, Medea pressed a hand to her brow and clicked her tongue.
Is he really not a man of Britain, but a Greek? He reminds me of the heroes from Greek myth.
She wanted to shudder as she recalled hopeless men such as Jason, but the face smiling languidly in Merlin’s embrace belonged, damn it, to a breathtakingly handsome young boy.
Well... with that face, and such single-minded devotion, perhaps he is not entirely intolerable.
Trying to hide the upward curl of her lips, Medea could no longer deny that she was gradually becoming part of this daily life in the cottage—a veritable battlefield.
"Well~ more importantly~ Hello, Artoria!"
"Eek! M-Medea!"
"I told you to call me Medea, did I not~? Do you like your new clothes? You smell lovely again today~"
"L-let me go!"
Well, it was a relief that she seemed to be enjoying this life more than anyone.
It looked somewhat dangerous, but it was still a good thing that Artoria had more people she could treat without reserve.
Better this than having more men like the blockhead Gawain, the bastard Lancelot, or Tristan with all his ridiculous nonsense around her.
Though I would not mind having more people like Bedivere, of course.
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