Fate/Ultimate Antagonist

[9] Archives of the Oldest AI in Humanity

[The peculiar liquid that has touched you makes you somewhat curious. You wonder if it's the dewdrops falling from the trees.]

[However, it doesn't seem to have rained recently...]

[After thinking about it, unable to draw any reliable conclusions, you quickly dismiss such trivial matters from your mind. As you notice Morgan's departure, your focus on practicing magecraft can finally enter a state of true concentration.]

[However, inexplicably...]

[Returning to your room for rest after concluding your magical exercises, you dreamt of increasingly enigmatic content that night, all centered around the theme of the 'witch.']

[The next morning.]

[Looking at the damp marks pervading your close-fitting clothes, you realize that the physique of the ultimate life form is gradually maturing and developing.]

["Tsk, hitting puberty at just eight years old..."]

[Reflecting on this, you systematically change into new clothes and stack the indecent ones that need washing neatly for the maid to take care of.]

[Unless you simulate being a female body at some point, the arrival of puberty is not something to be nervous about for someone who has lived two lives.]

[Last night's little episode doesn't seem to have affected your teaching progress with Morgan. As usual, you continue various exercises of shadow magic under her guidance.]

[However... gradually, she no longer wears that dark veil in your presence, instead boldly revealing that attention-grabbing, enchanting, and charming face of the witch.]

...

During the Breakfast.

Noticing the almost trance-like gaze of the young man, the witch's delicate cheeks appear slightly flushed.

"...What's wrong? Is there something strange on my face?"

Morgan touches her own makeup, her fair fingertips nervously playing with the ends of her silver hair. The slightly trembling and soothing tone of her voice inadvertently leaves Alvin somewhat stunned.

He then carefully, from top to bottom, thoroughly admires the witch, before speaking word by word.

"No. It's just that catching a glimpse of your countenance can be heart-stealing. The morning rose touched by dew is nowhere near one-thousandth as beautiful as you."

Not a mere flattery.

It's an indisputable fact.

Faced with such sincere praise, Alvin notices a slight upturn at the corners of Morgan's mouth. The eyes, like orchids, express joy, and her carefully adorned face is adorned with a hint of intoxicating blush.

She is delighted.

But she doesn't want to reveal her restraint.

With a slight cough, the witch, feeling a bit guilty, averted her gaze and tried to put on an indifferent expression as she replied casually.

"Well then, if that's the case."

From that moment on, Morgan no longer wore the veiled thin yarn in front of Alvin.

So, apart from the plump and soft absolute territory of her thighs, his attention was once again taken by another part of the witch, her captivating and mesmerizing countenance.