[The rebellious knight and King Arthur engage in a fierce battle]
[Mordred possesses the bloodline of Albion and the fairy blood of Morgan, two great mysteries of Britain, making her existence surpass that of the Red Dragon]
[Being a hybrid, she holds part of Albion's bloodline but has not been rejected by the world]
[Morgan's blood as the island's ruler plays a crucial role for Mordred]
"King Arthur! I won't kill you! I will use the power I learned from Father to defeat you, and then destroy Britain!"
Mordred's motivation is actually simple.
She acts for Moran.
[Her hatred for Artoria is not deep; her feelings are more of resentnt]
[If she wants to destroy Britain]
[She must face this ideal King]
[The other will inevitably beco an enemy]
[It's not that she doesn't resent Artoria; knowing that the other possesses love yet still allows the loved one to suffer is like saring feces on a gemstone to her, unbearable]
[However, the rebellious knight never considered]
[That Artoria didn't choose this path; there was never a choice to begin with]
[Artoria was rely acting in the way she believed was most likely to save her loved one]
[Neither of them is wrong]
[It's just that fate is too cruel]
[The rebellious knight, consud by anger, has lost her reason, while the Knight King struggles to fend off the attacks in confusion]
"Arrogant! I have protected Britain for twenty years!
Just a few more steps and it will be stable; how can I let your madness stop !"
[Artoria shouts with a force that could tear cloth]
[The light of the holy sword is so intense it burns the retina, countering with power not inferior to the crimson thunder]
[Although Mordred is stronger in concept]
[Artoria has experienced twenty years of battlefields, never once tasting defeat]
[Praised by the world as the undefeated King]
[Her experience far surpasses that of Mordred, who has only recently beco a knight]
"Not good!"
Mordred slashes through the stream of light.
Her excessive movent leaves her wide open.
In the next mont, Artoria's sword tip points at Mordred, about to pierce her chest.
"Guh—!!"
Mordred, quick-witted, kicks out.
Her foot hits Artoria's shoulder.
At the sa ti, she flips backward.
Like a carp leaping, she spins in the air, narrowly avoiding the most severe damage.
Crack—!!
The crisp sound of tal breaking echoes.
Although Mordred dodges the direct sword strike, the holy sword still cuts through her helt.
Like a bursting waterlon.
The helt Mordred had always used to conceal her face is shattered into pieces by Artoria's sudden attack—
"How... could this be—"
Artoria's eyes widen.
Her body instinctively trembles slightly.
The knight before her is far different from what she imagined; no, the other isn't even a man.
"What's wrong, King Arthur, surprised by my appearance? Aren't you a woman too? No need to be so shocked, right?"
"No, Mordred, who are you!?"
"Who am I? At this point, does it matter!?"
Mordred charges forward again.
Artoria, still in shock, hurriedly counters.
Their swords clash, and at close range, the face identical to hers fills her with an inescapable sense of eeriness.
"—Is it Morgan!?"
"Oh? You can still figure it out."
[Mordred grins]
[Her attacks are as fierce as a waterfall's torrent]
[As Artoria deals with the attacks, her mind is caught in a storm of thoughts, first believing that only her ever-scheming elder sister could have done such a thing]
[Thinking on two fronts leaves Artoria overwheld; distraction in battle is extrely unwise]
"Mordred, who is this father you speak of!?"
[The mont Artoria asked this question]
[A chilling cold surged through her entire body]
[Without any theoretical basis, purely relying on intuition, she realized she had made a fatal mistake]
[She shouldn't have asked Mordred; she should have dealt with the rebellious knight before uncovering the truth]
[By the ti Artoria realized it]
[It was already too late]
[For her, the words that would bring about the most vicious curse were about to be uttered by the rebellious knight]
[As if responding to Artoria's suspicions]
[Mordred sneered and spoke]
"King Arthur, you cannot defeat . What you seek does not exist on this island! The reason I am so certain is because I am the descendant of the pure knight, Moran!"
"What... You are... Moran's...!?"
[Artoria struggled to accept this]
[For a mont, she was at a loss]
[There was no need to consider the truth of Mordred's words]
[At this mont, the swordsmanship she displayed]
[The familiar scent the Red Dragon detected on her]
[And her relationship with Moran]
[In fact, the answer had been clear from the beginning, but she had been deliberately avoiding it]
"Mordred! You said your father is aging and that he will fade away. What do you an by that!?"
[Artoria's swordsmanship began to lose its form]
[If what Mordred said was true, combined with her earlier statent about her father's aging]
[Although her inner premonition was leaning toward the ominous]
[She wanted to know the answer]
"It's exactly what it sounds like! Haven't you realized?
Even saving Britain won't save him! Everything you're doing is only causing him more pain!"
"How... could that be... This is just your word...!"
"It is my word, but you should also realize that even Britain doesn't possess the mystery to rival Albion. In a world where the Age of Gods is fading, do you think it's possible to find it?
No, let ask you this: even if you find it, do you think he can hold on until then!?"
Mordred's questions lashed out like a whip.
Striking Artoria's soul.
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