"For my father—!"
In an instant, the area around Saber of Red, Mordred, became drenched in a blood-red light, centered on the radiant, Royal Sword clutched in her hands.
The light didn't stop there. What had once been a beautiful, silver-glowing sword became warped under the influence of her Noble Phantasm release, its noble form twisted into an ugly, blood-red monstrosity.
A buzzing, crackling noise filled the air as Mordred raised her weapon, now infused with an ominous crimson lightning.
"Loyalty is my glory! A backstabber like you could never understand!"
These words from the Second Legion Astartes officer struck Mordred's heart like a dagger, twisting with every syllable.
Yes, the hot-headed Mordred was… getting rattled.
It didn't matter what excuses she had for betraying her father, nor what faults King Arthur had. In the minds of those who knew her from history, she would forever be the vile betrayer.
Fine. If they wanted a betrayer, she'd show them just how laughable their loyalty was. Their king would never answer their call!
"—Glorious Rebellion!!!"
As Mordred's voice rang out, the warped, blood-red light grew intensely, her rage manifesting in a violent surge of magical energy that made the atmosphere scream.
Every witness, hidden or otherwise, knew that the Saber of Red, Mordred, had unleashed her Noble Phantasm.
"Second Legion! Never retreat!" the Astartes officer barked, his power armor aglow with violet-red energy particles. It seemed he had no intention of dodging.
Maybe it was just his personality, or perhaps the influence of his Legion Commander, Budo—but whatever the case, standing his ground against an enemy's powerful attack was his way.
"Die!"
With a crackle of crimson lightning, the blade's wrathful light surged forward, engulfing the towering figure of the Astartes officer.
Boom!
In the red light's annihilating wake, all nearby objects were obliterated. Even the golems hurrying to join the battle turned to ash within moments.
Crack, crack, crack!!
"Phew…" Mordred exhaled slowly, still gripping her sword, her narrowed eyes scanning the smoke and rubble.
With the strength of her rage fueling her attack, not even the full power of her Noble Phantasm, that hunk of metal couldn't have withstood it. But her intuition told her otherwise; the thorny sensation remained pricking at her heart as if warning that the threat was still there. Unless…
Considering a possibility, Mordred became even warier. "Finally showing yourself, you rat hiding in the dark?"
Her words were met by a slender, elegant hand in a dazzling golden gauntlet slicing through the dust, revealing the scene to all who watched.
The scorched earth and shattered buildings around her were a testament to the unleashed power. Jagged cracks spread from the impact site, fracturing outward like a spider's web.
But in front of the radiant figure now revealed, the destructive surge of Noble Phantasm energy had been stopped dead in its tracks, unable to proceed further. Behind her stood the kneeling, battered form of the armored officer.
"Your Majesty, I have failed to take the enemy's head," he said, kneeling in disgrace behind Selene.
"No matter. You were only recently promoted to squad captain, and your strength is still growing. There is no shame in this failure; instead, use it to grow. Now, withdraw," Selene replied calmly.
"Yes, Your Majesty." Without excuses or requests to resume fighting, the Astartes captain bowed his head deeply before dissipating into particles.
Regular Astartes lacked energy projection capabilities. Even low-ranking officers with limited Honkai energy struggled to inflict meaningful damage on Heroic Spirits with high offensive Noble Phantasms and energy manipulation skills.
After mentally noting areas for improving the Astartes Legion, Selene's crimson eyes settled on the stunned, sweat-beaded figure of the bristling lion cub, Mordred.
"Alright, warmup's over, Knight of Treachery Mordred…"
"Why… why do you look so much like my mother?!"
Mordred took a rare step backward, something unusual for the normally fearless knight. Before her stood a figure in resplendent robes of white, gold, and violet, exuding a striking aura.
From this overly lavishly dressed individual, Mordred sensed the same aura she'd felt from the Assassin of Red at the church—a presence that reminded her of her mother.
And, naturally, her mother could only mean Morgan le Fay, the sister of King Arthur and daughter of Uther, the rightful inheritor of the island's magical power, and a mage on par with Merlin himself.
How…? What kind of Grail War was this, filled with terrifying, conspiracy-steeped Heroic Spirits like her mother?
Mordred mentally screamed in exasperation. She'd never liked dealing with people who reminded her of her mother's scheming ways; it made her feel constantly on edge.
Scheming conspirators like her mother, impossible to see through… wait, no, this was different!
While this woman shared her mother's commanding presence, she exuded an aura even more domineering. The Assassin of Red's aura was more seductive, like a siren's song drawing one to sleep. But this figure before her lacked any hint of hidden traps, poison, or schemes.
Her arrogance, her coldness, her ruthlessness… just how many people had this woman killed?
There was no mistaking it; this person possessed a ruler's majesty similar to her father. But their ruling methods were polar opposites!
Her father had never given off such an air of tyranny. Mordred instinctively sensed this.
"Ha?" Selene hadn't expected Mordred's reaction. Just what did she mean by "looking like her mother"?
When did I get a daughter? Alyssa doesn't count! she thought, bewildered.
"Now's my chance!"
Spotting a brief flicker of confusion in Selene's expression, Mordred tightened her stance. Crimson lightning surged as she raised her sword and lunged at Selene, aiming for her slender neck.
That retreat just now? It hadn't been fear—only memories dredging up unpleasant feelings. Mordred's warrior instincts quickly took over, and she seized the opportunity to press her advantage.
Her pounce, more like that of a hunting lion than a knight, was devoid of grace, embodying pure ferocity more akin to a berserker than a chivalric warrior.
"Don't let your guard down on the battlefield!"
Bang!
"What?!" Mordred gasped as Selene, ignoring the lightning, effortlessly caught her sword with a single hand.
Impossible! Her strength was a B+, and with A-level mana burst amplifying it in the moment, this fancy-dressed woman—taller and seemingly more suited to being a Caster than a warrior—how was she doing this?
"Not bad," Selene said, examining the twisted form of Mordred's blood-stained sword. "This wasn't the sword's original form, was it? It's become a cursed blade, corrupted by your hatred."
A flicker of purple-red energy danced from Selene's fingers, locking Mordred's sword in a vise-like grip. "Now it's my turn."
With her height and build giving her an advantage, Selene hoisted the 1.5-meter-tall knight to eye level and placed her glowing hand on Mordred's chest.
Boom!
The resulting blast sent Mordred flying. Her armored figure skidded and bounced along the street, leaving impact craters before crashing into a distant building with a resounding crash!
The structure crumbled around her, scattering debris like a burst balloon.
"Seems you're a decent training dummy. I'm just getting warmed up," Selene said, summoning her Imperial Guards to deal with the spies.
As she spoke, her imperial robes shimmered into her battle attire—a set of intricate, silver-white armor modeled after the Bright Knight: Excelsis and fortified with Honkai energy. In her empire's legends, this armor had become known as Radiant Moonlight (formerly Radiant Knight · Moonlight), an A-rank defensive Noble Phantasm, renowned for its ability to elevate physical stats by a full rank due to popular myths.
Once the transformation completed, Selene stomped down hard, shattering the ground below as she launched herself toward the crash site.
All that remained was a white flash, as bright as lightning, streaking through the demolished street.
Fighting against a worthy opponent, Mordred felt the thrill of battle, not a hint of fear. Spitting blood and mending her armor with magic, she chuckled, a slightly manic glint in her eye.
The next moment—Boom!—she shot forward like a cannonball, charging headlong at Selene.
Wham!
A deafening shockwave rippled through the air, the resulting sonic boom rattling the entire district.
Then a crimson figure flew backward. It was Mordred. "Damn, her strength is far above mine…"
Clang! Crash!
Mordred clawed into the ground, halting her momentum, then using the torque, spun her body and hurled her sword forward, the weapon tearing through the air at Selene like a thunderbolt.
After hurling the sword, she charged after it, red lightning coursing across her frame.
This unorthodox fighting style was exactly what Selene had anticipated.
Watching the sword barrel toward her, Selene grinned. Magic had its charm, but there was nothing like the satisfaction of a physical fight.
Ever since her clash with the Saint Kanzaki in Academy City, she hadn't had such a thrilling physical bout, especially with her abilities growing so rapidly.
Instead of dodging, Selene punched straight into the incoming sword, sending it flying. The raw power of the impact shattered nearby rubble, and a rumbling, anvil-like sound echoed through the area as the ground buckled and cracked.
Her advancing figure left Mordred no time to react as she closed in with blistering speed, delivering a vicious roundhouse kick that crossed Mordred's crossed arms and smashed into her helmet.
Thwack!
Mordred's arms collapsed under the blow, the force slamming her own arm guard into her face.
Blood splattered as her cheek caved in from the impact, scattering the crimson lightning surrounding her. She vanished in a flash, her body crashing through one side of the block and out the other, buried in a storm of debris.
Meanwhile, back in the castle's central hall at Millennia Fortress…
To these modern mages, it was like witnessing the return of ancient myths. Every single one of them took in a cold, shaky breath.
"To witness Her Majesty's might firsthand… truly, what an honor and privilege…"
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