Magician in Type-Moon

Page 86

She wanted to surpass King Arthur and become an unparalleled figure.

"Don't you understand yet?"

Whose voice is this?

Was it his own voice? His father's voice? Or the magician's voice?

Mordred was confused and angry; she couldn't be sure whose voice it was.

I woke up under such uncertain circumstances—

Mordred roared, unleashing a murderous howl.

Her roar echoed in the boundless darkness, and as her voice rippled, the surrounding void began to subtly shift.

The whole world started burning again.

"Arthur, I'm tired of all this confusion and constraint! I will defeat you here, prove myself, and then awaken to win the Holy Grail War! I will draw the chosen sword and prove that I am the true king!"

The Battle of Kamran is about to be reenacted in this illusion.

Artoria couldn't understand what was wrong with Mordred.

They were having a great conversation just a moment ago, and now they're suddenly ready to draw their swords against each other...

She never understood what this Knight of the Round Table was thinking... so she treated her the same way she treated all the other Knights of the Round Table...

Her body was still being burned by the karmic fire, and the pain left her no time to think. She didn't know what would happen after Mordred killed her in this illusion.

But that's definitely not a good thing.

Although I may have to kill my own child again, so what? My heart and actions are as clear as a mirror, and everything I do is just.

If only they could win, obtain the Holy Grail, and relinquish the sword, the future wouldn't have turned out this way, and Mordred wouldn't have met such an end...

The two finally faced off. Artoria's expression was incredibly calm, devoid of any pity or hatred for her enemy; she only wanted it to end quickly.

Mordred, seeing Arthur's expressionless face, became visibly displeased.

Mordred opened his arms, letting himself roar with unrestrained passion, a roar filled with anger, joy, and indescribable emotions:

"What! What has happened, King Arthur! Your kingdom is over! Over! Whether I won or you won—everything has already turned to ashes!"

Artoria didn't seem to care about Mordred's agitation, nor did she reply. She mechanically raised her sword, pondering the current situation in the outside world.

But this was the most unacceptable answer for Mordred, and she roared and slashed at him.

Artoria received the sword, and sparks flew between the two holy swords as they fought with an indomitable spirit.

"You should have known it would turn out this way! You knew it would end up like this! You knew that if you had given me the throne, you wouldn't have ended up like this..."

Mordred's sword remained as cunning and sharp as ever.

"Do you hate me? Do you hate me that much? Do you hate me, Morgan's son, that much? Answer me... answer me, Arthur!"

Artoria, who had caught the sword, finally responded to the roar.

“I have never hated you. The reason I do not abdicate in your favor is because you do not have the qualities to be a king.”

This answer came from Artoria's heart; it was the most sincere and cruel truth. Her voice was calm and firm, like the unchanging glacier.

But this was the answer Mordred could not accept. She simply understood Mordred's function and declared without any emotion that she was not cut out to be a queen!

His rage fueled the magic within him, causing crimson lightning to erupt from the sword.

The Holy Sword 'Clarent'—a radiant sword of kings, a treasure that only a king can wield.

It was forcibly taken by Mordred and turned from a holy sword into a demonic sword, but Mordred didn't care.

It was the king who chose the sword, not the sword who chose the king!

Amidst the dance of swords, all obstacles and magic were shattered! Even the corpses on the ground were crushed!

This is a clash of swords, a bloodbath.

This is a battle between a usurper king and a glorious holy king, but no matter what, the blood of a king shall end with the sword!

Chapter 121 The Intertwining of Reality and Illusion

"The resonance of the Holy Grail? That's quite strange... Hey, do you think we should use this to cause some trouble and divert their attention there?"

In the large cavern below Ryudong Temple, the mysterious man, observing the battle in Einzbern through his clairvoyant eyes, couldn't help but ask a question.

But after saying those words, he realized that he was all alone.

"I'm a little confused, that guy Angra Mainyu isn't here right now..."

"But what if we need a dragon-slaying hero? I have some dungeons, but the dragons they slay seem to be different..."

"Fine, I should at least give it a try... I've decided on you..."

......

In the forest near Einzbern, beside Artoria, the raging fire, like a vengeful beast, relentlessly devoured everything, yet even so, she remained standing.

Her figure appeared resolute and sacred amidst the twisted flames, like an indestructible lighthouse illuminating the surrounding darkness.

Time seemed to stand still in the forest, each second dragging an endless weight.

Although a while had passed in the illusion born from the twisted karmic fire, it was only a dozen seconds in terms of the outside world's time flow.

One of the reasons why Saber remained undefeated against the raging flames was that her magical resistance had reached A-rank, and her patience with magic was superhuman. This was Saber's strength.

Furthermore, the long golden hair floating amidst the flames is... far too much like Joan of Arc...

This caused Gilles de Rais to constantly recall the moment Joan of Arc was burned at the stake...

Gilles de Rais's pain and remorse echoed in the flames; he had witnessed Joan of Arc being burned at the stake, a memory that bound him like invisible chains.

Each wisp of karmic fire seemed to be telling the story of an unforgivable sin.

At this moment, it was Gil himself who was punishing the 'Saintess' by burning her at the stake, and Gil's heart was being torn apart by these memories.

Guilt and resentment intertwined in his heart, creating a painful storm that suppressed his karmic fire, greatly reducing its power.

At the boundary between illusion and reality, Gilles de Rais's steps seemed unusually heavy.

Although resentment and guilt still lingered in his heart, the glimmer of reason had not yet been completely extinguished.

Every step he took was proof of his struggle against himself. The presence before him, who resembled Joan of Arc, awakened all his memories, but he knew she was not Joan of Arc.

Gilles de Rais took a deep breath, raised his flagpole, and slowly approached Saber. The flames of karmic fire still raged around her, but his movements revealed an almost ritualistic seriousness and resolve.

"End all of this, Saber. Whoever you are, you should not be enslaved by these flames."

Jill's voice was low and sorrowful, and the tip of his gun was pointed at her with a sense of relief.

Magic was infused into the flagpole, and Gilles de Rais raised it forward. The flagpole drew a sharp arc in the air, its pointed tip aimed straight for Saber's heart.

As the karmic fire burned along the tip of the spear, its red and black flames appeared particularly terrifying in the night, as if they could burn away all obstacles in its path.

But Saber, who was clearly trapped in an illusion, miraculously raised her sword and intercepted the attack.

As the two weapons clashed, a dazzling light and a deafening metallic clang erupted.

Berserker found it hard to comprehend the scene before him; raging fire was burning at the edge of the forest, scorching the surrounding air.

He gripped the flagpole tightly, staring at Saber who was still trapped in the illusion, and muttered to himself, "Instinct? Or intuition?"

In her previous encounter with Saber, she demonstrated a powerful intuition, a skill honed by seasoned warriors through countless battles.

Gilles de Rais was not surprised that the King of Knights possessed such abilities.

But is it illogical that someone trapped in a hallucination could still perform such an action?

Meanwhile, in the illusion, Artoria was raising her sword to strike Mordred, who was attacking her.

The demonic sword carrying crimson lightning in Mordred's hands was not used for ordinary slashes, but for straight thrusts.

The speed and power boost provided by the Thunderclap created a spiraling electromagnetic storm at the tip of the sword, spinning like a drill and attempting to penetrate any obstacle.

This isn't an ordinary drill bit; it's the kind that can drill through the sky.

The demonized holy sword 'Clarent' has reached an astonishing sharpness level under the blessing of magic; in other words, it has reached the 'purple' level.

Artoria had already experienced this move before, but unlike last time, the weapon she used was the holy spear "Rungomniad," and her response was the same: a straight thrust in the form of releasing magic.

But now that he was holding a holy sword, it would be unwise to use the same method to deal with it.

But it doesn't matter, the Holy Sword Wielder will not be defeated by the same move twice, let alone lose the first time.

Artoria quickly calculated her next tactics in her mind. She adjusted her grip on the sword, gently raising the tip of the sword upwards.

The red dragon's heart began to beat, and the release of magic was essential; otherwise, even with the most superb swordsmanship, it would be difficult to withstand this attack.

Mordred's attack was sharp and swift; the brilliant King's Sword slashed towards Artoria with a whooshing sound, the entire movement completed in the blink of an eye.

The electromagnetic storm at the sword tip enhances the attack's penetrating power, making it seem impenetrable.

Artoria's reaction, however, was precise and elegant.

It was exactly the same as the previous rehearsal, or rather, Mordred's moves were basically unchanged, exactly the same as in the last battle of Camran.

As Mordred's sword tip drew closer, she slightly turned her body, pressed down with the hilt of her sword, and the holy sword, imbued with wild magic, precisely guided the tip of her opponent's sword away from its fatal trajectory.

Just as the sword tip grazed her shoulder, a vibrant, bright red flower of blood bloomed—and then withered away in an instant.

Artoria swiftly countered, her sword strikes flowing like a spring, a downward thrust.

Not only did it interrupt Mordred's offensive, but it also cleverly used the recoil from the opponent's strength to cause Mordred to lose his balance slightly.

Taking advantage of this brief opportunity, Artoria shifted her stance and swung her holy sword diagonally down from the side, intending to completely thwart Mordred's offensive.

The sword's edge flashed with a bright light, its path precise and ruthless, a display of the Knight King's unparalleled swordsmanship.

"Father, you are no ordinary phantom in a dream; you were already familiar with this move long ago."

Mordred adjusted her posture with a mocking tone, nodded dismissively, and acknowledged Artoria's judgment.

Artoria did not respond, but seemed to be deep in thought.

She frowned slightly, sensing the unusual tactile sensation of swords clashing. Her sixth sense told her that this was not a simple tip-to-tip clash.

The impact was more like her sword striking a hard gun handle.

The pain in my shoulder felt just like it was happening in real life...