Chapter 45: Mordred’s Pride

"Although the magical barrier can temporarily conceal the presence here… some Servants have already noticed. Two directions—one from the Tohsaka residence, the other from the shopping district. Both are heading this way. I should warn my Master to wrap this up quickly." Semiramis, sensing the movements of the two Servants, pressed a hand against the black mist ring at her ear.

This was a creation of Takashi Kuroda—a ring of condensed wraiths designed to gather and transmit information when he couldn’t be physically present with the other Servants. In a way, it functioned like a portable communication device.

Below, Takashi Kuroda felt the magical barrier enveloping the area and smirked. Now, he could unleash his full power without restraint.

"Sword of the Ruined King!"

The blade of the Ruined King’s Sword coiled with Kuroda’s own decay-infused energy, its power surging in an instant. With a thrust, he forced Mordred’s slash backward, staggering her.

"Damn, you’re strong!" Mordred’s arms trembled from the impact. But rather than discouraging her, Kuroda’s resistance only ignited her bloodlust and fighting spirit. She launched into a relentless barrage of slashes, heavy cleaves, and even punches and kicks—her ferocious combat style making one question whether she was truly a Saber and not a Berserker.

Even Kuroda, with his superior physical abilities, found himself forced into a defensive stance under Mordred’s storm of attacks. He retreated several steps, thinking:

"As expected. Even if my body surpasses hers, Mordred is a warrior who has fought through countless battles, surviving life-and-death struggles. Her combat experience is overwhelming. If I let her control the pace, I’ll lose before I even realize it."

The gap in experience between them was too vast. And just then, a message from Semiramis reached him through the wraiths.

"If skill and experience are on your side, Mordred… then let’s see who’s crazier and more ruthless!"

Abandoning defense, Kuroda embraced his innate physical prowess and the Physique of Bravery, disregarding the wounds Mordred’s sword inflicted.

"Flash Step—Lunar Reflection!"

Enhanced by the Nanaya assassination arts, Kuroda’s movements turned ghostly, evading some of Mordred’s strikes. Yet the sheer density of her sword’s wind pressure still left multiple gashes across his body.

"Flash Draw—Prison of Lost Sands!"

The moment he closed the distance, Kuroda unleashed the strongest technique of the Nanaya style. Empowered by his Ruin energy, its lethality surpassed even his expectations. Time seemed to slow around him—Mordred’s movements appeared sluggish in comparison. With a devastating swing of the Ruined King’s Sword, he aimed to bisect her.

Mordred’s eyes flickered with surprise. Her blade halted mid-motion as she twisted her body aside, accelerating with instinctive speed.

"Clang—clang—clang—!"

"Squelch—!"

Kuroda now stood behind Mordred, eyeing the blood staining his blade.

"Tch. Still better with daggers. A greatsword slows this move down too much."

Turning, he saw Mordred clutching her wounded side.

"Sharp instincts. A natural-born warrior. You really are strong, Mordred."

It seemed her innate skill—Instinct (Inherited)—had allowed her to evade the worst of his attack. But thanks to his "Waist-Cutting Specialist" trait, he’d still managed to slash her flank.

"Tch!" Mordred spun, swinging again—only for Kuroda to block with sheer force.

"Still fighting, Mordred? The moment you failed to kill me quickly, your defeat was sealed. That’s the unchangeable dynamic between Master and Servant."

He revealed his Command Spells.

"With just two of these, I can decide a Servant’s life or death. You’ve already lost."

"The hell I have! Go ahead and try it, bastard!" Mordred tried to shove him back, but with her injury and Kuroda’s superior strength, she was the one forced to retreat.

"Fine. As you wish."

Kuroda’s Command Spell glowed.

"By my name, Takashi Kuroda, I command with my Command Spell—"

Crimson light enveloped Mordred. Feeling the magical restraint, she clicked her tongue. The knowledge imparted by the Holy Grail told her this was the end—no, not even the beginning. Just an abrupt conclusion.

Heh. So much for winning the Grail and claiming my wish. All because of my damn rebellious nature, I pissed off my own Master. And the sick joke? I couldn’t even beat him. Got cut up instead.

What kind of insane Master is this? If he’s this strong, why the hell does he even need a Servant? Just what kind of war is this Holy Grail War, where Masters are monsters like him?

But Mordred didn’t regret it. Not when that bastard’s words had trampled over her pride. That was who she was—the Knight of Rebellion. Not out of mere defiance, but from the deepest core of her soul: a pride in what she admired, an unshakable faith in her own convictions.

"Summoned to fight alongside my Master, only to rebel and get killed by him. Heh. History repeats itself. Is this karma for the ‘Knight of Treachery’? Some sick joke the Grail’s playing on me."

Gripping her sword, Mordred closed her eyes, awaiting the final command.

"Saber—fully heal your body. Return to peak condition."

The command that followed wasn’t suicide. Instead, her wounds sealed shut, her魔力 replenished.

Mordred’s eyes snapped open. She stared at Kuroda, disbelief giving way to suspicion.

"The hell’s your game? Trying to humiliate me further?"

"No, Mordred. This is respect—for a warrior, and for a worthy Servant." Kuroda met her gaze. "I said we needed to understand each other. And for warriors—for knights—what better way than through battle?"

"Your sword, your fight… I felt it. That pride you’d die to protect. No matter the title, no matter what the world calls you. The moment someone tramples on that ideal, that pride, you draw your blade without hesitation. ‘Knight of Treachery’? Please. There’s no knight more loyal to their own beliefs than you."

"......"

Mordred fell silent.

What… was this feeling? Strange. Warm. Since her birth, she had hidden behind a mask. No one—not her mother, not her father, not a single soul—had ever truly understood her.

"Knight of the Round."
"Tool of vengeance."
"Son of Arthur."
"Traitor."

Labels. Always labels. People only saw what they wanted to see. No one ever asked what Mordred wanted.

And yet—

Here, now, in this second life as a Servant… this infuriating, ridiculous Master had provoked her, fought her, and now claimed it was all just to understand her?

Arrogant. Absurd. And that assessment of her—"A knight loyal to her own beliefs"—was so laughable she nearly choked.

"Hah… hahaha! What the hell’s wrong with you? Piss me off, make me laugh—make me look like an idiot?!"

Her laughter was almost cathartic. When it subsided, her gaze lingered on Kuroda.

Strange. Infuriating. Ridiculous.

But for the first time… someone had tried to see her.

And… it didn’t feel bad.