The Choice of Fate Comes to Night

There can be nothing wrong.

If she didn't draw the sword, then...Lancelot, Guinevere...

Working hard for her ideals, everyone...maybe they won't die...

==================== I am the dividing line of flashback holy grail battle =================

Sparks burst.

The blue-silver and scarlet-colored figures hovered alternately.

The momentum is like a cracked silk, and the sword is like a meteor.

A sword dance like falling leaves and violent wind.

The current Altria is like a small boat in the storm, can only be embarrassed to resist the crimson heroic spirit who has completely given up the defense on the opposite side and upholds the battle policy of changing wounds.

"Why... do you... really hate me so much? Mordred."

Facing the scarlet heroic spirit who had taken off his helmet and revealed an extremely similar face to himself, Altria spoke intermittently.

If you fight for the Liberation Treasure, the hero in front of you should not be able to match him.

However, the sword in the hand that once pierced the body in front of him once refused to execute this command as if he had his own consciousness.

The blood-colored weapon that was solidified like blood waved out a frantic storm, but what he did was only trapped her in the battlefield, it seemed...just to delay time.

why?

Altria was puzzled-as if she had never understood why Mordred would choose to rebel when she left the country on an expedition.

For Mordred's impression, Altria had only stayed on the impression of "the dumb masked child brought back by Guinevere" for a long time.

Although he is intuitively familiar with him, he is also intuitively a dangerous existence.

Speaking of which, in the entire twelve round table knights, the knight she is least familiar with may be Mordred.

So even if he had fought one-on-one with him in the longest past, Altria could be said to be quite embarrassed by the fighting skills that Mordred had shown.

Because she saw the traces of the former Knights of the Round Table-the beauty of Lancelot, the rage of Gerante, the precision of Tristan, the swiftness of Ramorock and more...

"..."

It seems that after hearing Altria’s question, Mordred who was attacking suddenly slowed down, but it only gave Altria a little space to breathe, but his voice was Really sounded, "...I... don't hate you... Father."

The voice was indifferent, without any feeling of tyranny, though stiff but exceptionally clear-there was no sign of violent anger at all.

"you!"

Altria looked up at the face that resembled himself in astonishment.

"...I, promised... to help... her."

As if he didn't care about Altria's astonishment, Mordred suddenly put away his weapon, and left Altria who was frightened by his actions, "...you, forever...never, no... …she was……"

The object he wants to be admitted is the woman with heterochromatic eyes who smiles gently at him.Because the memory was affected by Merlin's great magic, he mistakenly confused that feeling with Altria.

Fortunately, under the influence of the Holy Grail, the memory was finally restored.

Because of that, he knew how much sacrifice the woman had made for the whole of Great Britain.No one knows about this.

He was unwilling to do this, that is, at that time, he would accept the temptation of his nominal biological mother, Morgan.

Just to be able to call back the woman who has returned, because that is the only thing he can do.

After regaining his true memory, the throne or recognition is no longer important to him-he just wants to see the woman who is more like a friend and more like a mother again, watching her smile at him, listening She spoke to him.

That's it.

"?!!!"

Regarding Mordred's omitted remarks, Altria admitted that he did not understand it completely.

However, at this moment, if Mordred, who is a Berserker, can no longer guess the reason for appearing here, she would not deserve to be the former King Arthur.

"...You...are, hesitating..."

The appearance of the blood-colored long sword in his hand changed again, forming a long spear that Altria could not be more familiar with.Mordred looked at her and said softly, "...you, win...no, I..."

Altria also knew this very well.

It was completely different from when they fought in Kamranchule, and the mentality of the two can be described as a tune.

Originally, the strength was only between the first and second, but now Mordred didn't know why it seemed to have been out of the role of Berserker.

Altria knew very well that he should be going to save Alice Sophie. They had vowed to raise the Holy Grail together.

Can't bow your head here.

She is very clear.

But it can't win.

If it was the original King Arthur, who could sacrifice everything for the country, then the outcome would be very obvious.

But at this moment, Altria knew it very well, just as the other heroes at the banquet that night said.

In the resolution to obliterate everything she used to atone for her sins, she didn't even have the qualifications to be called "king".

The previous belief was shaken, and it was directly reflected on the blade that was swung.

So, can we only stop here?

But in the end, when she gave up the resistance, the battle ended in the most incredible way.

Mordred's original plan to stab the spear instantly froze, and Mordred's face showed a trace of regret: "...time...is up."

What do you mean?

Just when Altria was astonished by it, Mordred's figure began to fade and disappear-this was obviously a sign of exhaustion of magic power.

"..."

Putting away the weapon, Mordred's mouth moved slightly, and he sighed. After taking Altria's blue eyes, he slowly closed.

There is no hatred, no hostility, not even the unwillingness that it should be.

Just a kind of pity.