Excalibur.
The strongest fantasy, a fragment of starlight. It transcends all time and space, embodying the unrealized dreams of countless lives.
This sword stands at the pinnacle of holy swords, a divine weapon forged not by human hands but by the planet itself. Crystallized within the planet's core from the faith of humanity, it is one of the ultimate god-forged arms—the "Last Phantasm."
For Sakatsuki, the details of Excalibur were already deeply ingrained in his mind. What truly concerned him was the significance of Mordred wielding this sword.
"That Noble Phantasm does not belong to you." The dragon scales rippled as the young man unconsciously adopted a threatening stance, his gaze fixed intently on the holy sword in Mordred's hand, as though wary of the presence behind it. "How did you even obtain it?!"
"Who knows?" Mordred took a deep breath, tightening her grip on the sword's hilt. The blade's radiance blazed brilliantly, showing no signs of resistance. "Maybe it was Father's will."
"No…" Sakatsuki shook his head, the light in his eyes flickering—reason and bestial instinct warring for dominance. Under the pressure of this sword, wisdom once again took hold of the demonic man. "She understood the path I chose and promised not to interfere… Since my king has chosen to withdraw, she would not return to this decisive battle."
His words grew more fluent as he watched Mordred's grave expression. Sakatsuki's lips twisted into a grin, madness surging like a tidal wave. "I see… It was Merlin, wasn't it? Only his Avalon could bypass the present world and invade this dimension directly… And only he possesses the ability to transfer a Noble Phantasm!"
A black tide spread as Sakatsuki recklessly unleashed mana and curses, using the corpse of Bahloo as fuel, driven by the hide of the divine boar and the heart of a dragon. The legendary evil dragon regained its form, its wings of darkness stretching across the sky, blotting out the sun for miles. It roared arrogantly at the ants below.
"But what does it matter, Mordred?! How much of Excalibur's power can a traitorous knight like you possibly wield? Even if Semiramis has suppressed my regeneration, how will you pierce my dragon scales and defenses?!"
"Don't let Sakatsuki deceive you, Saber." The voice of Kairi Sisigou echoed in her mind. "We all believe in you. You will bring us victory."
"It's more like you have no choice but to believe in me, Master." Mordred chuckled wryly. "After all, out of all the Servants, I'm the only one left."
"…"
"Don't worry, Master." The golden-haired knight raised her sword, its blade ringing clear, its light shining like a star. "By the name of this sword, I swear to bring you victory and glory!"
In response to the resolve of the Round Table's Knight of Treachery, a chorus of countless souls arose. The light of Excalibur blazed brighter than ever.
"This radiance is the hope of the stars—the proof of life that illuminates the earth!"
Standing the sword upright before her chest, its radiance shone brilliantly, golden threads carrying the dreams of the people intertwined and grew upon the blade. Mordred gritted her teeth, sensing the will conveyed by the holy sword in the unseen.
This was a sword meant only for a true king, and it was questioning Mordred, the one who held it—
A king is never alone! What difference is there between a king who lacks people and land to protect and a mere beggar?
Where is the kingdom you fight for! Where are the people you vow to protect!
What kind of king… do you truly wish to become!
The familiar voice of questioning echoed in her heart, and Mordred froze on the spot. The distant roar of the demonic dragon and the urgent cries of her Master faded away in an instant. At this moment, the scene that surfaced in the girl's mind was the moment she had received this very sword.
"This sword is…?!" After answering her father's question in the dream woven by Merlin, Mordred took the sword handed to her by Artoria and was utterly shocked. "Excalibur?! F-Father!"
"Do not panic. A proper knight must always remain composed." Artoria's cheeks flushed slightly, her eyes brimming with gentle warmth—she was both shy and deeply gratified by Mordred's earnest response after careful thought.
At that time, Artoria, who had manifested as a Ruler, had already been reversed (Alter) by Sakatsuki, but that was merely an empty shell. The true Artoria had long returned to Avalon, shielding herself from the corruption of the Command Spells, and then descended through Merlin's dream to deliver the chance of victory to Mordred.
"That version of me would surely protect Sakatsuki with my life—such is my loyalty, my chivalry." Artoria cautioned her thus. "Do not underestimate Sakatsuki. He knows all your methods inside out. Even the second Noble Phantasm of the saint, never revealed before, he has already prepared countermeasures for. That is—"
"By using a Command Spell, he transfers the causality and target onto the Servant he summoned, which is also Artoria." Merlin chimed in with a grin. "Of course, this was done with Artoria's consent."
"H-how could he do this?!" Mordred exclaimed. "How could he sacrifice Father for victory?!"
"Because both of them are the type to do anything for victory." Artoria replied. "Not only Sakatsuki in this state, but my Alter self also carries the aspect of a king—one who discards emotions and views everything through rationality. Making such a decision is only natural."
"So, to stop 'me' and Sakatsuki from running wild…" The ever-present ahoge patted Mordred's shoulder, her tone almost expectant. "The task of stopping them falls to you, Sir Mordred!"
"Me?!" Mordred was completely stunned. She looked at Artoria's approving expression, then at the old trickster Merlin flashing her a 'V' sign, and stammered, "W-why me?"
"Because you are my child, Mordred."
With utter naturalness, Artoria spoke the words that could sink Mordred's heart. Ignoring the wide-eyed girl, she slowly revealed her true feelings through the dream.
"Originally, I was not a father, Mordred. But when I learned of your identity, when I discovered you were my son... the 'father' within me was born."
"For the first time in my life, I understood that beyond being a king, I also had responsibilities as a father."
"And it was precisely these emotions that tormented me."
Artoria did not continue, but Mordred understood her unspoken words.
Artoria Pendragon, the radiant light of Britain, the cold and merciless Holy King who bore the weight of the nation upon her shoulders.
Upon the bloodstained throne of bones, there was no place for sentiment. A monarch's gaze could only be fixed upon the land and its people.
How could a worthy king abandon her subjects, focusing solely on her own child—an artificial creation?
Britain would not allow it. The suffering people would not allow it. And the king's heart, though frozen yet still tender, would never permit it.
Yet a child—a child brimming with joy and anticipation—could not endure receiving no response from the father they adored. That pain was more unbearable than scorn or hatred, that helplessness more despairing than waves crashing against cliffs.
With the slightest provocation, these emotions could easily transform into a vengeful tsunami, obliterating everything once revered.
If 'Artoria' was the instrument destined to save Britain, then 'Mordred' was fated to destroy 'Artoria.' A father who failed to understand the human heart could never earn a child's forgiveness—not even if she were the noblest knight, the most perfect king.
After realizing this during her long years in Avalon, Artoria found complete resolution. Her abandonment of emotion and transformation into a king had not been without reward: the Round Table she took such pride in, the people who sang her praises, the glorious deeds recorded in the annals of history... She had even escaped death itself, dwelling in Avalon with that old swindler—ahem—her teacher Merlin, watching the world change through the ages.
But all things came at a price. What she had lost far outweighed what she had gained—especially her painfully dulled emotions, which only allowed her to comprehend certain truths centuries later, when those involved had long turned to dust. Thus, regret and remorse surged over her like tidal waves, drowning her effortlessly.
—For a father, nothing could be crueler than failing to understand their child, even to the point of crossing swords.
This guilt dragged Artoria deeper into the mire, reducing her to childlike avoidance of any possible conversation. She desperately maintained her icy royal facade, unable to meet Mordred's gaze... until Sakatsuki appeared, ruthlessly tearing away her pretense and shoving her toward Mordred, refusing to let her retreat into isolation again.
Sometimes, all it takes is one gentle push to crumble a mask.
"You are my child, Mordred. My blood flows through your veins," Artoria finally said, her voice filled with apology and hope. "Though this blessing comes late, at least this time—please use this sword to carve out your future."
"—Mordred Pendragon."
The dream was dissipating, the figures of the Holy King and the Sage growing faint. Before she knew it, Mordred was already in tears, gazing transfixed at the fading phantoms, the sensation of the sword hilt in her hand as tangible as reality.
Her dream, her wish—in this fleeting moment, they had finally come true. The helpless and rebellious little lion had at last returned to the warm embrace of the pride, receiving the laurel from the Lion King's own hands.
"As you command, my... father!"
And now, facing the interrogation of Excalibur, Mordred could finally raise her head high and proudly declare her answer:
"I am no king, nor do I seek to become one. I merely wished to ease my father's loneliness. That person never smiled, never shed tears. I always believed that if I became king, that person would no longer have to suffer—for me, it was enough if that person could reclaim what had been cast aside!"
The holy sword hummed, the chorus of countless souls rising in crescendo. Radiance flourished and grew, like hope itself lifted by the world, vying against the surging demonic energy and curses for half the sky!
"Impossible!" The demon dragon's wings flared, its vertical pupils contracting as it sensed the escalating threat from the holy sword raised high by the girl. "What you speak is not the words of a true king!"
That is a king. That is the king!
The souls cheered. The ancient will gave its approval. The majestic holy sword awakened, recognizing its master, acknowledging the new wielder of the sacred blade!
The resolve to protect others—that is the measure of a king, even if she would never sit upon the throne, the most distant seat from the people.
For she is the prince, and the prince rides a white steed, traversing the land, fighting for those she has sworn to protect.
Ever steadfast, ever unyielding.
Ever young, ever bright!
For this very reason, she is recognized by the people. For this very reason, she can bear the weight of countless hopes and dreams, her gallant figure never failing to inspire.
Thus, she is ever-victorious.
Thus, she shines like the stars!
"Listen well, Sakatsuki!" Mordred shouted, raising her holy sword high. "The one I wish to protect has acknowledged me. My kingdom—it is here!"
Though Sakatsuki's deduction of Merlin's involvement was indeed remarkable, there was one thing he had not anticipated—this sword was not transferred by Merlin's own will. Artoria had recognized Mordred's will, spirit, and resolve, personally entrusting the sword of kingship to the next generation!
And so, Mordred too could unleash the sealed, true power of Excalibur!
"Thirteen Restraints released. Round Table deliberation begins!"
With her cry, the banner of light was raised high. Virtue and hope erupted in a dazzling brilliance, a pure and radiant pillar of light claiming the axis between heaven and earth.
It was the starlight guiding countless wishes, the undying radiance in the hearts of the Knights of the Round.
At the call of this banner, the heroic souls slumbering within the sword awoke one after another, gathering once more in the hall of the new king. Upon the Round Table of old, a gentle male voice sang out, the Sage's words resounding across the skies:
"[This battle is one to vanquish evil]—acknowledged, Mordred."
Sakatsuki, transformed into a demonic dragon, was without doubt a calamity that must be vanquished. A stream of light flashed—the first restraint of the holy sword was released.
"[This battle is one of noble honor]—Acknowledged, Gawain."
To protect what must be defended, they rise to face the evil dragon soaring through the heavens in a deadly struggle. A radiant light flashes—the second seal of the holy sword is released.
"[This battle is not against the spirits]—Acknowledged, Lancelot."
The blade no longer points at living beings, but at a walking calamity, a destined disaster to be overcome. The shimmering light intensifies—the third seal of the divine sword is released.
...
Like peeling away layer after layer to reveal a dazzling core, the Knights of the Round Table cast their distant gazes from the river of history, lending their strength to the maiden who raises the holy sword.
The skilled Kay, the loyal Bedivere, the iron-handed administrator Agravain, the calamitous seat of Galahad… One by one, under Merlin's voice, the Knights of the Round Table acknowledged Mordred's existence. In a fleeting moment, the shadows of old comrades seemed to walk toward her, standing shoulder to shoulder, their laughter unchanged—a reflection of legend, a fragment of dreams long after the storms of bloodshed had faded.
"How strange. I can understand myself, but I never expected even that old man Gawain and that useless Tristan to agree… And even the model student Bedivere…"
Mordred muttered, trying to keep her expression indifferent. But the next voice made her eyes burn red, beyond her control.
"[This battle is to save the world]—Acknowledged, Arthur."
"Father…" Filled with emotion, the holy sword in Mordred's hand blazed brighter than ever. Now, more than seven of the Thirteen Restraints had been acknowledged—an unprecedented, overwhelming light gathered, ready to be unleashed.
But it was not over yet. Beyond the blessings of the "past," Mordred also received support from the "present."
"By the power of all my Command Spells—bring me victory, Saber!"
That was the aid of her Master, Kairi Sisigou. At this critical moment, he did not hesitate to stake everything he had. Feeling the miraculous power coursing through her limbs, Mordred grinned.
"Hey, Master… After this battle, let me try smoking just once. I've been curious about it for a long time."
"Tch, don't say things like that."
The demonic dragon in the sky roared as a diamond-shaped space unfolded, attempting to envelop its massive body—no one understood the terror of the holy sword at full power better than Sakatsuki. Without his rapid regeneration, he would likely struggle to withstand this strike.
But Mordred, who had never taken her eyes off him, would never let him escape.
"You're not getting away, Sakatsuki!" Mordred swung her arms, unleashing a seamless slash toward the heavens. "Ex—calibur!"
A colossal sword of burning light cleaved through the sky. A torrent of radiance erupted, surging forward unyieldingly, unbroken and unstoppable, obliterating all obstacles in its path.
This power was the manifestation of inner virtue and righteousness. This power was the undiluted light of nobility.
To witness it was to understand the hope carried by that figure's back.
To hear it was to bow one's head amidst the fervent cries of countless lives.
The curse of the boar hide melted away like ice and snow, the demonic energy of the evil dragon faltered. Under the radiant light, the colossal dragon's shadow shattered and collapsed with a thunderous snap, leaving only a humanoid form struggling desperately—yet still unable to escape its fate of purification.
Merely touching this golden light—the eternal night was severed in an instant!
Then, light flooded the heavens.