The fierce exchange between Arthur and the unknown Servant continued unabated.
A relentless flurry of punches and kicks narrowly grazed Arthur's body again and again. Her chaotic and unpredictable fighting style had indeed proven troublesome for him.
But that was all. Arthur's eyes suddenly narrowed as he spotted an opening.
His hand flashed out swiftly, catching the incoming leg mid-kick, then rapidly closed the distance.
Being a Saber-class Servant certainly didn't mean one lacked prowess in close-quarter combat—even without a sword.
Such incredible strength!
The mysterious Servant grimaced slightly as her kick was abruptly halted. Though she'd anticipated her opponent would surpass her in strength—given how he'd weathered her previous strike with minimal difficulty—she still felt a jolt of irritation.
Against most other Servants, that kick would have sent them crashing through the nearest wall.
Still, she felt no panic whatsoever. Being grabbed simply meant she'd also caught hold of him.
The fact that he'd repeatedly dodged her strikes by mere inches had already frustrated her greatly.
More than skillful exchanges, she preferred the raw, exhilarating sensation of landing blow after crushing blow.
Without hesitation, Arthur pressed in aggressively, throwing a punch straight toward her face.
A smirk curled at the corner of her lips. She could clearly predict his fist's trajectory, her own fist swiftly rising from below to deliver a crushing uppercut to his chin.
Just as his punch neared her face, she planned to tilt her head slightly, causing him to merely graze her cheek—meanwhile, her strike would send him flying.
After all, she possessed Instinct. Such straightforward strikes could never hit her.
Hmph! I win!
The smirk widened as her fist surged upward with terrifying speed and force, air rippling around her fist, aiming straight for Arthur's chin.
Events unfolded exactly as she predicted, Arthur's punch racing toward her at incredible speed.
All I need to do…is dodge!
Without conscious thought, she snapped her head sideways. She didn't even consciously choose the direction—it was pure instinct.
Whoosh—!
A rush of wind whipped sharply through her hair. Her own fist, previously streaking upward, halted abruptly mere inches from Arthur's chest.
Her pupils contracted in shock.
Impossible!
Right in front of her face, Arthur's massive fist hovered motionless, perfectly positioned. Had he actually delivered the blow, she would've been knocked backward long before her own punch ever reached his chin.
How did he predict exactly where I'd dodge? I didn't even know myself!
Yet, a loss was a loss. Mordred wasn't the type to deny it—though she fully intended to claim victory next time.
It was just a friendly spar, after all, so she wasn't particularly troubled that her opponent had clearly pulled his punch.
In fact, had he actually punched her with full force, she'd have thrown caution—and the Holy Grail—entirely to the wind and killed him on the spot.
"Tch! Looks like you win this round. What knight are you? I don't remember anyone with your strength among the Knights of the Round Table!"
She lowered her fist reluctantly, acknowledging defeat—albeit grudgingly.
There was something oddly familiar about his presence, something reminiscent of a Round Table knight, yet his face wasn't one she recognized at all.
Maybe he was one of the lesser-known knights, she thought carelessly, attacking without a second thought. She hadn't expected it to backfire so spectacularly.
"Knights of the Round Table? You're one of them?"
Now it was Arthur's turn to look confused. He certainly didn't recall this person from among his knights.
The familiar aura she emitted had made him think perhaps she was related to one of the knights—but apparently, that wasn't the case.
Hearing Arthur's puzzled response, she immediately grew indignant, straightening proudly.
"I am Mordred—the sole rightful heir of Arthur Pendragon, King of Knights!"
Her declaration boomed loudly, drawing baffled glances from nearby civilians.
Thankfully, their brief skirmish hadn't caused any real damage, and the startled residents soon returned to their normal routines after observing this spectacle.
Though truthfully, Arthur was responsible for limiting the damage. Ever the honorable knight, he deliberately controlled the flow of their battle, carefully redirecting Mordred's furious strikes to avoid harming the surroundings.
His skill was undeniably extraordinary—despite the immense disadvantage of fighting cautiously to protect civilians, he'd still managed a decisive victory.
Seeing that the fight had ended, Shirou Emiya and the fierce-looking man quickly approached.
"Master."
"Master."
Two voices rang out simultaneously—one gentle and composed, the other bold and fierce—as the Servants moved toward their respective Masters.
"You still haven't told me your name!" Mordred insisted aggressively, intrigued by this knightly Servant who somehow wasn't among the Round Table knights she knew.
Had he been someone like Lancelot or Gawain, she'd have likely challenged him outright, then hunted him down at night for a proper battle.
Arthur glanced respectfully toward Shirou, silently requesting permission. Even now, he wouldn't reveal his identity without his Master's approval.
Shirou promptly nodded, granting permission.
"My true name is Arthur Pendragon, summoned as a Saber-class Servant."
Arthur's voice was gentle, though faint embarrassment flickered across his face as he addressed Mordred. He seemed to understand the unusual situation unfolding before him.
However, the fierce-looking man standing beside Mordred was left utterly dumbstruck, his mouth dropping open in shock.
He glanced between Mordred and Arthur several times, finally nodding in astonishment.
"Well...there is a resemblance."
"Who the hell are you saying I resemble?! How dare you humiliate me like that! I'll kill you right now!!!"
Mordred had, of course, met her father before. To suggest this man standing before her was the legendary King of Knights was utterly ridiculous.
In an instant, brilliant crimson armor encased her body, bolts of red lightning crackling dangerously around her. Clearly, she was no longer playing around.
"This should be enough proof of my identity."
As he spoke, Arthur's hand revealed a dazzling golden sword.
---
T/N: QUICK SHIROU! ANALYZE HIS HOLY ROD!
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