I Don’t Want to Be a Heroic Spirit

"The matter of the Red Faction attacking me—I'll head to their base to investigate it later," Artoria said calmly. "But for now, I have something I wish to say to Mordred."

"...Huh?"

Mordred froze, her eyes wide. When Artoria turned her gaze to her, a hint of panic spread through Mordred's expression.

"W-what do you want to say?"

Faced with this person who was her father yet not the father she knew, Mordred was utterly at a loss.

She might have seemed as brash and confident as ever moments ago, but inside, her heart was in turmoil. She had no idea how to interact with this version of her father.

Artoria stepped closer, her gaze unwavering, exuding a faint but undeniable pressure.

"Right now, I am a blend of many aspects—a part of King Arthur, a part of the goddess Rhongomyniad, and many other complex elements," she said. "Because of that, I believe… that I can finally tell you the words I couldn't say back then."

Mordred gulped audibly under the weight of Artoria's piercing gaze, her nerves fraying. Her expression was a conflicted mixture of fear and fragile hope.

Words that couldn't be spoken back then…

Could it be… that Father was finally ready to acknowledge her?

Mordred's gemstone-like eyes lit up, her ears attuned to Artoria's every word, eagerly awaiting the truth.

"Mordred."

But the words that followed shattered her hopes, crushing them and casting them into a deep, shadowy abyss.

"You will never be a king."

Mordred's jaw dropped. Her eyes went blank, consumed by shock, fear, and despair.

No…

"I never hated you…"

No…

"The reason you can't become a king—"

Stop it…

"—is because you lack the qualities of one."

The moment she said this, Artoria froze.

Wait. That's not what I wanted to say.

Before her, Mordred's face became shrouded in shadow, her expression unreadable.

Yet the growing, oppressive aura surrounding her was unmistakable.

"Mordred, listen, I—"

"Shut up!"

A burst of red lightning erupted as Mordred roared.

Artoria was flung backward, her arm scorched black and trailing smoke. Though the blow wasn't severe, Mordred had managed to wound her.

Bathed in crimson lightning, Mordred's helmeted figure stood menacingly, her presence oppressive.

"Guess I really messed this up…"

Artoria grimaced. From deep within her spirit origin, she could feel waves of apology—emotions belonging to the original Artoria Pendragon.

Her words just now… they hadn't come from her conscious mind. It was as if her lips had moved on their own, driven by the regrets and shortcomings of King Arthur's past self.

No wonder Artoria had struggled so much to connect with her knights. People even said, "The King doesn't understand human emotions."

But that wasn't true.

Artoria did understand. She just couldn't express it.

Only after inheriting this spirit origin had she come to understand this truth.

The original Artoria had no hatred for Mordred—only guilt and remorse.

It was this remorse that drove her desire to mend their fractured bond. She believed that if she could convey the true feelings of the original Artoria to Mordred, they could resolve their misunderstandings.

But now, even the first step had gone wrong.

"This is even harder than I thought…"

Not far away, the crimson lightning grew fiercer.

The gravestones and tiles around Mordred crumbled under the rampaging bolts of electricity, turning to ash.

The night sky was illuminated by the violent red glow, and even the stars seemed to retreat in fear.

"So that's it… You hate me that much, don't you, Arthur?"

Mordred's voice emerged from behind her bull-horned helmet, trembling with restrained fury. Even without seeing her face, the gritted teeth in her tone were unmistakable.

"Even in death, as a Servant, you won't let me go. You've even taken on the role of Ruler just to seek revenge on me?!"

"Of course… That makes sense. After all, I was the one who overturned the Britain you protected, the traitorous knight who destroyed everything. It's only natural that you'd hate me!"

"And to think… To think I ever dared to hope for anything else from you… How laughable!"

The lightning around Mordred grew even more frenzied, obscuring her form in a storm of crimson energy.

Fortunately, Shishigou had wisely made his escape earlier. Otherwise, he'd have been obliterated by the electrified chaos by now.

He debated using a Command Spell to restrain her. But Mordred's Magic Resistance was high, and it would likely take two Command Spells to subdue her.

Even then, her rage wouldn't vanish; it would only fester, and there was a chance she'd turn her wrath on him.

For now, Shishigou decided to observe. He wanted to see how Ruler would handle this.

Artoria tried again. "It's not what you think, Mordred. I just—"

"Die! Ar—thur—!!"

Mordred roared as her lightning propelled her forward. She raised her cursed blade high and brought it down with all her fury.

Artoria didn't dare to take the attack lightly. She quickly summoned a barrier of golden light to shield herself.

BOOM!

The clash of red lightning and golden light unleashed a shockwave that spread in all directions. The ground beneath them caved inward, spiderweb cracks radiating outward as arcs of crimson electricity surged across the battlefield.

Mordred's blade, charged with lightning, struck the golden barrier, cutting through it.

Without hesitation, she released her Mana Burst and plunged the sword further into the weakening shield.

The barrier cracked like glass, and Mordred's free hand, wrapped in crackling red lightning, slammed into the sword's hilt.

Finally, the golden shield shattered, and Artoria's figure was fully exposed.

Even with her current appearance, something about her was achingly familiar to Mordred.

Most of all, it was those eyes—those emerald eyes that never seemed to see her. Always gazing into the distance, never reflecting her image.

"Of course…"

Seeing those eyes again, Mordred clenched her fists.

"Of course, you're Arthur!"

Because you're Arthur…

That's why I have to kill you!!

---

T/N: gosh darn it

Ahem! Gather close, esteemed audience! Do you comprehend the privilege of basking in my radiance? Truly, you're witnessing history in the making—a performance unparalleled in the annals of Fontaine!

Ah, but don't get distracted! Let me be clear: this brilliance isn't conjured from thin air. No, no, no! It requires effort, dedication, and… well, a touch of your generosity. If you fancy being part of something truly extraordinary, do step forward here: [patreon.com/WiseTL].

Oh, but wait! You're probably wondering, "Furina, how can someone as magnificent as you need assistance?" To that, I say: why deny mortals the honor of contributing to such greatness? Supporting me is supporting art, and who doesn't want to say they were instrumental in a legend's rise?

Now, off you go. Make your offerings, and perhaps, perhaps, I'll acknowledge you in my next soliloquy!

— Furina ✨