I Don’t Want to Be a Heroic Spirit

"[Rebellion Against My Beautiful Father!]"

A fierce crimson glow illuminated the sky, accompanied by the deafening crack of thunder.

In the next moment, a torrent of red lightning crashed down, colliding with the emerald comet formed by Achilles' war chariot.

Achilles and Karna both froze in disbelief. Even Artoria couldn't hide her surprise.

Before her stood a figure clad entirely in armor, the jagged blade Clarent still crackling with residual lightning.

"Hey! Saber! What's the meaning of this?!" Achilles barked in frustration, his spear raised in challenge.

Even Karna turned a wary gaze toward the newcomer, though his expression remained stoic.

They had no way of knowing the true identity of the armored figure before them, nor her connection to Artoria. The mystical helm [Helm of Hidden Infidelity] concealed Mordred's name and status from prying eyes, even against skills like Karna's Discernment of the Poor.

After all, Mordred's lineage was far too sensitive. Her striking resemblance to Artoria would instantly expose their relationship, so Morgan had crafted this helm specifically to keep her hidden.

"What do I mean?" Mordred sneered, her voice crackling with raw fury. "What do you mean?"

Her presence radiated oppressive energy, the sheer rage palpable. She had arrived just in time to witness these so-called heroes ganging up on the one person she idolized most.

Three against one? She was beyond furious.

"Three of you against one? And you call yourselves heroes?!"

"This is our Master's command," Karna replied calmly, his reasoning as measured as ever.

"I don't care whose command it is!" Mordred roared, her voice dripping with scorn. "Anyone who lays a finger on my father—" She raised Clarent, its jagged edge glowing ominously. "—gets their head smashed in!"

Karna's response was cut short as Artoria's voice, calm yet tinged with surprise, came from behind Mordred.

"Mordred... what are you doing here?"

Mordred's body stiffened at the sound, her posture betraying a brief hesitation.

With her back to Artoria, Mordred neither replied nor turned to face her. The silence between them thickened, awkward and heavy.

For a moment, Artoria was at a loss. But she knew she had to break the tension before it grew unbearable.

"...Thank you, Mordred," Artoria finally said softly.

"W-What?! I-I wasn't helping you!" Mordred stammered, her voice rising with frantic energy.

Though her face was hidden by the helm, Artoria could hear the panic in her tone.

"D-Don't get the wrong idea!" Mordred continued, her words tumbling out in a rush. "I just couldn't stand them! Three against one—that's pathetic! It's not because of you, alright?!"

"Also!" she added, spinning to face Artoria with indignation. "You can only die by my hands, got it? Nobody else is qualified to kill you! If anyone tries—" She slammed Clarent into the ground, its red lightning flaring up around her. "—I'll cut them down first!"

Artoria blinked, then gave a solemn nod.

"I understand. Thank you for your concern, Mordred."

"I'm not concerned about you!!" Mordred practically shrieked, twisting away in embarrassment.

Suddenly, her instincts flared. Turning swiftly, she raised Clarent just in time to block Achilles' spear, the impact sending a sharp jolt up her arms.

"Distracted already? That's no way to treat a fight!" Achilles jeered, pressing his attack.

"What do you think you're doing?!" Mordred snapped, her voice brimming with fury.

With a defiant roar, she lashed out with a brutal kick, slamming her armored boot into Achilles' midsection. But to her frustration, his divine invulnerability rendered the strike utterly ineffective.

"Hah! Not bad!" Achilles laughed, twisting his spear with renewed vigor. "But you're gonna need more than that!"

Mordred's eyes blazed with anger. Her body radiated crimson lightning as her magical energy surged, the sheer force carving cracks into the earth beneath her.

No one makes me look weak—especially not in front of him!

Before they could clash again, a golden barrier materialized between them, forcing both combatants apart.

Achilles quickly retreated, sensing a dangerous presence approaching from above.

Moments later, Artoria appeared at Mordred's side, her glowing aura illuminating the battlefield.

"Mordred," she said firmly, "there's an Archer in the forest. Handle them. Leave these two to me."

"What?!" Mordred's indignation flared. "No way! That bastard's mine!" She pointed Clarent at Achilles, her voice trembling with rage. "I'm going to shut him up for good!"

Artoria didn't have time for a lengthy explanation. Between Karna's golden armor and Achilles' near-immortality, Mordred wasn't equipped to handle them both.

Yet she knew Mordred's stubbornness wouldn't be swayed by logic. With a deep breath, she met her rebellious knight's gaze.

"Please," Artoria said simply.

Mordred froze.

For a moment, the storm of emotions churning inside her quieted. Her grip on Clarent tightened, and she turned away abruptly, muttering under her breath.

"Don't give me orders."

Without another word, Mordred sprinted into the forest, her armored form vanishing into the shadows.

Artoria watched her go, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

"She's a good child," she murmured softly.

Her moment of reprieve was short-lived. Karna advanced, his golden spear burning with divine fire, while Achilles charged with reckless abandon.

The battlefield roared back to life.

"Alright then," Artoria said, her voice resolute as she raised her hand.

The golden aura surrounding her body erupted, momentarily forcing her opponents back.

"If Mordred has come... it's time I stop holding back as well."

Her emerald eyes gleamed, shifting to a radiant gold. The divine authority of a goddess surged through her form, radiating power so immense it made the air itself tremble.

Raising her right hand, Artoria spoke with calm, undeniable authority.

"Sacred Lance, unleash your anchor."

---

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 ✨