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Nikola Tesla. Scientist, myth, legend.

Keuranos system. The grandest invention of the scientist, the basis of the myth, the epitome of his legend.

From the time when primitive cavemen looked up into the rumbling sky, behind the flashing of lightning, behind the glow, they saw the appearance of their gods. Behind the rumble of thunder, they heard the inevitable march of the titans. And beyond the destruction it wrought they saw the manifestation of divine anger.

From the very dawn of reason and thought, man was not able to imagine the flashing of lightning, the rumble of thunder as anything other than the incomprehensible power of the divines. From the thunderer Zeus, the king of the gods Indra, the forefather Perun, all the way to the powerful Enlil, lightning has always been the greatest symbol of the power of the divine. As the arrows of warriors strike their enemies, so does the lightning bolts of the gods strike the wicked.

And so, the power over lightning was ascended to the pedestal of the gods, akin to a force incomprehensible to the human mind. It was declared a great natural element, beyond the control of any mortal.

So it was proclaimed, and worshiped as the wrath of God. And so does mankind admitted their weakness, giving the reins of lightning to the hands of the divine.

That is, until Nikola Tesla, the Professor of Thunder and Lightning, was born.

An exalted scientist, a genius beyond compare. He was hundreds of years ahead of his time, only he had the capacity to stand up against divine will.

For how long people took on faith, the incomprehensible power of the elements. His mission to expel such mysteries, so great was his burden. Just as great was his strength.

"For if the gods do not grant lightning into the hands of man, then I will bring them lightning myself!"

And so Nikola Tesla, the Modern Prometheus, the First Thunderer of Men, overthrew the gods.

Having touched lightning, having touched the invisible laws beyond the control of humanity, he had reached the divine. And so with the greatest symbol of divine power, with the manifestation of their anger - and, having accepted the battle with the very concept of divinity, he subdued the lightning.

"For I will take away your symbol of divinity, I will subjugate lightning itself. For I am a man, and my mind will triumph over the divine principles!"

And so Nikola Tesla conquered lightning, starting his greatest crusade of reason.

Subsuming the invisible laws, he turned lightning from a symbol of divine power into a reforged sword of human will, denying the very divinity of the greatest divine symbol. Raising his understanding like a banner, he led humanity forward, like Danko carrying his heart in front.

And to this modern Promethean the Keuranos system was his life-long dream.

An endless source of energy transmitted wirelessly, it was supposed to open a new page in human history, forever erasing humanity's need for energy, unchaining their potential.

But as Danko's heart was trampled upon, and just as Prometheus was chained to a rock for his actions, so was Nikola Tesla was thrown from his pedestal.

The Keuranos system, a dream that would open the way for humanity to infinity, never came true.

The towers rising above the clouds remained only sketches in the margins of notebooks filled with Tesla's writing. The supposed magnum opus turned into nothing more than an unrealizable dream of a genius madman.

Nikola Tesla was indeed ahead of his time, but the Legend of Nikola Tesla refused to admit it.

The greatest scientist could not be cast into obscurity, his works could not be trampled. The memory of the Thunderer could not be forgotten.

That is why Nikola Tesla was given his dream after his death and passing into legend.

Endless energy that envelops the entire earth with its invisible networks. An inexhaustible road that opens the way for humanity to the peaks.

The Keuranos system.

So what if Tesla's dreams are unrealizable. So what if his projects only remain sketches on paper. And so what if Tesla's future was unfinished, his life heading into the abyss of abject poverty and despair.

The Keuranos system, infinite energy, was now alive right here, right now.

Nikola Tesla was one of the greatest Servants, a Servant who could rightfully stand in the presence of Great Kings, and demigods. He's like the King of Lightning, the Modern Thunderer.

But even that was not enough to make his dream come true. His own Holy Grail, his Great Deed, his infinite source was needed. That was why Tesla was fighting. But alas, to win he has to besmirch his greatest dream.

Servants were created for battle, not for anything else. And therefore his greatest creation, such great aspirations of the noble scientist were not meant to be. His greatest dream in the palm of his hands, but he cannot use it in any other way than to destroy.

Keuranos system, such a small part of his great aspiration, and such a great part of his strength. Endless energy that was to cover the entire earth, an inexhaustible source of human development.

Lightning of infinite power.

This was not exaggeration or hyperbole.

The Keuranos System, Nikola Tesla's Noble Phantasm, was a lightning of infinite power.

Every legend about thunder since the creation of myths has been embodied in a single impulse. Intertwining with the dream of the infinite power of humanity, it was a power born in an instant.

A strike of lightning of infinite power.

The force of the blow was infinite, the impact speed was instantaneous, the power of the legend was endless.

In front of the embodied lightning strike, most Servants would freeze, unable to move from the vast destruction aimed their way. Great devastation and an untold amount of people would die should Tesla's aim be to cause a massacre.

But right now, all of Tesla's might was only focused on one target.

No shield could protect against the Keuranos System. No sword could interrupt the Lightning Of Lightnings. Tesla's unrealizable dream of a free world of endless energy was turned into an all-destructive blade directed against only one target.

And Tesla's blow was terrible.

The underground grotto was illuminated by an unbearably bright light. It was quickly followed a second later by a roar of incredible magnitudes. The blinding light and deafening roar announcing the anger of the God of Thunder. He had determined his goal and delivered his final verdict.

And so, after delivering his mightiest blow, Tesla felt the last remnants of his strength disappear. His last remnant of strength disintegrating along with his body, a smile on his face.

Is it possible that in this battle for the fate of mankind, his adversary, the noble savior of the world, will not surprise him for one last time?

Will he not reveal his trump cards and deliver an aggrandizing speech? Will he boast to Tesla the secret of how he had survived? About how he had grabbed victory with his mind, surpassing even the great scientist in that aspect?

Tesla smiled one last time, as he felt his body disintegrating into thousands of sparks of mana… It seems even all this time, he was still a dreamer.

"Wow!" Imagine his shock when he heard the voice of his supposed to be dead opponent. With all the strength that he didn't know he still has, Tesla quickly raised his head.

Ainz Ooal Gown was alive. Alive and not even a speck of dust on his clothing.

Tesla didn't know if he should laugh or cry at such a sight. Even his greatness as a Thunderer was not enough to triumph in his last battle.

In the end he was elated. Indeed, only such an opponent had the right to defeat Tesla. The King of Kings has a great taste.

"That… Was that… It must be something analogous to the World Class Item of this world!" Ainz's voice sounded dull for Tesla, as if it was passing through a whole wall of cotton wool. It was the last thing Tesla heard as he died.

"Wait, what the!? At least give the WCI to me! Cheater! Filthy cheater! Give me my WCI back!"

But Tesla did not hear Ainz mournful cry, finally crumbling into a thousand pieces.

Though what he would make of 'fucking shitty RNG!' is anyone's guess.

Medusa analyzed every movement, every unspoken thought of Alice, as she looked at the diminutive Servant from under her glasses.

Not that it was hard to do though, given that Alice didn't seem to think it was necessary to even breathe or blink as she watched the battle between two invincible monsters. She watched with the same mechanical disinterest as one would expect from a china doll from its place on the counter.

An endless indifference.

Medusa breathed out. She really got the most unpleasant of possible opponents, except perhaps the King of Kings, who is likely a Grand Servant. At least according to Da Vinci's reflections.

Fighting with any other Servant, Medusa could use, albeit not the most elaborate, but certainly a highly effective tactic. It was a simple tactic in essence, distracting them with the invulnerable Chrysaor and then killing them with one precise blow when they were distracted and no longer paying attention to Medusa.

It would be a very effective tactic, considering that compared to Chrysaor, she was a relatively harmless enemy, at the very least the less visible one. And so, the more they deplete their stamina in a battle against the invulnerable and invincible Chrysaor, the better the tactic would work.

That's why Alice was the worst match-up she could face.

Of course, Medusa could have done the same with Alice, and moreover, she just did do that. However, seeing that Alice could simply brush off her own death, as if dust from one of the pages of a book, and return to the fight, as if continuing to read from a pre-placed bookmark… Hmm, it seems that the frustration has been getting to her if she's starting to make puns in her own head.

But yes, perhaps this particular comparison was most appropriate for the current battle.

Medusa exhaled slowly.

Alice could not be defeated by any conventional means. She could not be killed in a normal way and, in fact, could not be defeated in attrition by relying on the infinite mana reserves of her Master, Ainz. Even the buff imposed on her a little earlier or even a short-term enhancement of all physical parameters could not help Medusa in this case.

Ainz's direct intervention could help, of course. Medusa did not even doubt that even when faced with the invincible Servant, Ainz would only sigh, after which he would end the battle with one, or perhaps two spells. All without even looking at Medusa disappointingly or with derision. No, Ainz was simply too kind and gentle with his Servants.

Although Medusa was forced to admit, by allowing a recent memory to surface in her mind, that his kindness was not infinite. If the actions of a Servant began to cross the boundaries of what was permitted, if they needlessly antagonized the other Servants excessively or worse put the completion of the mission in danger, he was more than capable of being 'mean'.

Though in Medusa's opinion, Nobunaga was really asking for it.

In other words, Medusa could not even imagine any negative quality that Ainz could have.

Therefore, Medusa was very against bothering Ainz by asking for help or worse somehow distracting him from his battle.

Especially considering that this Singularity was like a report to Ainz from Medusa. An excellent opportunity to show off her skills and proof to Ainz that the Grail he had bequeathed to her was not wasted.

And so, with no other venue for victory available, Medusa was a bit vexed. It was from the understanding that her last and greatest trump card was the only possible card she could play if she wanted to win. Although she was saving it in case she had to face the King of Kings in battle, she was going to use it now.

Medusa shook her head a little, there's nothing that can be done about it.

Unfortunately, almost nothing in the world goes according to one's plans, but Medusa could at least make sure that her actions did not prove useless.

Medusa sighed for the last time before glancing at the emotionless Alice...

No, perhaps it was wrong to call her Alice. Medusa knew the true name of the Servant in front of her, Nursery Rhyme.

Her current form and name were nothing more than her own invention, her desired body and name.

The Servant, Caster, had no real form, nor was she a full-fledged Servant.

The clue is in the name. She was a Nursery Rhyme, a false Servant created from the hundreds and hundreds of fairy tales. Perhaps the closest thing Medusa could think to compare the false Alice to be is a 'pseudo-Divine Spirit'.

A kind of disembodied unborn god borne of books and literature. She was one of the 'new gods of humanity'. A god who did not take the form of a gray-haired old man or even a mighty warrior representing the might of humanity. But was created from hundreds of books, their readers' dreams, and from the innumerable emotions evoked by thousands of printed pages.

Nursery Rhyme, the nameless god of books.

A Servant, whose strength, whose main Noble Phantasm was in its own existence. Another paradoxical Servant without name and form, embodied in a character from one of the favorite children's books.

Invincible because it does not have a true form.

Alice was just one of thousands of forms that the Servant could take. Perhaps it was the form that the Servant preferred to take. But, in the end, still only one of its forms.

The Servant in front of her could change its form at will, gaining new abilities and embodying new concepts. And therefore she was probably one of the greatest possible Servants of the Throne of Heroes.

The Alice in front of her was invincible, because there was no 'thing' that can be defeated.

Alice herself does not physically exist. Not as a 'self', but as one of the forms of the living nameless god of books. And therefore 'killing' Alice required something much more esoteric than just plain brute strength.

Medusa blinked slowly, as her eyes began to change. Alice, as if sensing what was happening, raised her gaze to Medusa, not at all fearing her accursed gaze. Just as one should not be afraid of just one of the thousands of forms of the Nursery Rhyme.

Not that averting her eyes would help her for what comes next.

"Your eyes," Alice, for the first time, sounded surprised. It is as if just seeing the thing in front of her, she had realized the danger that Medusa posed.

"Those are not the eyes of the Medusa."

Medusa could have made a stupid joke about the fact that it was she herself, the Medusa, who was possessing these eyes at the moment. Which means that they were indeed literally 'Medusa's eyes', but she did not say it.

Likewise, Medusa could reveal the fact that she, Medusa Gorgon, had absorbed the power of the Holy Grail. The process caused her to rise above her past form in incredible ways, even gaining abilities that many Servants would consider… unnatural.

That her Legend itself, her abilities, her skills, her story was changed.

That, having become part of something greater than the 'Medusa' she was far, far stronger. That, by having absorbed the legend that was attributed to her descendant, the motherhood of hordes of monsters, many of her skills were 'changed'.

That her eyes, although they still retain their petrifying power, now looked at the world with much greater understanding, with the knowledge that only the Mother of the Mother of Monsters could have.

That just one glance at an ability used by a Servant was enough for Medusa to obtain all the information about it. That the very fact of Alice's existence had betrayed her true nature, her abilities, to Medusa.

That Chrysaor's, an indestructible giant, sole purpose was to prolong a battle, thereby forcing the enemy to reveal their trump cards over and over again, revealing more and more information to Medusa about her opponent.

And that even that was only the preparatory part of her true strength, for the Third Noble Phantasm of Medusa Gorgon (Echidna).

But…

Why would Medusa tell her enemy about this?

And therefore, after a moment, the Medusa's blade sank into her hand, causing a smile to appear on her face as her blood started dripping to the ground. "And the blood was spilled…"

Da Vinci fought Paracelsus without restraint. Innumerable blows and spells, sparkling flashes of explosions, and flashes of light that covers the sky. Their incredible might causes dread and awe to any possible observers, being the pinnacle of magical thought, unattainable for so many dreaming magi.

But, in spite of the destructiveness of their battle, there was no heat or fury between the two combatants. The both of them already know how their fight would end, they're simply doing the motions. There would be no unexpected moves or a rallying cry by the fighters, demonstrating their hidden might in the last moments, averting the inevitable ending.

Both fighters are too aware of each other's abilities to be surprised.

No, the fighting old friends seemed to be playing a chess game between each other. A game in which all the pieces were exposed, all the moves were predicted, and the course of the battle itself was known from the very first move.

Da Vinci knew about every ability Paracelsus possesses and how he would use them. Paracelsus knew about every ability Da Vinci knew how she would use them. Da Vinci knew that Paracelsus knew all about her abilities, and Paracelsus knew that Da Vinci knew all about his abilities.

And so on and so forth…

Though it doesn't mean that the battle between the two old friends ceased to be dangerous. Each of the spells of each of the participants carried sufficient strength to kill their target were any of them committed any mistake or error.

Each fighter fought with the understanding that this game would only end with the death of one of them.

To Paracelsus' great regret, he perfectly understood that he would be the one to die. Da Vinci surpassed him both in mind and in bare power. He's also perfectly aware that Da Vinci also knew this.

Because they already know the ending, the battle between the two old friends has lost all meaning, turning, at best, into a protracted farce or a rehearsed theatrical performance.

Paracelsus could have complained about the pointlessness of the battle, but Paracelsus was not one of those people who could complain about anything. In addition, the only thing that Paracelsus could complain about, perhaps, was his stupidity and principles. The perhaps silly things that made him unable to move away from this pointless battle. His principle not allowing him to let Da Vinci to continue her path to the battle with the King of Kings.

Unfortunately, Paracelsus also understood the fact that even the legendary Da Vinci, the genius of geniuses, would not stand a chance against the King of Kings.

Paracelsus' defeat to Da Vinci is only a matter of time. Nothing that Paracelsus could do that Da Vinci herself would be able to do at a level much higher than Paracelsus himself could. At the same time, Da Vinci could not fight the King of Kings with anything that would not be considered a stupid mockery of his powers by the King of kings.

Paracelsus did not know what he was hoping for, continuing this farce of a battle. Indeed, there exists the tiniest possibility that an incredible miracle will happen, that he will defeat Da Vinci and… kill her.

Perhaps he was thinking that Da Vinci's death at the hands of a friend, who only carried out an order, would be less painful for her than the death at the hand of who was so indifferent, so powerful as the King of Kings?

Or could Paracelsus not be able to keep his treacherous nature in check and thus wanted to betray his Master even in the smallest detail? To kill Da Vinci before the King of Kings did it?

It was a stupid, meaningless action. Perhaps the only thing Paracelsus could do at the moment was to indulge in idle thought. In any case, he was paying no more attention to the ongoing battle than Da Vinci herself did.

Yes, the battle between Da Vinci and Paracelsus was real and dangerous. And yes, it would end with the death of one of the participants. But, such a fact didn't even make the participants a one iota more interested in it.

An explosion that was capable of wiping London off the face of the Earth, swallowed up by a shield as powerful as the walls of the legendary Troy. A blade, capable of cutting through a thousand shields, colliding with a shield capable of stopping a thousand and one blades. Fire that devours cities and peoples, meeting ice that suspends kingdoms and nations.

Paracelsus sighed, his current battle was so definite, so unambiguous, but he could not help it. If he refused to cast any protecting spells or countermeasures, then Da Vinci spell would kill him instantly. Choose another tactic and Da Vinci will be ready for it.

The Elementals who had consumed the Philosopher's Stones rose like an unstoppable army before then crumbling under an unimaginably complex and powerful spell.

Boredom, it was the only emotion Paracelsus could feel right now.

No, of course, Paracelsus would not complain about his fate…

Well, maybe just a little.

Paracelsus exhaled sadly, dodging the next spell, which would not even leave ashes if it hit him, before responding with a spell, a tornado that rose to heaven. Only for it to immediately disperse into harmless gusts of wind from Da Vinci's prepared retaliatory attack.

Paracelsus suddenly stopped moving for a second, staring at Da Vinci, forcing her to stop in response.

"Something wrong?" The smallest dose of indignation pricked Paracelsus when he saw that, unlike their previous fight, Da Vinci was not even out of breath this time.

"No, it's just that I had spent all my strength." Paracelsus exhaled with no small amount of reluctance as he looked into Da Vinci's eyes.

"Oh, so next is your Noble Phantasm?" - Da Vinci smiled knowingly, - "Okay".

What follows is the predetermined outcome of the game. Paracelsus' Noble Phantasm was certainly incredibly powerful. But, against Da Vinci and her own Noble Phantasm, it was useless.

At the end, there would be an exchange between two Noble Phantasms. Da Vinci would receive several abrasions, and Paracelsus would die.

Paracelsus sighed for the last time before reaching out to the hem of his cloak, allowing a peculiar blade to slide into his hands. He then pulled on the blade's handle, revealing his Noble Phantasm.

"The Sword of Paracelsus." Paracelsus intoned as he pointed the blade at Da Vinci. The short gladius, or so it seems it should be called correctly, was waiting for an answer.

"It seems to be really the time." Da Vinci smiled serenely at his old friend.

Shortly after, a beam flashed for a second, rushing towards Da Vinci.

Here, for the first time during their battle, Paracelsus was surprised.

Da Vinci did not defend herself.

Rhongomyniad: The Lance that Shines to the Ends of the World.

There have been many illustrious swords throughout the legend of King Arthur. Excalibur, Caliburn, Clarent...

But only one spear. Rhongomyniad.

King Arthur did not rightfully use this spear and did not lift use as his banner, she did not perform great feats while holding the spear in her hands.

With this spear, King Arthur met his death.

During that fateful duel on the hills of Camlann, when she was slain by Mordred, Artoria held this holy spear in her hand.

King Arthur was never supposed to find the Holy Grail. But, the life of King Arthur, an enlightened fanatic in pursuit of God's miracle, was not in vain.

Swallowed by her dream, her goal, King Arthur sought out the Holy Grail, the lost treasure that was not destined to be found. Having let her kingdom to be torn to pieces by itself, King Arthur threw away her crown to find the Holy Grail.

Only one version of the legend of King Arthur did find it. The version that became Artoria Pendragon Alter Lancer.

Rhongomyniad was not a well-deserved treasure, but a reward bestowed. A power received in place of the Holy Grail by the possessed King Arthur.

Walking away from her throne, from her Britain, King Arthur devoted herself to finding the Holy Grail. As if rejecting everything human that once was in her, King Arthur left her Kingdom to her entourage, seeking to find the vaunted holy relic at any cost. Throwing away her humanity, the King took a step to the other side of this world.

Rhongomyniad, the tower that serves as the transition between the human world and the reverse side of the world. It held the human world and the magical world in place, not allowing them to merge, not allowing them to disappear. King Arthur, in pursuit of her holy relic, ascended this tower.

But some treasures were not destined to fall into the hands of its seekers - and so the Holy Grail eluded King Arthur, as it always eluded everyone who seeks it. And so King Arthur climbed the lonely tower, along which she ascended into another world.

And so King Arthur, rejecting Excalibur, rejecting her Britain, was left with nothing.

Without her knights and without a kingdom, without glory and without the thing she seeks, without purpose and without meaning.

And only the path she walked, denying her human life, remained with her.

Only the Tower of Rhongomyniad, King Arthur's holy spear, remained with her.

Thus, Artoria Pendragon Alter was born. A king without a kingdom, a seeker without treasure, a knight without glory, and a warrior without a goal.

All that was left in the hands of King Arthur was only the path she traveled, only a tower that forever turned her away from the world of people, and the world of magic. Two worlds, neither of which gave King Arthur peace.

And so King Arthur was left with nothing but her path.

The paths that tied together her humanity and her unrealizable wish.

Artoria Alter's Noble Phantasm was this tower. Not in the shape of the tower itself, but in the shape of Artoria's path itself.

"My tower is my path to my destruction. My spear is a symbol of my defeat. My strength is the story of the end of my road. "

And Rhongomyniad, the path that connects the obvious and the secret, was stained. And the spear of Rhongomyniad, the holy spear that binds legend and reality, turned into a black, speckled spear as it bears the story of the death of King Arthur.

Artoria glanced at Nobunaga, feeling Rhongomyniad slowly awakening its power under her hand.

The story of her death, the spear of her disgrace, the chain of legends was ready.

A moment later, thunderclouds seemed to swirl from the tip of the spear as thunder roared, along with a monstrous gust of wind reflecting the power of the holy cursed spear.

The story of the death of a hero began to take shape.

Nobunaga's immateriality could not give her any protection from the spear, however...

For a second, the cold mind of Artoria admitted a strange thought. 'Why is she smiling?'

"I was hoping that our fight would not end so pitifully, with a whimper as I kill you unimpeded. Now with this it's a real fight!" Oda Nobunaga looked… Happy. Looking forward, she showed a feral grin. "I was hoping so. Papiyas Metamorphosis - Demon King of a Billion Worlds."

And so the great storm of Rhongomyniad was consumed by fire.

"Why are we fighting!?" - Mordred struck blow after blow - "Why are we fighting, father?! WHY, WHY, WHY?!"

Arthuria was silent, as Mordred's blows did not reach their goal and, having solved the only problem that worried her, the reason why Mordred had not previously raised her helmet, Arthuria no longer held herself back. She started fighting with her full strength, not holding back the blows, not hesitating to end Mordred.

Mordred should have cried with happiness as her goal was in sight. Instead, she could only do her best to stifle her tears.

"WHAT FOR?!" - Mordred struck, again and again, despairing at every one she delivers. "WHY?! WHAT FOR?!"

Arthuria's retaliation were full of power, but empty of emotion. For her, it was just one more battle, just one more enemy, just one more strike of her cursed blade.

"WHY, FATHER, WHY?!" Arthuria fought calmly, looking at Mordred only as another opponent.

Mordred struck again and again, in futility as Arthuria was much stronger, much more experienced, faster and more agile than Mordred could hope to be.

As more blows were exchanged, the wounds on Mordred's body grew only more numerous and more dire. Still, Mordred gritted her teeth tighter as she clenched her blade, striking blow after blow.

'What for?' Only one question ate Mordred from the inside.

But Arthuria remained silent. She was measured. Calm. Indifferent

Mordred struck another blow before Mordred's gaze was riveted to the figure around which a storm of power was rising.

Her Father. Another father.

The father who took her in as a Knight again. The father who deigns to give her commands. A father who appreciated her.

Let her be treated as a mere soldier, as a cannon fodder. She would prefer that infinitely more than what she's feeling right now.

No emotion could hurt Mordred more than indifference.

Arthuria continued to strike calmly. Measured, as what she's striking doesn't matter.

Mordred knew that this was the end of the line for her. She could not change the outcome of this battle. Not then, in the Camlann Hills, not now, in London's distant past. Not in this duel, not in her legend. Never.

Mordred gripped her blade so hard her knuckles crunched. Even so, she could not see an enemy in front of her.

Perhaps, even now, she only wanted her father to feel something for her.

Pain or anger, joy or regret. Something, even disgust was preferable than this nothingness.

But Arthuria was silent as she marched forward, and Mordred felt the inexorable march of her defeat.

And so, facing her predetermined end, Mordred did what she would never have done before.

She lowered her blade.

Let her father wonder at her decision. Let her father laugh at her foolishness. Let her father rejoice at her mistake.

Let him experience at least something from this battle! Anything was preferable to cold indifference.

And as Mordred looked up at her approaching father. At her end, she faced his cold gaze and, facing the inevitable, closed her eyes.

At the end she heard one single word.

"Sorry," the speaker's voice was so emotionless and so quiet that anyone could say that Mordred only imagined it.

Mordred smiled. She had achieved her goal. "Excalibur Morgan."

And the Arthuria's black blade rushed towards the defenseless Mordred.

An excerpt from the non-fiction literature: "The Lesser Known Life of Gaius Julius Caesar"

... Although there is hardly a person in the world who has not heard of Gaius Julius Caesar, not many people know more about him than his famous Civil War and his assassination. Instead, many interesting facts of his life are often overlooked even by experienced historians.

In particular, although Caesar's appearance at the time of his ascendance as Emperor after seizing power as part of the Triumvirate is known to many, few can remember the fact that at the end of his life Gaius Julius Caesar had become significantly stout. (Which, sometimes, is often cited as one of the reasons for his death from the hands of the conspirators. In his youth, Gaius Julius Caesar did not shy away from outdoor activities. It was thought that if he kept up his figure, his training would be enough to survive the assassination carried out by a group of indolent senators).

Moving on to an obscure fact about his famous assassination itself. Although Caesar's zealous adherence to the Roman cult of Romulus in the last years of his life is widely known, few knew just how zealous he was. With his adherence to the cult as fervent as his persecution of the other occult communities of the Roman Empire, few know that the death of Caesar was associated, in particular, with the activities of one of the secret cults within the Roman Empire. A cult whose members and leaders were executed with Caesar's personal participation and by his personal decree literally a few days before his death…

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