74

Fate in Denial c74

January 11

"Oi, stop! Let me kill you!" Mordred exclaimed as she swung her Clarent at a curly, brown-haired, looking nobleman.

"So uncivilised! I am here to write a story that will last thousands of years!" Shakespeare said annoyedly as he dodged everything the Knight of Rebellion threw at him.

"You can do that after I cut you down!" Saber of Red was starting to get annoyed, like super annoyed; she had never faced someone who could dodge her sword swings like that!

"That's not how it works! Since I was summoned here, I must leave another Masterpiece behind!"

This time, he dodged several arrows coming his way.

Atalante slowly lowered her bow as her eyes were wide.

A realisation washed over her.

'A Noble Phantasm? No, a personal skill like mine Beyond Arcadia.'

"As impressive as always! Sadly, you are not one of the main characters."

"Shut the fuck up! I am going to stab you!" Mordred swung with a blade full of red lightning, but again, Shakespeare dodged without issues.

"As a support character, you should just do your duties and let me do mine."

The Knight of Treachery's eyebrows twitched as she lifted her sword, and energy started to gather. She is going to use her Noble Phantasm! That's it! No more niceties!

Atalante jumped away and watched this from a distance. She was getting ready to snipe once again.

'There should be some sort of requirements for his personal skill's activation, just like how mine does.' The Huntress narrowed her eyes and watched Mordred use her red beam on Shakespeare.

She watched closely how the beam descended, but the playwright dodged at the last moment.

The lion girl's eyes gleamed as she got an idea.

She noticed that Shakespeare had to look at incoming threats to dodge them properly.

That means he won't be able to dodge if the threat is something he is unaware of.

The archer pulled her bowstring and aimed at the playwright's back and then shot at him.

As the arrow flew, it hit its mark!

Atalante grinned as the arrow struck true!

The Caster flew several metres away before slowly standing up and looking at Archer.

"Now that was backhanded. Very well, it appears my time here is close to an end. Before I go, however, I would like to show you a tragedy."

"...a—what?"

Atalante and Mordred looked confused.

"...First Folio, when the curtain rises, it will be like ten thousand thunders."

The book in Shakespeare's hand glowed as the pages started to flip.

"Damn! That bastard used his Noble Phantasm! Archer! Shoot that book!" The Knight of Rebellion exclaimed, but bright light confused both of them.

When Atalante got herself together, she was face-to-face with her past.

Like a broken record, she witnessed her powerlessness. Shakespeare's Noble Phantasm is simple: it's a tragedy. Like a worm, it worms inside people's hearts and forces them to live with their regrets.

For Atalante, it's not her abandonment or wild upbringing but her powerlessness to help others not to experience what she had to go through.

She only knows how to hunt, which she is good at.

Yet, this is not enough to save all the orphans she wants. That was where the Noble Phantasm attacked her. Like a broken record, she was bombarded with failures to protect children from dire fates.

"...N-No…"

Again—

"...No…"

And again—

"...Stop it…"

If Shakespeare had been here in person, he could have done more than just show an image of her greatest fears.

But then someone pulled her into a hug.

The images stopped like someone pressed the stop button.

Ren's voice proceeded to soothe the Huntress.

"Relax, this was just an illusion; the scriptwriter played on your greatest fears."

Even if he said that, the Huntress embraced her hug, her tail coiled around his waist.

"...Master…you have to help me; I don't want to experience what I saw here. I am only good at hunting. But it's not enough." Atalante, softly with a sombre voice, spoke to him. By this point, she has no idea why she is telling all that.

"Of course, if I weren't interested in helping you, I wouldn't have invested my time." He hugged her tightly.

"Hnnn~ We still need to race if you want— the remaining piece of my heart." She said that while lifting her eyes and looking at his face.

There was a little bit of that cockiness of the huntress.

"That is given. But do you truly want to race someone who alters time with a mere thought?" He asked with concern. It's not that he won't race. He wouldn't be able to race properly, in a sense. His perception is detached from ordinary people.

"Hmm, I see your point. But I have to stick with what makes me, me." Atalante didn't move on that. She knows she will lose, but her pride demands to lose in a proper competition.

"I suppose that is true. Very well." He agreed with her desires. His gaze then went towards where Mordred was.

Unlike Atalante, it's far worse for the Knight of Rebellion. As a Servant who can be summoned as a Berserker, she doesn't need much to lose her cool.

~~~

"Come on! Bulge already!" Mordred roared angrily as she tried to pull out the Sword of Selection.

Nothing works; she tried different types of grips, Mana Burst, but nothing worked!

"Damn it all! Damn it! DAMN IT! I won't lose like this! I will be a better King than my father! And you stupid thing won't stop me!!!"

As she furiously roared, she still tried to pull it out. Even if she said that she doesn't care, she is still doing it. As bravado is one thing, but pulling out the blade is another!

"You still don't understand?"

A familiar voice brought her out of her growing fury!

Her gaze snapped to the side as she looked at her father standing there with a poker face. This was not the same father she saw with the Sorcerer. This was her legit King Arthur with that poker face.

"Are you here to laugh at me?"

"No, I am here to clarify what I said that day. Since you didn't understand."

"That day?"

Mordred had a flashback. She remembered the day she confronted her father about her legitimacy to the throne.

"When I said you are not fit to be the next King, I didn't mean the circumstances of your birth or bloodline.

What I mean is personality. The Sword won't accept you because of your shortcomings as a person. Brash, badmouthed, lack of discipline, easy to anger, those are not traits of a King.

You need to be a knight first, a king second. That is what it means to be King of Knights."

Multiple emotions were going through the face of Mordred; she eventually frowned heavily.

"I don't want to be the next King of Knights. That's your title."

"Yet, you wanted my throne to be my heir." She disappeared after saying that.

The next moment, the whole illusion of the Sword of Selection disappeared.

Mordred looked around, realising that this was just an illusion.

Ren, who was still hugging the lion girl, smiled. He summoned a partial version of Artoria from the Throne of Heroes to explain stuff to Mordred.

That was, of course, the version which didn't experience being around him.

"Sorcerer! I wish to fight my father one more time!" The Knight of Rebellion looked at Ren, who was still cuddling with the Huntress.

"Are you sure?"

"I do not care if she is stronger, more powerful, or anything like that."

"Hmm, what about you fighting the proper version of your father? The one which was not corrupted by modern times?" Ren suggested to her he knew his Artoria didn't want to fight Mordred anymore.

So, he is suggesting an alternative.

"...You can do that?"

"Yeah?"

"Fine, then I agree."

The girl agreed with a grin; this would be even better than she initially thought.

"Good, give me a few seconds." He looked away, towards—somewhere.

"Huh?"

…

…

…

"Huh!?"

Loud cheers followed as Mordred realised she was in an arena!

"W-Wait— this is—" She looked around with awe and shock. Even a musclehead like her knows what this place is! This was the Coliseum!

The building is famous worldwide, where epic fights used to be held.

However, she found it strange that the building was at its peak! It looks fresh. Like the Romans recently finished its construction!

"Impressive, is it not?"

A familiar voice spoke in front of her.

Mordred looked forward; she saw her father standing there with her golden sword; a smoky aura was around the blade. She was ready to fight.

"I used only to imagine how this place used to look like. Now I can see it fresh."

"A perfect location to settle this once and for all." Mordred agreed as she got into her stance.

"In a way. Prepare yourself, Mordred. This time, no tricks, no curses, no extra weapons, only swords!"

"I wouldn't want it any other way!"

The pair lunged at each other with Mana Burst after eyeing each other for a few moments.

At the same time, in the royal stands, a group of people were watching.

"My younger self looks so stiff," Artoria commented while eating a burger. Her burger looks very high class, unlike Saber Alters, who was eating a Whopper from Burger King.

"Hah! That's how you looked when we first met in Emiya's house."

"At least clean yourself before commenting." Morgan sighed as she cleaned up the ketchup from her mouth.

"...R-Right, sorry." Alter looked ashamed; she nodded like a small girl.

In the meantime, the King of Knights grinned with a smirk, seeing her fallen version 'suffer' like that.

"I assume their powers were not tampered with?" Morgan asked her husband as she destroyed the dirty tissue with her magic.

"Nope, they have a limitless power supply, but that's about it. They can't lose just because they have no energy." He explained to her.

"I assume this is because Artoria has Dragon Core and Mordred doesn't?"

"Indeed. Mordred might have the genes but not the perks of Merlin's machinations."

The moment he mentioned Merlin, the pair of Artorias and Morgan grimaced.

"I see that's why they have endless Mana?"

"Indeed, I don't want Mordred to complain that she lost because she doesn't have Dragon Core." Ren's eyes rolled, and his wife joined in that regard.

"I am more concerned than we were in the past, watching a fight between the King of Knights and Knight of Rebellion in a packed Coliseum," Ereshkigal commented as she finally could watch something entertaining!

"Relax, I rented the Coliseum from a Roman Emperor," Ren explained.

"...What?"

"Yeah, I gave her an audio system for singing practice. She was more than happy to lend the Coliseum for a day." The Sorcerer brightly smiled at her.

"...Ugh…"

"As expected from my husband." Morgan was pleased that he could arrange something like this to get the best experience at the war's end, which only lasted a single evening.

It's funny how the preparations lasted longer than the war itself.

Well, they attribute this to reckless behaviour from the Red and Black factions.

"I am more concerned that you did this so randomly," Jeanne sighed. Still, she was enjoying her food.

More than she should. She should try to reprimand her Master, but the sweats are just too good.

"He did that because Mordred suffered from Shakespeare's Noble Phantasm," Atalante commented as she ate her apple pie.

"Hoh? Is his Noble Phantasm that good?" Morgan casually asked.

"The stronger the being, the more lethal is his Noble Phantasm."

Morgan's eyebrow went up.

Now, she was curious.

"And no, you are not getting anywhere near him. I forbid you." Ren said seriously.

The Fairy Queen pouted for a second.

…

…

…

"Umm, not that I am complaining, but what am I doing here?" the Necromancer asked with a confused look; he doesn't mind the free beer, but this is too much…

"Mordred is your Servant. Think of this as a freebie to enjoy Roman hospitality." Ren casually explained as he looked at the pair fighting.