Chapter 421: Kairi's Dream 

Participants in the Holy Grail War sometimes have dreams. This is likely due to the deep spiritual connection between Masters and their Servants. They experience each other's past events through dreams. This phenomenon was also commonly observed in the first three Holy Grail Wars.

Therefore, Kairi Sisigou was not at all surprised when he found himself in ancient Britain.

"Hmm, such things do happen."

This should be the past of his Servant, Mordred. Before he knew it, he was already standing beside her. The sword in her hand was the one she loved to use the most in this Holy Grail War—Clarent, the Radiant and Brilliant Royal Sword.

This weapon originally did not belong to her. It was kept in the armory by King Arthur after he acquired it, and it symbolized the throne. Later, Mordred seized this sword and declared herself as 'King,' inciting a large-scale rebellion. She then wielded this sword and challenged King Arthur to a duel.

"So, this is Camlann."

Indeed, this was the Hill of Camlann, the battlefield where Mordred led her rebel army against King Arthur's regular forces in their final battle. The legend of King Arthur, this grand tale of chivalry, concluded with this tragic war.

Arrows pierced into the lightly armored soldiers. However, Mordred, clad in her full steel armor, ignored all attacks and charged straight ahead.

Arthur, a leader with immense charisma, finally achieved the unification of Britain. Yet, why did so many soldiers support Mordred's rebellion?

There were several reasons:

First, the widespread war-weariness in the country as they approached unification.

Despite being hailed as a perfect being, the scandal between the Knight of the Lake and the Queen, which led to the King's loss of authority, was another reason.

The knights developed a fear and contempt for a king who was too pure and devoid of personal feelings.

But there was another reason.

On the battlefield, it was clear to Kairi why. Mordred's fighting style was extremely brutal. The knights' proud and grand swordsmanship appeared as fragile as dry branches before her. Though her actions seemed instinctual, they were the most efficient ways to kill.

The soldiers following her were highly motivated, marching as if releasing human instincts. Their footsteps resounded like powerful war drums. She was a natural disaster, like a tornado.

Mordred was a renowned knight. She had put in tremendous effort and indeed achieved it. Even so, had she fought as a 'knight,' she might not have had ten thousand soldiers following her.

Her strength was undeniable, and it contained a certain madness. On the battlefield, such madness was most commendable. Facing an opponent as strong as a monster, demolishing enemies like a storm, her soldiers followed her like they were possessed by her madness.

—They wanted to see what kind of bloody path this frenzied warrior would carve out.

This was a form of fanaticism, a fervent belief. The soldiers' motivation was probably no more than this. However, no matter how high their morale, their strength was still limited. The number of soldiers dwindled, hundreds and thousands being wiped out one after another.

Mordred never looked back. Soldiers—no, people would naturally increase after victory... She seemed to believe this. She prioritized attacking the areas with the most enemy soldiers. After decisively breaking through, she would charge towards the next densely packed enemy position. She annihilated all fearful, resisting, and fleeing opponents, piling up heaps of corpses.

Meanwhile, Mordred paid no heed to all the foot soldiers.

Her focus wasn't on anyone else but her father—King Arthur.

"Where is King Arthur? Where is the Knight King!?"

She shouted while cutting down the enemy soldiers surrounding her one by one. She deliberately chose to attack heavily fortified positions, thinking the King was likely there. However, as if rejected by destiny, the two never crossed paths on the battlefield.

Yet—once the barriers were gone, destiny would eventually come to fruition. Both King Arthur's forces and Mordred's rebels were almost annihilated, leaving only a field of corpses. Supporting herself on her sword, Mordred finally saw King Arthur appear before her.

Her expression was incredibly serene, showing neither pity nor hatred. Seeing her emotionless face, Mordred visibly grew impatient.

Finally, they confronted each other on the battlefield. There was almost no one left to stand in their way.

Mordred spread her arms and shouted passionately. Pouring out anger, joy, and indescribable emotions, she yelled loudly.

"How about it, King Arthur? Your kingdom ends here! It's over! Whether I win or you win—everything is already destroyed!"

Standing before her was the King, who bore a striking resemblance to Mordred, almost like a young boy.

Despite Mordred's passionate outburst, she remained unmoved, not even responding to her questions, mechanically raising her sword.

This must have been the most unforgivable response for Mordred. She let out a roar and swung her sword fiercely.

King Arthur raised her sword to meet her. The two holy swords clashed, sparking. Despite both being utterly exhausted, they fought fiercely, refusing to be outdone. However, the outcome would not change. As Mordred said, regardless of who ultimately won, the kingdom would soon perish.

"You must have known it would come to this! You must have known! If you had just given me the throne, none of this would have happened...!"

Yet, Mordred's sword did not slow down.

Born as an illegitimate child, her admiration for her father turned into hatred upon her rejection—leading them to this deadly clash on the battlefield.

—I hate you, I hate you. I hate you for being the perfect King. I hate you for never acknowledging my existence. I willingly accepted being your shadow, yet you never looked back at me.

—So this is the rightful punishment, King Arthur. I've annihilated everything you had!

"Do you hate me? Do you hate me that much? Do you hate me, Morgan's child!? Answer me... answer me, Arthur!!"

Finally, amid battle, Arthur responded. In a cold, emotionless voice, the King declared:

"I have never hated you. The reason I did not give you the throne is—"

"Because you lack the capacity to be a king."

It was a response synonymous with "indifference." It was a blunt assessment of Mordred's abilities, mercilessly deeming her unfit to be a ruler.

In that instant, Mordred, enraged beyond measure, swung her sword, while King Arthur pierced her chest with the holy spear "Rhongomyniad, the Spear of the End." No matter how strong the armor was, it was meaningless before that spear.

However, despite receiving a fatal wound, Mordred mustered her dying strength to deliver a decisive blow to King Arthur. Her helmet split in two, revealing the familiar face of a young girl that Kairi recognized.

Blood dripping from her lips, Mordred reached out towards King Arthur before her.