Friend- or not? (3)

Murphy says that anything that can go wrong will go wrong. The rule is fairly simple, or at least it does seem so at a first listening.

But when you start to ponder over the fact that it doesn't mention that you need to know said 'wrong' and why it happens, then things tend to become quite… difficult.

Just like fending off a large force of shadow men created by Morgan.

I don't exactly remember if it was me or Ria that got the first blood drawn from the approaching enemies, but I can say for sure that this clash became quite the massacre… for the attackers.

The dark magician was playing on winning by slamming a human wave made by her puppets against us. The issue was that the quantity was far too limited to match well with the quality of the fighters defending the room.

With Altuos and Merlin joining forces to distract Morgan from actively attack us with magic, the brawl was left to me, Ria, Lancelot, and Agravain. Quintus had taken the opportunity to rush out of the room, his yells for guards to rally keeping me aware of the fact that we were going to get some reprieve anytime now.

I couldn't exactly see what the others were doing as I had opted to dive in within that large multitude of faceless fiends. Glimmering in my hands as it slashed through my opponents, Crocea Mors felt terribly light compared to usual. It just felt incredibly swift, and powerful, but I had yet to activate its true power.

It took me a moment to realize that it was my adrenaline kicking in with what looked to be a fierce stand against the relentless fiends. I swirled around, with my blade soaring quickly and hitting everything in my proximity.

There was no noise except for the mud-like substance making up these unflinching monsters flying around with the unforgiving strikes. I didn't relent for a single instant over my advantage, keeping myself moving as my feet hardly kept still by the ground.

Things weren't the best possible, but I had quite the hopeful thought that this wasn't getting any worse with Morgan still distracted and incapable of producing more of the low-tier monsters.

But just as I stabbed the umpteenth shadow, I noticed that something was wrong about the situation.

While I hadn't kept the count over the number of enemies I had slain, I was quite sure that the grinding task should've already lessened the presence of so many opponents around me.

Frowning at the suspicions over the absurd circumstance, I still tried to focus on the fight rather than contemplate the lack of genuine progress in what should've been an easy task.

But the doubts kept growing and growing… until I finally realized why I wasn't getting anywhere by attacking the mob of monsters.

"They're regenerating."

I blinked in surprise as I saw a familiar frame move through a trio of shadows, bisecting these with a single horizontal slash.

"Ria, fancy seeing you still in a single piece." I muttered quietly, drawing my voice to a decibel lower than the noise of metal clashing. Arthur's eyes widened at the nickname, but she huffed as she noticed that nobody was paying attention at our little interaction.

"Jos-Joe, the situation is quite serious."

"I know," I hummed before cleaving two shadows at once. "But… kind of difficult if we have to use our real names. It is a tense moment."

"More like a senseless brawl," The blonde quickly pointed out. "We need to aim at the source. Magic like this can be broken only if the caster is killed."

"So we going after your big sister?"

She scowled at the 'affectionate title', but with a quick nod the girl confirmed the absurdly simple plan.

Go after Morgan, hopefully kill her, and then try to fix things.

Fuck, why this chaos offered so much simplicity compared to the usual normalcy!?

Still, we carefully started to make our way towards the distracted woman. The blonde was grinning as she tried to throw a magical spear at Altuos, only for Merlin to intercept the attack with a blue beam coming from his staff.

The magical exchange was fairly heated and intense, and Morgan was hardly paying attention to her surrounding as Ria and I rushed towards her.

We were moments away from landing some quick blows on her side, and I could see some surprise form by her bright eyes as she noticed this.

But then something bizarre happened… in the form of us being pushed away almost too quickly.

I saw a bright energy channel by her arm and then… we were shoved away. I found myself suddenly slamming by the floor, while Artoria was sent soaring on the wall behind me.

Wait, how did she react this quickly if there were two individuals keeping an eye on her. It was in that moment that I saw the shadow-men storming where Merlin and Altuos were, and I soon realized how isolated Ria and I were as of now.

The younger blonde was slightly non-responding. I guess a one-way trip to the stone wall was enough to put her at a brief impasse about keeping awake or not.

Knowing that I couldn't take a break away from action now more than ever with Morgan now focusing on us, I quickly stood up… only to be forced to lift up Crocea Mors to match up at the approaching blade.

The steel was familiar, and the blue decoration by the hilt gave me confirmation of how fucked the situation was.

Morgana was smiling, giddily so as she brandished Caliburn with confidence and clear understanding of swordsmanship.

Wasn't the sword supposed to be wielded only by Arthur? Or maybe I was losing a lesson or two detailing this very detail since, you know, I was busy not getting myself killed.

"Not this time," She muttered mirthfully and soon I found myself backing away from the relentless barrage of attacks thrown by the giggling mad woman. I was barely keeping up with her speed.

My defense was hardly enough to sustain the assault, and my armor was dented left and right the more strikes breached through my attempts to block her out from reaching my torso.

"You could surrender to me."

"And then what? Become your second, disposable Lot?" I inquired sarcastically. "It's quite unpleasant to think that you, a mother, would send her own children to fight for your own battle."

"Spare your final breath, Joseph," Morgan rebuked with a condescending tone. "Everyone is out for success. People die on a daily basis and you're nothing but a mere independent Pawn piece in the chessboard. It's only your fault if you decided to surrender yourself at some flimsy emotions."

"It's more of me being a good person than else," I happily reminded, keeping quiet for some time as I dodged a couple of her strikes. "And still, that doesn't justify why you've to throw others to make your bidding. That's not much kingly on your part."

A giggle left her lips. "As if a King is defined by determined rules. A king is a conqueror, a sovereign that should never be doubted in their decisions."

She suddenly leaned in, and I saw her smile deviously for a moment.

"just like you."

I snarled. "Oh please, I ain't sending my own kids to do my own laundry," I shot back with an annoyed tone. "Plus, your breath is quite stinky-"

Her pace intensified at that insult, and I instantly regretted calling out the fact that mints weren't a thing in medieval times. At least, not in the British Isles.

"Keep talking, Joseph. Your chances of living through this are close to none," Morgan added with a sigh. "It's just a colorful addition to your final demise."

"Or my ultimate comeback," I stated with a forced grin. "You know, the hero wins against the bitch and then everyone is happy."

She frowned at my words. "Surely you meant witch, you incompetent fool."

My grin widened, and her eyes narrowed dangerously as she pressed on even more with her attacks.

I almost chuckled, but then again this wasn't a laughing matter. I was getting beaten by this slender lady, and I had now to ask about this.

"Did Uther seriously train you? Like, how the heck are you this strong?"

"Too little, too late for flattering compliments, pretender," The blonde commented fiercely before pushing me down and preparing to attack me from there. "I will allow you to bow and beg for a quick death."

I blinked, squinting my eyes at the pain I was suffering from some shallow injuries forming by my sides. I wasn't planning any surrendering today… and I knew how to get a breather out of this frustrating one-sided confrontation.

"You know, if you call yourself the proper king of the country, you could at least have the decency of fixing your indecent cloth," I pointed out dryly.

The eagerness to conclude that match disappeared momentarily as an awkward and dreading expression appeared on her face as she stared down to check if her dress had some issues.

…But there wasn't any.

The real issue was a swift left hook that painfully slammed on the side of her confused face. I had my gauntlets on and I could hear the glorious iron slam on her pale skin.

Recoiling in a mix of pain and surprise, Morgan allowed me to finally stand up and make plans to what to do next now that I could think properly and without much pressure.

And just as I thought I had been blessed with a few seconds to formulate a strategy and get through with this dangerous confrontation, I saw a particularly furious blur rush onto the distracted woman and retaliate further upon her weakened state.

Ria looked… pissed. I think the term hardly generalized the amount of hatred and anger that was burning in her face as she rushed for her sword.

I guess that the little theft was enough to drove her out of her calm and sassy shell and right onto beating the crap out of her sibling. Isn't that true sister-brother(which is actually a sister) love?

It was right as I began digesting the fact that the physical beating was actually yielding some results that logic decided to crash back in that absurd context.

Artoria was sent for another flight, and this time she ended up crashing onto me. Stopping myself from tripping back down on the ground, I gave her a pat on the shoulder before letting her stand on her own.

"Can you please not rush like that?"

"She got my sword!"

"I can see that," I added with a nod. "But… shouldn't we be planning something instead of-"

"I will kill you, Arthur!" Morgan shrieked furiously. A broken nose and various cuts across her upper body would make everyone as pissed as she was. "And I will use the very symbol that made you defy the truth. I'm the rightful ruler, you usurper."

Just as that proclamation ended, I sobered up at the sight of Caliburn starting to burn a bright golden. Just like Crocea Mors would when its true potential was unlocked.

Gritting my teeth, I started to run towards the wounded magician, ignoring the shouts from Ria and the approaching figures that were Lancelot and Agravain.

I hadn't noticed that the shadow-men had disappeared… but I really had a good reason to be this much distracted by the world as a whole.

While I didn't know what exactly Caliburn's true power would do, I knew well enough that it wasn't anything about close quarters if the user was currently keeping her distance even now.

So I had to get close and personal again, and hopefully disrupt her efforts to release the accumulating energy within the sword.

"You think you can just approach me like this? Do you fail to see that your intervention is inconsequential before someone of my kind and power?" The blonde pointed out sternly. "Why do you think approaching me now that you're severely weakened and outmatched will make the difference?!"

I could almost see the classic violet-colored 'menacing' exuding out of the dangerous woman.

Instead of letting her strong words push me down, I found the meme actually bring me more energy in my swift rush.

"Good grief, how do you think I should kill you if I don't get close enough?!" I half-yelled, my blade already burning a brighter gold. "Crocea Mors!"

Her eyes widened a little bit at my response, and she interrupted her energy channeling to… turn Caliburn right at my approaching attack.

The energy that had accumulated in her sword slammed right onto the weapon that was once Caesar's.

I felt my entire body tremble at the immediate clash as the two magical swords started to fight over which of the two was the superior one.

The second most famous blade in the Arthurian Circle, or the sword that led Julius Caesar to many of his first few victories?

I could feel my core explode in raw frustration as I tried to push her back, but the clash soon developed in a fierce stalemate that saw us both strain before the might of the weapons in our hold.

"This sword- it was made to represent the truest king. You dare compare yourself a monarch when you yourself doubt every step you take. A failure of a claimant that shall be squashed by my magic and my brother's sword!"

Dark electricity started to spread across the surface of Caliburn, and soon I felt getting pushed back by an ever-increasing amount of power being funneled in that powerful blade.

I put everything I got left in that strike, drawing onto the 'magical energy' that Altuos had me just tap into for some minor magecraft concepts. Huffing, I lessened the pressure exerted by Morgan, but I was way too far from actually stop her advance.

My hopes were crumbling fast, with my jaws dropping as I spotted several cracks forming on the surface of Crocea Mors.

Was that it? Was I going to die like this?

If I lost this clash, I was going to get hit by Morgan. There was no way for me to dodge a follow-up hit from her.

"You're a mere commoner that got lucky. A simpleton that is trying to wage a senseless campaign against true monarchs. A faker and-!"

I was losing badly, I knew that defeat was around the corner, but just as the blonde sprouted the umpteenth about her being superior, and me being a worm, I noticed Caliburn actually… cracking under the pressure created by the clash and the sudden energy increase.

I blinked, and we both knew that something was off with the supposedly stronger sword. Something had intensified its decline to a point where it was weakening faster than Crocea Mors.

It was now or never-!

Snarling furiously, I pushed with renewed might over the clash, capitalizing over Morgan's shock to push her back to our original position and crack even more at the shattering blade.

And then… I pushed even harder. I saw Crocea Mors pass through the single entity stopping its powerful attack, splitting Caliburn in two halves in the process.

Blood spurted out of the woman's shoulder as the trajectory of my weapon saw her left one nicked by the sharp end of the sword.

She recoiled in horror and pain, her hold over the handle of Caliburn trembling before letting the object slip out of her hand.

"Y-You-" Her wide eyes showed a moment of true terror before my victory, but I had yet to seal my success. I took just a step in and… the world went blank.

Or rather, the world went blank only for me.

I hadn't expected for a panicked Morgan to actually act through that situation, yet her right hand swiftly reached for Crocea Mors' bladed edge to push it close to my chest… before throwing a spell that replicated an earthquake through the sword.

The blade finally cracked and shattered… but so did the floor beneath us and my ribs.

I spat blood before tripping backward in a moment of sudden stiffness. My body was shivering, my skin growing pale at the amount of pain I was going through.

I was breathing blood, but I could still feel my lungs work through the stress. No punctured lung, the joy.

I coughed again, and this time I heard footsteps approaching.

Morgan didn't linger. I couldn't exactly understand if this was fear or surprise dictating her hasty retreat despite her comeback. I was there, bleeding on the floor as everyone finally rushed at me.

Quintus had returned, but soldiers weren't needed in this specific circumstances.

I could see white strands of hair and a pair of crying red eyed over my face as my sight grew fuzzier.

Please God, don't let me die like this in front of her.

My consciousness slipped more and more, the drain on my body's energies because of the battle and the final clash taking a serious toll on my capacity to keep awake.

Voices turned indistinguishable, and I felt my sense of perception faltering to a numb sensation.

I closed my eyes, and I prayed this wasn't how I died.

With a broken Crocea Mors and a tired mind, Joseph slipped away in unconsciousness, his conditions critical and closing up to true death…