From Mortal To Divinity

"Come now little one, has your years spent in Camelot made you soft?" I taunt Mordred as I easily duck under her slash and punch her in the stomach, sending her flying back. "Your twelve year old self put up a much better fight than this."

"Don't call me that, I'm not a little child anymore." says Mordred as she lands on her feet, slides backwards, and uses her sword to slow down her momentum. "Besides, you're probably cheating."

"You will always be my little child, whether you're five years old or a century old." I tell her with a smile as I ignore her comment about me cheating.

It has been around seven years since Mordred's birth and she is already fully grown, and has been a member of the Knights of the Round Table for six years. Having fully grown up, Mordred no longer looks like a child. She now stands at five feet two inches, and looks exactly like her canon counterpart, with her two inches being the only difference in the looks department. While physically she may look exactly like her canon counterpart, her armor and weapons are a different story

Unlike her canon counterpart, Mordred's armor is not a thick armor that wraps around her form. Rather she wears the standard armor of a knight over a red and silver tunic, almost exactly like proto saber. The armor parts are silver in color. While the tunics part is red with silver accents. Over her head she wears a knightly helm that only covers her face from the nose up and her jaw. Unlike proto saber, her armor does not possess a hood to cover her head.

"I know that,-" she says with a pout, bringing me out of my train of thought. "-but you don't have to say it so loudly. Besides, how would I face my fellow knights if they heard me being called like that by you. I would lose all of the respect that I earned as Camelot's greatest knight."

We are currently situated in one of the training grounds in Camelot for a spar. Ever since she joined the Knights of the Round Table, she and I have not been able to spend much time with each other. At first it was due to the campaign against the invading Saxons which took about two years, and was where she was named Camelot's Greatest and Controversial Knight. Greatest Knight because she adheres to the code of chivalry the strictest, and controversial because she only did so when not on the battlefield. Once on the battlefield she takes a very 'anything goes' mindset that I had to drill into her head. However once the campaign ended, I was far too busy with putting the finishing touches to the Association's foundation. Luckily enough, I was able to delegate the last of the work to Romani Animusphere and Julius Archibald.

"I do not know why you worry." I say as I launch myself at her and conjure a roman gladius. "You and Lancelot are the only members of the Round Table of note currently in Camelot, everyone else is off to face Tiberius and his forces."

"Regardless, I don't want Lancelot to hear it." she answers as she parries my first strike and attempts to use her momentum to slash my arm.

"Why not? Is he not the epitome of what a knight should be in terms of chivalry, almost on par with you?" I ask her as I retract my arm to dodge her slash, then return with a stab at an opening that she tends to ignore.

"Well yes,-" she replies and parries my stab. "-but he tells Guinevere everything, and she would never let me live it down."

"Hmmm." I hum back in reply.

While Lancelot and Guinevere's affair was never made public, Artoria, Morgan, Mordred, Scathach and I know. Morgan found out, and in an action befitting of an older sister, informed Artoria who decided to act as if she is ignorant to it. Naturally Morgan also informed Mordred, Scathach and I in a rant about why letting an incubus raise a child is a terrible idea, especially one 'as incompetent, idiotic, smug, and incapable as Merlin'.

"By the way,-" I say as I dodge a slash from her. "-I never did find out what happened with Merlin. Were you and your mother able to take care of him."

"You don't know?" she asks, he voice full of shock causing her to miss a step and barely parry my counterattack. "Mother was ranting about it for months."

"Ranting?" I ask as I duck under a stab and attempt to sweep her feet out from under her, only for her to jump and barely miss my head with a kick. "What could have possibly happened for her to rant?"

"Well, Artoria forbid any form of physical or magical confrontation between the two." replies Mordred as she attempts to use the momentum of her fall down to earth in order to stab me, only for me to roll out of the way causing the sword to strike the earth instead.

"Wait." I say as I launch myself back to my feet. "When did you find out about Arthur actually being Artoria?"

"Oh, mother told me before I joined the Round Table." replies Mordred as she twirls her sword in her hand. "She also told me that she got the s.p.e.r.m to make me from her, so that makes Artoria my father/aunt. But don't worry father, you'll always be my only father. Artoria is just my King. Besides she doesn't even know, she just thinks that she's my aunt."

"And you will always be my favorite child." I tell her with a smile. "So, what happened to Merlin? I have not seen him around during the week that I have been here."

"Well, since mother could not kill him without costing her relationship with Artoria, she went looking for someone who could." explains Mordred as she once again sets herself into a fighting stance. "She found the woman called Vivian, and apparently Merlin did something to piss her off after she gave Artoria Excalibur. Somehow he heard about mother's plan to team up with Vivian and ran away. No one has seen him ever since and mother has this evil look in her eyes whenever someone asks her where he is"

I truly have missed a lot. How did I not notice any of these events happening? Knowing how much of a vindictive woman that Morgan has become towards her enemies, I refuse to believe that she would not have gloated extensively. Especially since whatever she has done should have been enough to make the curse moot. Thinking about it now, I must admit that other than spending time with Scathach, researching a way to save Mordred, and help with the foundation of the Clocktower, I have done nothing else.

I am so engrossed in my thoughts that I barely notice Mordred approaching me in an attempt to disarm me and finish the spar. Before our spar can continue however, an explosion rocks the castle and Lancelot is thrown through the walls of one of the towers and sent hurtling towards Mordred and I. Reacting in a split second, Mordred catches Lancelot and helps him gather himself.

"Lancelot what is going on?" questions Mordred.

Lancelot is a robust man, fully clad in armor. However, instead of black like his Berserker class, his armor is of l.u.s.trous dark slate blue, or deep purple color depending on how the light reflects from it. It is filled with veils and pieces of gold throughout. His sword, Arondight, however, possesses the same color and appearance to his iteration as Berserker's sword. His eyes are a light purple and his hair is of the same color. Said hair is incredibly spiky and parted over to the left.

"We are under attack." replies Lancelot as he catches his breath. "Many of our brothers in arms have already fallen to the foul beast."

"A beast?" asks Mordred with a frown as her voice deepens and her way of speaking takes a format similar to mine. "How can a beast possibly defeat many of our brothers? Even if they aren't as skilled or powerful as us, they are still a force to be reckoned with."

"Do not underestimate this beast Mordred." replies Lancelot as he straightens himself out. "Not only is it intelligent, but it is also a perfect counter to our weapons. Its darkness devours the light of any holy swords."

"That seems to be a problem that only you have my friend." says Mordred as she holds up her sword with a grin. "My sword is certainly not of the holy variety."

And she is correct, her sword does not fall under the category of holy. It is a sword that Morgan, Scathach and I made specifically for her. It has anti-magic properties that render magical enhancements and projections useless by severing all ties with magical energy, inflicts wounds that cannot be healed naturally or with magecraft, and the ability to turn into a spear. It is bound to her, making her the only person able to wield it. The inspiration for it came in the form of Diarmuid's spears Gae Buidhe and Gae Dearg. While I did not play a role in Diarmuid's legend, I still made sure to be present during it to glimpse at his spears.

As a sword it takes a form reminiscent of Durandal, only smaller due to it being designed for Mordred who is very much petite and too small to handle Durandal effectively. The only other difference is that the handle's color is red instead of gold.

To transform into a spear, the handle simply extends while the blade retracts until it takes the perfect dimensions for a wielder the size of Mordred.

"Enough chatter you two. The enemy is coming." I inform Lancelot and Mordred as I turn to face the hole from which Lancelot flew from.

As the enemy approaches I can feel a dark and evil presence permeate the air. Although it is currently noon and the sun is not clouded, the surroundings darken as if the world is being plunged into darkness.

Soon enough the enemy becomes visible, and yet that does not help us identify the enemy at all for their very being is enshrouded in darkness. Standing at a staggering seven feet tall, the enemy can easily be made out as a humanoid. Yet, when I activate my domain to sense their presence it is as if the enemy is a black hole in the world. No matter how much I try, I cannot truly sense it, only the hole its presence creates, and a faint draconic aura.

"Identify yourself, intruder." orders Mordred as she steps forward.

Instead of answering, the intruder simply launches itself at her and attempts to swipe what looks to be claws across her face. Mordred simply ducks under the attacker and stabs towards its unprotected stomach. Instead of piercing it, the sword simply makes a sound as it bounces off what sounds like metal, or a tough material that very much resembles the scales of a dragon.

Before the creature can land I launch myself at it and slam my left fist into what I believe would be its jaw. The blow sends it flying yet I can tell that it has received no damage whatsoever. With a frown on my face I dissipate the gladius in my right hand and summon my spear. Without wasting a second, I race towards the creature and attempt to plunge my spear into his heart. The creature manages to catch the blade before it reaches his chest, causing it to pierce through his hand instead. In retaliation the creature releases a bestial roar before releasing a breath attack that catches me by surprise and sends me flying. Collecting myself, I twist in midair, land on my feet, and slide to a stop.

With a pained grunt, the enemy attempts to grip my spear, only to receive a severe amount of electrical shock causing it to once again roar in pain. Once the creature releases the spear I recall it back to me and immediately notice flakes of scales on it that came off from where it placed its hand.

Examining the scales, I am able to identify them as dragon scales from my experience of killing a wyvern during my centuries of wandering with Scathach. Wyverns are a subspecies of dragon. Compared to their normal dragon brethren, wyverns are smaller, lack frontal claws, and possess slightly weaker scales.

"Be careful." I instruct Lancelot and Mordred as I wipe the flakes from my spear. "That is no ordinary creature, it is a dragon, and from what I have been able to sense, it is no normal dragon. Its presence creates a hole in the world, for lack of a better term. It also seems to be empowered by the land."

"Well done human." speaks the dragon for the first time. Its voice deep, rough, and very ominous. "Although I am not surprised, for she warned me of your intelligence."

"She?" I cannot help but ask as a theory of mine becomes more and more plausible. "Who do you speak of?"

"Morgan, of course." replies the dragon. "Did you honestly believe that the curse placed on her was that simple? No, its true purpose was to burrow into her being the longer it was placed on her, allowing me to perfectly control her. Morgan my dear, why don't you show yourself."

As soon as the words leave his mouth Morgan appears by his side wearing the exact same clothes that she wore when Scathach and I caught her mistreating a five year old Mordred, a black veil over her face and a black and blue dress revealing her red markings on her chest, navel and abdomen.

"There you are my dear." he says as he grabs her shoulder and pulls her close to him. "You see I do not believe that humans should rule Britain, let alone Camelot. Yet I never knew how to go about taking the throne, especially with that meddlesom wizard Merlin always foiling my assassination plans. Howe-"

Without waiting for him to speak any further, I race towards Morgan at my maximum speed, sever the dragon's arm that holds her with my spear, grab her by the shoulder, and teleport us to the castle. Using her disorientation as an opening, I waste no time and activate the teleportation chamber's defensive arrays, specifically the decontamination array, and send an SOS to Scathach via a runic array tattooed on our bodies. As Morgan attempts to retaliate I activate an array tattooed on her body that immobilises her.

When Scathach first noticed the curse on Morgan, she was frustrated by her inability to remove it. Especially since we never anticipated that someone would be better at any form of magecraft than her. However, she quickly figured out that the curse had a second function and her inability to discern its second function is the cause of her inability to remove it. So we bid our time and prepared for the worse while continuing to search for a method to remove it, even going as far as to outsource to the Icecolle family, proficient practitioners of the dark arts. Eventually we theorised that until the second function activates, Morgan rids herself of whatever drives her hatred, or the caster is killed, then the curse cannot be removed. As such we kept the most important information found on the curse to ourselves lest the caster finds out how close we are to removing it and decides to do something drastic.

"The second function of the curse activated?" asks Scathach as she rushes into the teleportation chamber.

"Yes." I reply as I hand Morgan over to her. "Take care of her, I must return to Camelot and deal with the caster."

Once Morgan is secured safely within her arms, I teleport myself back to the battlefield using the array tattooed on Mordred.

The first thing I notice upon my arrival is the presence of a very injured Artoria and Bedivere assisting Lancelot and Mordred in the battle against a massive black dragon with its severed arm already regrown. Its body seems to simply sap the light out of anything holy. Even now as I charge towards the dragon I notice the light of Arondight extinguish while Excalibur's bright light is reduced to a glow only comparable to a weak bonfire.

Without hesitating, I launch myself at my foe's head in an attempt to spear him through the skull, in response he once again uses his dragon's breath against me, sending me flying. Landing on my feet, I take the time to reevaluate the situation only for Artoria to be sent flying next to me.

"Why are you not healing?" I ask her with a frown.

"Morgan possesses Avalon." replies Artoria through gritted teeth, showing far more emotion than her canon counterpart.

Throughout her years as a King, Artoria has taken my speech to heart and has made it a habit to no longer hide her emotions and not act like a human. While she has had some success, enough to satisfy the people, she still struggles since she has spent her whole life doing the opposite.

"Where are the rest of your knights?" I ask her, despite my hunch telling me that they are dead and that this dragon was somehow in leagues with Lucius Tiberius.

"Dead." she replies with a voice full of anger as we dodge another breath attack. "Tiberius and Vortigern were in league with one another. I do not know what he offered Tiberius, only that his forces were empowered by some form of witchcraft, Tiberius included. Bedivere and I barely survived the battle as it was before we rushed back to Camelot."

"Hmmm." I simply hum back as I send a bolt of lightning towards the now named Vortigern with my firebending. "Withdraw along with your knights, I will deal with this."

"No." firmly replies Artoria. "To withdraw would be to fail as the defenders of Camelot."

"I cannot utilise the full extent of my abilities if I have to worry about you and your knights being caught in the crossfire." I inform her as I throw my spear at the dragon's neck causing him to roar in pain as it plunges through his scales.

"We can be of use." stubbornly replies Artoria.

"This is not a simple request." I tell her as I turn to face her and stare into her eyes with a wolfglare that would make Lupa proud. "Heed my advice or Mordred will be the only one of your knights to survive this battle. The choice is yours."

Before she can answer however, I tendril of darkness rises from the ground and launches itself towards her chest. As I move to intercept it, someone else does before me and pushes Artoria away from behind while getting pierced inches from the heart themselves.

"MORDRED!" I scream as I catch her falling body and inscribe a runic shield to surround us. "Why would you do something so stupid?"

"I-i-it's a-a-a knight's d-duty to protect o-others, especially t-their K-King." she weakly coughs out. "Y-you taught me that."

Looking over her wound, I can tell that I will not be able to heal it. Not when it has an effect similar to Gae Buidhe. My best option is to preserve her soul and transfer it into another homunculus body.

"D-don't." orders Mordred with a cough as I prepare to take her soul from her body. "J-just let me die. That's the only way for me to ascend to the throne of heroes and become the greatest k-knight to ever live."

Wiping a tear from my eyes, I cannot help but give her a sad smile as she breathes her last.

Gently placing her back on the ground, I dissolve my runic shield and survey the battlefield. I immediately notice a fatally injured Artoria barely standing as Lancelot and Bedivere protect her.

For now I decide to ignore my grief knowing that Mordred died this day because I held back on the battlefield. I will have time to feel emotions later after I dispose of this nuisance of a dragon.

Summoning my spear back to my hand, I let my domain encompass the battlefield as I slam the butt of my spear on the ground and let my teleportation arrays spread throughout my domain. Once that is done, I teleport in front of Bedivere and block a blow that would have surely killed him. Without wasting a second, I teleport above the dragon to thrust my spear through his skull, only for him to look up and attempt to use his dragon's breath against me. I dodge the attack by teleporting in front of his torso and piercing my spear through his heart. To make sure that he dies I turn the thrust into a slash and open up his chest, allowing for the blood in his heart to spill completely onto me. With an anguished roar, the dragon falls on his side and dies.

Not bothering to clean myself or paying any mind to the surviving knights, I make my way to Mordred's corpse, gently pick her up, and teleport to the castle.