Legend of the Giants of the Imperial Palace

Shirou nodded, and handed the serum to Jeanne: "Ruler, I'll leave it to you, hurry up and give it to my master."

Joan of Arc took the serum and ran to Thousand Worlds Tree Castle.

This made Lion Jie and Mordred stunned.

"You want to use this serum for your master? Didn't you agree to use it in the decisive battle?" Mordred's eyes widened, "Assassin, are you plotting against someone again?"

"Well, soldiers are not tired of cheating, my master has a poisoned heart transplanted, and it has lasted for a long time now, I am worried that she will not be able to survive, so I let the ruler receive the serum and give it to her.

If you know the situation is so urgent, you must blackmail me, right?At least not as smoothly as it is now.And I'm not lying to you.With so many serums, a little bit is enough for detoxification.At that time, the decisive battle will definitely be enough. "

"Cut—" Mordred turned his head in dissatisfaction, "After all, isn't it a calculation?"

Shirou clapped his hands in embarrassment: "Okay, okay, let me count it. But you have also received corresponding rewards, haven't you? For example, it allows you to return to the moment when you were elected the king."

Mordred held his breath and nodded: "Then, come on, assassin."

Chapter 68 Mordred

The breeze is blowing, the grass is slightly slanted, and there is a small town in the distance.

Not many people, just an ordinary town.

At this time, everyone should be working, there are not too many people wandering around, just like usual, living an unhurried life, without too many worries and troubles.

But for Mordred—

This is the time to choose the king.

More than a thousand years ago, a young girl stood in front of the sword of choosing the king, hearing the sound of wind and birds in this breeze.

There was no one around the rock except her.

To be precise, it was after countless knights failed to draw their swords that this area was left empty.

Everyone thought it impossible to draw the sword.

Mordred stepped forward, hesitated for a while, and touched the hilt of the Sword in the Stone with his fingertips.

"Before picking up this thing, it's better to think carefully."

Quietly, a magician appeared behind Mordred.

The surroundings have changed and become more ancient, and the fireworks rising from the village seem to be ancient Britain.

Mordred was a little surprised.

The nearby assassins have disappeared, and my own master is not here, so this is——

A young girl, dressed very plainly, which was the standard dress of British farmers at that time.She stepped forward, and Mordred stepped aside.

The girl stood firmly in front of the sword in the stone.

The clothes didn't seem to be dirty due to work, it must be someone who is usually very tidy so that the clothes are not tattered.

This is very in line with Mordred's impression of her, she is always correct and ideal like this.

Mordred was in a trance, as if he had returned to the past.

This person, she knew, would never forget.

Arturia.

Arturia, who was still a girl, stretched out her right hand, grasped the hilt of the sword, and took a deep breath.

Right at this moment-

"I won't hurt you, so don't do that.

Once you take that sword, you will cease to be human until the very end.Not only that, once you pick it up, you will be hated by all humans until you die. "

Mordred's pupils shrank slightly, and he looked in front of him in horror.

The scene in front of him began to distort.

The words of the magician turned into a reflection, and Mordred saw the scene clearly.

That's prophecy.

Once he picked up the sword, no matter how hard he struggled, he would just leave alone and tragically.

The magician has foreseen it.

Mordred also foresaw it, she saw that Arturia's last efforts were all in vain, and it was she who ended all of Artoria's efforts.

"Do not."

The fear on the girl's face dissipated after a while, and turned into firmness.

The people of Britain have been struggling for a long time in the dark age, and they are all looking forward to the king predicted by the magician, and this king can only be her.

"Is that all right?" asked the magician.

With her golden sand-like hair fluttering in the wind, she nodded.

Mordred subconsciously shook his head, trying to dissuade the girl.

She also saw Artoria's struggle, the constant struggle, but in the end she was shattered by herself.