"A sword that chooses the king or something like that… honestly, don't believe it so easily. Just hearing about it already sounds suspicious. And from what I know, that so-called sword is already broken on top of that."
"Huh?"
Hearing Leon say this so casually, Mordred blinked, clearly surprised. It was the first time she had heard something like that, and the mere possibility already seemed to shake one of the few certainties she still held.
Leon shrugged, maintaining a casual, almost provocative tone.
"What? A sword that, once pulled out, automatically makes you the King of Britain… doesn't that sound a bit too suspicious to you? Either it's a very convenient inside story… or it's simply a well-crafted scam. Are we really supposed to believe something like that without questioning it?"
"Your Highness… are you saying that the sword is actually a scheme by the King of Knights? That… that's impossible!"
Mordred's eyes widened, visibly shaken. Her reaction was almost like someone who had just discovered that the idol she revered had completely collapsed.
And, deep down, that was exactly it.
Despite harboring resentment toward Artoria Pendragon after being rejected, the figure of the King of Knights still occupied an extremely high place in her heart.
She trusted that person's character.
After all, Artoria was the promised king, the perfect embodiment of knightly ideals. The idea that something as symbolic as the Sword that Chooses the King could be a fraud simply didn't fit the image Mordred had of her.
However…
"Yes, as far as I know, Artoria Pendragon wouldn't do something like that. But… did you forget a certain scoundrel?"
"…Merlin!"
Mordred understood immediately.
The face of that white-haired mage appeared in her mind—a man who, in her opinion, absolutely deserved to be beaten several times over. Her entire body reacted instinctively: her fists clenched, and faint sparks of energy crackled around her.
The King of Knights wouldn't deceive anyone…
But that shameless mage, on the other hand, was more than capable of such a thing—without a doubt.
"Now that I think about it… it makes sense…" Mordred muttered through gritted teeth. "There's no such thing as a sword that simply decides who becomes king. If something like that worked… then it was that damned mage pulling the strings behind the scenes!"
Her thoughts quickly connected the dots.
"So that's why only Artoria could draw the sword… that bastard must have arranged everything for her from the very beginning!"
"Damn it… that scoundrel should be eliminated!"
Leon stroked his chin thoughtfully, then snapped his fingers with a faint smile.
"Well… even if we can't kill him, imprisoning him would be enough. The world I intend to create doesn't need people that troublesome… especially that flower mage."
He raised his thumb, as if sealing Merlin's fate right then and there.
After that conversation, Mordred's obsession with Caliburn diminished drastically. Not only because of the possibility that it was a fraud, but also because the sword itself was already damaged—which, for someone like her, removed much of its appeal.
Not long after, the two held a simple knighting ceremony.
When it was over, Mordred stood still for a few seconds, still processing everything that had just happened.
She had never imagined that, after being cast out of Camelot by the King of Knights, she would find another king willing to accept her… and more than that, to acknowledge her.
Her fists slowly tightened.
This time… it would be different.
[This man… is a true king. So the rumors were true… perhaps the King of Knights truly doesn't understand the hearts of people.]
Leon observed Mordred with interest, evaluating her with a sharp gaze.
From his perspective, her talent was obvious—rare, brilliant, worthy of any throne. A knight any ruler would want by their side.
But more than that…
Mordred longed for recognition.
She didn't want wealth, power, or glory.
She wanted her existence to be acknowledged.
And for someone like Leon, that was simple.
All it took was recognition.
It might seem childish to others… but considering that Mordred was still around ten years old, despite her appearance and strength, it was perfectly understandable.
And as long as the king acknowledged her…
She would fight with everything she had.
Without hesitation.
Without regret.
"…You know, this is getting a bit monotonous," Leon suddenly said, breaking the silence. "How about we spar a little? I want to see your strength with my own eyes, Sir Mordred."
"Oh! Really?! Your Highness wants to fight me?"
"Not exactly… let's see…" he crossed his arms, thinking. "Ah, I've got it. I'll have Noelle test you."
In the next second, Noelle appeared.
Mordred was surprised—she hadn't even noticed the girl's presence before.
The massive sword on Noelle's back contrasted completely with her gentle appearance and polite demeanor… which only made Mordred more interested.
"Oh? Your Highness… you really do have incredible people around you."
"Hmph. Of course. Collecting talent is one of my hobbies. Noelle… fight her."
"Yes. I will fight with honor, as a true knight."
On the training field…
Mordred gripped her two-handed sword, clad in her red-and-silver armor. Just by looking at it, it was obvious that very few could harm her—high-level magical equipment created by Morgan.
She studied Noelle carefully.
"…Is it just me, or does this girl seem… impossible to take down?"
Even without understanding why, her instincts warned her.
But she quickly shook her head.
"Enough thinking. A fight is settled by fighting."
She smiled, raising her sword.
"Are you done? If not, I'm starting!"
In an instant, surrounded by red lightning, Mordred vanished.
In the blink of an eye, she crossed the entire distance between them.
Her sword came crashing down with devastating force—
CLANG!!
"…WHAT?!"
Mordred's eyes widened.
Noelle, on the other hand, was also surprised.
"What speed…!"
The attack had landed.
But…
It had dealt no damage at all.
Beneath her helmet, Mordred's expression was one of pure shock.
It was as if she had struck a mountain.
Even without using her full strength, that blow should have been enough to split a monster in half—yet it hadn't even scratched Noelle.
In the next instant, Noelle responded calmly:
"Multi-layered shields."
"You… you're using shields on top of shields?!"
"That's His Highness's teaching," she replied, slightly embarrassed. "Before fighting, one should reinforce their defense as much as possible… and, to be honest… I'm quite afraid of feeling pain."
She tightened her grip on her sword.
"It gives me a sense of security."
Her eyes were gentle—
But her defense was absurd.
Simply because she feared pain, she had devoted everything to ensuring she would never feel it.
(End of Chapter)