With the other battles at least temporarily stabilized, it was finally time for me to make a move.
"Sir Bedivere, Sir Lucan," I said, "It's time for us to move, stay by my side at all times, and obey my orders without hesitation. We will be dealing with the mastermind himself." I announced as I looked at the final great portal.
Mephisto's domain.
"As you command, my King," Bedivere said. He had been waiting for this, for the chance to fight alongside his king, to prove his worth. His loyalty was a palpable force, a beacon of unwavering devotion.
Lucan, the king's loyal butler, tightened his grip on his sword, he wished his king wouldn't have to fight, but knew it was impossible. Still, he was determined to aid his king in any way he could, and if need be, was ready to deploy his Noble Phantasm.
Just like how Mordred's Noble Phantasm was formed from her most famous action, the slaying of King Arthur, giving her a special Anti-Arthuria property, he too had his tied to his most famous act.
Tending to his king after the battle of Camlann.
This legend had become the core of his being, the legend that allowed him to be drawn to the Throne of Heroes, he might be but a shadow, unworthy of a true Spirit Origin, but his King was generous.
With his help, Lucan had become a heroic spirit, and his core had become a Noble Phantasm; he had only one, but it was enough.
In my hands, the King's life.
A rare supportive Noble Phantasm, not many of the Round Table knights had something like that, most had offensive ones. But, he wasn't about that; he didn't have legends of his skill in battle. His legend was directly tied to trying to save the king's life.
And so, anyone he tended to wouldn't die.
Couldn't die.
He couldn't heal anyone, couldn't save their lives, all he could do was stop them from dying, and hope someone else could save them.
He was ready to use it, to carry the king to safety, where someone else could heal her... but he hoped it wouldn't come to that.
Under the escort of my two knights, I made my way across the battlefield, the lines of Enforcement Knights opening up to allow us to progress forward, and the foolish demons who thought to take advantage of that gap in their formation.
Well, I didn't even have to make a move myself, Bedivere and Lucan were more than willing to cut them down as they came, and just as capable. My Enforcement knights also didn't hesitate to fill the gap, their halberds cutting down demons with a cold, unfeeling efficiency.
So while we were making our way across the battlefield, we were hardly in any danger.
Still, that didn't mean it was a calm walk through the park.
The demonic pressure was immense; even the lesser demons, the cannon fodder of this war, radiated an aura of malice that would have driven a lesser mortal insane. The very ground was saturated with it, a psychic poison that seeped into the soul.
And yet, it didn't affect me.
The King of Knights, the Goddess Rhongomyniad, was immune to such petty tricks. And thankfully, there were no mortals here, so the demons' aura could do nothing, but it spoke of the dangers if they were to escape.
On their own, the aura of one demon was nothing; only the truly powerful ones were of any concern, but when countless demons came together?
It wasn't as simple as one plus one equals two.
I cast a glance towards D'Spayre, who was the one I worried about the most; he was clearly the most troublesome of the Hell Lords, not because he was the strongest, but because he was the most reckless.
I feared that as soon as I left, he would charge towards Earth, and with the Ancient One dealing with Dormammu, the forces able to stop him would be few.
In all honesty, I wasn't sure if Earth had any forces that could stop a Hell Lord at full power, maybe we would have to rely on Asgard?
Still, I could do little but trust that Gawain would be able to keep him confined here.
No, that wasn't quite right. I knew he would. Gawain wasn't just my knight; he was the Knight of the Sun. In his own way, he was the unyielding light, just as unyielding as Mordred's rebellion, just as unyielding as Galahad's purity.
He wouldn't lose, not as long as the sun existed.
I reached the portal to Mephisto's realm. It was not a vortex of fire like Satannish's, or a swirling miasma of dreams like Nightmare's, or a sinkhole of despair like D'Spayre's. Instead, it truly represented everything humanity thought about Hell.
Endless torment, fires, burning brimstones, and souls screaming their sins while demons toyed with them.
With one last look at the battle unfolding behind us, I stepped through the portal, ready to face the mastermind behind all this.
What greeted us on the other side wasn't what we expected; it wasn't the hellscape we had seen from the outside. Clearly, Mephisto had changed where one appeared when entering from the outside.
I could feel my Knights tense at my side, their anger palpable as they took in the scenery.
Shining clean marble floors, pristine white walls, and thick pillars holding up the high ceilings. Great silken banners hung from the walls, and at the far end of the room, a raised throne.
It was a familiar sight.
And it was this that made my knights angry, because this throne room was my own.
Or at least, a copy of it, down to the smallest details.
It was mockery, naked provocation.
Because there, on a replica of my throne, sat the lord of Hell himself. He wasn't some monstrous beast of fire and shadow, but a handsome, well-dressed man in a tailored suit, a picture of calm, calculating confidence. He wore a small, knowing smile, as if he had been expecting us.
"Arthuria Pendragon," Mephisto said, his voice a smooth, cultured baritone that carried none of the coarse evil of his brethren. "Welcome to my humble abode. Do you like the decor? I thought it appropriate. A throne for a king, after all."
"This is a mockery," Lucan growled, his hand tightening on the hilt of his sword.
"On the contrary, my dear knight," Mephisto said, rising from the throne with a languid grace. "It is a compliment. A recognition of status. I am a lord. You are a king. It is only fitting that we meet as equals."
"The king has no equals," Bedivere stated, his one good eye burning with a cold light. "You are a parasite who feeds on the suffering of others."
Mephisto chuckled, a dry, rasping sound. "Parasite? Such a harsh word. I prefer 'entrepreneur'. I provide a service. I give mortals what they desire, and in return, I am compensated. It is the oldest bargain in existence. Fair. Balanced."
"You enslave souls, corrupt the innocent, and revel in misery," I said, my voice cutting through the pleasantries, my own Caliburn held in my hands. "You are no entrepreneur. You are a cancer upon reality."
"Ah, the truth of it," Mephisto sighed, a look of mock sadness on his face. "We could have been allies, you and I. Two beings of power, shaping the destiny of this world. We could have built a paradise. A true paradise, not the fragile, fleeting dream your followers cling to."
"There is no paradise to be found in your deals, only damnation," I said, taking a step forward, the light from my sword beginning to push back against the oppressive gloom of the realm.
"Is there not?" Mephisto asked, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. "Look around you, King of Knights. This war, this grand stage... is it not exhilarating? Your knights are proving their mettle. Your name is being sung in the halls of Valhalla and the golden streets of Asgard. You are becoming a legend. All thanks to me."
"Thanks to you? Don't be ridiculous, you are nothing, your actions mean nothing, on the cosmic scale, you are less than dust, only on Earth do you have a tiny bit of sway," I replied, merciless and cold, unwilling to go along with his madness. "And on Earth, your reign of terror ends today."
Mephisto's smile tightened, the cultured facade cracking for just a moment to reveal the abyssal arrogance beneath. "Ends? My dear, foolish king, you misunderstand. This is not an ending. It is a beginning. My little incursion, this 'war'... it is merely another turn of the wheel."
He gestured, and the perfect replica of my throne room shimmered, the white marble walls becoming transparent. Beyond them, we saw it. Not the burning hellscape, but a vast, star-filled void. And in that void, tethered to his realm by chains of pure energy, were other worlds. Countless worlds. Some were vibrant with life, others were barren husks. All of them, however, bore the mark of Mephisto. They were all farms. Soul farms.
"You see?" he whispered, a terrible, triumphant glee in his voice. "This... this is the future, first I shall claim Earth, and from there, I will reach for the stars... I admit, my name does ring rather hollow in the cosmos, but that is but temporary. Once I have the legends of your world... then I will become a Cosmic Lord, a being beyond you, beyond Odin, beyond that Celestial Scum!" He roared, the carefully constructed composure shattering.
"My knights are not mere livestock for your cosmic ambition," I stated, my sword held at the ready, the light from the blade growing brighter, a defiant star in the encroaching darkness.
"Oh, but they are!" Mephisto laughed, a sound of pure, unadulterated glee. "They are ingenious, that much I can admit." He said, with more focus in his voice. "To crystallize legends, human faith? Oh my, what a trick, to turn human belief into raw power like that? I assume you are unwilling to tell me how you achieved such a thing?" He asked, a glint of desire in his eyes.
"Such things are far beyond what you can hope to achieve, you who see faith, and souls, humanity itself as nothing but fuel, you will never understand the essence of them." I said with a light shake of my head.
"So, you won't tell me... that is fine, this little war has already allowed me to see so much, learn so much." His eyes narrowed. "When last you came into my domain, I knew nothing of you, all I knew was the little gift you left behind." He couldn't help but grit his teeth as he mentioned the scar on his domain.
"And now... oh, now I see it all." He looked at me with greedy eyes. "I see what you are. Not just a goddess, no, something far greater. The legends of your world... they are not just stories, are they? They are blueprints. Realities waiting to be born. And you, my dear king... you are the midwife." He started walking down the stairs from the throne, each step measured and deliberate, the very fabric of this false Camelot seeming to bend to his will.
"What a magnificent power, to make your own servants, to turn myths into your loyal weapons, this power is truly enviable... I will have it." He finally reached the bottom of the stairs, standing before us, a predator who had just identified the most prized of prey.
"You will have nothing," I said, my voice flat, devoid of emotion.
"Ah, but there is the rub, isn't it?" Mephisto said, a sudden, cunning light in his eyes. "You see, I am a being of bargains. Of contracts. And yet I most constantly deal with brutes who don't understand the elegance of a well-crafted contract." He said with disdain.
"Even now, my so-called 'allies' are little more than wild beasts, controlled by the basest of emotions. They fight for rage, for despair, for the thrill of it. They have no vision, no long-term plan. They are tools, nothing more. Tools that I have sharpened and pointed in your direction. And now, they have served their purpose. They have whittled you down, tested your defenses, and revealed the true nature of your power."
He waved his hand, and the wall behind him shimmered and displayed the scene of Mordred using her Noble Phantasm to cut down Thog. "Look at her. Such passion. Such raw, untamed power. A magnificent specimen. I couldn't help but notice, a special power in that attack, the weight of a legend, is it?" He grinned at me as he spoke.
"That ability, it is the legend of your death, isn't it? That strange power contained within, it is the power to slay you, isn't it?" He fully displayed his terrifying intelligence as he deduced the nature of not only my Knights, but also Mordred's Noble Phantasm.
Because that did indeed have a special effect on me, being extra deadly against me.
It was a truth I couldn't escape, something I couldn't stop: my own nature was part divine spirit, part heroic spirit. As such, I couldn't escape the system of the Throne of Heroes.
I was Arthuria Pendragon, and Mordred was my counter.
(End of chapter)
Support me at patreon.com/unknownfate - for the opportunity to read up to 30 chapters ahead.