The Knight of Treachery gritted her teeth, making her choice in a fraction of a second.
She abandoned all defense. Instead of trying to block the descending sword, Mordred twisted her body violently and swung her own blade directly at Stell's left hand, the one holding the ominous golden object.
Smash!
I did it!
Mordred felt a surge of triumph as she successfully batted the small, dangerous object away. But every action has a cost.
By prioritizing the unknown threat, she had left her left side completely exposed. Stell's replica sword bit deeply into Mordred's left shoulder.
It wasn't just physical pain. The moment the blade struck, a strange, disruptive energy flooded into Mordred's Spirit Origin. It felt like cold static electricity replacing her blood. In an instant, she lost all feeling and control in her left arm. It hung limp and useless at her side.
Both of her arms were now crippled. For a swordsman, this was an absolute death sentence.
Yet, despite facing the grim reality of her imminent defeat, Mordred did not panic. A fierce, defiant grin remained on her face.
Because in the depths of her mind, a familiar, commanding voice echoed.
"By my Command Spell... return to me, Saber!"
Heh. Looks like my Master isn't completely useless after all, Mordred thought.
A blinding flash of crimson light enveloped her battered body. Before Stell could initiate a follow-up strike, the Knight of Treachery simply vanished, pulled through space by the absolute authority of the Grail system.
…
"Target lost."
I stood alone in the center of the clearing. The crimson light had faded, leaving only the quiet rustle of the night wind through the trees.
I tilted my head, my golden eyes scanning the empty space.
[Scanning residual energy... Analysis complete. High-density mana construct detected. Classification: Command Spell.]
I looked around. The forest was devastated. An area the size of a large courtyard had been completely flattened. The earth was scarred with deep craters, and the remnants of my stone golems lay scattered like broken toys.
"Could I have prevented the escape?" I muttered to the empty woods.
The answer was, of course, yes.
I possessed multiple spatial locking spells and barriers that could have severed the teleportation tether. I could have easily trapped Mordred and ended her participation in the war tonight.
Why didn't I? Was it out of some newfound sense of mercy?
Negative. I do not extend mercy to digital or magical constructs like Heroic Spirits, who are, theoretically, already dead.
The truth was simple: Mordred still had value.
I had not yet recorded her ultimate Noble Phantasm, Clarent Blood Arthur. Until I had extracted every piece of useful data from her, destroying such a valuable specimen would be a tremendous waste. My primary objective in this world was to collect Noble Phantasms. A simple assassination would defeat the purpose of my arrival.
Satisfied with my logic, I dismissed my armaments. A faint, golden light washed over my body, instantly vaporizing the dirt and debris that had clung to my clothes during the fight.
Ever since I learned the 'Cleaning Magic' in Frieren's world, maintenance had become much more efficient. Dealing with grime was an annoying, illogical waste of time.
Before leaving, I raised a hand. Using basic Earth magic, I smoothed out the craters and re-leveled the soil. A touch of Nature magic encouraged the broken roots to mend and the grass to quickly cover the bare earth.
I prefer to leave no trace. Let the other Masters and Servants guess what had happened here.
With the battlefield restored, I activated my flight modules and vanished into the night sky.
…
The Outskirts of Trifas:-
In a secluded clearing far from the graveyard, a flash of red light deposited two figures onto the grass.
"Hah... hah..."
Mordred dropped her armor, returning to her casual clothing. She sat heavily on the ground, exhaling a long, ragged breath to calm her racing heart.
She looked terrible.
Her right hand was missing. Her left arm hung uselessly at her side, paralyzed by that strange, anti-magic energy. A deep, ugly gash ran across her chest, and countless smaller cuts littered her body. If she were a normal human, she would have bled out minutes ago.
"Tch."
She clicked her tongue in profound annoyance. She tried to flex her fingers, but her arms refused to obey. Frustrated, she tilted her head back and glared at the man crouching in front of her.
Kairi Sisigou was currently channeling his necromantic healing magecraft into her wounds.
The anger from the battle had not yet faded from Mordred's green eyes. Stripped of her weapons and her arms, she looked exactly like a wounded, cornered beast, angry, dangerous, and refusing to show weakness.
Looking at his battered Servant, Kairi's face remained carefully neutral, but his mind was a storm of anxiety.
This is bad, he thought, wiping sweat from his brow.
He had accepted the Clock Tower's request to join this strange 7-vs-7 Holy Grail War. He had summoned one of the strongest Saber-class Servants. And on the very first night, within minutes of the summoning, she had been beaten to a pulp by an unknown enemy.
"Alright, that's the best I can do for now," Kairi said, standing up with a heavy sigh.
His magic had closed the smaller cuts and stabilized her Spirit Origin. But the severed hand and the paralyzed shoulder were beyond simple first aid. A Servant could heal such wounds, but it would require a massive amount of mana and time. Time they currently did not have.
If another enemy Servant found them right now, or if that violet-haired girl decided to track them down, they would be eliminated instantly. Their combat capability was practically zero.
"We can't stay here," Kairi muttered, looking around the dark woods. "We need to go meet our 'teammates'."
He was referring to the other Masters of the Red Faction. He didn't trust them. He hated the idea of cooperating with the snobs from the Clock Tower. But he had no choice.
"Hopefully, one of them has a Caster or a proper healer who can fix you up faster," Kairi added.
He turned back to Mordred. Seeing her struggling to shift her weight without the use of her arms, Kairi offered his hand, forcing what he hoped was a friendly, reassuring smile onto his scarred face.
"Need a hand up?" he asked.
Mordred stared at his outstretched hand. Then, she looked up at his face.
"Hah?!"
She snapped at him, her eyes flashing with wild, rabid indignation. She didn't want his help, and she certainly didn't want his pity. She glared at him like a feral dog about to bite.
Kairi awkwardly pulled his hand back, a drop of sweat running down his temple.
Yeah, he thought wearily. She's going to be a real pain in the ass to work with.
….
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