A truly cold sweat dropped.
Under the scorching air it burned and evaporated, not even deserving to fall to the ground.
Blood burned hot, body temperature surged.
This feeling was like a powerless, maddened beast being seared by fierce flames.
"Damn it!"
Facing that gaze, Mordred summoned all her strength to try to stand.
Her hand gripping the Brilliantly Shining Royal Sword kept trembling.
'Am I afraid?'
She didn't know.
But pain rose up continuously, dominating her body.
No matter how Mordred struggled it was useless.
"Just one strike and I actually—"
Was she incredulous at the opponent's power?
Or incredulous at her own weakness?
Just one strike and she was put into a wounded state?
In any case, Mordred watched Shirou crouch down.
He who had just been chatting with her, whose indifferent gaze would sometimes look at her warmly.
Through the lenses, now only coldness was conveyed.
Like a scumbag about to abandon his family, preparing to cut off future trouble.
"Of course, that was a punch where I injected my magic with no restraint under triple strength… If it were Gawain, maybe he could really endure it."
"At your words—"
'…Not that there's a continuation to the fight, time to bow out early,' Before that sentence finished, Mordred, like an explosive little lion, suddenly surged up.
"Don't look down on me, you golden flashy bastard!"
With a maddened glare, uncontrollable magic poured out like a tidal wave at Shirou.
"AHHHH!!"
Crimson lightning slashed the sky and struck Shirou.
He was unmoved, only lifting a single finger lightly.
For a moment, the air fell silent.
In Mordred's wide-open eyes, that finger lazily touched her sword.
Then…
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
On impact, the ground cracked like a spiderweb, yet Shirou remained not only unharmed but didn't even take a single step.
Though his expression couldn't be seen, his relaxed posture made Mordred, who observed this scene, begin to doubt life.
In disbelief she blurted out, "How is it possible! My full-power strike was repelled by a single finger—"
There was no doubt her resolve was gradually collapsing.
Shirou said, "Honestly, listen to me finish, why rush to throw your life away?"
"To be frank, I don't really want to be enemies with you Round Table knights. Though it's nonsense, if you surrender, I can spare your life, Mordred."
"After all, in any case, you are the genuine heir of Saber."
"At this point, you're still making jokes like this."
Mordred ground her teeth and enunciated each word, "I truly despise you… and you want to marry Father?"
Mordred laughed triumphantly, "No way!"
"I'll tell you, not only I, but the other Round Table knights would never agree. Keep dreaming your childish dreams!"
Mordred shouted and overloaded her magic.
The Brilliantly Shining Royal Sword traced afterimages at this moment.
If it were before, such an attack would have swept enemies away and whipped corpses several times over.
But in front of Shirou there was only one verdict.
"Too crude, Mordred!"
No need even to move; with a flick of his hand this seemingly ferocious attack vanished before Shirou.
"You're simply swinging the sword with brute force. You don't even qualify to force me to take a step."
In truth her swordsmanship was already excellent, just not enough against the Shirou of today.
"Is that so?", Mordred raged, "Then take this move head-on as it is!"
Saying that, she stepped back several paces to make space and raised the Radiant Splendor Sword high.
Powerful magic began to condense, compress.
"A Noble Phantasm?", Shirou saw and his expression grew a bit serious.
He raised his hand, and magic coursed along his circuit into his palm.
He said, "Mordred! Haven't you always wanted to confirm whether I have the qualification? Then now you'll see whether I truly have it!"
What had taken Shirou an instant to create was completed.
Because it had long been tempered a thousand times, without needing thought, dazzling radiance leapt forth.
At the same time, Mordred loudly spoke the true name of her Noble Phantasm, "Clarent Blood Arthur Rebellion Against My Beautiful Father!"
Magic overflowed from the blade's edge.
It transformed magic into a straight-lined red lightning, to destroy all, the strongest and Mordred's most destructive move at present.
An A+ ranked anti-army Noble Phantasm released without reserve.
But Mordred's sight was stolen by the dazzling golden brilliance ahead.
No mistake, that was the selection sword pulled by the girl under the eyes of all. Whose ending had already been known, yet she resolutely drew it.
It was the 'sword' Mordred clearly knew she could never pull no matter what.
'Why?'
'If Father chose the throne so that everyone would smile, and pulled out that sword—'
'Then what kind of conviction does he hold to use that sword?'
'By what qualification does he use that sword?'
She cast all the countless questions in her mind into this full-powered strike.
Mordred roared, "Golden flashy guy, even if that rotten sword recognizes you! I, Mordred, as Arthur's offspring, as a member of the Round Table, will never acknowledge you!"
"Doesn't matter."
Shirou said calmly, "If you don't acknowledge me, I'll force you to."
For the Round Table knights, strength is supreme.
Rather than reason with them, it's more real to make them believe by power.
At this point Shirou recited the true name of his Noble Phantasm, "Caliburn, Golden Sword of the Victorious!!"
A flood of light poured forth.
Golden and crimson energies collided.
In an instant they expanded into a gigantic energy ball like two mighty rivers converging.
The sky was dyed, air displaced.
The inner city walls and inner city buildings affected by this force—
No matter how indestructible they were, under these two forces, they all crumbled.
Agravain and Tristan, arriving late, watched this scene with slight changes in their faces.
Agravain even asked, "Tristan, didn't you say he could only live three days?"
"…"
Tristan replied in silence, "That body is undoubtedly human. With injuries that severe, any human simply couldn't live more than three days."
In truth Tristan was flattering Shirou.
Without Avalon, the moment he projected the Sword of Promised Victory he would utterly collapse, leaving nothing of himself.
"Do you mean someone who won't live three days can trade blows with Mordred, even make her use a Noble Phantasm?"
Agravain questioned, "Or did you misjudge, maybe that guy isn't human at all?"
Tristan fell silent again, then sighed, "In fact I'm not certain. If he were a King perhaps he'd know originally. But this does not hide the error I committed as a Round Table knight."
"Agravain, you should report this to the King."
"Now that the inner city walls and the holy capital are destroyed to this degree, and Mordred violated the King's orders by not leaving the holy city before dawn."
"Surely these facts together are enough reason to petition the King, aren't they?"
"Indeed."
Agravain said coldly, "And you?"
Tristan sorrowfully plucked a string of his lute, "I am saddened by the mistakes I have made. If I may obtain the King's permission, my Failnaught will surely bring the heads of those who disrespected the King before him to apologize."
"Do so."
Agravain agreed, "You first capture that thief with Mordred. I will request the King to deliver holy punishment upon him."
"As should be."
Tristan nodded and in the blink of an eye vanished.
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