Fate: How About a New Savior?

As the sky darkened with the coming of the end, the light from the top of the tower lit it up once more, drawing everyone's gaze.

"Looks like my husband has reached the top and is now fighting the Lion King."

Morgan rested lightly on her magic spear, turning her gaze away from the tower. She addressed Agravain, who was bound tightly in chains, unable to move.

"You've already lost. Just give up and fall back."

"Lost?"

Agravain's iron-like face twisted with rage, veins bulging, eyes wide. One by one, he snapped Morgan's chains apart.

"No. From the very beginning, our mission was to delay you. Even if that man reaches the throne, he won't be able to stop the Lion King from reactivating the Tower of the End."

"That still takes time. And anyone with eyes can see that."

Morgan slowly backed away, aware that Agravain hadn't given up. He had cast even more Mad Enhancement spells upon himself.

Even under such heavy layers of Berserk Magecraft, he retained his reason.

Even Morgan had to begrudgingly admire her counterpart on this side of the world—for having raised such a child.

Worthy of respect... yet utterly pitiful.

"No one can defeat the Lion King. Least of all some mere Master," Agravain growled, grabbing the weapon he'd drawn to him with the broken chains and charging at Morgan.

He knew he couldn't win. But if he could deal her a serious blow—stop her from aiding that man—then it was worth sacrificing his life.

"You'd go this far for Artoria? What is it about her that makes her worthy of such loyalty?" Morgan struck back fiercely, sending Agravain flying into a floating boulder.

Agravain nearly lost his grip on his spear.

"You're the one who sent me to her side, and you still ask that?"

"That's exactly why I don't understand. You were a spy sent by Morgan to infiltrate the Round Table and seize the throne." Morgan narrowed her eyes. "So what made you abandon your desire for the crown?"

"I never cared about the throne."

Agravain rose again, casting spell after spell—but none reached Morgan. She blocked them with ease, sometimes even turning them back on him.

"So long as Britannia lives on, I don't care whether it's you or Arthur who rules. But—" he roared, unleashing what little mana he had left, "—compared to someone like you, she's far more suited to be king of Britannia!"

His mana surged outward, manifesting into countless shadow soldiers.

Agravain's own phantom army.

"Is that so?"

Morgan had expected those words to anger her more—but when she heard them, she felt almost nothing.

Not because she wasn't the Morgan Agravain had known—but because she had already chosen something more important than Britannia.

That's why she was here. Why she had come this far.

"My whole life, I've loathed women, held contempt for humanity, hated love itself! And it all started with you, Morgan!"

"…That's really…"

Morgan let out a quiet sigh.

Just how far had the version of herself from Proper Human History gone?

Mordred. Agravain. Children of "hers," and yet they all hated her.

"And now, even after bringing about Britannia's ruin, you're still not satisfied. Don't think for a second I'll let you get near my king!"

The phantom army surged forward. Agravain, consumed by rage, charged at her with all that remained.

The more he saw Morgan's calm, indifferent expression—the less she reacted to his fury—the more violently that fury burned within him.

"'Tis a ruinous dream I cannot bear to see. No recompense, no salvation to be had. At the world's end, a bird sings of tomorrow. Let this be a sign—..."

Morgan raised her hand in farewell—the final gesture for a man forever bound and never to be freed. A parting gift before she returned to the throne.

"Roadless Camelot!"

Light from the edge of the world lit up the sky. Agravain could neither resist nor break through. All he could do was watch as Morgan's impossible Noble Phantasm erased his entire army.

In the end, only Agravain remained, half his body scorched, plummeting from the sky. He landed on a crumbling platform within the ruined royal city.

"That Noble Phantasm..."

The same hollow feeling returned.

Once, he had rejoiced, thinking the person he both revered and feared disappointing was a man.

But when he learned King Arthur's true identity—understood her sorrow—that joy gave way to a gnawing emptiness.

When Morgan appeared alongside Chaldea, Agravain had been deeply cautious. He thought he understood why the King had sent her.

He was determined to kill her—to destroy Morgan and Chaldea, even at the cost of his own life.

But in the end, he had been completely wrong.

"You... woman..." Agravain asked in a fading voice, "You're not Morgan... So who are you really...?"

Morgan landed in front of him, but Agravain, now blind, could no longer see her face.

No longer deceived by appearances, he finally realized—his anger had nowhere left to go.

This woman was Morgan, and yet... she was not the queen mother he had known.

"Does it matter? No matter who I am, I am your enemy. The woman who attacked Camelot alongside Chaldea, the Sun King, and these people—to destroy the Lion King's plan," Morgan said flatly.

"So... that's it..." Agravain murmured.

Blood spilled from beneath his ruined armor. He struggled to his feet—not to keep fighting, but to drag himself in a certain direction.

A long smear of blood marked his path.

"With a body as broken as yours, where do you think you're going?" Morgan asked.

"I still... can't die yet... I have unfinished duties... I need to report this to the King... reassess the threat Chaldea poses..."

Morgan sighed again, unable to hold it back.

Humans and fae really were different.

They would give everything they had for something they believed in—and for that same belief, they'd fight endlessly, without ever stopping.

The Knights of the Round Table were like that. And so was that man.

Morgan slowly looked up toward the top of the Tower of the End, where the Lion King's throne awaited.

The clash of two spears still rang out—the final battle was not yet decided.

She saw Sakura and the others break through the lines. She saw Gray, supporting Bedivere, ascending the steps.

Everyone was moving toward the throne.

She couldn't afford to fall behind. She had to reach him—quickly.

Rising to her toes, Morgan lifted off and left that place behind.

Not far from where she had been, Agravain finally lay still in a pool of blood—his life fully spent.

...

(100 Chapters Ahead)

p@treon com / PinkSnake