Shinji Matou at Your Service

The dream shattered.

Mordred opened her eyes, her hand still tightly gripping the sword.

The Clarent, taken from King Arthur's treasury, was forcibly imbued with her color.

However, now the forced red hue on the sword had faded, returning to its original state, pure and beautiful.

Noticing the change in the King's Sword, Mordred turned to look at Merlin behind her.

"What is this? What trick are you playing now?"

"I am merely the guide. The one who triggered all this is you."

The great magus who silently wove the dream smiled slightly. Only when playing the role of a guide did he shed his frivolous demeanor and reveal the wisdom of a sage.

"Me?"

"Yes, you must have felt it by now. 'It' has finally acknowledged you."

Using the sword to support herself, Mordred stood up. She was in excellent condition.

The poison in her body had been completely purified, and her injuries healed by Merlin.

No, more than that, a brand-new power emanated from the King's Sword, making her even stronger.

This was the true ability of the King's Sword—manifesting the dignity of the king, amplifying the king's presence, specifically enhancing physical attributes.

Clarent is a symbol of royal authority, meant to be wielded only by a true king. Mordred, being a rebel, could use it because she forcibly subdued the sword with her strength.

But forced usage was still forced usage. While Mordred could use it as a catalyst to amplify her magic and release it, she could not fully utilize the true powers of the King's Sword.

But now, she was doing just that.

"How strange, why now, when I have already given up—"

"Who knows."

Merlin's smile grew brighter.

"Perhaps because there are many forms of a king's qualifications. The previous you didn't qualify, but after understanding, you do."

"Is that so?"

The clear blade reflected Mordred's emerald eyes, illuminating her confusion.

"Of course not. Do you believe that? You are a fool."

Merlin muttered in a voice only he could hear, then cleared his throat and said.

"This is not the time for such talk. Take up your sword and prepare for battle. Artoria needs your help."

"Huh?"

Mordred quickly lifted her head, a look of clear astonishment on her face.

"This, this can't be possible?"

On the high platform where the throne was, two figures, one gold and one black, intertwined, creating vortexes of magical energy.

The golden figure was Artoria, wielding the Holy Sword.

The black figure was Semiramis, the mistress of the garden.

The magical vortexes were the result of the clash between Semiramis' spikes and the Holy Sword.

Yes, spikes against the Holy Sword.

Semiramis wasn't using her favored magic but was engaged in close combat with Artoria.

What was more surprising was that the two were evenly matched, locked in a fierce battle.

It must be noted that the current Artoria was not a Servant but her true self in battle. The stronger a hero was in life, the more restrictions they faced as a Servant. The best examples were Diarmuid and Karna. The former lost his dual swords, and the latter his most skilled bow and chariot.

Artoria was the same. Regardless of the merits of the Holy Sword and the Holy Lance, the difference in magical power was like night and day.

A Servant's magical energy originates from their Master, and no matter how abundant it is, it is still limited by the magical link. The true Artoria, however, is unbounded, possessing the Dragon Factor, known as the Red Dragon of Britain. Her magical energy and its operational speed far surpass that of humans; calling her a humanoid phantom beast wouldn't be an exaggeration.

As a Servant, even with sufficient magical energy, using a Noble Phantasm once would be a significant burden. But for her true self, not only can she release the Holy Sword once, but she can also sustain continuous, gapless releases.

Of course, due to the confined environment among the kings and the presence of Mordred and Kairi, Artoria wouldn't casually release the Holy Sword, causing a wide-area attack.

Nonetheless, the attribute enhancement brought by massive magical energy is terrifying. Constantly releasing substantial, almost tangible magical energy, each of Artoria's strikes carries extraordinary power, and each movement is extraordinarily fast. Against such an opponent, even the Red Lancer Karna would only face defeat, let alone Semiramis, who has lost her strongest asset, poison. How is she managing this?

Mordred forced herself to calm down, keeping a close eye on Semiramis's every move.

Soon, she noticed something.

Semiramis's movements were very elegant. Yes, elegant. Mordred knew this word seemed out of place in the context of a fierce close-quarters battle, but that was her real feeling.

Light, beautiful, as if not fighting but dancing.

Yes, dancing.

Every movement perfectly matched her attire. The black evening gown that trailed on the ground and the nearly 10cm high heels not only didn't hinder her movements but severely disrupted Artoria's rhythm.

The heavy skirt spread out like a giant flower of blood lilies. For a moment, all Artoria could see were waves of black, completely obscuring the enemy's figure.

Suddenly, a gap appeared in the waves, and a glint of cold light, driven by a slender arm, emerged from the layers of black, stabbing towards Artoria's throat like a venomous snake.

Though startled, Artoria remained composed, leaning back to narrowly dodge the spike's strike, while simultaneously rotating the Holy Sword, sweeping out a fan-shaped blade of light.

It seemed Semiramis had anticipated this. With a gentle tap of another spike on the side of the Holy Sword, she flipped herself behind Artoria, her wide skirt once again disrupting Artoria's vision.

In such a situation, even with Artoria's swordsmanship at a divine level and her Instinct ability to briefly foresee the future, it was difficult to inflict substantial harm on Semiramis.

No, it wasn't just about vision interference; that was only part of the tactic. Every step Semiramis took was to restrict Artoria's abilities.

Since Mordred woke up now, Artoria had swung her sword at least ten times, but none of those strikes had truly hit Semiramis; she had deflected them all in various ways.

Terrifying adaptability, terrifying combat wisdom, and terrifying combat skills—this was why Merlin said that her father needed help.

But… what about her previous performance?

If she had such formidable strength, why did she get her shoulder injured by Mordred? Was she hiding her true abilities on purpose?

No, that's not right. If she had shown this strength earlier, they would have been killed long ago, and it wouldn't have dragged on until now. So how do we explain the current scene?

The more Mordred thought, the more confused she became. Just then, she suddenly met Semiramis's eyes.

Although it was just an instant, it gave Mordred an epiphany.

Those eyes were calm and gentle, like the bright moon in the sky. Such a gaze could not belong to someone like Semiramis—a venomous woman. She could swear by her mother Morgan's name.

This woman is not Semiramis, at least not the one from before.