I Don’t Want to Be a Heroic Spirit

Mordred lay motionless on the ground, her mind blank.

Even the pain coursing through her body felt distant.

Who am I? Where am I? What did Father just say?

Artoria's words had carried such weight that Mordred's mind had effectively crashed, unable to process it all.

Mordred, the rebellious knight and the direct cause of Britain's downfall, had always harbored immense admiration for King Arthur.

If anyone dared to speak ill of Arthur, Mordred would ensure they regretted ever being born—even if Arthur herself might have let it slide.

There was a saying: In this world, there are only King Arthur fans and twisted King Arthur fans.

Some even theorized that Morgan le Fay was one of these "fans." Her antagonism toward Artoria wasn't due to a desire for power but because, like Merlin, she foresaw Artoria's tragic fate and wanted to break her, keeping her close as a form of protection.

If anyone else had dared say, "King Arthur lacks the qualities of a king," Mordred would have fought them to the death.

But the person who had uttered those words was none other than Artoria herself.

And so, Mordred found herself at a loss.

Her stunned silence, however, gave Artoria the chance to continue.

"I believe that the role of a king is to shoulder the hopes of the people, to lead their nation toward peace and prosperity, and to guide them toward an ideal future."

Artoria's emerald eyes clouded with sorrow as she spoke softly.

"But… I failed to fulfill that duty."

"When I drew the Sword of Selection, Merlin warned me… that this nation was destined for ruin. Such was the fate of Britain—immutable and unchangeable."

"I knew of this fate and still chose to become king. Since it was inevitable, I accepted it."

"As king, I accepted the inevitable destruction of my nation, as well as my own eventual demise… because I was king. As long as the fire of my life still burned, it was my duty to protect it."

"But you're different, Mordred."

Mordred's eyes widened, her emotions roiling with uncertainty.

In Artoria's gaze, she saw her own reflection.

"You, Gawain, Lancelot, Agravain… none of you are kings. You do not have to bear the burdens of a king or perish alongside this kingdom. You have the freedom to forge your own futures, to choose your own paths."

"Whether that means venturing into unknown lands, pledging yourself to a wiser ruler, or simply living an ordinary life—finding a partner, striving for a modest existence, growing old, and passing away peacefully… those, too, are worthy lives."

Mordred was stunned speechless, unable to process what she was hearing.

"Of course, if you had the qualities of a king, the skills to lead this nation to true prosperity and avert its destruction… I would have gladly entrusted you with the throne."

"But unfortunately… you do not."

"That is why I could not pass the throne to you, Mordred—because you lack the qualities of a king."

The same words.

Words that had haunted her for countless years, etched into her soul and existence like a recurring nightmare.

Yet hearing them now, they felt entirely different.

For the first time, Mordred understood their true meaning.

The father she had admired so deeply had never despised or looked down on her for her lineage.

On the contrary, Artoria had always cared about her and her future.

As Artoria's beautiful eyes regarded her, Mordred felt an overwhelming urge to cry.

What beautiful… what gentle eyes…

Why… why… why did I fail to see that gentleness for so long?

For years, Mordred had raged at being ignored by Artoria.

But perhaps the one who had truly failed to see the other was Mordred herself.

She had always been so close to Artoria, yet she had never truly understood her father's intentions.

If only… if only she had realized sooner.

Would their fates have changed?

---

Seeing the calm that had returned to the battlefield, Kairi Shishigou finally stepped out from his hiding spot.

"Phew, that was close. I really thought I was done for…"

His face still bore traces of fear.

If he had died in the chaos of battle, it would have been one thing—but to perish in what was essentially a family quarrel? That was absurd.

Granted, not many family quarrels could level an entire city.

Finding Artoria and Mordred wasn't difficult, given that the surrounding area had been reduced to rubble. A massive crater marked the center of the devastation, making it obvious where the two Servants were.

The graveyard's previous occupants had been less fortunate—disturbed from their rest by the violent conflict.

Kairi spotted Artoria standing amidst the wreckage and approached cautiously.

"Ah, so it's all resolved now?"

"It should be… resolved, I suppose," Artoria replied, her voice calm. "At least, the misunderstanding between Mordred and me has been cleared up."

Her tone carried an air of tranquility that Kairi found rare in Servants.

After all, most of the Servants he'd encountered were anything but easygoing—though he hadn't met that many.

Mordred, of course, and the priest's Assassin came to mind.

"I apologize," Artoria said, bowing her head slightly. "My conflict with Mordred must have caused you significant trouble."

"No, no, not at all. I'm Mordred's Master, after all. It's not like I could stay out of it even if I wanted to."

Artoria's politeness left Kairi momentarily flustered. Given her status, he felt a bit overwhelmed.

"But…" Kairi glanced around the area, frowning. "Why are you alone? Where's Saber? Where did she go?"

"…"

Kairi thought it was a reasonable question, but Artoria's expression grew troubled, filling him with a sense of foreboding.

"Don't tell me…"

"No, Mordred is fine. You can still feel your connection to her, can't you? She hasn't disappeared," Artoria reassured him. "Although she's injured, as a Servant, she'll recover quickly as long as her mana supply is adequate."

"But she's not here right now because… she doesn't know how to face me yet."

---

Ahem! Gather close, esteemed audience! Do you comprehend the privilege of basking in my radiance? Truly, you're witnessing history in the making—a performance unparalleled in the annals of Fontaine!

Ah, but don't get distracted! Let me be clear: this brilliance isn't conjured from thin air. No, no, no! It requires effort, dedication, and… well, a touch of your generosity. If you fancy being part of something truly extraordinary, do step forward here: [patreon.com/WiseTL].

Oh, but wait! You're probably wondering, "Furina, how can someone as magnificent as you need assistance?" To that, I say: why deny mortals the honor of contributing to such greatness? Supporting me is supporting art, and who doesn't want to say they were instrumental in a legend's rise?

Now, off you go. Make your offerings, and perhaps, perhaps, I'll acknowledge you in my next soliloquy!

— Furina ✨