In a desolate landscape stood the remnants of a once-glorious temple. Its shattered dome allowed sunlight to pour in freely, and time had left its mark: cracks riddled the stone columns, vines crawled along the surfaces, and the meticulously arranged statues and decorations had been reduced to empty stone pedestals. The howling wind seemed to carry whispers of ancient legends.
At the heart of the temple was an altar, surrounded by an eerie silence broken only by the wind brushing against the broken walls. The altar itself was made of heavy stone slabs, its weathered surface bearing scars of time. The center, however, remained unnaturally smooth, and fragments of sacred stone sculptures lay scattered, their dignified expressions barely discernible through the damage.
Artoria, dressed casually, followed Guinevere to the altar. She quietly observed the temple, her sharp eyes scanning its surroundings.
"This temple… it's been utterly destroyed. There's barely any information left to identify the deity once worshipped here."
"Precisely. Without any divine relics, the temple's god cannot manifest," Guinevere explained patiently, pacing around the altar. "And that's exactly why this place has been abandoned by humans. It works in our favor."
With the altar already present, Guinevere needed only to make some adjustments to proceed with the ritual to summon the rogue god.
The key element, however, was Artoria herself—she was the chosen medium.
In this world, King Arthur's prototype was none other than the Last King, Rama. During the year 458, the Last King had exterminated all Campiones of that era. He had once used the name "Artos," which sounded strikingly similar to Arthur's original name.
While King Arthur was originally a fictional figure, Artoria had successfully tricked fate itself, gaining the world's recognition as "King Arthur."
However, the bond between this world's "Arthur" and the "Last King" remained strong, unaffected by Artoria's existence. Guinevere intended to use this connection to summon the Last King.
All the preparations were complete.
Artoria had no specific role in the ritual—she simply needed to stand at the center of the altar.
Ascending the altar with slow, deliberate steps, Guinevere's aura shifted to one of solemnity and divinity. She began to softly chant an ancient prayer, her ethereal voice resonating throughout the empty temple. The words intertwined with the howling wind, a melody meant to awaken the dormant power.
For a while, Artoria maintained her usual indifferent demeanor, her gaze distant and vacant. But then, at a certain moment, her golden eyes gleamed with newfound focus, confusion and gravity clouding her expression.
The surrounding air began to tremble as though an unseen force was stirring.
The ritual continued.
As Guinevere's chants grew more fervent, flames ignited atop the altar. The intricate, elegant patterns carved into the stone began to glow with an otherworldly brilliance.
Artoria tilted her head upward in astonishment. As the medium, she could feel it most vividly—something, or someone, had answered the call.
A blinding pillar of light shot into the sky, and for a moment, it felt as if the ruined temple had come back to life.
As the divine presence descended from a realm beyond the heavens, Artoria struggled to comprehend it.
Before the golden radiance fully dissipated, a figure suddenly burst forth from the light. With a force powerful enough to pulverize an ordinary human, the figure collided into Artoria, wrapping their arms tightly around her.
"Father—!"
---
In an Italian pizzeria, Artoria had returned.
But this time, the person accompanying her was not Guinevere. Instead, it was another young woman who bore a striking resemblance to Artoria herself.
Though Guinevere had been curious about the girl's identity, she wisely chose to leave them alone, recognizing the urgency in their desire to speak privately.
The girl looked almost identical to Artoria except for her hair and eye color. She wore a bold red jacket over a cropped tank top that barely covered her chest, leaving her toned midriff and flawless skin exposed. Her lower half sported ultra-short denim shorts paired with black leather boots, completing her modern and stylish look.
Currently, this blonde-haired girl was devouring slices of pizza with an untamed ferocity, as if clearing the table were a matter of life and death.
"Huh? Why am I in this world?"
Her cheeks puffed out with pizza, Mordred glanced at Artoria in confusion. "Didn't you summon me, Father?"
"But I didn't summon you." Artoria frowned, her tone betraying a mix of curiosity and exasperation. "The circumstances… it's complicated. Let me first explain the basics of this world to you."
Artoria grabbed another slice of pizza, her thoughts still swirling in disarray.
First and foremost, there was no doubt that this was the Mordred from the Nasuverse. Somehow, she had been summoned to this world through her connection with Artoria—and, judging by her presence, she had manifested as a heretic god.
Secondly, this Mordred appeared to retain memories from the Holy Grail War in which Artoria had been involved. Otherwise, Mordred would have likely drawn her sword and charged at Artoria immediately, just as she had done in that graveyard during their first encounter with Kairi Shishigou.
Explaining the world to Mordred required focusing on the concepts of heretic gods and Campiones—everything else was secondary.
However, Mordred's reaction was rather explosive when she learned that King Arthur's legend in this world was entirely fictional.
"What?! Are you kidding me?! How dare they say Father's deeds were made up? What kind of screwed-up world is this?!"
"From one perspective, all myths in this world are fabrications," Artoria said with a calmness that contrasted starkly with Mordred's indignation. "They're constructs created by humanity to define and bind the gods, granting them form. Without myth, gods are undefined, transcendent entities."
Unlike Mordred, who was nearly jumping out of her seat in outrage, Artoria remained unfazed. "So, the King Arthur of this world has nothing to do with me. To me, he's just some guy who happens to share my name."
"That doesn't make it okay, Father!" Mordred slammed her fist on the table, her expression furious. "How can some no-name imposter have the same name as you?!"
"And what do you plan to do about it?" Artoria's golden eyes glanced at Mordred with mild amusement. "Are you thinking of beating up this Last King?"
"Heh! You read my mind, Father!" Mordred's face lit up with a mischievous grin. "So you do want to knock that fraud around a little, huh?"
Artoria tilted her head, her lips curving into a dangerous smile as she skewered a massive meatball from her spaghetti plate.
"To be honest… hearing that my Camelot, my Knights of the Round Table, have been reduced to mere fictional myth while some absurd 'prototype' takes all the credit… it's infuriating."
Her tone darkened, and a glint of malice flashed in her eyes.
"To put it simply—yes, I'm pissed."
---
T/N: OMG YES MORDRED MORE FATHER DAUGHTER BONDING!
...
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