"A Heretic god, huh… So, does that mean I'm now one of these so-called Heretic gods too?"
Mordred tilted her head as she tried to assess her current state. "Whoa, I really do feel stronger! If I met that green-haired brick-for-brains again, I bet I could punch him to death a hundred times over!"
She must be referring to Achilles… though this world should also have its own heretic version of Achilles, right?
The thought led Artoria to recall Heretic gods who had descended due to their ties to her—like Cú Chulainn, Medea, and Heracles. It wouldn't be surprising if figures connected to Mordred started showing up as well—Achilles, Karna, Chiron, or others.
Considering how chaotic this world's myths were, even beings who should've been monsters might descend as gods. Who's to say a heretic Dracula wouldn't appear? Anything seemed possible.
"Well… Mordred, you don't seem to be a true Heretic god right now."
"Huh?"
Seeing Mordred's puzzled expression, Artoria tapped her chin lightly with the handle of her silver fork as she explained. "From what I can tell, you're more like a subordinate god. Your presence in this world and the magical energy you're using all come from me."
"So… I'm basically your Servant? Are you saying I'm a Servant you summoned?"
"If that's how you want to interpret it, feel free."
Artoria paused for a moment before adding, "But be careful. Now that you're a god, even the slightest slip-up could destroy half a city."
"Yeah, yeah, I got it. Geez, you're such a nag, Father. I can handle my own strength just fine—oh wow, this pizza is amazing! You called it pizza, right? Especially this steak pizza. Absolute perfection!"
"Let's hope you really can handle it… Also, the best one is clearly the seafood pizza."
"Hah? No way! Steak pizza's way better than seafood pizza!"
"Fine, then just give me all the seafood pizza, and you can stick to your steak."
"No—whoa! Father, put my pizza down! You can't do this to me!"
---
Not long after, Artoria and Mordred left the pizzeria.
It wasn't because they were full—it was because the kitchen staff had gone on strike.
"By the way, Father, I've been meaning to ask you something."
Mordred circled around Artoria a couple of times, inspecting her carefully from head to toe.
"Father… did you… uh… turn darker or something? Your aura feels so different from what I remember, even if your figure hasn't changed much."
Of course it's different. This isn't blue Saber—it's black Saber.
"And what of it? Don't like it?"
"No! I'll love you no matter what you look like, Father!"
"…"
Artoria glanced at Mordred, who was grinning brightly, and couldn't help but feel puzzled.
Since when did this brat learn to say such flattering things?
"To put it simply," Artoria began, "an accident occurred during one of the Holy Grail Wars I participated in. The originally pure Grail became tainted, and I was born from that corruption. I'm what remains after the curse of the Grail twisted the once-righteous King of Knights into this cold and ruthless form."
"If it's me as I am now, I can use whatever cruel methods I need without hesitation to achieve my goals."
Her tone was calm, her expression indifferent. It was as if she were talking about someone else entirely.
"The Holy Grail… can be corrupted?"
Mordred's surprise was evident in her wide eyes and startled tone.
"It's always me answering your questions," Artoria remarked. "Now, let me ask you one. You've changed quite a bit yourself. What happened? I can't see a shred of resentment in your eyes anymore."
The moment she asked, Mordred's green eyes lit up with excitement. Her expression screamed, I've been waiting for you to ask me that!
"Ha! Father, you're gonna love this—I was in a Holy Grail War too! And let me tell you, it was a huge battle! We're talking about 14—no, wait, 16—no, 17 Servants duking it out!"
Ah, so she remembers that Holy Grail War…
Artoria wasn't surprised. Normally, Servants wouldn't retain memories of previous summons, but Mordred clearly remembered this particular one.
It was unusual. Artoria Alter herself remembered it because that war had been her origin story, much like how Jeanne Alter always retained memories of the Evil Dragon War.
Mordred seemed so enthusiastic, her excitement bubbling over as she recounted her tale. Artoria decided to humor her, silently playing the role of a listener, even though she too had participated in that battle.
Mordred embellished the story so much that she made herself sound like an unstoppable force of nature. Whether it was Karna, Siegfried, Vlad III, or Achilles, none of them stood a chance against her—at least, according to her version of events.
Artoria, with her perpetually stoic expression, hid her amusement. Knowing the full story, she almost laughed out loud at Mordred's exaggerated claims.
Hands on her hips, Mordred proudly declared, "And in the end, the invincible Mordred easily took down that poisonous woman! My Master and I emerged as the final victors. I even made a wish on the Grail: for all summoned versions of Mordred to retain the memories of that Holy Grail War!"
With that, Mordred grabbed her soda—a bottle she'd picked up halfway through her story because she got thirsty from talking so much—and gulped it down.
If I recall correctly, Artoria thought, when Mordred faced me at the end of that war, she was barely holding herself together. Her entire body was riddled with injuries, and she was poisoned so severely it nearly reached her spirit core. Just standing there was probably her limit.
But in Mordred's retelling, she made it sound like she'd swatted Semiramis aside in three hits, as casually as killing a fly.
Although the idea of exposing the truth crossed her mind, Artoria ultimately decided not to crush her child's fragile pride.
"So, your transformation is because of me—or rather, the me who ascended to divinity through the Holy Lance?"
"That's right! Honestly, when I found out, I was so shocked! I mean, Father, did you know your body can develop that much further? You had these—like, huge! Like carrying watermelons—"
"Enough. This topic ends here."
---
T/N: WJAT IS SHE NOT GONNA TELL MORDRED THAT IT WAS HER??
...
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