Fate: Typemoon - My Dragon Knight

"Get out of my way! Get out of my way! GET OUT OF MY WAY!! All of you, get out of my way! Anyone who stands in my path, I'll tear you to pieces!!"

Mordred continuously swung the demonic sword in her hand while releasing powerful lightning. However, compared to her appearance when releasing her Noble Phantasm before, she was already much calmer. What's more, if she were to use her Noble Phantasm frequently now, the magical tools suppressing her would directly fail, and at that point, she herself would achieve nuclear peace in a small region.

Before she could give that bastard goddess who was occupying her father's body a good beating, Mordred had no desire to just blow herself up. Although, from the current situation, blowing herself up seemed like a decent final strategy. But if she blew herself up before realizing her own desire, wouldn't that be incredibly frustrating? Her main body on the Throne of Heroes, upon reading this experience, would surely smash this memory on the ground. And it would probably curse and swear while trying to find where that damn goddess was, and directly go fight her with its main body. Therefore, before she saw that goddess, it was better for her to stay as uninjured as possible.

Mordred charged forward, using her sword to send one after another of the completely transformed, now much taller Purge Knights flying. Because Agravain had already called all the Purge Knights back, and because these Purge Knights had now been thoroughly enhanced to this state, the path forward was completely blocked by these guys.

Mordred directly reached out and grabbed the neck of one of the Purge Knights. After squeezing his neck fiercely, she quickly smashed him forward like a bowling ball, knocking one Purge Knight after another to the ground. Finally, she charged forward by stepping on the bodies of these Purge Knights. If any Purge Knight dared to grab her ankle, Mordred wouldn't mind bringing her sword down heavily on her own foot! A bunch of puppet-like guys, don't even think about stopping her from going to see that imposter who was impersonating her father!

Morgan stood behind Mordred. Seeing Mordred advance at such a speed, she nodded with satisfaction. This daughter she had raised for so long was finally coming in handy. Although Mordred didn't inherit the throne, she did more or less inherit the King's stomach. Over at the resistance forces' camp, this knight, even while tied up, ate an unknown amount of food every day. Morgan also had to consider the people she ruled over. If it weren't for the fact that Mordred's consciousness hadn't recovered, she would have absolutely sent Mordred to the fields to grow vegetables!

"Just how many blessings did that guy Agravain give these puppet knights! I'm serious, can I really not just unleash my Noble Phantasm?" Mordred rubbed her hand. These Purge Knights were really getting tougher and tougher the more she fought them.

"If you want to self-destruct now, I don't mind you clearing the way for me." Morgan lifted her chin slightly, her face full of poise. At the same time, she raised her palm, looked at the Purge Knights blocking the way, and slowly closed her hand. It was as if she had directly crushed the hearts of these Purge Knights. The large number of Purge Knights blocking the path forward simply stopped their movements and fell to the ground. Then, black flames consumed them.

Mordred looked at Morgan's actions and couldn't help but purse her lips. She suddenly felt that if she had learned some magic back in the day, things would be much more convenient now.

Meanwhile, Tristan's condition was clearly not good. Although Bedivere was still human, the knightly sword in his hand had already been enhanced by Aslan. Coupled with Gareth's assistance from the side, Tristan was also approaching his end.

"Sir Tristan! It's over! This spear is for the civilians you slaughtered, and also to bring you peace once more! The Sir Tristan you are now, I will never acknowledge!"

The shield in Gareth's hand blocked the arrow fired by Tristan. Taking advantage of the fact that Sir Tristan couldn't free up his hands to release his Noble Phantasm, she would grant him his final tranquility here! This bloodthirsty, slaughtering, and dark appearance was not the bearing that knight should have!

"This version of Sir Tristan is even more unacceptable than the flirtatious Sir Tristan! There's no problem with me saying that, right?"

"I'm gonna take them down. I am a wolf! My lance is like a deadly fang! Let's go!—[Ira Lupus]!"

This was an existence where masterful spearmanship was sublimated into a Noble Phantasm. After unleashing a furious barrage of continuous attacks, she would pierce the enemy with a final, certain-kill strike. Gareth had once defeated several famous knights with just one spear, and had even earned the nickname "Ira Lupus" in an impending battle with King Arthur. This Noble Phantasm was the further embodiment of these legends.

One spear after another, the specially-made knightly spear pierced through Tristan's limbs. Then, the final spear finally pierced his chest. Time seemed to stop at this moment. Gareth gritted her teeth. This feeling of killing a former comrade was not a good one.

Tristan's head drooped, his red hair covering his face, hiding the extremely ferocious expression brought on by the "Reversal" gift in the shadows.

Bedivere pushed back the surrounding Purge Knights and finally walked to the side of the two. "Sir Tristan, although you have always been a pessimistic person, when we fought side-by-side, there was no other knight who was as in sync with me as you were. Whether it was attacking, defending, or any other matter... to witness your departure once again, I am truly saddened..."

Bedivere clenched his fists and took a deep breath. Although the Round Table Knights were all knights of King Arthur, not everyone in the group had a good relationship with each other. Perhaps this was also a reason that led to the final collapse of the Round Table. The relationship between Bedivere and Tristan could be described as close friends.

"Hey... Sir Tristan, is the sail you see this time white?"

Golden specks of light began to appear on Tristan's body, indicating that his Saint Graph was already beginning to dissipate. Hearing Bedivere's words, a smile appeared on Tristan's face. He slowly lifted his head. At this final moment of his descent, the "Reversal" gift on his body would finally no longer affect him.

"Although this manifestation was filled with nothing but sadness... in the end, there was finally a little joy. Go... head towards the interior of this city. The one sitting on the throne is waiting for you to awaken her..."

Gareth retracted her spear. Before her, Tristan had vanished without a trace. Now, the only one standing in their way was Agravain.