Mordred held Clarent—the dazzling silver sword symbolizing Britain's royal authority and bearing her father's longing. It wept over the slaughter between siblings, and had long since been stained an ominous black.
And so, Britain welcomed its twilight.
"What kind of joke is this..."
Mordred slowly opened her eyes and found herself lying on damp ground.
Around her were only candles, mountains of white bones illuminated by their flames, and something resembling an altar. Two sleeping bags lay beside it.
This was her Master, Kaijiri Shishigami's, workshop—a catacomb somewhere on the spiritual ley line beneath Sighisoara.
"I actually dreamed about the past. What the hell..."
Mordred struggled to sit up.
The "Black" Archer's shoulder throw had been far more effective than she had expected. Her entire body felt as though it had fallen apart.
Not only was she sore all over, but her head felt groggy as well.
She figured she must have fallen asleep on the way back, after which her Master had carried her into the workshop.
"...Ugh."
Mordred remembered that she had not only dreamed about her life before death, but had also had an even stranger dream.
What was it again? Right!
She had followed a trail of blood to the "Black" Assassin's base, only to encounter Father King there and get blown away by a single Gale Force Hammer.
"Haha, what a stupid dream... How could Father King appear in this era..."
Mordred laughed at herself.
As an exceptional Servant, King Arthur could not be summoned. That was common knowledge in the world of magecraft.
Seriously, what was wrong with her tonight?
The blonde girl irritably scratched her hair, then kicked the wooden door open.
"Hey! Master! Why didn't you wake me up?!"
"Saber... are you awake?"
The man in sunglasses—Kaijiri Shishigami—stared at Mordred