Leave the Rest to Me (Continued)

A single spell sent Mordred flying back dozens of meters.

Her armor, which had borne the attack head-on, could no longer hold together and shattered, revealing Mordred's bloodshot eyes.

Mordred saw it—saw herself just after she had been born, her mother attacking her with magecraft as she dodged again and again.

"How could you ever catch up to Arthur like that?!"

That woman had roared those words at the time.

That poisonous bitch might have been her mother, but Mordred had never liked her.

The poisonous bitch before her was just like her mother had been back then, luring her into doing things she hated.

She remembered standing amid the crowds lining the street. Arthur rode past on a magnificent horse after yet another victory, but she had not even spared Mordred a glance.

Yet back then, Mordred had still admired that great king, who won battle after battle. She had struggled to draw the sword and become one of the Knights of the Round Table, but she still seemed unable to earn her acknowledgment.

Thinking about it, why should she acknowledge her? She was so weak that she could not fight back against a mere Assassin. Poisoned, she could only kneel halfway to the ground, unable to move. If it had been that king, perhaps she would have already unleashed Excalibur and brought victory after victory to that easygoing Master.

"Arthur—"

Semiramis did not step forward. Instead, she called to Hydra, "Go on. Bite her to death. She's no longer of any use."

Hydra flicked out its tongues and shifted its enormous body forward.

Was she going to die?

Mordred struggled to raise her head. Even now, she wanted to keep her eyes wide open and look at her enemy. If she were killed like this, then if that