Excalibur vs. the Glorious King's Sword

Mordred's fingers clenched tightly around the hilt, her face full of provocation.

She raised the sword high. Driven by magical energy, its silver-white blade radiated a red-black glow, as though recounting its former glory and present corruption.

"You should still recognize this sword, shouldn't you?" Mordred said, her gaze locked tightly onto Artoria as she waited to see her expression.

"Of course. Clarent, the Resplendent King's Sword. It was once kept in my armory, a holy sword prepared for the next king. Yet while I was away on campaign, you stole it." Artoria looked at the Noble Phantasm in Mordred's hand, no longer as pure white and dazzling as it had once been, with a hint of nostalgia.

"Unfortunately, it has been tainted by your power and has lost its former splendid brilliance."

Mordred said with a touch of pride, "No. I was the one who developed its true power. Back then, on the Hill of Swords, I never had the chance to use it. This time, I'll show you my strength!"

As she spoke, the cursed sword in her hand began gathering red-black lightning. A massive pressure of wind erupted, making even the surrounding air tremble.

Artoria refused to be outdone. It was merely a cursed sword. In terms of power, her Excalibur stood far above it.

She held her sword before her with both hands. As she moved, Invisible Air dispersed, revealing the blade glowing with platinum light.

Beneath the moonlight, the holy sword shone with a sacred radiance, proclaiming its power and sanctity.

A longing expression appeared on Mordred's face, but whether that longing was for the sword or for the person, no one knew.

Her arm swung sharply, and the cursed sword carved a blood-red arc through the air.

Mordred declared loudly, "Roar forth, Clarent Blood