Although there might be some issues, Pindo actually felt that Mordred's test had been quite inspired—just not on his part.
However—
Looking at the sword in his hand, wrapped in crimson lightning, Pindo's expression carried a trace of gratitude and complexity.
This was a mystery unique to Mordred, one that no one else could replicate.
Yet now, Mordred had torn away even part of her magical energy and Saint Graph, giving it to him.
The strength of his own Saint Graph was steadily increasing. Pindo could feel it.
Percival and Mordred's gifts had both settled upon his Spirit Core, forging an almost entirely new Saint Graph for him.
And because they were both Knights of the Round Table, there had been no rejection.
The Round Table had always been of one heart. There might have been rifts, there might have been incidents like Camlann, but—
When their feet stood upon Britain, and Britain faced danger, then the stance of every Knight of the Round Table would inevitably be united.
Therefore, no matter how incompatible the magical energy might be, it would certainly merge within Pindo's current Saint Graph, helping him grow stronger.
Because only by becoming stronger could he solve the problems Britain faced.
"How does it feel?" Mordred sat down beside Pindo, grinning. "My magical energy and mystery aren't bad, right?"
"Sure, they're definitely no match for my father, Sir Anno, Sir Gawain, and other Holy Sword wielders, or that guy Percival with the Holy Spear. But personally, I think this power's pretty useful."
She spoke with rather shameless self-praise.
"It's powerful." Pindo did not deny Mordred's strength. He merely clenched his fist and summoned a thread of lightning. "And it suits your style very well, Mordred."
". Can I take that as you implying something, Uncle Pindo?" Mordred