Mordred, like Gawain and Agravain, was a member of the Knights of the Round Table.
The only difference from the traditional Type-Moon lore was that Mordred wasn't an artificial human created by Morgan le Fay using the Red Dragon's genes, instead, she was a "monster" born from the mingled blood of the Red Dragon and the White Dragon.
In a way, while she called Morgan le Fay "Mother," her true parents were none other than Alvin and Artoria.
From the moment of her birth, this so-called "Knight of Treachery" possessed strength far beyond ordinary humans.
Combined with Morgan's lax discipline… this rebellious child had grown up defiant of everyone
But—
Having been raised on tales of the Red and White Dragons, watching the King shine brilliantly over Camelot, Mordred harbored an indescribable longing for King Arthur and her long-dead "Father."
To get closer to Artoria, she had tried countless methods and even took the initiative to find her, but was rejected by her...
From then on, her admiration twisted into resentment.
Yet even so, in her heart, King Arthur's status remained unreachable.
But now…
What did she see..?
The very king, she hated, loved, adored holding hands with some unknown boy.
And looking so
"Y-You…!"
Mordred's eyes widened, and soon, she looked at Alvin with anger in her eyes.
"You filthy outsider—what the hell are you doing to the King?!"
It felt like stumbling upon the desecration of a goddess.
The sight filled her with an unspeakable, burning shame.
"Is this girl… Mordred?"
Alvin also looked at the tightly dressed girl at the door, and soon there was a hint of surprise in his eyes.
Although Mordred was born after his death, as a player of the Type-Moon game in his previous life, Alvin naturally recognized the other party's identity at the first time.
After all, even without those memories, even with her face hidden beneath layers of armor, he could feel a strange familiarity radiating from her.
The same sensation he had experienced when facing the Silver Knight on the Camlann Plains.
Because within Mordred's veins flowed the blood of the White Dragon.
"What are you doing here?"
At that moment, Artoria's calm voice rang out.
Though a faint blush still lingered on her cheeks, her eyes radiated a commanding authority, just opening her mouth seemed to send a wave of invisible pressure crashing down.
Mordred's chest tightened slightly, but she quickly lifted her head to meet Artoria's gaze, her voice taut with restrained emotion.
"King… who the hell is this guy by your side?"
Even though the White Dragon had already died by the time Mordred was born, she had always seen her father, the legendary knight from the White Dragon Rebellion, as an idol.
In her mind, the only one worthy of sitting beside the King… was that man.
And now, the King was out here, with some random boy? A pretty boy who barely looked out of high school?
The image shocked her to her core.
But once she recovered, her eyes turned toward Alvin, burning with anger.
This guy, who clearly had nothing going for him besides a decent face, was actually holding hands with the King? In private? Outside the palace?
Just thinking about it made Mordred's blood pressure spike.
Alvin caught all of Mordred's murderous intent instantly.
First confused, then he instantly realized, yep, although she didn't see him kiss her, he was still holding Artoria's hand.
No wonder.
In Camelot, it didn't matter if they were loyalists or rebels, people fell into two camps: fanatical worshippers of Artoria, or vehement haters.
From the look on her face, Mordred was definitely one of the former.
Still, it was obvious, she had misunderstood the situation.
Not exactly but...
Alvin adjusted his posture, tried to smile diplomatically, and said, "Mordred—"
Whoosh!
Before he could finish, Mordred had already drawn her sword and swung it at him with enough force to split a tree.
CRACK—
The wooden floor cracked under the sheer pressure of the strike.
But Alvin didn't dodge.
Instead, he calmly raised a hand to meet the blow.
Just before the blade could split his skull, his fingers clamped down on the sword's edge, stopping it cold.
Unlike Vortigern's dragon core, Alvin's White Dragon Furnace gave him two powers: one was sheer magical energy comparable to the Red Dragon's, and the other… was brute force.
He could reinforce anything he touched, even his own body, turning it into something harder than steel.
Mordred instinctively tried to yank her blade free, but it wouldn't budge an inch.
Seeing this, her eyes narrowed in surprise.
Then, slowly, a wild, intrigued grin curled across her lips.
"Well, well… a transmigrator, huh? But at least you've got more bite than the other trash lately."
"But you do realize—"
"You're picking a fight with the wrong person."
ROAR—
There was a faint, guttural dragon's growl echoing from deep within Mordred's body.
She pulled hard, ripping the sword free from Alvin's grip and kicked off the ground, darting forward like a wraith.
CLANG!
The crash of blades rang out as Artoria stepped in between them, Excalibur drawn and gleaming in the light.
"Mordred. Stand down."
Her tone was calm, composed.
After all, she didn't want this day, the day when Alvin returned, to be ruined by the bloodbath.
She also didn't want to look bad in front of him.
But that protectiveness only pushed Mordred over the edge.
She lifted her head, and spoke in a low voice. "So that's how it is… Just a few days, and you've already fallen for this transmigrator boy. Enough to draw your sword on me for him?"
She relaxed her stance slowly, her tone seeming to yield.
"I get it. You're the King. What you say is law. Even the Round Table must obey."
Artoria's eyes narrowed, suspecting Mordred might actually be backing off.
But the next moment, the latter raised her head again and this time, she was grinning wildly.
"But did you forget something?"
"My power isn't just the blood of the Red Dragon…"
"I also carry the blood of the White Dragon. I was born your opposite."
"And yeah, I'm a Round Table knight… but I'm also the one knight who dares raise her sword against the King."
BOOM.
The next moment, a terrifying surge of magical energy exploded outward, roaring like thunder down the entire street.
Mordred's greatsword blazed with a searing crimson light.
At that moment, Artoria's long-held composure finally shifted, just slightly as a sliver of cold sharpness flickered in her gaze.
She narrowed her eyes.
"Looks like when my sister took you away… she didn't teach you very well."
The golden strands of Artoria's hair fluttered despite the absence of wind.
As they danced in the air, the sword in her hand, Excalibur, began to shimmer with radiant golden light.
Mordred, who had just moments ago been overflowing with confidence and arrogance, suddenly felt a chilling sense of danger.
Her skin crawled, her instincts screamed.
She looked up and met the gaze of a lion.
Those piercing, holy blue eyes held a majesty that could crush someone with a glance.
Danger.
Extreme danger.
For the first time, Mordred felt a true sense of fear but her pride told her not to back down, not to flinch.
So she stood there, eyes locked on Artoria, watching helplessly as she raised her sword.
Magical power swirled, condensing into the holy blade like a brewing storm.
But just as the energy peaked, someone stepped between them.
Alvin.
Artoria's eyes widened, instinctively trying to halt her strike, but the energy had already been released.
The golden blaze surged forward like a tidal wave, bearing down on Alvin with overwhelming power, as if it would obliterate him from existence.
"AAAAAA—!"
From within the torrent of light came a dragon's roar—deep, guttural, ancient.
Mordred watched in stunned silence as the boy's form twisted, shifting within the glow until a white dragon stood in his place.
Its jaws opened with a mighty roar, and a wave of darkness erupted outward.
The sacred golden light of Excalibur—unstoppable, divine, was swallowed in silence.
No explosion. No clash. Just... gone.
The room fell into an eerie silence.
Mordred's mind went blank.
Even if Artoria hadn't used the sword's full power… to completely absorb its magic with nothing but his body?
That shouldn't be possible.
But it was.
Because once, long ago, the Night Watcher of Camelot slew the White Dragon Vortigern… and inherited its power.
Becoming the next White Dragon.
Only he, her late, legendary 'father'—had ever been capable of such a feat.
But both dragons had already been killed by Artoria's own hand.
So who… exactly… was this "transmigrator"?
Mordred's expression shifted rapidly, her gaze filled with disbelief and suspicion as she stared at Alvin.
When she'd entered earlier, she hadn't noticed, but now it was undeniable: the blood of the White Dragon flowing in this guy… might be even stronger than hers.
Just then, Artoria's low voice, laced with anger, cut through the silence.
"Taking a hit from Excalibur with your body… are you trying to die again, Alvin?"
Alvin gave a helpless smile.
"Lily, you can't discipline kids with brute force. There are… gentler ways."
"…What kind of way?"
Seeing the boy's smile, so familiar, so nostalgic, Artoria felt the fire in her heart dim.
In all of Camelot, the only one who could disarm the King of Knights… was Alvin.
He stepped closer, leaned in, and whispered near her ear, "We can talk about the details later. For now… let's just take her back."
Artoria glanced at him, then looked away slightly, her expression faintly flustered as she gave a soft "Mm."
Seeing the proud, golden-haired queen show a flicker of shyness… Alvin couldn't help but smile more warmly.
Sure enough. She might've grown up a lot, but Lily was still Lily.
"Not just Mordred..." Artoria suddenly asked softly, "You'll come back to the palace with me too, right?"
"Ah... huh?"
The sudden question caught Alvin completely off guard.
Artoria tilted her head slightly, her eyes calmly meeting his. "You do know I have a lot of questions for you... and a lot of things I want to say, don't you?"
"And... back then, when I was desperately praying, you just stood there and let me use my Noble Phantasm without even lifting a finger. You don't think it'd be too much to ask for a little compensation now... right?"
For some reason, Alvin felt a faint chill rise in his chest.
Something about her tone... didn't feel quite right.
But he still maintained his smile and replied gently, "Say it. If it's something I can do, I will."
Artoria lowered her head ever so slightly.
In front of Mordred, she leaned in close, her soft red lips brushing against the boy's ear.
"After we return to the palace... come with me to the underground chamber beneath my bedchamber, okay?"
Hearing this, the smile on Alvin's face froze.
Meanwhile, whatever the two of them were whispering about... Mordred had completely stopped listening.
The moment Artoria uttered that name, something in Mordred seemed to shut down, as if she were caught in a spell.
Her expression went blank, her eyes distant.
Bit by bit, she raised her head, staring at the boy, who looked no older than fifteen or sixteen, with a dazed, disbelieving look in her eyes.
"...Father?"
.
.
.
When the wall of the house was blasted open with a deafening crash, Gareth, who was standing outside, began to tremble.
So it wasn't just her imagination...
The King of Knights was really inside that house!
In that moment, Gareth felt incredibly lucky she'd bumped into Mordred on the road earlier.
Otherwise... the one getting obliterated right now might've been her.
And if she wasn't mistaken, Mordred had just tried to attack the King?
Should she say "as expected of her"?
In Camelot, there were very few people with the guts to cross swords with the King herself...
"Mordred, hang in there... I will come rescue you," Gareth muttered under her breath."Just... not right now."
She turned to glance back at the wrecked building, her expression turning grim.
Because when Mordred and the King had clashed, there had been a third person who intervened.
And the power he'd used…
That was clearly the magic of the White Dragon.
A transmigrator, seemingly in possession of the White Dragon's core, had appeared in Camelot...
This was a message she had to deliver to her mother, immediately.