Fate: I Will Eventually Become the Hero of Justice

A Noble Phantasm is a Servant's ultimate weapon, embodying a legend and serving as proof of their heroism. It also represents humanity's craving for miracles. Most Noble Phantasms are so intimately tied to the legends that made the Servant a hero that others can't unleash or even use them, even if they manage to obtain them.

But it's true that Noble Phantasms can be transferred.

The most notable case is Sieg, who in the original timeline acquired a full set of divine armor during the Holy Grail War.

Another example is François Prelati, who transferred Prelati's Spellbook to Gilles de Rais. As long as he holds onto the Spellbook, even if Prelati is summoned again, she would be without that Noble Phantasm.

The transfer of the Holy Grail that Mordred mentioned follows the same logic, and both Saber and Mordred understood this.

From their brief exchange, it was clear to Saber that Mordred was cunning—nine times out of ten, her words could be deceitful. Yet, the prospect of restoring Camelot was deeply alluring.

Otherwise, why had Saber not flatly refused by now? Why had she stayed silent until this moment?

"Even if I'm lying to you.... don't you want to take the chance?" Mordred's smile widened, her voice dripping with a seductive allure, as if she were a little devil luring someone into the depths of hell.

It had to be said: Saber was indeed tempted.

When everything you value—family, friends, your kingdom—is destroyed, who wouldn't be tempted by the chance to save everything?

But still...

"What is your true motive? Specifically, what do you want from me?" Saber asked, locking eyes with the petite knight.

There's no such thing as a free lunch. Saber might not have considered herself a competent ruler, but having been a king, she knew that one must give to get.

Her skill "Charisma B" wasn't given to her for nothing.

"Of course, nothing in this world is free. If you want this grail, there's a price to pay. As for me, I was born somewhat cowardly but fond of gambling," Mordred chuckled. "So let's make it a game. You win, you get the Holy Grail. I win, you become my mother in this war. What do you say?"

"What?" Saber was taken aback.

Mordred laughed. "Well, how about it? I'm being quite generous, aren't I? Offering such a harmless bet... Huh? Why are you looking at me with such angry eyes? Isn't this a good deal? Even if you lose, I'm not asking you to give up the Holy Grail War. Just to stand in as my mother. And you are my mother, aren't you? You should be thankful you look the same as my actual mother. Otherwise, someone as stingy as me wouldn't offer such a generous bet."

Saber's palm trembled with rage.

There was no doubt that she had been insulted.

She had been mercilessly insulted by this petite knight.

What 'harmless bet' was she talking about?

If she lost, wouldn't that mean losing her very identity?

But most of all, why would Mordred even propose such an absurd wager?

Wasn't this far too childish?

Just then, Mordred's smile widened. The Holy Grail in her hand emitted a brilliant golden light, and the second eye at its center gradually closed.

The next moment, a bizarre, arcane pattern of symbols materialized on Mordred's face once again.

But Saber noticed something— it had changed!

Despite her anger toward the young knight, she caught this subtle detail.

The symbols were different than last time!

Suddenly, the world around Saber and Mordred transformed.

Both were garbed in royal attire, adorned in gold and silver, with crowns upon their heads.

Below them stretched out two expansive kingdoms.

"What's going on?" Saber's brow furrowed.

Mordred chuckled, "Our duel is a duel of kings. A test to see who is more fit to wear the crown. Welcome to the King's Game."

"You want to debate kingship with me?" Saber looked incredulously at the petite knight, at this Mordred.

Mordred replied, "I've read the legend of King Arthur. Didn't you say that you found 'Mordred' unworthy of kingship, refusing to recognize her? Well, I think it's you who's unfit to be king. This realm is our battleground... Why are you glaring at me like that? Relax, I haven't cheated. This is merely an illusion, similar to something Merlin created in a dream. Time here is irrelevant; we could spend an eternity here, yet only a moment would pass in the real world."

Saber's fists clenched tightly. 

Even though Mordred's tone towards her was quite gentle, there was no doubt she was constantly denying Saber! 

She was insulting and negating everything—from her experiences and rule to even her sense of self. Mordred was treating her as nothing more than a stand-in. 

The reason for her actions no longer mattered. 

What truly mattered now was that Saber had been provoked!

Saber locked eyes with Mordred, her gaze icy. "Fine, I'll take your bet. If I lose, I'm at your mercy. But if I win, you stop hounding me. And quit acting like I'm some stand-in for your mother!"

"Hmm. Deal," Mordred nodded.

Saber's fist clenched, her eyes narrowing as she glared at the young knight. "I'll show you just how foolish it is to provoke me!"

"You look as fearsome as a lion," Mordred chuckled.

Then, both Mordred and Saber stepped into their illusory domains, assuming control of their respective kingdoms.

Mordred had just settled into her throne when a soldier burst into the room. "Your Majesty, a blonde troublemaker is causing problems at the border!"

She paused, then broke into a grin. "She made her move already? My, my, it seems I've genuinely struck a nerve. And I didn't even intend to piss her off."

She sighed and stood up, smiling, "Ready the troops!"

In this battle set within the illusory realm, Saber's initial clash with Mordred ended with the latter's resounding defeat.

The outcome was almost a given. Saber, after all, is none other than King Arthur, the legendary king who defeated Vortigern and unified Britain. While she might not excel in administrative duties, her combat skills are nothing short of exceptional.

And although Saber's tactical finesse might not rival that of Artie, who famously outmaneuvered Attila the Hun, her victory over Mordred—who had limited experience leading armies—was almost effortless.

Yet Mordred managed to hold the fortress, repelling Saber's forces with a well-timed volley of arrows and tactical planning.

Before retreating, Saber shot a cold glance at Mordred, who was standing atop the fortress wall, and then led her army away.

She was determined to teach Mordred a lesson she wouldn't soon forget—just how severe the repercussions could be for provoking her!

Mordred stood on the fortress wall, smiling as she watched Saber and her troops retreat, seemingly unfazed by her defeat.

Then, a team of soldiers stepped onto the battlefield to clean up the aftermath.

In ancient warfare, this was an essential step; the dead had to be removed to prevent the spread of disease.

The devastation a plague could wreak in those times is almost beyond comprehension.

The illusory realm conjured by Mordred was as complex as any that Merlin had once created for Shirou in a dream. The attention to detail was impeccable, even accounting for such realities of warfare.

Mordred signaled her soldiers to stop their cleanup of the battlefield.

"Your Majesty, if we don't deal with these bodies, we risk a plague."

"I know," Mordred replied with a smile. "I'm not telling you to ignore the bodies; just move them to that river."

She extended her finger, pointing toward a river adjacent to the fortress.

The illusory realm she'd created was a mirror of ancient Britain's geography. The landscape and climate were indistinguishable from the British Isles as they existed over 1500 years ago.

Both Mordred and Saber, who had once united all of Britain, knew this map like the back of their hands.

To level the playing field, Mordred even granted Saber a few advantages. She handed her the entire territory that had once been under Vortigern's control, keeping only a small portion of southern England and Wales for herself.

That way, if Saber lost, she'd have no room for excuses.

Mordred narrowed her eyes.

Following her orders, the soldiers transported the corpses to the river beside the fortress.

The river flowed from south to north.

Since Mordred was upstream, dumping the bodies here would mean the waterlogged corpses would eventually float into Saber's domain.

And waterlogged bodies were the perfect breeding ground for a plague.

She narrowed her eyes in thought. How could she—a master of deception who lied nine times out of ten and used the truth as a trick on the tenth—possibly win in a straightforward battle?

Moreover, she had sent a group of bards disguised as mountain folk into Saber's kingdom through hidden mountain trails.

Why?

Clearly, to sow seeds of doubt among Saber's subjects. After all, as Eternal King once said, the pen is mightier than the sword—or in this case, words could be just as fearsome!