Unknownfate
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Chapter 66
🕑 Added 2025-03-29 03:35:03 +0000 UTC“AHHHRRRHHH! Cough gouch… Damn… Ahhh.” Inside a bright and stylish London apartment, a gruesome scene was set up in the bedroom. A pentagram drawn in blood lay on the floor, encircled by arcane runes, with strange objects positioned at each point of the star.
In the center was a stunning woman, her hair as dark as the abyss and her skin so pale that even a vampire would envy it.
She had been sitting still, without movement or sound, for hours, and now she suddenly awoke, screaming in pain, her entire body shaking.
“Damn it, damn it, who are they? And why do they pretend to be Arthur and Mordred?” she asked, her voice trembling with shock and confusion.
“URGHHHGG!” She bent over and vomited blood, her already pale skin turning a sickly, deathly hue.
“So much life force… wasted, curses, curses.” She quickly picked up a small vial from the ground and opened it, allowing a red mist to escape, which she inhaled eagerly.
The highly concentrated lifeforce of a thousand virgins restored some of the power she had lost, though she still felt weak.
“Damn it, I can’t believe he is a damned god. How come that old bald bitch hasn’t done something yet? Surely she can’t be blind, can she?”
Morgana Le Fay wasn’t ignorant about godly beings; she had many encounters with the Moon Knight, the dog of Khonshu, over the years.
And she had long since learned that it was better to avoid involvement with those kinds of beings. Even while only able to act through an avatar, Khonshu had been trouble, not to mention any god that wasn’t bound by such limits.
“Can’t stay here, who knows what kind of trap this is.” Even weak, she knew she couldn’t waste time. She was in the mortal domain of a God, and in the same city as one of the Sanctums of the mystic arts, which meant the Sorcerer supreme isn’t far.
Morgana wiped the blood from her lips, hissing through her teeth as she tried to stabilize her breathing. The ritual had drained her, but more than that, she had underestimated the situation. She had overextended herself and lost an enormous amount of lifeforce.
Mordred had been strong; she had seen his display, and she had seen the mighty pillar of light descend from the sky, which was the only reason she had refrained from showing up in person.
Instead, she sent a puppet, and she was glad she had. For she hadn’t expected just how strong they all were.
Mordred alone was strong, she knew that, but really, that shield she used was powered by an entire millennium's worth of lifeforce, and it had barely stopped two strikes from his sword.
Honestly, it had been one huge disaster, right from the beginning, she had been thrown off her plan. Clearly, Mordred wasn’t the real one, something she had expected, but she had thought that they would play along.
But rather than that, they had just denied her words, calling her a liar and pretender. Even though they were the pretenders, yet might makes right, and she was unable to do anything.
When Arthur unleashed his divine aura, she was only more shocked and uncertain, and it continued to grow from less than that of Moon Knight to more potent than Khonshu himself.
Morgana gritted her teeth, forcing herself upright despite the lingering pain ravaging her body. The air in her chamber still crackled with the remnants of her failed spell, the pentagram’s runes flickering weakly, as though taunting her.
She wanted nothing more than to rest, to recover fully, yet she couldn’t; she couldn’t stay; she had to get away and behind some more powerful protection spells.
She couldn’t help but shudder as the thought came back to how easily the person calling themselves Mordred had broken her shield.
She pressed a trembling hand against her forehead. “It’s not just their power. Something about them is… wrong.”
This wasn’t merely a revived Camelot. Something else was in play here.
Something she didn’t understand. But she would, she would find out their secrets, but she would do so from far away. She wasn’t foolish enough to go against a god, but she knew people who were, people who could test them for her.
“I never should have gone myself. What a stupid mistake.” She cursed at herself; she had been too arrogant, allowing pride to take the better of her.
Taking a deep breath, she quickly cast a spell and disappeared from the apartment, from London and from Albion entirely, leaving the place burning behind her, all the evidence of her actions quickly consumed in flames.
-----
Mordred broke through the sound barrier and whatever barrier the witch had put up, and Clarent struck flesh, cutting the body in two right down the middle.
With millions, billions even, all watching, I knew such a sight might be unwelcome. This was a celebration, and while I didn’t fully agree with the idea that children should be kept in the dark, I still didn’t want them to witness this, some were just too young.
So before people even had a chance to react, before the body could even begin to separate after Clarent carved through it, I quickly summoned a strong wind. It forced everyone to look away, while it carried the body and every drop of blood away.
And when the wind died down, all that remained was Mordred standing on the ground, sword in hand.
“Well done, Mordred. The witch might have fled, but you ensured that she wouldn’t cause more trouble here today, allowing us to continue. Though you already started showing off your might, maybe we should give the others a chance now?”
My voice quickly broke the silence, changing the topic.
“Come, join me here, Agravain, as well. The rest of you, my proud knights, shall continue the grand melee, and the winner shall face Mordred.” I knew Mordred wasn’t happy with the conclusion, but I didn’t want to have the discussion now.
So I quickly made an excuse to bring her up here, where we could talk about what had happened while keeping the crowd entertained by the others.
“Sir Blessed, are you able to continue? Surely the voice of god isn’t done yet?”
Blessed's booming laughter returned, vibrant and full of life, as if he hadn’t just witnessed a high sorceress attempt to claim dominion over Camelot. His voice thundered across the field, filling the silence with a renewed sense of grandeur.
I might have used a bit of magic to calm the crowd; I couldn’t extend that to those beyond here, but hopefully, the fact that those at home hadn’t been able to feel it all meant they weren’t as badly affected as those here.
"AH-HA! YOU THINK THIS OLD LUNGSACK IS DONE? NEVER!" He spread his arms wide, turning his face toward the sky. "LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, BRAVE SOULS AND HONORED GUESTS, I BET YOU NEVER EXPECTED THAT EXTRA BIT OF ENTERTAINMENT; I HOPE YOU ARE READY FOR MORE BECAUSE NOW IT IS TIME FOR A SHOW OF STRENGTH; LET THE GRAND MELEE BEGIN!”
The crowd quickly once more became infected with his energy and enthusiasm. And with my knights all eager to show off, or at least keep the crowd entertained enough to give me some peace, everything quickly got back underway.
Mordred and Agravain soon made their way up to me, standing close by; there weren’t seats prepared for them, but they didn’t seem to mind; I quickly raised a barrier of wind that kept our voices from traveling out, ensuring that we could talk in peace.
Mordred was the first to speak, and with a scowl on her face at that. “Why did you say she escaped? I clearly got her in half.”
“Because she did.” I explained. “She wasn’t truly here; she was but a puppet. No doubt you still dealt her a heavy blow, but she escaped, and I didn’t want to upset the children out there.” I gestured to the crowd, which indeed contained small children of all ages.
Sir Blessed’s deep voice resonated across the tournament grounds, his arms spread wide as the knights stepped forward to take their positions.
"AH-HA! A CLASH OF HONOR! A TEST OF STEEL AND SPIRIT! THE MELEE CONTINUES, NOT AS A RABBLE, BUT AS A TRUE TEST OF CHIVALRY! KNIGHTS, STEP FORWARD, CHALLENGE YOUR NEXT OPPONENT!"
The first two contestants strode onto the field, each bearing their family’s crest upon their armor.
Sir Lamorak versus Sir Kay.
The two knights stood tall, their swords gleaming in the afternoon sun.
“So… was that mother? It didn’t feel like her… but if it was just a puppet.” Mordred couldn’t help but ask.
Looking down at Kay as he fought, I just shook my head. “No, it wasn’t her. My sister wouldn’t do something like that and risk getting humiliated by using a weak puppet in public like that.”
Agravain’s brow furrowed, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Indeed, while she might make use of a puppet, she wouldn’t show up like that, she would do it more privately, at least the first time. To judge our attitude.”
Sir Kay and Lamorak had wasted no time. Their swords met in a ringing clash, both knights pushing against one another, testing the other’s strength.
Mordred tapped her fingers against her armored arm. "So we know it wasn’t Mother. Then who?"
“A witch, a powerful one, not many could have resisted even one blow from you, much less force you to use mana burst. And someone who thought she could use my sister’s name for something.”
I knew the truth, that it was Morgan Le Fay, yet since I couldn’t admit that, she was Morgan no more. I, the imposter, now once more decided who was the real imposter.
“I guess this means Mother isn’t around.” Agravain slowly added, his tone filled with mixed feelings.
I didn’t blame him, Morgan was an enemy, but never had she turned against her children, even as they turned against her and helped me, she never did anything. She allowed it, allowed them free will.
She could easily have taken that from them, she was strong enough, skilled enough, but she never did anything like that, she might have treated them as tools, but she still loved them in her own way.
“Why do you say that?” Mordred clearly hadn’t been able to figure it out yet.
“Because, if she were around, there would be no way anyone would dare to pretend to be her.” I explained.
"So she isn’t around," Mordred muttered, arms crossed. "That’s… a good thing right?” She asked, her voice uncertain.
“It’s okay to miss her. She is your mother, after all, my sister, and she would be welcome in Albion, in Camelot, if she were here.”
No one spoke for a moment, my words just hanging there. All of us just watching the fighting in silence.
"AND NOW, A TEST OF LOYALTY AND ENDURANCE! THE KING’S MOST STEADFAST HAND—THE LAST TO SEE CAMELOT FALL—NOW STEPS FORWARD! SIR BEDIVERE, AGAINST THE INDOMITABLE SIR KAY! BROTHER AGAINST BROTHER, A DUEL OF OLD FRIENDS AND PROVEN STEEL!"
“What do we do now? This witch, pretending to be mother, she is out there.” Mordred said, wanting to change the subject.
“Firstly, we gather information, learn what we can about her, then, we try to find her, the widows can look for clues.”
“AMAZING, SUCH STRENGTH, SUCH SKILL, SUCH SPEED, THIS IS BEYOND BELIEF, YET IT’S THE TRUTH, IT'S CAMELOT, IT’S ALBION!”
“It would be pointless to send you after her, finding a witch that doesn’t want to be found? Nearly impossible, no, we have to take it slow.” I knew Mordred wouldn’t like that, but finding Morgan wouldn’t be easy, not at all.
One didn’t live for more than a thousand years without learning a few things about hiding and staying alive.
Mordred crossed her arms, frustration clear in her posture. "So we wait," she muttered. "I hate waiting."
Agravain, ever composed, sighed. "This is why you're not the one making these decisions."
Mordred shot him a glare, but it lacked real bite. "And yet I’m still the heir."
"Patience is not the same as inaction," he said. "We act—just carefully. This witch, whoever she truly is, has already made a mistake. She showed herself. She overplayed her hand. We will learn more soon."
Mordred didn't look satisfied, but she didn't argue.
We didn’t speak much; the mood wasn’t great. It was sad, how a great day had been tainted. “Mordred, it seems Gawain is going to beat Lancelot soon, so unless you plan to let him claim victory, you better get ready.”
Mordred straightened at my words, her scowl replaced by something more competitive.
"As if I'd let him take the win that easily," she muttered, adjusting her gauntlets.
Down on the field, Gawain and Lancelot’s duel was nearing its climax. The two knights circled each other, their blades moving in swift arcs, their battle a testament to both strength and technique. Gawain, ever the relentless warrior, pressed forward aggressively, each of his strikes carrying the weight of his solar-enhanced strength.
But Lancelot was Lancelot—his footwork was flawless, his defense impenetrable, and with each passing second, he moved more like a shadow, dodging and parrying as if he were untouchable.
Sir Blessed’s voice boomed once more, his energy keeping the crowd on edge.
"OH, WHAT A SIGHT TO BEHOLD! THE KNIGHT OF THE SUN, GAWAIN, FACING THE KNIGHT WITHOUT PEER, LANCELOT! THEIR BLOWS RING LOUDER THAN A BLACKSMITH’S FORGE! WHO SHALL REMAIN STANDING?"
The crowd roared, caught up in the spectacle.
Agravain watched impassively. "Gawain has the advantage with the sun at its peak, but Lancelot is still more skilled. If this continues, it will depend on who makes the first mistake."
I shook my head. “No need to be modest, Gawain’s reputation of being invisible under the sun isn’t unearned. Lancelot might be more skilled, but he can’t win.”
Mordred smirked at my words, her arms crossed as she watched Gawain and Lancelot exchange blow after blow.
She had no lost love for Lancelot; in fact, she hated him quite a bit and given that she had killed Gawain on that hill at Camlann, she likely liked her chance at winning again.
Lancelot misjudged a parry, Gawain’s blade slammed into his defense with the force of a meteor. Lancelot staggered, his footing faltering.
Gawain’s next strike sent Lancelot’s sword flying.
The crowd gasped.
Lancelot, ever graceful in both victory and defeat, took a single breath—then dropped to one knee.
"I yield."
For a heartbeat, there was only silence.
Then, the eruption.
The stands shook with cheers as Sir Blessed threw his arms to the heavens, his laughter shaking the very sky.
"IT IS DONE! GAWAIN STANDS VICTORIOUS! A BATTLE FOR THE AGES, A FIGHT WORTHY OF SONGS YET TO BE WRITTEN! BUT THE FINAL CHALLENGE REMAINS! MORDRED, THE KNIGHT OF REBELLION, SHALL FACE GAWAIN AS HIS FINAL OPPONENT!”
Mordred stretched, rolling her shoulders. "About time."
Agravain exhaled. "Try not to lose too quickly."
Mordred shot him a glare. “Fat chance, I will beat him, Just watch, Father, I will challenge you once I’m done with him.”
“If you win, such is your right.” I merely said with a smile and waved him off as he jumped down from the balcony.
