I Don’t Want to Be a Heroic Spirit

"Oh, by the way, what's your wish, Mordred?"

"..."

Mordred fell silent.

Kairi raised an eyebrow, his expression turning mock-surprised. "Hey, hey, don't tell me it's something embarrassing?"

"What the hell are you even thinking?!"

Mordred glared at Kairi, baring her teeth like an irate lioness.

She raised her fist as if to strike, but after a moment of hesitation, she let it drop. Instead, she scratched her head in frustration.

"...Tch! Fine, I'll tell you!"

She spoke with a tone of resignation, her face tinged with visible discomfort. Even her voice softened, losing some of its usual sharpness.

"My wish is... for every 'me' to have the memories I've made during this time."

As soon as the words left her mouth, a surge of irritation swelled in her chest.

"You mentioned it before, didn't you? Whether I win or lose this Grail War, I'll lose these memories when it's over. The next time I'm summoned, I'll just be that same rebellious knight who destroyed Britain. I don't want that."

Mordred covered her face with her hand, her tightly furrowed brows peeking through her fingers.

"What a joke!"

Frustration and resentment welled up inside her, nearly suffocating.

She didn't want that to happen again.

She didn't want to misunderstand her father and end up crossing swords with her once more.

Mordred hadn't told Artoria this, but she despised her past self—the self who had betrayed her gentle father and destroyed everything she had worked for.

"That's why I have to claim the Grail... only the Grail can grant my wish."

The Throne of Heroes exists outside time. Memories of a Grail War are recorded there but not shared among the different iterations of a Heroic Spirit.

Mordred's wish was to change that, to ensure that all versions of herself would remember this Grail War.

Especially her time with Artoria.

The things Artoria said, the memories they made together—those were Mordred's most precious treasures, worth more than the world itself.

"There, I said it. Laugh if you want," Mordred muttered.

She exhaled heavily, as if letting go of a weight she had been carrying, her posture relaxing. It wasn't surrender—it was more like she was giving up on caring about what others thought.

Kairi raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"Hmm? Why would I laugh at that?"

"What? You're really not going to laugh?"

"Why would I? I think that's a pretty admirable wish," Kairi said in a serious tone. "Not everyone has the clarity to recognize their true desires. And saying it out loud? That takes guts."

"...Master, you're lucky your words satisfied me, or else I'd have taken your head right here," Mordred said with a snort, hoisting her Clarent onto her shoulder and turning to leave.

"Hey, hey! Wait a second! You mean if I'd laughed just now, you would've swung that sword at me?"

"Of course!"

Her tone was so matter-of-fact it felt absurd, and her expression was one of genuine confusion, as if questioning why he'd even ask such a dumb question.

"I'm your Master! If you kill me before the final battle, what's your plan then?"

"Huh… you're right..."

Mordred paused, tilting her head in thought.

"...But it didn't happen, did it?"

Turning back to Kairi, she flashed him a bright, carefree grin.

"Since it didn't happen, there's no point dwelling on it. How about I treat you to a meal? No matter what happens, we still have to eat, right? Come on, smile for me!"

"I just walked out of the jaws of death—how am I supposed to smile?"

"Exactly why you should smile! What's that saying in this era again? Something about blessings after a narrow escape?"

"It's 'great misfortune avoided brings great fortune.'"

---

"Caster... has been eliminated?"

Artoria paused, startled by the news.

"Yes…"

Fiore's expression was heavy, and understandably so. Caster Avicebron had been crucial to the Black Faction's strength, rivaling even Vlad III and Siegfried in importance.

Not only had Avicebron provided an endless army of magical constructs, but his Noble Phantasm had been a trump card they had carefully kept hidden.

Fiore explained that Avicebron had died at the hands of Amakusa Shirou Tokisada to protect his Master, Roche.

Taking advantage of the chaos caused by Semiramis's Hanging Gardens and the stolen Greater Grail, Amakusa had infiltrated their camp and approached Avicebron and Roche.

Amakusa had offered Avicebron the chance to join the Red Faction and promised to help him complete his Noble Phantasm—on the condition that Roche be used as the core of the construct.

However, perhaps influenced by his earlier conversation with Artoria, Avicebron made a different choice this time.

He saved Roche from Amakusa's hands, sacrificing his own life in the process.

"Caster's Master must be in great pain. To lose someone they admired so deeply, and to be the reason for their death…"

Artoria couldn't say if what she had done was right or wrong.

She had simply done what she believed was necessary.

But as always, her choices brought pain to someone.

"Since waking up, Roche has locked himself in his room… he hasn't even visited his beloved workshop."

"Perhaps the familiar surroundings would remind him of Caster... I hope he can find solace and recover soon."

"Yes…"

Fiore's concern was evident, her compassion standing out starkly among the cutthroat world of mages.

In contrast, the other Black Faction members—including Fiore's brother Caules—were more focused on the upcoming battle. To them, Roche was a broken tool, discarded and forgotten like a defective toy.

Ironically, being overlooked might have been a blessing for Roche. At least he wasn't being repurposed for some other nefarious use, as Avicebron might have done if circumstances had been different.