Whoa. Over 300 Favorites and 400 Reviews. Just, Wow. Thank you guys so much! This is the most popular story I've ever had and it is amazing to know that so many people are enjoying this story. I mean it, thank you.

This chapter was beta-ed by NoXIV


He was lost. Lost in the rage.

The pain.

The resentment.

Lost in the endless shadow she cast.

It was as he deserved.

He was unworthy.

His fault. His sin.

The end of her shining kingdom.

His failure.

His madness was his punishment.

It was just.

But it was not sufficient.

The punishment was incomplete.

He needed atonement.

He needed her.

He needed her to strike him down with all her rage.

He could not tolerate any more forgiveness.

The Rider… The Rider had granted him a short reprieve.

A moment to serve his new master.

He could not even remember the oath.

He was surrounded by enemies, foes to be crushed.

The children that turned to mist when slain.

The fool with strange red sword.

The swift man with the twin lances.

And the newest arrival, the knight in full armor with a mighty sword and elegant sheathe.

Sheathe…

Her sheathe.

The knight bore her sheathe.

She was the knight.

She howled at him with ungodly fury.

He would have her rage.

He would have her judgement.

He would have atonement.

"AAAAAAARRRRRTTTHHHHUUUUURRRRR!"


RWBYRWBYRWBYRWBYFATEFATEFATEFATE

"AAAAAhhhhhhh!"

Mordred met the black knight's howls just as Clarent met his weapon. The two knights charged madly about the battlefield, each lost in their endless blood lust. The cobblestone shattered beneath their feet, their every clash creating a new crater in the courtyard.

She could barely contain her excitement. This was a chance she'd been waiting a long time for. If there was one member of the Round Table she despised nearly as much as her father, it was, Sir Lancelot du Lac. At one time, he had been a figure of admiration for the Knight of Treachery, if only for his skills. There was no finer warrior in all of Britain, a fact even King Arthur did not contest. He was a knight among knights.

And then she'd discovered his adultery with the Queen. To know that another so called paragon was really nothing to admire infuriated Mordred after her father had refused to acknowledge her. She'd led the charge to arrest them both, but the Knight of the Lake had escaped her justice. No more.

"Come, traitor!" she roared, as their weapons locked once more. "Your judgment is at hand!"

Clarent sparked and Mordred activated her Prana Burst, power surging through her body. She pushed Lancelot's bludgeon into the ground and then leapt over the weapons to kick him in the face.

The black knight's head jerked back and his grip on his makeshift Noble Phantasm failed.

Mordred didn't give him the chance to recover. She charged at the traitor with her sword held high and smashed him. Clarent was a storm of death as she hacked and slashed at the black armor, not giving her enemy time grab another object to be his weapon.

She had him.

Until he caught her sword.

Before proceeding to kick her into a house.

The thick stone walls crumpled under her impact. Wooden support beams tumbled to the ground.

Mordred growled and shot back to her feet. "Is that the best you've got, you—"

Lancelot snatched up one of the fallen support beams and smacked her in the face. She was sent careening across the ground. Acting fast, she raised her sword to meet another strike from the long, blackened timber.

The ground shattered beneath her feet. Her arms strained against her foe's pressing strength. Say what you would about Lancelot (and Mordred would say many things) but the bastard wasn't letting his Mad Enchantment get the better of him. His insanity, and the extra power that came with it, only made him more terrifying.

But…

"I'm not gonna die that easy!" Mordred screamed. "Prana Burst!"

Lightning pulsed around her, and Clarent shoved the wooden lance into the air. Her speed amplified, Mordred dashed into her opponent's guard and bashed him in the face with her sword's pommel.

Lancelot rolled with the strike however and brought his beam around to attack.

But when he struck, Mordred didn't go flying. Instead, she thrust Clarent into the ground, freeing her hands, and grabbed the dark phantasm.

She smirked. "Oh no, you don't. That won't work twice"

The black knight howled. She gripped the wood hard. She didn't know how, but it felt like a Noble Phantasm. If she let it go free, he'd just manhandle her like before. Unfortunately, that meant she couldn't attack herself.

The weight of the beam suddenly increased. Mordred heard the sound of footsteps fast approaching one moment, and the next, she saw a man in green armor rush across the wood, brandishing a wrapped spear in each hand.

The man made it to the other end of the beam and stabbed at Lancelot's head with the longer of his spears. The black knight immediately released his improvised weapon and danced away from the assailant.

Lancer, for it could be no other, hopped back to the ground. "We can't let him hold anything" he advised her. "He has the ability to turn whatever he touches into a Noble Phantasm."

Mordred chucked away the wooden beam, the black smoke fading slightly without its master. She panted slightly, more tired than she should have been from the battle. "No shit, idiot. Stay out of this. This is my fight."

The man raised an eyebrow, the stretching skin accentuating the mole beneath. "My apologies, but I do believe the phrase, 'I was here first' applies in this situation."

Mordred vaguely recalled seeing someone in green fight the Berserker when she'd charged in. She hadn't been paying much attention to them at the time, what with the black knight and all.

"It doesn't matter" she declared. "I have unfinished business with the Knight of Lake. You will not interfere, Lancer!"

The spear-man blinked in shock. "Knight of the Lake? Sir Lancelot? That's impossible—" the knight gazed over at where the man himself was twitching in agony. His brows furrowed in thought. "No, that makes sense. It explains why he was always chasing after her."

"Who, his whore?" Mordred scoffed. "If she is in this war somehow then I will crush her as I will crush him. Neither of them will escape justice for betraying my father."

"Your father?"

"AAAAAAAAARRRRTTTTTTHHHHHHHHUUUUUURRRRRRR!"

The Berserker's howl of madness cut through the air like a crack of thunder. In flash, Mordred retrieved Clarent from the ground and Lancer aimed his spears.

But Lancelot did not charge. The riving smog that had surrounded him receded, consolidating in his right hand. It stretched in his grasp, taking the length and shape of a sword.

His helmet cracked.

Mordred grinned. She had not doubt Arondight would enter the fray shortly, wielded by the greatest swordsman Camelot had ever known. The blade was a bane to dragons and those with their essence, such as her and her father. Now that it was a Noble Phantasm, she could only imagine what horror it would reap.

It was perfect. She would face down odds like no other, with a strained prana link with her master no less, against the one foe her father could never defeat.

She would prove victorious, and through that victory, her father's better.

Suddenly, an orb of light formed around her foe. A moment later, it had disappeared and Lancelot with it.

"No" Mordred whispered in denial. "No, no, no, no, NO! You dare flee, Master of Lancelot! When I find you, there won't be enough left to bury!"

"Calm down, my good knight" Lancer insisted. "You will have another chance."

His words did not have the desired effect.

Mordred whirled on him. "You! Your interference kept me from finishing him! You will pay for this!"

"I was merely attempting to provide assistance, Berserker. Though I doubt—"

"Berserker? I am Saber, you fool!"

"You are?"

"Yes!" She raised Clarent as proof.

The Lancer in turn raised an eyebrow. "My apologies, but that is impossible. I know the identity of the Saber of this war already. Your attempted deception is pointless."

"Deception!? You ruin my chance at destroying the traitor, and now you have the gall to accuse me of deception! I will have your head for this!"

"Please, I mean no offense, good sir" Lancer pleaded. "My master is a friend of your ward, Lady Blake. We seek an alliance between our factions, and I merely do not want us to waste time with such meaningless misdirection."

Mordred chuckled darkly. "An alliance? You seek an alliance? Very well, Lancer."

She lowered her helmet, revealing her face.

Lancer gasped. "What? How?"

A feral grin appeared on her face as an anger alighted in her eyes. "In the interest of an alliance, look upon my face. It will be the last thing you ever see!"

The spear-man was paralyzed at the sight of her. His eyes glanced about her armor, confusion etched into his brow. "Your face… you look exactly like her. It was you in the picture."

He sighed deeply. "Then the King of Knights was not summoned to this war after all."

"King of Knights?" Mordred's rage boiled over. "What business do you have with my father?"

"Father?" Lancer looked at her again and this time, his eyes widened in realization. "You… You are Mordred, the betrayer of the King of Knights."

"I am his rightful heir!" Mordred screamed. "I am his successor in every way! And I will not be insulted by some common hedge knight!"

The spear-man readied his weapons. "Then come. I have unfinished business with the King of Knights, but I still have enough respect for her to fight you in her stead, Knight of Treachery. You soiled the sacred oath of a knight, and as such, it is my duty as a Heroic Spirit to take action."

"Shut up and die, Lancer!"

Mordred raised her sword and charged in a hail of lightning.


RWBYRWBYRWBYRWBYFATEFATEFATETFATE

The Throne of Heroes was as ancient as the Root itself. It contained individuals from every timeline, from Gilgamesh to the Last Hero. Warriors and Kings of legends beyond count occupied its ranks.

So why the hell did someone who was his enemy always summon Hercules?!

Archer dived out of the way as another of the Raging Destroyer's blows smashed a row of trees into splinters. He hastily raised Kanshou and Bakuya before him, barely deflecting the lethal razor wind the attack had caused. But he couldn't negate the force that came with it, so he utilized it to roll himself deeper into the forest.

The thick trees were the only thing keeping him alive. Though they didn't stop the Berserker, they did provide Archer with the cover to maneuver. In an open field, he would be run down like a dog. This way, he could send his foe running in circles.

He heard gunfire a bit of a ways off. Either Branwen had transformed his weapon against his sister, or Ruby was trying to provide him with ranged support. If it was the latter, then her efforts were pointless. Hercules' Godhand not only provided him with eleven extra lives, but nullified any attack less than A-Rank, in addition to granting future resistance after the attack had done its damage. No matter the caliber of Crescent Rose's dust bullets, or even an Origin Round, nothing his master possessed could harm the Greatest Hero of Greece.

When Raven had ordered Hercules to charge, he had immediately drawn his attention. Thanks to the Arc boy, he was the only Servant present and he doubted a woman who was willing to attack her own family would hesitate about striking down masters if given the chance. He had drawn the Berserker off into the forest while the children were supposed to escape (they were likely staying a bit off from his fight trying to find a way to help). Qrow had moved to engage his sister. Given what he had glimpsed, she had matched him blow for blow.

Which was in itself strange. A master powering two Servants, especially two Berserkers, would be hard pressed to meet the prana demands. On Remnant, those demands were fulfilled by aura, the energy that huntsmen used to fight. Given that hers should already be under immense strain, how was Raven Branwen still fighting at full capacity?

The giant axe-sword that swept past his head reminded him that he had more important things to worry about.

He leapt away into another tier of branches, barely able to catch his breath. Fighting Hercules was never easy, even in his supposedly weakest class. The man's brute strength, the instinctive combat mastery ingrained in his body, and the near invulnerability of Godhand had left Archer with no victories when he'd fought the brute alone.

He had weapons in his Reality Marble that could hurt him, true. Even some that could kill him. But the majority of those weapons required an immense prana cost or sufficient range to fire as Broken Phantasms and without a convenient Saber to draw his target's attention, Archer could not fire them at full power without annihilating himself.

As such, he was stuck playing defense, carefully waiting until an opportunity presented itself to unleash his melee assault without getting swatted like a fly by demigod reflexes.

A roar heralded those same reflexes' arrival and Archer raised Kanshou and Bakuya in a crossed defense.

Hercules' sword struck with the force of an avalanche and sent him flying back out of the canopy. He careened back down to Earth and bounced across the ground like a skipping stone across water. Only slamming into a thick tree trunk stopped his flailing.

His injuries flared like wildfire, but he'd had much worse and shoved the pain to the back of his mind. If he could survive long enough for Mordred to finish her battle, then the Arc boy could use another Command Seal to draw her back. Then, they would have a chance.

Until then, he would make use of the sizable distance he had been flown.

He felt Berserker's power as he closed, and knew he only had a few scant seconds to act. He quickly threw his swords in the direction of his foes before tracing two more pairs and doing the same. After creating another pair for himself, he held out his hand and concentrated, pulling a favorite from his arsenal.

"I am the bone of my sword."

Seven petals of pink energy materialized before him and Rho Aias blossomed into existence.

Not a moment too soon either. Hercules crashed through the forest, toppling dozens of trees as he ran. He raised his sword and smashed Archer's greatest defense with all his might.

Agony lashed through Archer's body as each layer of the shield shattered. The barrier was made for stopping thrown weapons, so Hercules' slash combined with his indomitable strength compromised even the conceptual weapon.

Still, it stalled the Berserker for a crucial moment and keep his focus towards his front.

Kanshou and Bakuya were joined weapons. If one was thrown, it would always return to the other. And when Archer created multiple of the blades, he could exploit that link.

The swords in his hands hummed with power.

The three pairs he had launched before came hurtling through the air, straight at Berserker's back. Perhaps a sane Hercules would have been able to dodge but as he was, the brute was too committed and focused on his swing at Rho Aias to block the barrage. The blades embedded themselves his back and at least one got his heart.

Hercules' red eye went dark. Archer knew it would not remain so for long.

He dashed away as fast as he could with his injuries. Kanshou and Bakuya were dependable but they were barely powerful enough to break through Godhand. Excalibur could keep Berserker dead for several seconds while he regenerated. Repairing the current damage would not take so long. He had to get to shooting range before he woke up.

He was only a few dozen yards away when he saw the rose petals.

"Archer, that was amazing!" Ruby cheered, hopping giddily in front of him. "You were all like 'whoosh', and he was all like 'aarrghh', and you were all like—"

"Master, move now!" he shouted.

The girl barely had time to look confused before Hercules' roar of revival split the air.

Archer leapt away from his master and crossed his swords again. Berserker did not disappoint, arriving a moment later and smashing him through a line of trees.

He groaned, lying in a pile of splinters and the shattered remains of his projections. The latter quickly faded back into nothingness.

Hercules loomed over him and raised his massive stone sword. Archer was still too stunned from the last assault to move out of the way.

He grinned the grin of a fool, amused by his own failing.

'Only one life taken and the first Servant to die. Can't say it's my best run of a Grail War, but all things considered, it could have been…'

"Get away from him!"

Hercules' eyes widened in…terror? He whirled around and met a slash from Ruby's silver scythe.

Wait… silver?

Archer checked he hadn't been hit too hard in the head and was amazed to see that Ruby Rose's scythe was indeed glowing silver, a beam of the same colored light attached to her eyes. As the weapon collided with Hercules' blade, a spike of the energy leaked off and slashed at the giant's side.

Berserker howled in pain, the silver taint spreading around the cut like frost. He hobbled back from the girl, his off hand clutching his wound.

Archer didn't waste the miracle and scrambled back to his feet, leaping out of striking range of the enemy Servant. Even then, his mind was racing. He hadn't been sure what to think when his master had mentioned her eyes' powers all those months ago, dismissing it as a child's rationalization for something they did not understand.

But if their power was real, and if it could penetrate Godhand… What kind of monster was his master?

Ruby herself stumbled back in a daze, the glow fading from her eyes. She groaned and put her hand to her temple. "Ugh, what was that?"

Hercules answered by rushing forward and smacking her with the back of his hand. The girl's aura broke on impact, and then she slammed into a tree.

"Ruby!" the Arc boy shouted, having just arrived.

The huntress fell to the ground.

She didn't get up.


Poor Ruby. This is what happens when you don't consider that your enemies can come back from the dead. You get cliffhanger-ed

Archer fights valiantly against Berserker, but he is simply out matched like he was in the Fate route. There is only so much you can do when up against one of the most powerful Servants in the throne.

Meanwhile, Mordred's temper and reputation pit Diarmuid against her. Kinda of how like he and Arturia instantly hit it off when they found out who each other were but with far more negative consequences.

On the bright side for Diarmuid, Adam thinks he actually did think his orders were to attack Mordred, so their relationship looks to be on the mend... right?

As always, thank you for Reading. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I will try to get the next one out a lot sooner but no promises.

Have a good day!

Go Forth and Conquer!