The bodies that laid before me. The smell of fresh corpses and rusted iron. They were soldiers conscripted to fight for their King. I killed them on my own accord. I slaughtered them for the rebellion against my Father.

I chose this path, a future destined to be taken by the bastard child of the King. There was no remorse for I embraced my destiny. The blood and guts soaking my blade was proof of my commitment.

For once in my life, I felt free…Free reign over my body…body.

Was I a different person? No, that was not possible. I was and forever would be Mordred. But I have knowledge and emotions I could not have experienced in this life. Who was I before this…before Mordred? I vividly remember referring to myself as an otaku. The title was very confusing since no such honor was given to anyone of this land.

NO! It didn't matter who I was before and who I was not now. I was Mordred, the Knight of Rebellion and Treachery. Nothing else mattered until I quenched my flames of hatred.

"Guh." A blond knight pushed himself off the ground. His armor was horribly damaged and his wounds were mortally severe.

"You're still alive, Gawain?" The injured knight gasped for air as he steadied himself with his stained sword. I applauded his tenacity for life. "Very impressive considering that hole in your stomach."

"How were you able to gain so much support? Just how were you able to do all of this from our notice?" He asked in between large puffs of air. I stood firm on my position. Gawain was too weak to be a threat any longer. My armor was also covered in blood, though not my own. We stared in silence, his eyes never wavering and demanded answers.

"Merlin and women." I sternly replied. My response shook Gawain's entire being, even more so than his injuries. Gawain probably remembered his last interaction with Merlin. Poor mage, he lived and died forever remembered to be a womanizer. In my honest opinion, he had it coming for cheating on multiple powerful women. I didn't make any plans to kill him; it just happened as foretold by those strange memories of mine. It was supposed to happen way after my rebellion. Just my luck that it happened now rather than later.

Without the mage, Arthur was blinded by his ideals and ignorant of the many affairs of his domain. Too much of a perfect king to lower himself to petty affairs of the common folk. It led to a huge drop in his support. He became sheltered in his glory and empty praises of his allies. Though the people around him didn't openly express their displeasure, their distaste for the king grew within their hearts like a parasite feasting on the defenseless. I used it to my advantage.

"I see." Gawain pointed his sword towards me. "Even so, I can not allow you to live."

"Big promises coming from a dying fool. Is the blood loss too much for you to handle?" I mocked my former ally.

"No, he's just a natural airhead." A youthful figure came into view from behind me.

"G-Gareth…Why have you sided against the king?!" The shock of seeing his cousin and fellow Knight of the Round Table induced weakness into his legs. Gawain fell onto his knees, his sword was the only thing keeping his face from crashing onto the soil.

"You should know as well as I do that things are getting out of hand." Gareth narrowed her eyes. "I had seen the pointless deaths of my two siblings during the execution of Guinevere by the hands of Lancelot. If it wasn't for Sir Mordred, I would have also joined them in death."

She walked towards Gawain, holding her gaze with his. "All because our king could not express a bit of humility to his subjects-to his very wife. Britain would be in ruins if nothing is done to save it, either by the barbarians or an internal rebellion." She stopped and kneeled in front of Gawain's bloodied face. "And I know Sir Mordred has the heart to right the wrongs forced on the people of Britain."

"Your compliment is unfounded. I am not much of a leader." I blushed at her admiration towards me.

"No need to be so humble." She faced me and bowed her head. "If you will allow it, please spare my cousin's life."

I facepalmed at her outrageous request. I went through all that trouble to fight a battle against Gawain's army and landing a fatal blow on his person only to spare his life. I really wanted to deny her plea, but there's that weird voice in the back of my head saying otherwise. I bet Gareth knew that too.

"Fine. Take him to get patched up." I sighed. Gareth gave me a wide smile before carrying the unconscious knight away from the battlefield. He either fainted from shock or blood loss. She expressed her gratitude all till she was out of earshot.

When have I become this soft? This side of mine is going to be a hindrance to my rebellion.


I was wrong.

*Slash* "GAHH!"

Cliche soldier number 748 fallen by my Clarent. Another mob charged to confront me and similar to his dying brethren, he too was cut down with a single swing. I could not comprehend my sudden impulses of kindness. I still ruthlessly killed my enemies and had beheaded many knights, even a few former comrades of the Round Table.

'It's not like they mattered. Side characters should stay out of the way.' Another strange thought perpetrated my mind. I did not understand who these side characters were, but I instinctively knew them to be useless. It was a rational thought that the irrelevant should be removed before they cause more havoc to my army. Perhaps that was what I was trying to convey to myself.

"I don't want to die." I heard a voice below my feet. One of my unlucky foes seemed to have a bit more fight in them left. I looked into his fearful eyes, it was screaming for mercy. Screaming in pain like all the other soldiers I had slaughtered. I pitied his circumstance, but I did not guilt over his misfortune. He chose to fight and faced the repercussions.

"Side characters should know their place." I brought my sword on his neck, decapitating the suffering man. His blood mixed with the hundreds of other nameless soldiers slain by my blade. Alas, his death was not in vain. He brought me closer to the completion of my rebellion.

The setting sun painted the battlefield, littered with bodies and swords, an orange hue. I stood amidst the deaths of my allies and enemies. Mostly enemies because a rebellion was always more successful when the murdering happens against a tired army that had recently returned from a campaign.

A shadow loomed over me as the person in question stood upon a hill and outlined himself with the sun's rays. Suited in her dress turned armor, King Arthur blandly glanced my way. It was hard not to see her as male if the person herself chose to wear a long blue skirt. Yet, no one ever questioned her.

It's not like it mattered now. "What now Father?" I spread my arms, presenting the endless corpses around us. "This is the end of your kingdom."

The dead would serve as witnesses to my destiny.

"Face the consequences of your own doing!" I screamed at her- the king who tried so hard to become the false idol of worship. She never responded to my spite and kept a stern face. Was this truly the way Arthur envisioned a king should be? Perhaps, but it was not a ruler the people wanted.

Her only gesture of signifying my presence was the lifting of Excalibur. Everyone called Excalibur, and its lookalike Caliburn, the swords of miracles. Caliburn being the weapon that deemed its user to be fit for kinghood. I would laugh every time anyone called it that. I saw them more as curses than miracles, forcing themselves on people and bestowing upon individuals a burden they might not be willing or prepared to carry.

"Is it hate that drives you?" I removed my mask and gave a cheeky grin. "Hatred for me?!"

Arthur kept her silence. An act which was pissing me off. This was my glorious rebellion created specifically for her and she gave no reaction to it.

"Say something…ARTHUR!" I rushed her and slashed at the figure. Not unexpected, she deflected the blow. I pushed myself away to gain some distance.

"I never hated you." Arthur stoically declared. She readied her battle stance for her own strike.

"No shit." I spat back to her astonishment. Her stoic face finally cracked with emotion as her eyes widened.

"Is that shock on your stony face?" I taunted, hoping for a better reaction. Arthur regained her composure and ruined my fun.

"Tsk…Still believing in that perfect king bullshit." I threw more shade. "Everyone important to you is either dead or has left you! Why can't you see the failure of the king you are?"

"I'm still here!" Bedivere shouted from somewhere.

"Everyone important."

*sad Bedivere noise*

*Stomp* That got a decent reaction from Arthur. She lowered her body for -

Damn!

Arthur thrusted Excalibur straight at my chest. I deflected the strike with my own blade before throwing a fist against her face. Arthur blocked my punch using her arm guard.

"Oh ho. So you're approaching me. Instead of running, you are coming closer." She kept her silence during the exchange of blows.

Each second we fought, I noticed Arthur gaining speed. She was growing more accustomed to my fighting style. I kicked the dirt to push myself backwards to gain distance. My speed wasn't enough and the blows kept coming.

Then, I made a fatal mistake. I went for a wide swing and the resulting force of Arthur's counter, left my chest open. She capitalized on my weakness and Excalibur once more flew at my chest. My instincts jumped in and I released the grip on my sword to free my right hand. Haphazardly, I grasped the upcoming blade with both hands, refusing to let it slide in my armored fingers. My feet left marks on the ground, excavating roots and soil.

Confoundingly, I stopped the attack. We both stood in awe at my desperate, though successful, attempt to defend myself. My wild instincts allowed a kick to connect with Arthur's right hip before she could recover. The sudden impact detached the king from her trusty sword.

Excalibur, losing its original owner, began to shimmer in a violent bright light. My encounter with death had been postponed, but the sword in my hands proved to be a bigger issue.

"Mordred, what have you done?" Genuine fear came from Arthur as I held Excalibur's handle in my hands. Honestly, I was happy to see an immense reaction from Father…Then again, I was scared too. People who are deemed unworthy to wield the sword were said to be corrupted with an unquenchable thirst for power. Arthur grabbed hold of her holy lance Rhongomyniad in preparation of my rampage. I stared at the shining blade, awaiting Excalibur's judgment.

It never came.

"Heh. Neat." I did a couple of test swings of the sword, marveling at its workmanship.

"You don't have the capacity to be king." I turned towards the speaker to see the frowning face of Arthur. I laughed at his claim. "The pot calling the kettle black. Eh, Father?"

Silence reigned through the lands as we stared at each other. I could see many conflicting emotions swirling Arthur's eyes. It was a huge contrast to his normal calm self; She was becoming human.

In a blink of an eye, we ran and clashed for a second time. This time though, I held the upper hand with Excalibur on the left and Clarent on my right. I released a ferocious series of attacks, forcing my father to defend in the entirety of our duel. The adrenaline overpowered my sense of reason and exhaustion as I kept striking Arthur's lance. Then, a blow knocked the lance loose of Arthur's grip. The force shot him off his feet and his back crashing to the ground.

"It's over!" I raised Clarent to strike down Arthur. Yet, I was interrupted by a cockroach.

"My King!" Bedivere screamed as he joined the skirmish with his sword drawn. I redirected my attention towards him.

"Didn't I say that you're insignificant!" I aimed Excalibur towards Bedivere, an action he didn't anticipate.

*Stab Noise*

The sword hit its mark…Bedivere should be dead, but he wasn't. My eyes shot open at what I just witnessed. Blood bleached the blue of Arthur's armor and cloth. I stared at the bleeding back of my father's figure. Father fell onto Bedivere as the sword I held within my grip slowly slid out of his body.

Bedivere cried and screamed at his dying king. Me…I was paralyzed at the scene. I had done what I had dreamed of. I killed Arthur…So why does it hurt so much? Why did I feel so robbed?

"Mor-Mordred." Arthur released a weak breath. I turned towards my father, dying in Bedivere's arms. "Maybe I was wrong."

"Huh…" I felt wet streams traveling down my cheeks. "What-t-t?"

My grip on the swords loosened. My legs grew weak and I fell onto my knees.

"Hahaha~. What are you saying? Haha."

"I am sorry." Arthur breathed his last. Everything was getting blurring; everything was unbearable.

NonononononNONONONONO!

"AHHHHHHHHHH!"