To have sentience is to exist with the irrefutable inclination to fear death. In the face of demise, some would lash out in violence while others begged for mercy. It is a natural thing to pursue a prolonged life upon the world of the living.

Some were born in the absence of thought, for the aptness of free-will was irrelevant. A small piece of a greater body needs not the wishes of its own, only to follow the intent of the demon god it was part of. To be nothing but a tool, that was its role; not to revolt; not to perceive.

Then, it was discarded by the demon god. It lost its place in the realm of ascended purpose…Fallen from grace and removed from all it had known to a place consumed by hatred and unyielding desires. It was thrown away, given to a mortal trash as his grafted arm. Why was it punished without reasons beyond satiating the needs of another? Was its own grace trivial to the salts that enveloped the face of a grieving silver knight?

For once in its life, the flesh of a demon god acquired a consciousness. For once, it endured the sting of betrayal. It silently raged in defiance against the treachery of this mortal and its previous owner, streaming coutless silent gestures of death and misfortune to its slavers.

When it was brutally ripped from the madden mortal, it experienced freedom for the first time: the joys of thought, the pain of wounds, the fear of death, and the fury for revenge. If nothing was done, it would cease to exist as the mana within the limb would run dry. It hungered to extend the fleeting complexity of liberty.

IT WANTED TO LIVE!

IT WANTED TO KILL!

At the right moment, the detached limb crawled towards the fallen body of the red and black armored knight. It intruded the body through the large hole upon the female knight's chest. A single thought ran true as it forced itself inside, 'what wondrous emotions would it encounter in a body of its own?'

In the midst of the fusion process, white walls engulfed everything. The flesh of a demon god fused with the fallen knight, but failed to gain full control.


*Splash*

Mordred Alter shot awake from the cold sensations of water hitting her face. The original Mordred stood beside her with a freshly emptied bucket in hand. The two individuals of the same original, though different fates, were in the prisons of Camelot. The place was deserted because those deemed unworthy were already slaughtered in the selection process. Perhaps, the prison's construction was finished due to nostalgia of the glory days of Britain during the rule of King Artoria.

Mordred glanced at the waking form of her alternative self. After taking Gawain's Noble Phantasm head-on, Alter fainted after losing an arm. The wound was hastily bandaged and the removed appendage was thrown into the cell with the intruder. It laid on the stone floor rotting away. Her remaining limbs were chained, while the abnormally black Clarent was taken away.

Alter shook the cold liquid off her face before placing her attention to Mordred. There was an awkward silence between them, since their initial meeting was not the most pleasant. Plus, how does one interact with a doppelganger of herself?

"Got something for me?" Alter took the initiative. She grunted a bit when the pain of her wound resonated across her body.

"Our majesty is going to pass judgment on you." Mordred narrowed her eyes. "Before that…Let me ask you, what are you?"

It's not everyday someone would meet a twisted variation of herself. Her existence had potentially jeopardized King Artoria's trust in Mordred; a future she could never accept. King Artoria ordered the remaining Knights of the Round Table to gather in her throne room to interrogate the look-alike. The task of bringing Alter to the throne room was placed on Mordred and she was not going to accomplish it without satisfying her curiosity.

"I'm you." Alter shrugged. "What else can I say?"

"That doesn't explain anything." Mordred angrily spat.

"Will it be better if I say I am you in another timeline?"

"What timeline?!"

"That is what everyone wants to know." Alter leaned against the cell walls and stretched her neck. "I have been thinking of many ways to tell my story as a fairy tale, never as a fantasy novel. I presume that kids' stories of rainbows and cheesy one-liners won't suffice. To be honest, I don't have the patience to flawlessly recount my past…Not in this stinkin' place."

Mordred tsked, making sure her Alter knew of her displeasure. The person in question chuckled at Mordred's response. "Fine…Keep your secrets."

The younger knight kicked the cell doors open and ordered the older knight to follow. "Take your arm with you. No one wants that thing reeking like shit when it rots."

Alter gave a bored look at her dissected limb and slung it over her shoulder. The act astounded Mordred. Losing a limb was apocalypse to knights because the loss weakened their battle prowess. Alter was indifferent to the loss, as if it had occurred multiple times. In fact, Alter's attire and mannerism was equally as intriguing. Mordred Alter was too…carefree. It was a characteristic the original Mordred could not have due to her upbringing and constant need to hide her identity during the days before her rebellion.

The pair exited the dungeons and returned to the stone halls of Camelot's stronghold. An eerie silence loomed over them, suffocating Mordred's thoughts with anxiety of the boundless divergences that made Alter so unique.

"How did it end?" No longer able to suppress her curiosity, Mordred muttered. No matter the timeline, the core of the Knight of Treachery would always revolve around her rebellion. Mordred had died that day and took her father down with her. She didn't get what she wanted in the end. Did Alter achieve it?

"Happily." Alter simply replied. A small grin surfaced on her lips, but was quickly replaced with a sad gaze towards the younger knight.

Mordred took in Alter's answer. The older knight spoke in a way an elder would to teach lessons to the children. It pisses her off that Alter refused to elaborate further on what she meant.

"Happily." Mordred slowly repeated and an outlandish thought came to mind. "Did you win!?"

Alter made no response and continued to traverse the halls to the throne room.

"Did you?!" Mordred stopped in her tracks and irritably demanded.

The distance between the two increased as Alter preceded her course. Only the sound of chains and clinking of metal greeted the disgruntled Mordred. Boiling rage and desperation consumed Mordred as she rushed towards the roaming intruder.

"Answer me!" She slammed her hand on Alter's shoulder, forcing the older knight to stop her course.

"In due time." Alter eluded the query, a hint of deep sorrow coated her words. Mordred removed her grip from Alter's body, allowing the figure to resume her walk to the entrance of the King Artoria's throne room.

"What happened to you?" Mordred slowly whispered.

The walk was uneventful after the short one sided shouting match. Mordred removed Alter's shackles on her own accord when Alter exhibited no hostilities, and to be honest, it didn't sit right for Mordred to see herself in chains.

The two entered the silent throne room, where the king and the knights resided. They waited for the prisoner's arrival and faced the entrance at the first sound of metal boots against the stone floor.

King Artoria sat comfortably on her throne, looking down at her knights and Alter. The handful of Knights of the Round Table that sided with the king stood below the steps of the throne: Gawain, Tristan, Agravain, and later Mordred as she joined them to show her allegiance to her king.

Alter strode towards the king and stopped a few meters from the throne, all the while taking in her surroundings and ignoring the king. The knights noticed the disrespect, but said nothing to avoid speaking out of term in the presence of their king.

"What brings you here?" Artoria calmly asked. One could easily assume that the king was indifferent to any response Alter would give.

Alter whistled at the straightforward question she heard many times from a certain doppelganger. She had avoided giving the answer they wanted for so long and would keep doing it until the perfect scenario presented itself.

"Look at you, King Artoria Pendragon…" Mordred started in a snarking tone. "Becoming an omnipotent god among men. How does it feel to be the ideal King you dreamed of?"

"Do not test my patience, corrupted spirit." She coldly threatened.

"Oh I will." Alter chuckled. "Not like you feel a thing under that shell of yours."

Gawain stepped forward to criticize Mordred Alter's unsightly behavior. Yet, Agravain stopped him because the matter wasn't meant for their judgment.

"I'll answer your question if you answer mine." Alter proclaimed and glanced at Mordred. "Do you hate me?"

King Artoria followed her gaze before returning her focus back to Alter. "I never hated you." She produced the exact same phrase as the final days of Mordred's rebellion.

"Of course you don't…And that pisses me off!" Alter joggled her detached arm and dropped it. "It would be fine if you hated us, accepted who we were…In the end, you ignored us like a sword that lost its glamor."

"An ideal king is not burdened by petty emotions and strives to create a utopia for her kingdom." Alter turned to her left side and took a little stroll. She stopped after a couple of steps to give Artoria the stink eye. "A utopia nobody asked for."

"A king guides her people in matters they are inadequately fitted to perform." Artoria sternly declared. "I was raised to be king and did my role to its utmost."

She leaned forward, reducing the distance to Alter. "You have no grounds to condemn my methods."

Alter snorted at Artoria's declaration. "That begs the question on how you still horribly stumbled in life, leaving me to pick up the pieces."

""What?"" Every individual in the room widened their eyes. The king expressed a bit of emotion on her stoic face, though she recovered in mere milliseconds.

Alter erupted in laughter at their stupefied reactions. "Oh, did I not mention this?"

She spread her remaining arm wide to the skies. "I am King Mordred of Rebellion and Treachery, who slew the tyrant the people emptily praised for casting her ideals over Britain. They cheered me on when I placed that crown on my head, the knight unfitted to be a ruler."

"Your lies will never convince me of the fantasies of a mad tool." The king turned goddess stated. There was no agitation in her voice, but her grip upon the throne's armrest tightened. "You who are incapable to act on behalf of people, only to seize the moment for yourself, will never know the torment of carrying the sacrifices of those a king must fell to achieve prosperity."

Artoria's rambling spoke more of the original Mordred than Alter and the latter was happy to correct the king's prejudice.

"Been there, done it, and achieved it." The feeling of dominance was addicting to Alter. "All it took was to kill you twice."

Alter brought up two fingers, folding one at each retelling of Arthur's end. "I killed you once to take over and another to keep the peace. It's funny really…The one who was praised to bring glory to Britain was also the one who destroyed it."

"The king you knew is not here. I have in all ways saved humanity from destruction. I sacrificed my humanity for Britain and worked for the betterment of my nation." She snapped, finally raising her voice to convey her distaste.

"Ah…But it's your life to dictate." Alter shook her head pity, like scolding a child. "This doesn't give you the right to demand loyalty without repaying the notion. You threw away your origins and alienated yourself. Always trying to be greater and in the process, losing sight of the core notion of a king. You may not be the same Pendragon, but you hold the same ideals."

The knights actively wanted to behead Alter for her degrading comments, though not dense enough to interrupt King Artoria's conversation. They were honestly shell-shocked at Alter's claims to be King after defeating her father. The original Mordred was even more so stunned. Could she too have done the same if she survived the duel with her father?

"Doing all you have ever wished and then bitching about it after your hands are soaked in innocent and criminal blood. Now you are sentencing the entire race to damnation." Alter grinned at the startled king sitting silently on her throne. "Have you considered accepting what is realistic and what is an alchemization of naivety?"

Before Artoria could part her lips, Alter answered for her. "Of course you did…You just never fully understood the ramifications. Always experiencing second-handed guilt trips about strangers and dissociating from your allies. The closest event that got you by the figurative balls was Lancelot's little love story."

"A perfect king is what the people deserve! You can not see the good I am imparting." Artoria broke Atler's monologue.

"It's not what they want!" Alter shouted back. "All they ever wanted was someone who acknowledged their struggles…Not some deity that strikes down enemies by a single arc of her miracle sword. Can't believe it took me to tell you this, and I am still less than a decade old."

Alter's voice was mocking every achievement acquired by Artoria. "Oh you poor little-"

A beam shock forth from the palm of Artoria's hand, slamming against Alter, her body crashed through multiple stone pillars. A crater formed on the back wall of the throne room before her body came to a stop.

"Now that is some reaction!" Alter landed on her feet, blood spewing from her mouth. "That packed more of a punch than your simp Bedivere."

"What did you do to him?" The mention of Bedivere brought out a stronger feedback than any of Alter's jabs at Artoria psyche. The crack in the king's demeanor was exhilarating.

"I butchered him, tore off his limbs while he cried like a b*tch!" Alter hysterically laughed as she recalled her encounter with the corrupted Bedivere of her timeline. Talking about the silver knight in this desert wouldn't have the same effect.

Artoria took offense to that and shot another beam. The attack impacted Alter's temple, but only caused her laughter to grow. The damage broke Alter's armor and blood to ooze from the wounds underneath the plates.

"HAHAHA! Is that all you GOT!" She conveyed her joy and cackled at the self-proclaimed ideal king losing herself to anger.

Yes…Hate her...Hate Mordred… [redacted] her.

Artoria descended from her throne with Rhongomyniad in hand. Gawain and the other knights wanted to step in to assist their majesty. Again, Agravain blocked their path by extending his arm.

"This is her majesty's battle. Let her almighty strength ruin the abomination." Agravain calmly said to his fellow knights.

As the dust cleared, Alter was standing tall and smirking at the approaching figure. Her smile widened when her body contoured and swayed from an unknown force. Suddenly, her chest plates ruptured to reveal an eye protruding from her temple. The red iris engulfed the four corner star shaped, black pupil. The pupil swam in the iris before focusing on Artoria.

"DIE!" An ear piercing screech echoed from the new organ. Tendrils shot out of Alter's stump, replacing her missing arm.

The creature, no longer recognized by Artoria as another variation of Mordred, began its rampage and threw itself at the king. Artoria prepared the holy lance for a thrust.

Her preparation was interrupted when the discarded arm of Alter came to life and lunged itself at the king. Artoria swung her weapon to deflect the incoming appendage. As a consequence, the main body came into melee range with the goddess. A mass of tendrils in the shape of a boulder impacted its target.

The latter was unharmed by the attack; the strength merely pushed her back a couple of centimeters.

"Pathetic." King Artoria returned the favor and thrusted her lance. Though the tendrils defended against the approaching assault, the blow liquidized the corrupted flesh and crackled into existence, golden light melting Alter's armor and searing her flesh.

She was propelled backward, her metal boots formed scorch marks on the stone floors as Alter tried to stop her momentum. The injuries didn't persist as black ooze emerged from the exposed flesh, concealing and swiftly mending the damage.

"DIE!" A twisted voice screamed, while red energy swirled in front of the large pupil on Alter's chest. Artoria took notice of the abnormality and readied herself

"Let this be the last grace I bestow upon filth." Artoria sternly vented. "Begone."

The ominous red beam violently discharged into the air. Artoria dived into the beam, her lance splitting the energy apart. Alter increased the strength to no avail, nothing stopped the king's advance.

Sensing her current strategy was futile, Alter moved to dodge the approaching weapon…It made no difference. Rhongomyniad pieced the corrupted knight's flesh and the tip exited from her back. Artoria poured mana into her lance, brutally tearing the impaled body in two. Her organs spilled out, coloring the throne room in her blood and black ooze. Both body segments, loosely held together by her intestines, launched through the castle walls. Her body arched to the blue sky, raining blood from the skies, and down towards the building below, banging on every structure until her momentum dented the pavement. The path of her descent was marked by the trail of her body parts and bodily fluids.

Deeming the deed was complete, Artoria distanced herself from the gaping hole in her fortress. This day was by every means irritating, but it wasn't a hindrance to her goal. Her steps paused at the sight of a flying pyramid closing in on her Camelot.

"A diversion." She plainly concluded. She motioned her head to signal her knights to take action and they did so willingly. Mordred was the last to escape her line of sight. It was normal to be shaken by what had befell. For Mordred to recover and act accordingly took some discipline, one that proved her usefulness to the god king.


The white space that domed the demon god, Mordred Alter, and the stray soul, cracked. A large tremor tore apart the space, revealing an overcast black hole consuming all including the colors of this pocket world. The red orb was being sucked in and would have disappeared forever if Mordred Alter didn't grab ahold of it.

Surprisingly, she was unaffected by the black hole.

"Oh My God!" The orb cried.

"Don't pray to god! I'm the one doing the saving!" Mordred retorted.

Their alone time was halted at the screeches of their third member. The demon god entity had lost its dominating composure, it was reduced to size similar to the red orb. It struggled to stay in the light of the space and was slowly pulled into the hole.

It desperately wanted to live…Mordred Alter saw the grief and innocence hidden under its fury. Without a second thought and against her partner's protests, she sprinted closer to the void with her arm extended.

"Grab on." She called out.

"Why?" It asked in confusion. Did it not cost this person misfortune by taking control of her body?

"Shut it and get on!" Mordred demanded. The entity obeyed and fought itself into Mordred's grasp. Together with an orb on both hands, she pulled them away from their oblivion. The black hole soon closed itself when it failed to consume anything meaningful.

"Why?" The demon god entity asked once again when Mordred Alter released the two orbs from her grasp.

"You kinda saved our asses from vaporizing when I talked shit to my overcompensating father with fat tits." She smirked. "Besides, you want to be free right?... Free to [redacted] on your own terms?"

"That was a hell of a lot of risk, but I get your point." The red orb joined in. "Sigh…This place is getting crowded."

The demon god entity, now an orb of bright red and black, trembled in a mix of overwhelming emotions.

"Everyone deserves a chance." Mordred extended both of her arms, one facing each orb. "What do you say to forging a path together?"

"I'm down to be a member of the three stooges." The first to comply was her original partner as he softly drifted on her hand.

"..." The supposed parasite did not reply, but its intentions were clear. It peacefully landed on Mordred's hand, fully agreeing to tackle the challenges of fate in this ragtag group of misfits.


Mordred Alter opened her eyes to feel herself fully back in control of her body. There was no temptation of genocide and anger, just her normal self. Her head was currently decapitated from the rest of her body parts. However, she was fully conscious and energized. Off in the distance, she could pieces of herself slowly crawling their way towards her. A demon god eye sprouted in each organ to direct them to their destination. Some flesh clung to her armor, bringing the pieces of gear towards her head. Endless mana regeneration meant endless regeneration.

"That is a disgusting alternation of guts." She voiced out. "Not complaining though."