This is what we face.

Mordred idly contemplated her thoughts as she rejoined the fray - crushing the skull of a bisected gargoyle-like creature that clawed and snapped at her boots, despite not having a lower half to speak of. The beast's head burst like that of a melon and she sneered at its dissipating corpse.

These aren't competing servants, or treacherous masters. This is evil incarnate.

With her bare hands, she tore from the shoulders, the head of a scaled monstrosity while simultaneously swinging her sword in a horizontal strike - decapitating three daemons at once.

And they must all die.

A cruel grin etched itself across her face as her blood lust attracted yet another pack of daemons - this time of the brazen red variety. Coiled muscles rippled across their well built frames, with forked tongues and sharp fangs glistening with saliva.

Bloodletters, they are called. The Grail projected the knowledge into her mind, granting her wisdom of those who she faced. Those who she would slaughter.

"Blood! Spill her blood!" The largest of the three daemons hissed a command towards its kin, an inhuman screech grating from their fanged mouths. It leaped at Mordred with hate burning in its eyes, crimson blade held high to carve into the armored helm she wore.

Clarent met the Warp-tainted blade mid strike, Mordred parrying its weight to the side and shoving back the bloodletter with a quick strike of Clarent's pommel. The others descended upon her then, snarling viciously, a swipe from one of their hellish weapons came within mere inches of her neckline. The air around her crackled and filled with the scent of sulfur.

Mordred could feel the corruption they left in the air, sense the hatred imbued within its sword, rippling with the promise of death and the never ending thirst for blood. She leap upwards, striking with her ironclad knee deep into the gut of one of the daemons - the other receiving Clarent's pommel to its crested head in a harsh hammer strike that sent it reeling to the gore drenched floor below it. Her remaining momentum was then used for a fierce kick that sent the other crashing into one of the many piles of corpses that littered the field.

The Knight of Treachery was offered no breathing space, as the trio's pack leader was upon her again. Too fast for her to avoid, the bloodletter's blade landed solid contact against her collarbone. The weapon groaned in protest, its serrated teeth dulling against the heavy plated armor she wore, stopping the sword from carving itself deep into her shoulder.

The horrid blade hissed and spat in Mordred's mind, black depraved whispers filling her ears as she bore witness to the blood of an entire galaxy at her feet.

War. Death. Destruction. Blood. Hate. Wrath.

Kill. Maim. Burn.

Killmaimburn

KILLMAIMBURN

Mordred screamed in anguish as she smashed her helmeted head into the face of the bloodletter before her, shattering its fangs and puncturing one of its eyes in an explosion of carnage. Clarent separated from her grip as she grasped the daemon by its horns, continually thrusting her forehead again and again into the face of the beast before her. Gore soaked her armor, splashing upon steel, seeping into its cracks, drenching her face and dyeing her blonde head scarlet. The bloodletter collapsed to the wayside, its face a pulpy mass of ruined flesh and shattered bone.

It wasn't enough. Not nearly enough.

It's not enough. Not enough. not enough notenoughnotenoughnotenough

She was at the throats of the remaining bloodletters next, smashing her barred gauntlets against their hissing maws as their blood splattered around her in a delightful shower of life juice and bone marrow. One of the beasts attempted to run her through with its blackened sword. Mordred broke its arm at its joint, before shoving its corrupted blade deep within its own chest.

As the beast died, she felt nothing but more rage.

"You will serve the Lord of Skulls." The remaining daemon gnarled at her behind its fractured teeth, swearing her servitude to their God of hate. "You will be his Knight of Blood."

Mordred's only response was a roar of brutality as she rushed forward to seize the creature's jaw. Prana infusing within her biceps, the knight proceeded to tear the daemon's mouth open before plunging her arm deep within its bowels. Grabbing a handful of guts with her fist, Mordred tore the lesser hellspawn's esophagus from its ruined lips. She laughed maniacally as she went.

"So. Much. FUN!" Mordred gleefully cried as the sweet taste of iron filled her tongue. With a red-stained toothy grin, she raised the clump of daemon innards high, a trophic offering to He who sat upon an unyielding throne of skulls. Mordred may have fought for the Grail, but the blood she spilt served someone else.

All blood was borrowed. And once spilled, it must return to whence it came. To the the overflowing crimson lake. To the throne made of bronze and ivory bone.

Blood for the Blood God.

Wait, what?!

She shocked herself back to her senses, halting as a horrified realization shot through her heart like the piercing shot of a crossbow.

That's not what I - I didn't mean to…

crush the weak kill kill kill

The handful of guts she held dropped to the dirt, the knight jumping away from the gore as if it burned her at the touch. In her clarity, she became horribly aware of the vile taste in her mouth - her helm collapsed to its inert form and the knight fell to her knees - retching and puking until she could no longer taste blood but only the rough burn of stomach bile. Strangely, that fact comforted her.

Lost control. I lost control. She was not a simple minded Berserker Class. She did not fall victim to the Madness Enchantment. She was a Saber. They didn't lose control like that.

And yet, I did. The sickening cognizance abhorred her to her very core. These Gods, these Dark Gods, they had the power to corrupt even heroic spirits. To sway and influence the best humanity had to offer.

And I - I almost…

kill maim burn kill maim burn

Great shame filled her heart, as if she just committed her contemptible treason all over again. By even allowing a fraction of her psyche to be seduced, her soul was now tainted by their nefarious hands.

KILL MAIM BUR-

This could not stand.

In the midst of battle, Mordred called upon the Grail for guidance. Begging for deliverance. Whispering a prayer on her lips, she drew what remaining prana she had in reserve to help cleanse her soul of the corruption she sensed stained her heart. The whispers that assaulted her thoughts.

split the skull tear the flesh rip the spine

Alone, she would have failed, her vessel and her rage making her a perfect conduit for the dark forces at work, but she was not alone in this fight. A comforting glow encompassed her essence, enveloping her chest like that of a warm blanket. Light engulfed her spirit, the Grail working its magic in a show of force to purge her soul of the damnation that lay in wait. Together, the haze began to lift from her vision, the blood rage abating as she persevered through strength and sheer willpower.

Remember your vows - you are a Knight of the Round Table.

slaughter butcher murder

You are the one true heir to the throne of King Arthur.

blood blood blood

You. Will. Endure.

Waves of exhaustion hit her like a war hammer, sweat breaking out across her skin. Her body ached, her soul was on fire. Yet, despite it all, Mordred laughed.

The damning whispers at the back of her mind ceased their corrupting chant.

"Too close," Mordred muttered as she willed whatever prana she had left into her throbbing muscles. "Far too close. I almost lost myself…" She silently thanked the Lord and the Grail for helping her with her struggle. For leading her back towards the light.

Now then, I believe there's still a war to win.

She gathered Clarent from where it lay discarded in the dirt. Red lightning shot up the blade as she gripped its hilt. Secret of Pedigree reconstructed itself around her head, the helm's many layers of magical steel locking themselves back in place in an intricate fashion.

In the distance, a massive explosion of magical energy erupted. The Knight of Treachery glanced up - the servant army was steadfast and advancing - deeper and deeper they pushed into the daemonic ranks.

Mordred grinned.

Time to finish this.