Something Lost, Something Found

by Avenger013

This is a story of a new beginning and a growing bond...and it all started with a chin scratch. Advance Warning: There will be spoilers for Fairy Round Table Realm: Avalon Le Fae in this story. If you'd rather not be spoilt then refrain from reading.

4. Clash Of Red, White And Black

Chapter 4: Clash Of Red, White And Black

Nobody spoke for what seemed like an eternity, almost every member of the group paralysed with a surge of fear at the sight of an adversary they'd hoped to never see again.

And then…

"W-What are we gonna do..!?" Gareth whimpered, the poor girl sounding close to a panic attack.

"Master...please stay well behind us." Percival insisted, the normally cheerful and upbeat Knight of the Dove now deadly serious, never taking his gaze off of Vortigern as he slowly stepped in front of Ritsuka and Mash to shield them.

"Ah...THERE it is. How wonderful that you remember just how you should react to my presence." Vortigern broke out into a thin smile, mirth flashing across his features for a moment before it was replaced once more by contempt.

"Th-This old geezer's great uncle Vortigern!?" Mordred cried, eyes shrinking in shock as it clicked for her and realization set in.

"In the flesh...well, not quite, I suppose." Vortigern held up his left arm which, at his command, dissolved into golden sparks and reformed a moment later.

The Round Table could not suppress another shiver at the confirmation of a fear they'd had the moment he'd revealed his face.

He'd become a Heroic Spirit.

"How did you possibly manage that?" Saber hissed, sounding angrier than Ritsuka had ever heard her be as she gestured to Vortigern's arm. "What sort of trickery did you resort to to convince the Throne to accept a tyrant like you?"

"Trickery?" The shadows and darkness around the clearing, as well as the shadows coiling around Vortigern's mantle, surged forwards towards the Round Table as the Vile King's face twisted into an angry scowl.

Only Saber and Artoria Avalon remained wholly resolute in the face of his rage, while the entire rest of the Round Table instinctually flinched back, the shine of their weapons nearly completely dimming for a few moments as their foe's fury bolstered his dark magic.

"To think that my niece would even assume that I would ever resort to such a cowardly, despicable tactic as TRICKERY." Vortigern spat, sounding genuinely offended at the notion. "You dare compare me to that weakling sister of yours? Or this lazy, childish fool?"

Swinging his sword about, Vortigern stabbed it in the direction of Merlin who, by this point, had managed to stand and draw his Caliburn replica.

"Ah ha ha ha...no need to expose my true character like that!" Merlin stuck out his tongue and made a pawing motion with his hand.

"Merlin! For the love of all things, PLEASE be serious for once!" Artoria Avalon practically snarled in his ear.

"Oh, that should be the least of your worries right now, incubus." Vortigern smiled grimly once more, sending another round of shivers up most of the group's spines. "By the time I'm done with you, I'll have exposed a lot more of you...starting with exposing your insides to the wide world. And then, once you heal, I'll do so again."

"Eeep!" Merlin vanished behind Artoria Avalon, huddling at her back and peeking over her shoulder.

"I give in…" Artoria Avalon growled, focusing her full attention on Vortigern.

"Is that...a copy of my niece…?" Vortigern blinked, seeming to notice the Caster for the first time after having been so focused on Merlin. "And looking so different from the one I know. Where did you come from? Did my brother sire yet ANOTHER daughter while I wasn't looking?"

"You are mistaken, Vile King. I am not of this world. I am...was an inhabitant of a pruned timeline, who has been registered as a Heroic Spirit and has come here to serve the Human Order."

"Ah, you are from one of those 'Lostbelts' aren't you? How loathsome, one of them was torment enough for me." Vortigern sneered, lowering his blade but keeping it ready. "And you serve the Pan-history...a traitor to your own kind, then."

"I was given nothing but scorn, hate and disgust from the people of my Lostbelt. Here, I have found acceptance, friendship, kindness...and affection. Of course I would choose Panhuman History over my Lostbelt." Artoria Avalon allowed a small smile onto her face, glancing in Ritsuka's direction.

"Swayed from your kind by this weakling human? Of course it would be them." The disgust in the Vile King's voice matched the sneer on his face...until, that is, he saw how Saber Artoria stiffened and scowled at her Master being insulted by him.

Then that sneer flipped into a smile. A very unfriendly smile.

The King of Knights realised immediately that she'd made a terrible mistake.

"I see...this human is important to you, is he not?"

She tried hard...she tried so very hard to keep her expression neutral.

But the thought of the tyrant in front of her harming her Master as some form of vengeance against her...she couldn't stop herself.

Most people wouldn't have picked up on the almost imperceptible change, but Vortigern was not most people.

"So he IS someone meaningful to you, I see...well, now i'll have to torture him."

"If you want Senpai...you'll need to get through me first!" Mash proclaimed, stepping out from behind Percival and planting her shield into the ground.

"L-Like hell you're gonna do that, b-bastard!" Despite her renewed anger, fear still crept into Mordred's mind and her hands still shook.

"Y-Yeah! W-We won't let you h-hurt Master!" Gareth cried through her chattering teeth.

"Were you able to hold your weapons straight for even a moment, I would be far more intimidated by your threats. As it is...I am unimpressed." Vortigern said, sparing the duo a glance before turning back to face Saber.

"Is this what the Red Dragon has been reduced to, then? Letting little girls fight her battles for her? You truly have fallen so far since the days of our conflict."

"Enough childish insults, Vortigern." Saber took a step towards the Vile King, a thoroughly unamused scowl on her face. "This MUST be trickery. You were never capable of affecting our weapons like this, not on this scale...and certainly not in that form. I assume your draconic form is somewhere nearby?"

"As I said, this is no trick. What was once beyond my ability is now within my power." As if to demonstrate, Vortigern raised his free hand and curled it into a fist, dark shades dancing between his fingertips and across his palm.

Yet again, the shroud of darkness over the clearing thickened, the shadows pressing inward as the Round Table's weapons sputtered and dimmed even further.

"Oh no…" Gareth muttered, as the last dregs of light from the capsules on her belt and within her jousting lance faded away.

"How…?"

"While you were off acting out your delusions of heroism and accepting the summons of weakling humans, I used my time in the Throne of Heroes to train. To hone my skills.

"And in doing so, I discovered just how versatile the dark power I wielded was, and how far it could be pushed. With enough practice and time, I found that my dragon form's skills could be applied even in this body."

"How could he have become a Servant!?" Lancelot wondered out loud.

"I remember his armies only obeyed out of fear…" Tristan muttered.

"What fool would ever consider this monster a hero!?" Gawain hissed to himself, having recovered his wits enough to speak clearly.

"How did you do it, Vortigern? Which bandit or rebellious lord did you delude into thinking you had their best interests at heart?" Artoria asked.

"And there, my dear niece, is your mistake...thinking that I needed human support to enter the Throne." Vortigern chided her.

"To the humans of Britain, I was a monster...a tyrant...a merciless warlord bent on tearing down everything they held dear.

"But to the Fairies and Phantasmal Beasts of the land, I was their protector. Their guardian. I was the one that fought for them. Fought to cleanse their land of the filthy plague that you call mankind. The one who gave everything he had to preserve the last sanctuary of Mystery and wonder in the world. To them...I was their hero. Their blessings were all the recognition I needed."

Rituska thought it over for a moment, realising how outlandish that sounded as an explanation, but conceded that the Vile King was probably right.

After all, the Berserker Xiang Yu had needed far less approval to be accepted into the Throne of Heroes, needing only the viewpoint and support of the Xian spirit Yu Mei-Ren, his wife in life, to be seen as a hero.

"And I would have succeeded… if not for you. You and that cursed lance of yours." Vortigern snarled, locking eyes with Artoria again.

"It was time for Britain to join the Age of Man, Vortigern." Artoria insisted. "It was what the land needed."

"You DARE tell me what the land of Britain needed? I AM Britain." Vortigern proclaimed, raising his free hand in front of him and clenching it into a fist, his shadows tightening their grip over the area yet again. "And this time...this time, I'll finally repay you for that lance to the heart all those centuries ago."

"If you truly ARE Britain, then you shouldn't be doing this!" Artoria snapped, making one last plea. "Should you kill all of us, Britain will be as good as lost! Doomed to be crushed under the Foreign God's heel! Would the 'embodiment of Britain' condemn his home like that?!"

That caused Vortigern to pause for a moment, brows furrowing in contemplation.

And then…he laughed.

"Any obligation I had to serve Britain died with me. Now, I am a Servant, free to do as I wish...and what I wish, more than anything right now, is to see. You. Scream." Vortigern snapped off the last few words one by one, each brimming with resurgent hatred.

"...I see. You may have robbed Excalibur of its radiance, but I assure you, you will not find me a weak opponent." Saber Artoria stood firm in the face of his fury, raising her blade and preparing to fight.

"Master, take Mashu and run." Artoria Avalon advised, manifesting dozens of daggers from Carnwennan to aim at Vortigern.

"Yes, we will cover your escape." Percival said.

"But-"

"Get going Master, don't worry about us, just go get dark father!" Mordred insisted.

"...come on, Mash."

Mash was reluctant to leave, but a squeeze on the shoulder and pleading look from Ritsuka, plus nods from the Round Table, convinced her to withdraw alongside her Master.

...or try to, anyway.

They got about 10 steps before Ritsuka felt an ice cold sensation enveloping his left leg and he couldn't move any further.

"What the-!?"

"Senpai?" Mash, realising that Ritsuka was not keeping pace with her, turned around to see what was wrong.

Looking down, Ritsuka caught sight of an inky dark tendril protruding from his very own shadow and immobilizing his leg.

"Thinking of leaving, boy?" Vortigern asked, as a few of the Round Table turned to look as well.

Before anyone could stop it, the shadow tendril grew a very threatening looking spike at its tip, then rammed itself through Ritsuka's kneecap.

"GAAAAHHHH!" He couldn't hold back his scream as his flesh was torn, his muscle was pierced and his knee bone was shattered through. Clutching at his leg, the young man collapsed to the ground as the tendril restraining him vanished, trying to refrain from shedding tears...and clearly in no fit state to move.

"MASTER!"

"No one leaves without MY permission." Vortigern stated, pointing a finger at the ground in front of him.

As the Round Table looked on, two runes made of dark fire began to etch themselves into the ground, synchronized with the movements of Vortigern's finger. Upon completion, the runes flared bright as the Vile King poured his magic into them.

A wall of flame, followed by a sphere of dark shadow, sprung up around the clearing, incinerating and smashing aside the vegetation as they manifested. What few specimens of wildlife still remained fled for their lives.

They were trapped.

"Perhaps I should amend that...no one leaves." Vortigern flashed a bloodthirsty smile as he took another step forward, readying his blade and manifesting a very sinister looking helmet around his head, as pitch black as the rest of his armour.

"Knights of the Round...ATTACK!" Artoria commanded, practically leaping forward with Excalibur ready, heedless of any sort of strategy.

Her emerald orbs flashing a brief yellow as her fury roused the Red Dragon's blood within her veins, the Knight of Knights swung her blade straight for Vortigern's neck. Specifically, for the oh so slight gap that existed between his plate armour and his helmet.

She would end this in one strike.

Activating her Mana Burst before jumping ensured that she cleared the distance in about a second...but it wasn't quite fast enough.

Vortigern's blade rose up to meet Excalibur mid-swing, the coiling shadows that enveloped the weapon sapping ever more light from the holy sword as the two clashed.

"Reckless...very reckless. How unlike you."

Forcing her blade aside with his own, Vortigern's free hand curled into a fist, wreathed itself in a cloak of dark power, and slammed into Artoria's chest armour before she could react, sending her flying back.

Despite digging her armoured boots into the ground, the momentum ensured the younger Pendragon was knocked off her feet and wound up flat on her back.

Levering herself up on her elbows despite the pain of the attack, her chest plate badly cracked from the impact, Artoria immediately made to stand, to rejoin the fight. After all, she was a little bloody, but far from beaten.

Shadowy tendrils manifested from the ground and wrapped around her arms, legs and chest mere moments later, locking the King of Knights in place. She spied Vortigern glancing her way, a wicked smirk on his lips and black magic on his fingertips.

"Now now, dear niece...I wouldn't want to kill you without forcing you to behold the slaughter of your followers first." Vortigern said. "After all, is that not the fate you forced upon me all those centuries ago?"

As she could not move or fight, Artoria instead settled for glaring daggers at her uncle from across the long trench that her fall had dug into the earth, pouring every ounce of grim rage into that glare that she could.

Far from being in any way intimidated, Vortigern smiled at her, as if he were deriving some sick satisfaction from stoking her fury in this manner.

"FOR THE KING!" Lancelot bellowed as the rest of the Round Table followed their liege into the fray.

Artoria Avalon and Tristan's volleys of crystal daggers and sonic waves were swallowed up in the thick veil of darkness that rose up between Vortigern and his targets. A few moments later, it dissipated as the Vile King strode forward to meet his attackers head on.

Lancelot forced him into a blade lock while Gawain swung Galatine at Vortigern's helmeted face. Weakened though it might be, the sun fire within Galatine still burned hot as Gawain released it to cover the blade, aiming to burn the smug smile on his great-uncle's lips right off.

However, just before it struck, Galatine was embedded in a twisting mass of dark smoke that sprung up around Vortigern, smothering the flames and stopping the weapon cold.

"What…?!" Gawain gasped. He'd never seen anything like this from Vortigern before.

Before he could process what had just happened, Vortigern rammed his helmeted head into Gawain's forehead. As Gawain staggered back, one hand clutching at his head as it exploded with pain, Vortigern lashed a kick into him that sent the Knight of the Sun sprawling.

Undeterred, Lancelot broke the blade lock and began slashing and stabbing at Vortigern with Arondight, the blade's weakening doing absolutely nothing to hamper his supreme swordsmanship.

As skilled as the Vile King was, he simply could not hope to match up in direct combat with the greatest swordsman of the Round Table, especially after Gareth and Mordred finally caught up to their older peers.

Sparks of hope surged in the trio's hearts as they forced Vortigern onto the defensive. Between the unmatched speed of Lancelot's strikes, Gareth's disciplined, precise jabs with her lance and Mordred's…'unorthodox' combat style, the sheer volume of incoming attacks was too much for the Vile King to handle all at once.

No matter how many blows he warded off, there were always more coming. Be it a kick to the shin or punch to the head from Mordred, a snuck-in stab from Gareth or a trio of cleaving slashes from Lancelot in rapid succession, they managed to get more and more strikes through his defenses.

And then Gawain and Percival leapt into the fray, opening with a shield-augmented shoulder charge and flurry of strikes from Percival while Gawain followed up with a mighty two-handed underhand swing, the sheer force of which knocked Vortigern back despite his magical protection.

Vortigern's shadow wall tried reshaping itself, to reform into spears, spiked tendrils and blades to help fend off the Round Table, only to be barraged by a fresh wave of sonic waves from Failnaught, crystalline daggers from Carnwennan and blasts of petal-filled magic.

"How about this!?" Merlin waved his staff this way and that, the mage having recovered enough strength to finally contribute to the fight once more, sending further blasts of magic downrange with far more accuracy than he normally managed.

I dunno what Gawain was so worried about, you aren't so tough! Take this, old geezer! Mordred crowed inwardly, slamming her knee into Vortigern's chest and slipping her free hand through his guard to punch him in the helmet.

"Raaahh!" Taking advantage of Lancelot and Gawain holding back Vortigern's blade, Gareth rammed her shield into him and sent the man stumbling back, followed up by a charging stab from Percival that knocked Vortigern to the ground.

"Keep it up! He's-!" Lancelot tried to rally the knights again for another charge...and then his voice was strangled as he got a proper look at Vortigern, now getting up to face the Round Table once more.

Despite all of the hits they'd managed to land him, despite how ferociously they'd fought...the Vile King was barely even harmed, his armour as pristine as it had been when the fight had started.

"What…?" Percival muttered, in disbelief.

"Damn it, we didn't put a dent in him!" Mordred growled.

"My, my...did you think it would be this easy, little girl?" Vortigern tilted his head, levelling his most pitying stare at Mordred. "Of course you've not harmed me, your weakling weapons are useless against my shadows."

"We'll see about that, old man!" Mordred snarled, breaking into a charge.

"Don't just rush in by yourself, sis!" Gareth cried, hurrying to keep up with the Saber.

"Gareth! Mordred! Get back here right now!" Gawain yelled, making to follow his younger sisters and drag them back, knowing that engaging Vortigern in their current state was tantamount to utter suicide.

Unfortunately, the Vile King was a step ahead.

As Gawain, followed closely by Lancelot and Percival attempted to advance, all of them wound up stepping into the rune Vortigern had surreptitiously carved into the ground at their feet, taking full advantage of their complete focus on him.

"NO!" Was all the trio could say before the rune flared, dark flames spewing forth and enveloping them...and by the time their vision cleared, the knights found themselves at the edge of the shadowy barrier trapping them within the clearing...just behind the wall of flames.

"Gareth! Mordred! Please wait!" Artoria Avalon tried calling out, but neither of them listened.

"How about THIS, huh!? Maybe you'll feel THIS!" Mordred yelled, having ignited Clarent with lightning as she fed her Mana into the blade, swinging for Vortigern's helmet.

Unlike before, he made no attempt to dodge, merely allowing Mordred's strike to land with naught but a raised eyebrow of interest.

A red light and storm of lightning washed over the clearing as Clarent impacted Vortigern's armour.

When the light cleared, another surge of confidence welled in the chests of the onlookers as they saw the Vile King was actually down on one knee, a rather deep and very visible gash in his chest plate, from a strike that had also carved straight through his shadow-like protective barrier.

Slowly, he stood back up, taking a deep gravelly breath as he appraised Mordred.

"...impressive. I actually felt that strike. That blade of yours…" Vortigern stared at Clarent for a few moments, leaning forward. "Ah. I see. When I still lived, that weapon was a holy treasure, imbued solely with light. Now...it carries something else too."

"Heh, bet you're regretting underestimating me now, aren't you old man!"

"Just a little, but rest assured...I shant make that mistake again."

As Mordred charged, Vortigern leapt forward to meet her, a burst of shadow coiling around his limbs to reinforce his opening strike. Alarmed, Gareth hurried forward to try and assist, while Tristan, Merlin and Artoria Avalon renewed their ranged bombardment.

Unfortunately, none of their firepower deterred Vortigern, who barrelled through the onslaught and forced Clarent to the ground with his blow. While Mordred's sword was pinned, Vortigern shrouded his helmet in shadow, shaped them into spikes and rammed his helmet against her own in a brutal headbutt.

Though her helmet protected her from the worst of the trauma, beads of sweat dripped down Mordred's face and a cold shiver ran up her spine as she noticed just how close the spikes had come to impaling her own head. Before she could properly process the attack or launch a counter, Vortigern dismissed the shadows around his helmet and kicked her in the chest to send her stumbling.

Gareth finally caught up and engaged as Mordred staggered back, blocking Vortigern's sword with her lance and trying to bash him with her shield.

The girl experienced her own shiver of fear, however, when the Vile King stopped her shield cold with his free hand, a withering glare from him rooting the young knight in place.

"Really now? Is this all?"

"Not by a long shot! HAAHH!" Wanting to give him a taste of his own medicine, Gareth headbutted him with all the force she could muster. Taking advantage of his moment of distraction, Gareth poured all of her lance tank's remaining Mana into one last strike directly to Vortigern's chest plate.

The brief surge of confidence the bright flash of light inspired was quickly smothered as Vortigern came back into view.

By this point, his shadow shield had regenerated...and Gareth's strike had failed to properly penetrate it.

"Disappointing. Very disappointing."

The Vile King eschewed using his blade to block her lance this time, instead he simply grabbed onto the weapon and tore it from her grasp, throwing it far away.

"O-Oh no…"

"Shit, hold on!" Mordred yelled as she came running.

Gareth's half-desperate shield bash was also stopped by Vortigern's hand, except this time he decided to dematerialize his sword, grab hold with both hands and rip her shield right off her arm.

As it was pulled free, pain flared in Gareth's forearm as something gave way from the sheer force Vortigern was exerting.

"GYAAAHH!" The young knight could do little but clutch at her arm and stumble back, trying to put as much distance from herself and the oncoming threat as she could.

Calmly leaning back to dodge Mordred's attempted strike, he delivered a backhanded, mana-charged strike to her helmet a split second later, knocking the Knight of Treachery to her knees. Before she could fully recover, Vortigern re-summoned his sword, wreathed it in dark mana and rammed it right through Mordred's chest.

"Hrrrkk…"

"MORDRED!" Gareth screamed.

"Pitiful...what a shame."

Hoisting Mordred's struggling form high as he raised his blade to the sky, Vortigern then swung it to the side to dump the still-struggling Mordred on the ground. Turning back to and glaring at Gareth, Vortigern smiled threateningly at her.

"You're next."

She tried to run...tried to get to some semblance of safety...but all too soon, the cold metal of Vortigern's gauntlet clamped around her broken shield arm.

As she was wrenched around to face the Vile King, fresh waves of pain shooting through her, Gareth tried her very best not to bite back her tears. To not show any fear.

"Anything else to throw at me? Anything to say, perhaps?" Vortigern asked mockingly.

"I...I'm afraid of you!" Gareth yelled.

The older man smiled a very unkind smile.

"Well, then you will die braver than most, won't you?"

Keeping one hand on her crippled shield arm, Vortigern gripped Gareth's other arm and squeezed.

Armour crumpled. Muscle tore. Bone shattered.

Gareth's scream was strangled as Vortigern's hands moved to her mouth and neck, choking her into unconsciousness.

"'ll be back for you later." Vortigern whispered, dropping Gareth's limp form in front of him. Just to make sure she couldn't escape, he crushed her left kneecap with one brutal stomp.

From within her captivity, Artoria's anger was only stoked further at seeing her hated uncle so brutally harm her retainers.

If only I could break these bonds… Artoria lamented, struggling as best she could against the shadowy bindings.

Wait...had they gotten a little looser?

Stepping over the unconscious Gareth, Vortigern began advancing towards Tristan and the Caster duo, waving his hand to summon up a fresh wall of shadows that absorbed almost everything that the trio sent his way. What few projectiles and magic blasts did pierce through still impacted harmlessly on the Vile King's personal barrier.

He was halfway to them, with Artoria Avalon preparing Marmyadose and Merlin drawing his Caliburn replica in preparation for a melee confrontation, when he heard the familiar, ragged voice behind him.

"Hey...I'm not done yet, bastard!"

Turning his head to the sound of the voice, Vortigern found Mordred standing shakily with Clarent in front of her. The Knight of Treachery was bloody and battered, the hole in her chest from Vortigern's earlier strike still very much in place, but she was not quite out of the fight.

"This is the cursed sword that destroyed my father!"

As he watched, the blade began to flare with red flame and lightning as Mordred held it to the sky.

She was trying to unleash her Noble Phantasm on him, eh?

Well, he obviously couldn't allow that, now could he?

"Rebellion against my beautiful father...Clarent Blood Arthur!"

With that, Mordred swung the blade down, intending on obliterating Vortigern where he stood with the weapon's overflowing power.

Clarent's beam never reached him.

For a split second after Mordred started her swing, Vortigern dissolved in front of her, sinking into the shadows.

And then her instincts started to scream at her to move. To get out of the way right now.

Her reward for not listening to them was a searing pain at her right elbow...then a sense of numbness.

Then Clarent dropped to the floor in front of her, its lightning-wreathed beam sputtering out...along with her lower right arm.

Despite the shock, Mordred forced herself to look to the right. To try and focus on whatever danger it was that she'd sensed...and found Vortigern standing there with his blade extended and shrouded in dark power, having just used it to relieve the Knight of Treachery of her arm.

"A word of advice for you…" The Vile King hissed into her ear. "Instead of warning me that you're about to do something, why not simply do it next time?"

When Mordred tried to punch him with her one remaining hand, he just took it head on without even flinching.

"Ah, my mistake...what next time?"

A second slash of his blade took Mordred's lower left leg, tearing through her armour, flesh and muscle as if it were all just so much paper mache. With all of her mana having gone into a last-pitch Noble Phantasm deployment, she had none left to reinforce her body with.

Leaving the fallen knight where she was, Vortigern resumed his advance towards the Caster duo and Tristan.

The closer he got, and the more Tristan plucked and strummed at his bow, the angrier Vortigern got at the sight of him.

He'd forgotten that Merlin wasn't the only coward in the Round Table.

Glancing at Tristan's shadow, the Vile King decided to speed things along a little bit. He'd rather not look at this man for longer than he absolutely had to.

At his gesture, dark tendrils surged up from the Knight of Lamentation's own shadow, forming into a single great tentacle that slammed into Tristan's back before he could fully react. Tristan was flung forward violently, rolled and then came to a stop...just in front of Vortigern.

Quite impressively, Tristan managed a few point blank shots to his foe's armour before he was swept up and held by his throat. Even then, despite how ineffectual they were, he kept kicking and swinging punches at the man who had the Archer at his mercy.

"I never thought that my niece would accept someone as spineless and lazy as Merlin into her circle." Vortigern spat, clenching his fist to constrict Tristan's throat further.

"Look at you. Not only do you not have the courage to fight up front like your fellow fools, but you can barely call yourself a real bowman. After all, here you are relying on this toy to fight."

Vortigern punctuated his statement by stomping on the nearby Failnaught, smashing the harp-bow apart.

Merlin and Artoria Avalon wanted to prepare another magic barrage, but fear of hurting Tristan in the crossfire held them back.

With one last snort of disgust, Vortigern brought up his knee and then chokeslammed Tristan down onto it.

Tristan screamed as his spine gave way. He struggled and clawed frantically for a moment, then he went limp, paralysed from the damage to his back. He was quickly thrown aside as Vortigern turned his attention to the remaining active threats.

Glancing at their feet, Vortigern was irritated to see that the Caster duo had projected spheres of illumination around themselves, banishing the darkness near them and ensuring they did not cast shadows.

Perhaps I was a little too hasty in making use of my shadow walking ability against those children. I should have torn Merlin limb from limb as soon as possible

No matter...there are always other options available.

With that in mind, Vortigern poured some mana into bolstering his shadow barrier and began to advance on the Round Table's Casters. Their light barriers began flickering and sputtering as he approached, but a steady stream of power ensured that they did not fail.

From their position near the remainder of the south treeline, where Ritsuka had managed to limp with his Kouhai's help, the Master and Shielder could only watch helplessly as the Knights of the Round Table fell to the Vile King one by one.

Mash so desperately wanted to help, but knew that she needed to try and protect her Master, just in case Vortigern tried sneak attacking him again. Plus, it's not like she'd stand much of a chance against him by herself.

"Senpai...what do we do?" Mash whispered, sounding quite frightened for the first time in a good long while.

"I...I don't know. I can't raise Da Vinci or anyone at Chaldea. I can't get in touch with anyone past this barrier. We're stuck in here." Ritsuka admittedly, swallowing heavily.

As Vortigern approached closer and closer, Merlin and Artoria Avalon started throwing more and more magical blasts and crystalline daggers at him in sheer desperation, trying anything to hold the Vile King back.

By the time he was a mere few steps away from being able to strangle Merlin with his bare hands, Vortigern was forced to weather a storm of Carnwennan's daggers, waves of magic intermixed with light from Marmyadose and bolts of energy from Merlin's staff.

The barrage had grown so fierce that it was actually starting to pierce through his shadow barrier through sheer force for arms, with Vortigern feeling a steady stream of impacts against his plate armour.

Fortunately for him, once he got within grappling range and reached out to snap the half-blood's neck, Merlin was forced to cut his own contributions to the magical assault in favour of swinging his Caliburn replica at Vortigern's first to deflect it, giving the Vile King a crucial window of respite to bolster his flagging barriers and press the attack.

As his every swipe, stab, slash and swing was deflected and parried, despite the vast inferiority of the Caliburn replica compared to Vortigern's dark magic-fuelled and curse-bolstered longsword, he felt a sharp spike of rage boil up in his mind as he was reminded that Merlin was actually a very proficient swordfighter.

As if he needed more reasons to despise the man.

"Ah hahahaha! I guess you're not as good at this as you thought!" Merlin giggled.

He was staring into the face of and crossing blades with someone who despised him more than almost anyone else alive...and he was LAUGHING.

Vortigern saw red.

A furious snarl tearing from his lips, the Vile King began swinging his blade in tandem with swiping at Merlin with his clawed gauntlet, channelling large amounts of mana into both his weapon and his gauntlet to send waves of dark fire at the magus, trying as hard as possible to tear into Merlin.

And then Artoria Avalon intervened, swinging Marmyadose to parry Vortigern's own blade while perforating his darkness barrier with more of her daggers and energy blasts.

Undaunted, Vortigern quickly dematerialized his blade as Merlin swung Caliburn at him, allowing him to grab on to his enemy's weapon with both hands.

Before Merlin could let go, he was yanked forward into Vortigern's grasp, headbutted hard enough that his skull fractured and then thrown to the ground. Just to make sure he couldn't get away, the Vile King stomped on Merlin's lower legs, allowing a satisfied smile to slip onto his face as Merlin's pained cries reached his ears.

Much as Vortigern wanted to tear him apart already, there was a more potent threat that needed to be dealt with.

As Artoria Avalon fired a fresh barrage of daggers and swung Marmyadose for his helmet, Vortigern re-summoned his sword and forced the Caster's blade back. Taking a step forward, he began slashing and stabbing at his enemy's chest and limbs, his superior strength allowing him to gain ground despite Artoria Avalon doing her best to block and deflect his attacks, the sheer power behind his strikes sent her staggering back.

As angry as he already was at seeing this clone of his hated niece, Vortigern's rage only intensified as he got a good look at her glaive weapon, recognising exactly what it was.

This...this CHILD has a Divine Construct of this caliber on her hands!? Does EVERY copy of my niece have some form of sacred weapon on their person!?

He didn't even want to kill her anymore, at least not yet...he just wanted her gone from his sight as fast as possible. Before her mere existence rubbed the blatant injustice of the world in his face even further.

Trying to break through the girl's guard and slice her apart would take FAR too long for his liking. Fortunately, he had other, swifter ways of dealing with her.

Delivering a mana-charged underhanded strike that knocked Artoria Avalon back a few metres, Vortigern summoned a rune into his free hand and fired it at the ground at the Caster's feet, making sure to keep slashing at her with his blade to occupy her attention. After all, the rune needed time to charge.

As such, by the time Artoria Avalon regained her bearings and realised the rune was there, it was too late to do anything about it.

"No-!"

Her cry of shock was cut off as a wave of smokey shadow sprung up from Vortigern's rune, binding the Caster tightly and dragging her to the ground. Before she could try to break her bonds, the Vile King stepped forward and engraved a couple of magic suppressing runes into her flesh, cutting off her access to her power.

Smiling in satisfaction, Vortigern turned away and began striding towards Merlin once more, eager to finally get his hands on the hated mage.

Unfortunately for and unnoticed by him, all of the energy Vortigern had been pouring into his offensive against the Round Table had started weakening some of the constructs he'd already put in place.

Straining against her bonds once more, Saber found them loosening. A spark of determination surged in her chest at the realisation. All she needed was for Vortigern to expend enough extra power...

This time, Vortigern threw aside any semblance of precise swordsmanship and fine tactics in favour of simply slashing repeatedly with a shadow-charged sword and calling on his Mana Burst to bolster himself, banking on the sheer brute strength boost to overwhelm Merlin. After all...all the fancy swordplay in the world wouldn't save the mage if his blade was knocked from his hands.

Sure enough, Merlin was forced back with every clash of their blades, his Caliburn replica steadily accumulating cracks and damage. As potent a Mystic Code as it was, it could not withstand the full force of the Vile King's blows forever.

After a good solid minute of non-stop duelling, Caliburn finally shattered as Vortigern grabbed hold of the weakened Mystic Code and squeezed. Despite that, Merlin never lost his teasing smile and playful expression, even as the blade's pieces fell to the ground.

Even as Vortigern drove his sword through the mage's chest and out his back, he still kept smiling.

"Ghhrrk….hhhhh…...looks like you caught me after all, eh?" Merlin sighed, coughing up a mouthful of blood.

"Do you EVER stop talking, half-blood? Will you ever lose that childish grin of yours and be serious?"

"If...if I did that...then I wouldn't be Merlin, would I?"

"Oh I suppose not. If there is one thing that will never change about you, it is your utter inability to treat anything with the full gravitas it deserves."

"Fu fu...that's close, but wrong." Merlin flashed a bloody grin.

Despite the spike of anger at being told that, especially by Merlin of all people, Vortigern kept a cool enough head to spit out a question.

"Perhaps you could enlighten me before your torment begins, half-blood. How exactly am I wrong?"

"I don't smile...because I can't take anything seriously. I keep this smile...and this air about me...to inspire humans."

"Inspire them?" Vortigern actually laughed at the sheer absurdity of his answer. "You think that acting like an immature brat is inspiring to them?"

"Of course...I love to foster humanity's dreams...and no one can dream like children.

"I show the adults...that it's okay to act like a kid sometimes...that it's okay to dream like children often do.

"After all...dreams lift humans up...dreams inspire them...dreams help them to reach that happy end...that end I'm striving for humanity to achieve." Merlin's teasing smile slipped, leaving a far more genuine one in its place.

...and he was right back to disgust, just like that.

"Of course you do. Of course it would be for the sake of humans."

"Well naturally. I can't help but want the best for them...it's certainly been far more rewarding than trying to preserve the Age of Mystery." He winked teasingly.

Vortigern saw red. Again.

Angrily yanking the blade from Merlin's stomach, still holding him by the throat, Vortigern brought it down for a brutal swipe that took both of his legs. Then he followed up by chopping Merlin's arms off.

"That's...all...you've got...is it?" Even in his current state, Merlin still managed one last taunt.

Dematerializing his blade, Vortigern grabbed the dismembered Merlin by both shoulders, activated Mana Burst once again...and pulled.

A torrent of blood, along with torn organs, pieces of muscle and bits of bone, splattered onto the ground as the Vile King tore the Mage of Flowers very messily in half.

Ritsuka threw up on the spot. Mash retched a little but managed to keep her reaction to just that severe.

A low growl tore itself from the King of Knights' throat as she watched one of her most loyal retainers being butchered in such a barbaric fashion. Straining and tearing at the shadow bindings again, Artoria was dismayed to see that they were still holding...but only just.

Damn you and your sorcery, Vortigern! Just a little looser…come on!

Glancing down at the fabric covered pile of flesh, viscera, amputated limbs and organs that was once Merlin, Vortigern summoned black fire in his hand and directed a stream of it to incinerate every last scrap of the remains, his anger still burning hot at the sheer nerve of the incubus.

Only when the flames faded, revealing that nothing was left, did he allow himself to feel satisfied.

Glancing around the clearing to check one last time for any other active threats, and satisfied that there were none, Vortigern began to make his way over to Ritsuka and Mash. He moved slowly, deliberately, enjoying the looks of mounting terror on their faces as he drew closer and closer.

Despite the terror swamping her mind, Mash forced herself to stand. Forced herself to plant her feet, ready her shield and prepare to fight.

A hand on her shoulder both shocked and reassured the Shielder. Ritsuka, despite his own terror at the dark-armoured tyrant striding towards them, squeezed Mash's shoulder and tried giving her his best smile.

"It's alright, Mash. I'm here with you."

"Thank you, Senpai. I'll...I'll do my best too."

"How truly touching this little moment is." Vortigern practically spat the words out as if they were toxic, levelling his blade at Mash as he came to a halt, just ten feet away. "Do enjoy it while you can, children, it won't last much longer."

Sharing one last glance, Mash and Ritsuka smiled sadly.

"I'm...I'm glad you're here with me, Senpai."

"Me too, Mash. I can't think of anyone else I'd rather face the end with."

Turning to face Vortigern, the Shielder steeled herself and took a step forward.

"Mash Kyrielight, entering combat!"

A very bloodthirsty smirk crossed Vortigern's face as he prepared to charge…

Only to stop as the rune he'd carved into the ground, specifically the rune that was supporting the fire wall, began flashing bright….someone was trying to breach the barrier.

Immediately fading into the dark and re-emerging from the shadows near the rune, Vortigern turned this way and that, looking to see where this new threat would be coming from.

Perhaps the human Master had brought along Servants other than those Round Table scum? Did the Celts have more Servants at their disposal? Who WAS it that was coming through the firewall, and how did they breach his shadow barrier without the projecting rune alerting him?

A few moments later, a golden light began to appear from beyond the wall's northeastern section...and Vortigern remembered that there were still some knights he'd not killed yet.

As he watched, the light grew brighter and brighter...and then it began to move closer, parting the dark fire before it.

Mash and Ritsuka's confusion and previous terror was replaced with a surge of hope as a very familiar voice rang out.

"Longinus Count Zero!"

The holy spear's light dimmed and sputtered out as Kundry came to a halt.

"Well done, Percival!" Lancelot congratulated, hopping off his fellow's mount and unsheathing Arondight.

"Ah, it was no trouble at all, but I'm afraid my spear's light has dimmed too much to use my Noble Phantasm again…"

"We'll manage without it. Now then, how is…" Gawain began, before his voice trailed off as he caught sight of the battlefield.

Vortigern was still up and moving and not only was the king still bound, but someone else among their number seemed to be imprisoned in shadows as well. He couldn't quite make out who...but regardless, losing another member only made their job even harder.

His fist clenched around Galatine as he caught sight of Tristan, unmoving on the ground with the broken remnants of Failnaught beside him.

But that paled in comparison to the surge of fury he felt when he saw…

"GARETH!"

Completely ignoring the threat in front of him, he sprinted for his fallen sibling, Lancelot and Percival's calls to wait ringing in his ears all the while.

Reaching and kneeling beside her, Gawain cursed as he caught sight of her ruined arms and the bruises on her neck. Slipping off his gloves, the Knight of the Sun tenderly pressed two fingers to his sibling's neck, hoping that she was still…

Ah, there's still a pulse. Thank god.

"How is she?" Lancelot knelt beside him, checking on his former squire.

"Still alive." Gawain snapped, looking around to glare daggers at Vortigern, who was simply standing in place, watching them and waiting. "What about Mordred? I saw her nearby...I hope she's-"

"Mordred is badly injured, but I was able to stabilise her." Percival joined them, brandishing the Longinus and pointing it at Gareth. "Does Gareth need the holy spear's light too?"

"No. She'll be fine for now. Thank goodness." Gawain released a breath he'd not realised he'd been holding. Giving his unconscious sibling a pat on the head and a whispered prayer, he stood up and faced Vortigern directly. Bringing Galatine to bear, he narrowed his eyes and prepared to attack, barely suppressing a snarl of rage at the sight of the man who'd maimed his siblings so horribly.

"At last...you've finally got some real fury behind those eyes, boy." Vortigern smirked. "A pity it won't be enough."

"Lancelot. Percival. Are you with me?" Gawain asked, resisting the urge to just charge blindly, despite his anger being near boiling point.

"Always, my friend." Lancelot affirmed, moving to stand beside Gawain and raising Arondight.

"I'm with you." Percival nodded. "We may not be at our best, but we can still show him the strength of the Round Table!"

"By all means...do try."

"Alright then...WITH ME!" Gawain cried, breaking into a sprint and raising Galatine, this time with Percival and Lancelot running right beside him.

Galatine and Longinus locked Vortigern's blade in place as Lancelot stabbed and slashed at the Vile King's armour with Arondight. Growling in irritation, Vortigern lashed out with a booted foot at Gawain, but this time he was ready.

Catching his great-uncle's foot with his free hand, Gawain twisted it firmly to the right and yanked it forward hard, sweeping the tyrant off his feet...just in time for Percival to slam his shield-wielding pauldron into his chest and knock him to the ground.

Summoning the remaining sun fire within Galatine, Gawain raised his blade and brought it down towards Vortigern, intending to pierce right through his heart...only for Vortigern to dissolve into the shadows once again.

"What!? Where did he go!?" Lancelot demanded, eyes widening as he immediately turned to scan the surrounding area.

"I don't know, but stay ale-" Gawain started to warn, only to suck in a breath in shock as he spied a telltale purple-black aura of magic manifesting directly behind Percival.

"WATCH OUT!" Lunging towards his fellow knight, Gawain elected to simply shove the surprised Percival aside, sparing the Knight of the Dove from being impaled from behind by the blade that had been heading right for his heart, and knock Vortigern's blade aside with Galatine.

Undeterred, the Vile King thrust his helmeted head forward, intending to headbutt Gawain again, but this time Gawain managed to duck aside and, borrowing a trick from his rebellious younger sister, kneed Vortigern right in the crotch.

Despite his shadow barrier nullifying any actual damage, Vortigern still seized up, growling in pain. Capitalizing on the opportunity, Gawain kneed him again, paralysing Vortigern long enough for Percival to get back up and start attacking him...while Lancelot had already shoulder charged their enemy and was already tearing at his defenses with Arondight.

Battered from all sides, Vortigern was forced back as the twin blades and spear's relentless strikes forced his sword aside and rattled against his armour again and again. Despite his barrier holding strong against the assault, the Vile King was beginning to grow angry once more.

Angry that these humans were daring to impede him. Were actually ABLE to impede him, even with his power sapping the light from their precious weapons.

Gathering dark mana in his free hand, Vortigern slammed it into the ground, generating a shockwave that flung the three knights into the air and sent them sprawling to the ground.

Before he moved to capitalize on the new opportunity, Vortigern channeled mana into the barrier runes, reinforcing the breach in the firewall that Percival had torn through it. He couldn't have anyone else interrupting his vengeance or taking him by surprise so easily.

As he would soon learn, that expenditure was a major mistake.

Despite having an infallible source of mana from his Dragon Core to replenish his reserves, the constant drain from battling the Round Table, combined with maintaining the barriers around the area, had left him quite drained. As such, when he channeled so much mana into reinforcing the firewall, he inadvertently wound up weakening one of his other active shadow constructs...

It was the opening Artoria needed.

With a grunt of exertion, the King of Knights finally shattered her bindings. Scooping up the nearby Excalibur, she looked around and saw Vortigern, getting surrounded by her knights all over again.

As much as she wanted to join the fray, she held back for the moment. She needed to be smarter about this...rushing in last time hadn't gone well.

But how could she get past that darkness barrier of his, with Excalibur so badly drained of light?

A gust of wind, kicked up from the renewed clash between her remaining knights and the Vile King, gave Artoria the flash of inspiration she needed as it whipped through her hair.

Of course...light is not the only tool Excalibur can wield. What remains might not be enough, but it must surely be worth a try!

With this new resolve in mind, Artoria broke into a full charge towards Vortigern, readying Excalibur.

As she drew closer, she began muttering a quiet chant to the holy blade.

"O' winds...heed my call."

Then she jumped straight at him.

Vortigern had just finished forcing Gawain and Percival back when he heard her yell.

"STRIKE AIR!"

Despite his best attempt to stand his ground, including planting his blade into the ground to anchor himself, Vortigern was knocked violently across the ground by the miniature tornado that Excalibur's strike unleashed right into his chest, while the roaring winds tore his shadow barrier away.

For the third time that day, a sense of hope blossomed in the knights' hearts as the appearance of their king galvanized them further.

Vortigern scrambled to his feet, his pupils narrowing to enraged pinpricks at the sight of his hated niece rejoining the fight. Heedless of his lost protection, the Vile King gripped his sword, summoned several runes into his free hand, and began to advance.

"KNIGHTS, WITH ME!" Saber cried as she leapt forward to meet her enemy.

"FOR THE ROUND TABLE! FOR THE KING!" Gawain, Lancelot and Percival roared in unison, hot on her heels.

Ducking and weaving between the barrage of fireballs, frostbolts and shadow tendrils that Vortigern unleashed on her via his runes, Saber slipped by his first strike and stuck him in the chest. Parrying his second blow, she struck his arm guards thrice before he recovered, trying to force Vortigern to drop his sword or at least impair his combat ability.

Blocking the Vile King's overhead strike with Excalibur, Saber found herself forced back by her opponent's superior strength until she activated her own Mana Burst, giving her the strength needed to force his blade sideways. Like Gawain before her, she took a page from Mordred's style of combat and lashed a kick into Vortigern's shin, following up by punching him in the helmet as he staggered and slashing him across the chest.

Before Vortigern could recover, the other three caught up to him. Percival pinned his blade with Longinus, Gawain struck him in the side and Lancelot unleashed a flurry of blows that tore into his chestplate.

Vortigern's attempt to retaliate, with a blast of dark fire and a horde of shadow tendrils, was ripped through as Saber unleashed Excalibur's Invisible Air once more. His already fragile, steadily-regenerating shadow barrier was blown apart as Vortigern was flung across the ground.

As he was struggling up, his armour battered and littered with grooves and cuts, he heard his hated niece call out.

"Sir Lancelot, does your blade have strength remaining?"

"Yes, my liege!"

"Then end this with one strike!"

"Allow me to help."

Oh Gods...her clone was free now. He was so distracted by the combat that he'd failed to notice her shadow prison weakening.

And if her prison had failed, then…

"Hasten, Carnwennan!"

Looking up, he growled in frustration as dozens of runes manifested around Lancelot, his blade and armour glowing bright as the Caster's magic did its work.

"This is it!" Lancelot yelled as he held Arondight up in front of him, a fresh surge of energy swirling around the Saber as he activated his own Skill to bolster his power further. Then he broke into a charge straight towards Vortigern.

Snarling, the Vile King threw a barrage of shadows at the oncoming Knight of the Lake, only for Artoria Avalon to counter with a wave of blue-white magic.

"O' distant king...witness this light!"

Another barrage of shadows, supplemented by icicles and fireballs. This time, Lancelot himself swept them aside, his shining blade cleaving through the projectiles easily.

Vortigern tried to dodge...tried to get up and move out of the way...but he wasn't fast enough.

"Arondight...Overload!"

Pain wracked his entire body as the explosion of power from Arondight's strike blew open his armour, then ripped apart his flesh and muscle. Despite that, he refused to succumb, forcing himself to stay conscious even as the shockwave threw him back and sent him tumbling along the ground.

Finally, he fell still, tried to get up...but couldn't.

Letting out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding, Lancelot finally allowed his body to relax, permitting the adrenaline to steadily drain from him as the gnawing terror at the back of his mind, terror at facing down the man who'd slaughtered their comrades and come so close to killing his king centuries ago, receded at last.

And then he made a terrible mistake.

Instead of approaching their downed enemy to deliver the coup de grace, instead of making absolutely sure that Vortigern wasn't going to recover, Lancelot turned back to his fellow Servants and flashed a reassuring smile and thumbs up, to signal that all was well.

Everyone else breathed sighs of relief as Lancelot began to make his way over.

"I...thank goodness that's finally over." Percival sighed. "Is everyone else alright?"

"I never imagined that we would need to deal with him again." Gawain forced himself to suppress one last shiver up his spine. "But thankfully, we managed it."

"I'll try to tend to the others. Master, do you think you can get in touch with Chaldea to take us all back?" Artoria Avalon asked.

"I'll...I'll certainly try, but I've not been able to contact the New Director or Da Vinci since we got her." Ritsuka admitted from his position a few feet away, thanks to Mash carrying him over."

"It's alright Senpai. We can rest and try to care for the injured now. I'm sure that New Director and Da Vinci-chan will be trying to re-establish communication with us already. Once we're back in touch, we can get Rayshifted home and get everyone proper medical care." Mash tried to reassure the Master. "Now, please try not to move too much, okay?"

"Well done, everyone. And well done to you especially, Sir Lancelot, for striking that last blow and ridding us of that threat." Saber Artoria smiled gratefully at him. "And there's no need to mumble, hmm? If you have something to say, then you are always welcome to speak freely."

"Mumble? I've not been mumbling, my king." Lancelot's brows furrowed in confusion.

"Really? Then wh-." His liege started to ask...only to stop herself, her irises shrinking in utter panic.

"Lancelot?" She whispered.

"Y-Yes?"

"...did you make absolutely CERTAIN that Vortigern was dead?"

Oh no.

Lancelot spun around, as Saber stepped to the side to look behind him…

Only to find Vortigern, still alive despite his chestplate being ruined and chest being torn open, now resting on his elbows, smiling a grim smile...and just finishing a chant, a fresh aura of darkness manifesting around him.

"The blood of the great progenitor, awakens within me."

"Lancelot, take his head! TAKE HIS HEAD NOW!" Saber roared.

Quick as a flash, Lancelot broke into a sprint, raising Arondight and charging it with Mana.

"A legacy to surpass the planet, a power to surpass mankind..."

Lancelot lunged for him, trying desperately for a decapitation strike.

"Grant me the strength to fulfill my purpose…"

As Vortigern opened his eyes, Lancelot could see that they were slitted and reptilian, his pupils replaced with burning coals and his irises turned a glowing red.

The eyes of a dragon.

"Dark Heart Albion."

A nova of Mana and dark power exploded outwards from Vortigern, churning up and scorching the ground around him. Lancelot was flung backwards, yelling in pain as the energy wave burnt his armour and seared his flesh.

Artoria Avalon flung up a magical barrier to protect the group, as well as several smaller barriers to shield the downed members of the Round Table. Gritting her teeth, the Caster dug her fingers into Marmyadose, currently being used as a conduit for her power, and continued to channel Mana through the blade to sustain her various shields. No matter how severe a battering they took, she would not let them falter.

From the centre of the maelstrom, Vortigern was now on his knees, his whole body shaking as the transformation began.

The grievous wound in his torso already healed, his flesh began to harden, painfully morphing into a reptile-like hide. His armour bent and shifted as it was saturated by dark magic, the entire suit fusing painfully into Vortigern's body as the metal warped into very organic-looking scales in the process.

His fingers thickened and lengthened, while the nails rapidly expanded and morphed into talons. Bones snapped and twisted as Vortigern's arms and legs extended rapidly, hands and feet turning into evergrowing claws. His entire body quickly followed suit, the Vile King's form growing and growing into a colossal mass.

The pain that Lancelot's Noble Phantasm had caused him was absolutely nothing compared to the agony of his transformation. Yet Vortigern could not scream coherently thanks to his vocal chords and teeth being in the middle of transforming to match his new form, with his gums splitting and tearing as every tooth grew into a mighty fang.

His draconic blood was kicked into overdrive, causing his body to surge with heat and mutating his heart, transforming what was once a 'mere' dragon blood-infused organ into a full-on draconic core that would fill his new form with all the mana he could ever want.

As he grew larger and larger and his transformation progressed, all remaining traces of light in the surrounding sky were smothered by a fresh wave of shadow and darkness, descending over the entire area along with a bitter cold that chilled even the Servants to their bones.

Excalibur, Marmyadose, Longinus, Galatine and Arondight, previously holding on to small portions of their light, were drained completely in moments.

This time Gawain really did seize up, all breath leaving him and his heart thundering in terror in his chest, the sight of the monstrosity that had incinerated legions of lesser knights, swatted him aside like a fly and nearly killed his king too much for him to bear all over again.

Lancelot and Percival had been fortunate enough to not fight Vortigern in this form personally, but despite that the duo were still wracked with nerves and drained of confidence at the sight of him. After all, they'd seen the damage the Vile King had done, both to their armies and the surrounding environment.

Even the King of Knights felt shivers of fear shoot up her spine. Fighting Vortigern in life had been a terrible enough ordeal...but now she didn't have Rhongomyniad on hand. Perhaps with the sacred lance, they might have stood a chance...

The only one who managed to stand relatively firm in the face of this calamitous new threat was Artoria Avalon, by virtue of having faced a similar threat in Oberon-Vortigern during her final hours in Fairy Britain. However, much like her Panhuman counterpart, that was when she had full might of a Divine Construct on her side. And she'd expended a lot of power already…

"HHRRRAAAAHHHHH….GRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGHHHH!"

A deafening roar thundered across the clearing as Vortigern finally finished transforming.

As they began making out a colossal silhouette from within the shadowy smog, increasingly large pits formed in the Chaldea group's stomachs as the full scale of Vortigern's new form became terrifyingly apparent.

Were he any larger, he would struggle to fit into the clearing properly. Even then, the ground quaked violently as Vortigern re-aligned himself to face the remnants of the Round Table, while shattering his own shadow wall thanks to his swinging tail tearing through it.

Thinking back to the encounter with Fafnir a few years ago, all the way back in the Orleans Singularity, Ritsuka hazarded a guess that Vortigern's form was at least twice the Evil Dragon's size.

"S-S-S-Sen….pai…." Mash whimpered, the Shielder shaking in her boots. "Wh...What d-d-do we do?"

"You die."

The booming, guttural voice split the sky and had the group covering their ears once more.

Two great glowing eyes opened from within the smog and darkness, glaring right at them.

"Behold, pitiful humans...the apex form of the will of Britain.

"Behold the avatar of the White Dragon, whose shadows swallow all light.

"Behold the sworn enemy of mankind.

"Behold...your demise."

It was chaos.

Mash and Ritsuka, the latter's leg mostly repaired thanks to the few Mystic Code-enhanced healing spells he knew, were running as quickly as possible away from the carnage, Saber Artoria's words ringing in his ears.

Run, Master! As quickly as you can! Just GO! NOW!

Their hearts leapt into their throats again and again as thick tendrils, spikes and spears of darkness slammed into the ground terrifyingly close to their position, churning up the ground violently.

A cry of pain reached their ears...a few seconds before the body of Percival came flying past them and crashed to the ground, rolling a few times before coming to a stop.

It was difficult resisting the urge to stop and help as the duo sprinted by, especially as they caught sight of Percival's condition.

His frontal armour was all but ripped in two, with sickeningly large grooves in the two halves of Percival's chest plate that very much resembled dragon scales. His skin was littered with cuts and burn marks, with a few streams of blood trickling down his face and arms. The Longinus was badly cracked, while the arms that held onto it were saturated with bruises and scars.

He looked near-death….but they couldn't stop for him.

As the duo hurried on, the remaining members of the Round Table made their final, desperate strikes.

With how overpowering Vortigern's 'shadow aura' had gotten, powering up Galatine to a mere third of its original maximum power was taking every last scrap of Mana Gawain had left.

...and yet it still wasn't enough, but what else could he-?

Wait. Perhaps there was something else he could use.

A gift from a God wearing the flesh of his king...and a painful reminder of the sins his other self had committed in her name. But right here, right now, it was his only chance.

"Morning light, protect all that is good!" He yelled, as power swirled around him.

Immediately the smothering layers of darkness above him were parted, pierced by warm and soft sunlight that shone down around the Knight of the Sun.

His armour and blade began to glow in tandem, the presence of daylight allowing him to receive the blessings of Numeral of the Saint.

With the sudden threefold boost to Gawain's power, Gelatine was now back at full strength and burnt bright with sun fire, even as Vortigern's shadows tried their best to smother it.

Shakily, Gawain took a few steps forward.

He was tired, he was bruised...and he was terrified beyond all measure.

Nevertheless, he gritted his teeth, putting everything he had into this one last Noble Phantasm release, all for the sake of buying his Master whatever time he could. Of at least giving his great-uncle a bloody nose.

He was the Knight of the Sun...he wouldn't be going down without a fight.

"Excalibur...Galatine!"

Gawain swung, unleashing a ferocious wave of fire and light from Excalibur's sister sword that tore through the blackness and rushed towards the draconic monstrosity that Vortigern had become…

Only for the Vile King to flat-out ignore it. He stepped over the fire wave as if it were barely an annoyance.

Gawain's heart plummeted into his stomach, and his mind was swamped by a feeling of despair.

Then Vortigern smashed his claw down onto him and his vision went black.

"SIR GAWAIN!" Lancelot roared, enraged at the sight of his friend being crushed so easily by their opponent.

His king might be dead already, perhaps Percival was too, what with them taking hits as severe as they took head-on…

Still, much like Gawain, Lancelot would not go quietly into this darkness.

Raising Arondight, he began to channel his Mana into the blade.

"Here...let me help you." Said a ragged, weak voice as a hand handed on his shoulder.

Artoria Avalon, herself quite badly torn up, manifested her runes to once more empower the Knight of the Lake, even as she launched magical waves through Marmyadose, constructed barrier after barrier and fired barrages of Carnwennan's daggers, just to try and slow Vortigern's advance.

"Reach the edge of the world and go beyond its limit."

His body wracked with pain, Lancelot charged right for Vortigern's right front leg.

He wouldn't be able to bring him down, by any means...but he could cripple his leg, slow him down just enough for Mash and Master to escape.

"O' distant king, witness this light!"

Bolstered by Artoria Avalon's magecraft and the last of his own Mana reserves, Arondight lit up and blazed with power, despite the Vile King's shadows attempting to smother the holy sword's light.

"Arondight...OVERLOAD!"

His ferocious slash tore a bright gash of light through Vortigern's shadow barrier, which exploded a moment later.

Come on...COME ON…

Desperately, he hoped against hope that he'd managed to-

"...I'm sorry, was that IT, boy?" The Vile King rumbled, finally turning his head to face Lancelot properly.

Vortigern sounded so casual...so contemptuous...had he really just-?

The light finally cleared...and Lancelot's hopes were ruthlessly dashed as he noted the utter lack of damage to Vortigern's front leg.

Then his vision, like that of Gawain before him, went black as his opponent crushed him underneath a claw.

"GAAAAHHH!"

The last thing he felt was an overwhelming sense of pain...matched only by the despair he felt at failing to protect his king, his fellow knights, his Master...and his daughter.

Lancelot's scream dashed Mash and Ritsuka's renewed hopes, sending a fresh wave of guilt up the Shielder and Master's spines.

Their friends, all but an adoptive family in Mash's case, were suffering...and they were running away.

Despite the fact that, realistically, there was little that Ritsuka and Mash could do to help in this instance, the guilt still gnawed at them. Even the fact that they could re-summon any lost Chaldea Servants with almost full continuation of memory did little to soothe their troubled consciences.

All they needed to do was get far enough away from the area to summon more Servants in peace, or try to find Morgan, Saber Alter and Habetrot if summoning wasn't an option. Despite how fast the forest was, searching for the remainder of their team was better than just sitting around, waiting for Vortigern to find them.

They were almost to the treeline! Almost there…

"Going somewhere, are you?"

A very loud crashing sound resounded in front of the duo as Vortigern swept his great tail around and slammed it down in front of the clearing's edge. Even in the near pitch black of Vortigern's shadows, Mash and Ritsuka could tell that something was barring their path and screeched to a halt.

They were trapped.

Stomping towards them on his hind legs, his every footstep shaking the ground at their feet, Vortigern raised his balled front claws and opened them a short distance away from the trapped pair.

Out of his claws came the limp forms of Lancelot and Gawain, in a similar state of severe injury as Percival was. The duo tumbled to the ground and kicked up a small shockwave on impact.

The draconic king's eyes flashed bright for a moment, and in short order the fallen Mordred, Gareth, Percival and Tristan appeared beside their comrades in flashes of shadow.

A moment later, Artoria Avalon joined them, bound in shadow once more and too weak to even struggle against her bonds, as her Panhuman self had done.

"Now then, I would kill you right now...but I feel as if something is missing." Vortigern growled.

Not...Not if I have anything to say about it.

Shakily picking herself up from the crater she was lying in, left from when Vortigern had backhanded her through at least five trees, Saber Artoria limped her way towards the draconic monstrosity that was her uncle.

Despite the oppressive, suffocating aura of shadow that drowned out all light in the area, Artoria could feel a spark of light remaining...it was deep within Excalibur, but it WAS there.

Gritting her teeth and concentrating, Artoria fed her Mana into Excalibur, forcibly kindling that single remaining spark within the strongest Holy Sword and turning it into a growing flame. For the first time since Vortigern had appeared, Excalibur's light shone through the whole of the blade's circumference, unhindered by his dark aura.

But it still wasn't quite enough…

Sighing, realising what needed to be done, Artoria turned her attention inward.

...there it was. A connection to her draconic side. Fragile though it was from a complete lack of use, it was nonetheless present.

Taking a deep breath and focusing, the King of Knights reached for that connection, putting all of her efforts into re-awakening it.

Just about...almost…

There.

Her sharp intake of breath was accompanied by a fresh flow of mana, reinvigorating her battered body, as her newly awakened dragon core began to churn out a slight but steady supply. Slowly hobbling forward, approaching Vortigern's rear, Artoria channeled this new supply into Excalibur, to power up the blade as much as possible.

If she could just take his tail...Mashu and Ritsuka might just have a chance to escape.

After all, she would only have one opportunity, she needed to make it count.

"Sheathed in the breath of the planet…"

Excalibur's light began to blind her with how bright it got.

Her body was wracked with pain. Even with the fresh supply of mana from her re-awakened dragon core, she felt so sluggish. But still, she kept moving.

Her now yellow eyes narrowed in determination. Her Master needed her, just this one last time…

"A torrent of shining life…"

The light sharpened, blazing forth from Excalibur's tip to transform the blade into a mighty lance of light, overflowing with power.

Vortigern, sensing the furious buildup of energy, began to turn his head.

"TAKE THIS!"

"What!? Impossible…"

For perhaps the first time since he'd shown up, there was the slightest hint of fear in Vortigern's voice.

The King of Knights managed a small smile at that fact. She might fall here, might only be able to give him a 'bloody nose', so to speak, but for a brief moment...she'd made him feel scared. And with a weapon that he'd thought he'd rendered all but helpless, too.

Now as close as she could safely get, arms and legs screaming at her, Saber brought her blade down.

"EX...CAAAAAALIBUR!"

The blinding, searing beam of light poured forth from the holy sword, cleaving through every shadow and layer of darkness in its path as it surged towards and then impacted Vortigern's tail.

"GRAAAAAAHHHH!"

Yes, it's working!

For a moment, Artoria felt satisfied. She might fall here...but at least she'd by her Master and Mashu time to escape, for Vortigern would almost certainly focus entirely on her, and not without giving her uncle a scar to remember.

"GRAAAH-HA HA HA HA HA!"

...and her satisfaction was quickly replaced with confusion at the sound of Vortigern's booming laughter.

Then a sense of overwhelming shock and despair when the light cleared away enough to give her a good look at him...and she saw that the only harm she'd be able to inflict was a wide but shallow cut to the base of his tail.

A cut that was already healing, right before her eyes.

Before she could say or do anything, Vortigern reached back to casually wrap a claw tightly around her, scourging her injured body with a fresh wave of pain, and drag her up to his eye level.

"I'll admit...I was worried for a moment, but it seems that I managed to overestimate you."

"If you are going to kill me, Vortigern, then do so. Don't waste time with petty gloating." Artoria spat.

"Now why would I do that, 'dear' niece? No no no...if I do that, then you won't SUFFER first, will you?

"Now then…"

Dropping her roughly on the ground in front of a stunned Ritsuka and Mash, Vortigern bent his draconic head down to look them all in the faces.

"Choose one of your knights, niece. Do it now."

"Why?"

"So that I know who you want me to kill."

"...is this...is this really your plan?" The King of Knights was incredulous. "We are Servants, Vortigern. Killing us does no long term harm."

"And...no matter…...who the king chooses…...we will understand."

A weak, laboured voice cut into the conversation, coming from none other than Lancelot. The Knight of the Lake, despite his severe injuries, managed to push himself up just enough to look Vortigern in the face.

"Our king...loves us all, and we...adore the king...in turn." He rasped out. "This twisted game of yours...will not hurt us."

"Oh, but it will hurt HER, boy." Vortigern growled, his draconic maw managing to contort into a twisted grin.

"As you said, she loves all of you fools. Being forced to watch all of her oh-so-loyal followers die, and knowing that she is the one choosing which of them to send to their deaths...it most certainly will hurt her.

"And for my final vengeance...yes, killing this 'Master' of hers sounds very fitting indeed."

"If you do that, we ALL lose." Artoria insisted, glaring daggers at her uncle.

"I lost a long time ago." Vortigern snapped.

"Look at what's become of my beloved Britain...devoid of Mystery, overrun with human SCUM, dragged kicking and screaming into your 'Age of Man'. Everything I fought for...it was all worthless in the end.

"And I have YOU to thank for it. So, I intend to repay you...to show YOU exactly how that feels.

"And what better way to do that, than by dooming the history and humanity that you fought for to oblivion? While you spend your last moments blaming yourself.

"After all, I have you to thank for my manifestation here."

"What?" Saber whispered, a chill running through her veins.

Mash, Lancelot and Ritsuka were similarly shocked.

"Oh yes." Another twisted grin split Vortigern's face.

"Bringing so many of your retainers here, all in one place and surrounded by so many of the land's Phantasmals...why, we might as well be back in Britain. When I noticed how 'right' the conditions felt...how could I NOT interfere?"

Saber said nothing, quietly putting a hand to her mouth, Excalibur trembling in her remaining hand.

"So you see, this IS your fault, niece...for giving me this opportunity. I can finally damn all of the human filth, just as you damned the Age of Gods in Britain, and render your efforts in death as meaningless as my own in life.

"At least, in your final moments, you will understand exactly how I felt at the end of my life.

"Now then, choose a knight…"

Vortigern bent down further, getting eye to eye with his niece, her Master and her best knight, sporting the most gleefully malicious smile he'd ever possessed.

"And know that there's no Rhongomyniad to save you this time."

…

"Well, then I suppose it's just as well that we're on hand to substitute." A new, very familiar voice said.

"What?"

Confused at the interruption, the Vile King turned his head to face the new arrivals…

Only to recoil as an enchanted spear that first buried itself in his left eye socket then kept on going, ricocheting around as it tore into his eye.

"GAAAAAHHH!"

Miraculously, none of the Round Table's party were crushed as Vortigern stumbled backward, though Saber Artoria, Lancelot and the newly-freed Artoria Avalon immediately got to work dragging their unconscious and injured comrades away while Mash and Ritsuka immediately made a break for it, trying to reach a safe distance.

Vortigern shuddered again as the spear was recalled from his now-ruined eye socket, pressing his claws to it to try and staunch the bleeding.

Plucking her spear from the air and cleaning it of viscera with a quick rune application, Morgan took a moment to survey the battlefield, now lit with spheres of light via her Magecraft.

Ritsuka and Mash were okay, that was reassuring...

...and so were Artoria and her knights.

Her mood soured slightly at the sight.

Well, at least Merlin is missing. I'll have to take that small victory.

"Almost everyone's still alive! That's a good sign!" Habetrot chirped from beside her. "Ah, but trying to heal them when this dragon's present...ol' Habenyan might have a hard time trying to avoid it."

"Do not trouble yourself, Linen Spinner. Go and provide what aid you can, we will handle the old man." Saber Alter assured her, stepping up to stand beside the duo.

"Old ma-...that dragon is a person!?" The Rider gaped in shock.

"Yes. Unless I am very much mistaken, we are facing Vortigern. The tyrant usurper I was born to slay." Saber Alter observed, narrowing her eyes.

"I admit, this will be a fine opportunity for me. By the circumstances of my creation, 'I' was never able to kill him in life...now, I finally get to fulfil 'my' purpose."

"Our Master is in grave danger, and yet here you are, solely concerned with achieving a self-imposed goal." Morgan sighed, rolling her eyes. "Your concern is truly touching, tainted Artoria."

"Unlike you, I have faith in my Master's capabilities. I knew he and Mashu would be able to survive." Saber Alter shot back. "Besides, you of all people are in no position to lecture me about selfish behaviour, I wonder what Master would say if I told him how disappointed you were to see that my other self and her knights had survived along with them."

Morgan seized up, a snarl on her lips.

Why you insolent little-

"Tainted' Artoria'? Another clone of my niece!?" Vortigern snarled, having finally stemmed the flow of blood from his ruined eye, as he began turning to face them.

"Aaahh! He's heading this way!" Habetrot called, tugging on Morgan's dress and pointing at their target. "I don't think my linen balls will be of much use against a target that size!"

"Don't worry, dear Habetrot, leave him to us. Just help the survivors, alright?" Morgan soothed her friend, while applying at least a half-dozen protection and barrier runes to her clothing...just to make sure she was okay.

"Alrighty then, leave it to me! Good luck, Miss Morgan, Miss Alter!" With that the Rider was off, bobbing and weaving through the torn-up battlefield to reach Ritsuka's group, leaving the Berserker and Saber to face Vortigern by themselves.

"I will engage him head on while you attack from afar, so give me every rune enhancement you have, now."

"You're being ever so presumptuous trying to command me, aren't you? Why shouldn't I take to the front in your place? In terms of power, I am superior. A challenge like this is nothing to me."

"You are also incredibly petty for arguing with me when our enemy is about to attack. The simple truth is that I am the better option to fight the old man, because I actually have a constitution superior to that of a paper mache doll.

"Once Vortigern is dead, you have my permission to throw as childish a tantrum as you wish, but for now just do as I say and we will surely prevail."

A vein popped in Morgan's forehead.

If there was one thing she hated more than an Artoria who sass talking her like this...it was an Artoria who was even vaguely rightwhile sassing her.

"...very well." She ground out, eye twitching as she raised her spear.

Immediately, runes began appearing on Saber Alter's legs, arms, chestplate and blade, glowing right and bolstering her capabilities as Morgan's magic did its work.

"You…"

Vortigern had come about and now addressed his new opponents, disbelief in his voice.

"I never imagined that you, my successor, would aid these humans." He growled.

"I am not the Morgan you believe I am. I am the Queen of Fairy Britain, now here to serve the Human Order after the destruction of my Lostbelt."

"' Lostbelt?' 'Fairy Britain', you say…?" Vortigern sounded despondent, bitter. "A world of Mystery and Phantasmal creatures...a world not ruled by man?"

"Yes, it was indeed."

"I see…that my dream was finally realised, in a world that was not mine…"

The moment passed, the Vile King's remaining eye hardened as he locked eyes with Morgan once more.

"No matter. If you stand in the way of my vengeance against my niece, then I will kill you."

"You will certainly try, old man." Alter took a step forward, igniting Excalibur Morgan.

Vortigern swept his tail around, wreathing it in spiked shadows for extra power as he brought it down to crush the duo.

Morgan threw up a shield barrier to block it, while Saber Alter shot forward in a blur to hack her blade into Vortigern's nearest claw.

The shadow dragon cried out in pain as the unholy sword bit deep into his flesh with every strike, tearing through his own darkness barriers far more easily than its holy counterpart had ever been able to.

As Alter moved on to the other frontal claw, Vortigern attempted to retreat, recognising how great a threat the corrupted king was to his form, especially with Morgan's enhancements taking effect. Acting quickly, Morgan cast a gravity amplification spell to try and lock Vortigern in place, forcing him down to the ground and forcefully slowing his movements to a lethargic crawl.

As the Vile King struggled against the mystically-enhanced gravity weighing him down, Morgan sent her spear flying again, under her control it cleaved through rows of his protective scales to soften up the dragon for Saber Alter's strikes.

"Woooaahh…" Mash and Ritsuka were gaping, quite thoroughly shocked at seeing such a powerful threat fought off so easily.

"So, this is the power of the Fairy Queen, hmmm?" Saber whispered, contemplative.

"Yep! Yep! Miss Morgan's plenty strong!" Habetrot called out, as the Rider finally arrived. "She'll beat that big dragon real good, don't you worry.

"Now then, who needs help from Ol' Habenyan?"

"I...think we all do." Saber Artoria admitted.

"As appreciative as we are for your help, I worry for your ability to heal all of us with just yourself." Artoria Avalon said.

"If your supplies are limited, then I will forgo your treatments for now, please look after everyone else first." Lancelot insisted.

"Alrighty then! Since there's so many people to help, then it's time to pull out the big guns!"

Hopping off her Zeppelin, Habetrot began gathering her magical energy.

"This is for the sake of a happy ending!"

Spreading her arms wide, the Rider released a wave of ethereal pink hearts and healing magic throughout the injured group before her.

"Here I go! Bridal Spinning Wheel!"

Everyone still conscious sighed deeply as they were reinvigorated by a fresh jolt of energy, healing their wounds.

Waving her hand, Artoria Avalon gathered up the unconscious and still-injured Round Table Knights in a series of anti-gravity runes.

"Alright, I can move the injured to a safe distance now. Is everyone else okay to move?" She asked.

"Yes." Lancelot and Saber Artoria replied.

"We're okay to go, right Mash?"

"Yes, Senpai!"

"I'll come too!" Habetrot said, only for Ritsuka to hold up his hand.

"No...I need you to go help Morgan and Alter. I think they'll need your NP."

"Eh? My spinning whe-...oooohh." Habetrot started protesting, only for a wave of comprehension to wash over her face. "No problem, Mast-nya!"

With that, she took off, leaving the Round Table group to hurry along and get out of range of the nearby battle.

Vortigern growled and shuddered as Morgan's latest barrage of curses hit him, not only did he feel sluggish as his strength was sapped, a sense of deep cold began creeping into him as his very life force was drained away.

"Damn you...damn you!" The Vile King snarled, breathing jets of flame and firing a barrage of shadow spears out from his body, trying to keep his attackers at bay before they wounded him any more grievously. He'd already lost at least two thirds of his protective scales.

The flames were smothered by a swift miniature tornado manifested by Morgan, while Saber Alter deftly ducked and waved between some of the spears, while cutting down others, the bolstering from Morgan's magic more than enough to give her the advantage.

Cursing, Vortigern raised his remaining front claw, curled it into fist and began to bring it down directly on top of Morgan.

"Die!"

Charging her blade and legs with mana, Saber Alter tensed...then leapt high and far, extending Excalibur Morgan and delivering a brutal slash once she reached her target.

Vortigern's claw was separated from the rest of his body, a spray of inky-black blood accompanying the amputation.

"GRRAAAAAAHHHH!"

Clutching at the bleeding stump, and deciding that the battle had turned against him, Vortigern's body began to darken and fade as he began trying to flee the area via his shadow walking.

"I think not." Morgan twirled her spear and waved her free hand in expert motions, summoning yet more runes to activate extra spells.

The Vile King let out another growl of pain as the gravity field around him increased in intensity, forcing him back to the ground, accompanied by another set of bright orbs of light that bathed the dragon in illumination, chasing away the darkness he'd hoped to use to escape.

Undeterred, he began to beat his wings furiously, attempting to exploit the last avenue of escape he could see.

Rather shockingly, despite all of Morgan's gravity runes tying him down, he began to slowly, steadily lift off the ground.

Saber Alter was sent skidding across the ground by the sheer force of the winds Vortigern's wings were kicking up, while Morgan was forced to throw up a barrier and summon some chain constructs to stop herself from being blown away. Luckily, Habetrot had been nearby, so the Fairy Queen had tied her Zeppelin down as well to keep her friend safe.

"Morgan! Habetrot!" Morgan turned her head at the sound of Ritsuka's call. "Clip his wings! Alter, wait for an opening and strike!"

"As you wish, Master." Saber Alter acknowledged.

Morgan tilted her head in confusion.

"Master, surely Habetrot would be better for supporting from the rear? What good can her bridal wheel do against an enemy of this size and power?" She wondered.

"Don't worry, your majesty! I've got a special surprise up my sleeve!" Habetrot assured her. "Habenyan can show off her cool side for ya, right now!"

"...very well."

Moving into position, Morgan began gathering her energy, preparing her Noble Phantasm to target Vortigern's left wing.

"Habetrot, I will be taking out the left wing, target the right wing if you please."

"You got it, your majesty!"

Closing her eyes and projecting a few additional barriers, just to be safe, Morgan began her chant.

"It is a dream of destruction that I've always seen. There is no destruction and there is no salvation."

Opening her eyes, Morgan found herself on her old throne, for the first time since being summoned.

Ahead of her lay Vortigern...but this time, there was a faint cobbled path trailing from the throne to him.

"At the farthest ends, the birds shall surely extol tomorrow."

The skies above brightened with pale blue light...and then crystalline spears of magic, eerily similar to those projected by Carnwennan, began to rain down.

They planted themselves in pairs, paving the road to Vortigern.

"Please, guide me."

The last few spears pierced directly into the Vile King's wing, pinning it in place and prompting him to roar in pain. Desperate, he began breathing fire at the Fairy Queen, but her barriers held firm.

"Roadless Camelot!"

A bright swirl of faint blue magic, bearing a resemblance to the power of the sacred lance Rhongomyniad, soared down from the heavens, and Vortigern's roar of pain only grew louder as his left wing was atomized down to the stump by the Fae Queen's Noble Phantasm.

"Great job, nya! Now it's time for Habetrot to do her part! Nya nya nya nya nyanyanyanyanya!"

As she cheered, the linen-spinner hopped off her Zeppelin and tugged on a string speaking from the side, sending a bright flash of light through the clearing, forcing Morgan and Saber Alter to cover their eyes.

"Ta-daaahh! Isn't this cool!?" Habetrot called out excitedly as the light died down, revealing a faint, blocky outline of a new shape that had manifested in front of her.

After some squinting, Morgan managed to get a good look at what that shape was...and her jaw promptly dropped in shock.

Habetrot was currently standing in front of, and unpacking, what looked to be a giant, metallic rail cannon. A very modern, incredibly human weapon.

I...w-what? How did Totorot…?

"It's heavy too, y'know?!" Habetrot continued on, blissfully ignorant of Morgan's inner turmoil. "But Habenyan's gotta win this!"

A deep, rumbling hum began building within the weapon as Habetrot charged it up, grasping it with both hands and aiming it at Vortigern's remaining wing.

Once more, the Vile King tried firing a barrage of shadow constructs and breathing a torrent of fire in their direction, desperate to stop the Noble Phantasm deployment. But once again, Morgan's expert casting allowed her to intercept the shadow constructs with well-placed magic blasts, while sweeping the flames aside with gusts of wind.

"Sequence: Okay!"

The barrel of the rail cannon glowed a bright red as the charge built to critical mass.

"Spinster Habetrot!"

A huge beam of energy tore forth from the weapon, blazing through the remaining darkness and obliterating Vortigern's remaining wing.

"GRRRAAAAAHHHH!"

Seeing that the Vile King was crippled, Ritsuka held up his right hand and called out to the group once again.

"Alter, by the power of these two Command Spells...finish him off!"

The Command Spell tattoo flashed bright, then the majority of the imprint faded as they took effect.

A pillar of dark energy began to build around Saber Alter as she stepped forward, the Command Spells boosting her Mana reserves greatly, a faint smile on her lips as she readed Excalibur Morgan.

"Your wish is my command, my Master."

Morgan felt the traces of a scowl twitching at the edge of her lips. Something about the way that tainted Artoria said that…

"No...no. NO. Vengeance was within my grasp…!" Vortigern raged, the grievously injured dragon thrashing around weakly as he tried desperately to escape the gravity prison Morgan had trapped him in.

"And had you not wasted so much time with gloating and prattling the way you did, you would surely have taken it." Saber Alter snapped. "Now then, hold still old man, I will make this quick."

The corrupted monarch drew back her blade and began her chant.

"Vortigern, hammer of the Vile King, reverse the rising sun..."

Excalibur Morgan flared with dark power as a purple-black column of energy rose around Saber Alter, the blade lengthening into a colossal instrument of destruction made of shadowy Mana.

"Swallow the light!"

Alter swung the blade forward, sending a torrent of destructive power straight at Vortigern's form.

"Excalibur...MORGAAAN!"

Vortigern put all of his might into one last blast of fire….one last attempt to defend himself.

It wasn't enough.

He barely had time to scream before the corrupted holy sword's beam blew his head clean off.

"Destroyed." Saber Alter muttered, sheathing her blade.

As Vortigern's headless body slumped down, Morgan strode over. Using her magic to flip it onto its side, the Fairy Queen used her spear to begin cutting the chest cavity open.

"Eh, what are you doing?" Habetrot asked.

"A dragon's heart is a very potent resource indeed. I can surely make use of it with enough time." Morgan explained.

Slicing the arteries, veins and muscles that were connecting the organ, Morgan tore the dead Vortigern's heart out, held it in front of her and began wrapping it in every protective and preservation spell she could think of. She even applied a few time-freezing spells to the protective field, just to make absolutely sure it didn't decay or degrade in any way.

As she worked, the skies began to clear, while the creeping darkness that had choked the area began to recede.

As if on cue, Ritsuka's communicator began to beep. The sign of an incoming message.

As soon as he tapped the answer button, he was greeted by the hologram of a frantic Da Vinci.

"Ah, Ritsuka-kun! We finally managed to get through, thank goodness! Is everyone alright!? What happened over there?!"

"It's...it's a long story, Da Vinci." Ritsuka sighed. "But to give you the short version, we ran into some quite severe problems and quite a few of the Round Table now need medical attention."

"...understood, I'll get our best healers ready." Da Vicni affirmed. "Since the interference finally cleared up, we can bring you back right away."

"Ah, could you give us some extra time to retrieve the materials? I can signal you when we've got them."

"Of course, we'll be waiting for your signal." With that, the communication cut off and Da Vinci vanished.

Giving a heavy sigh, Ritsuka turned to the others.

"Good job everyone. Very good job...now let's go home."

Chaldea's medical team were on them before they could even get their bearings properly.

"Out of my way, out of my way NOW. Let me see my patients!" Asclepius barked, the God of Medicine practically shouldering all of the still-conscious ground members to the side as he rushed to get a look at their less fortunate peers.

"Oh dear, they look like they'll need a lot of help…" Dress of Heaven fretted.

"I've got my best medicines and healing spells ready!" Medea Lily chirped.

"Silly girl, spells and sorcery have no place in the realm of medicine." Nightingale insisted, the nurse pulling on a fresh pair of gloves as she bore down on the injured. "Now, we must get them all to the medical bay. "You three over there! Come and help!"

By the time they made it out of the Rayshift room, the group had been whittled down to Mash, Ritsuka, Morgan, Habetrot, Saber Alter and Artoria. The latter had initially been mobbed by the healers, but she had begged off treatment for a while, promising to visit the medical wing of New Chaldea once all of her knights had received treatment.

They'd gotten about 10 seconds before being practically ambushed by a concerned Goredolf and nervous-looking Da Vinci.

"Good heavens!" Chaldea's new director cried, wringing his hands in shock. "Is everyone alright?!"

"Most of us are injured, and unfortunately...we lost Merlin." Ritsuka admitted, as he and Mash looked despondent.

"I wouldn't worry too much about that, Master." Saber Alter. "This is Merlin we are talking about, he will turn up again. His immortality is quite the tool in that respect."

"Of course he will. The man is worse than a cockroach, impossible to crush for good. More than likely he'll pop back up with that stupid, childish smile of his, while begging for recognition for whatever heroic deed he's performed lately." Morgan rolled her eyes.

"Well, alright...we'll take your word for that." Goredolf sighed. "In any case, what sort of problems did you encounter to do this sort of damage? To the Round Table, no less."

"There was a Celtic army or two to deal with." Saber Artoria explained.

"And then Vortigern showed up." Her Alter continued.

"Vortigern!?" Both Goredolf and Da Vinci exclaimed.

"But isn't he in Chaldea!? Did he decide to try and turn on Panhuman History again?!" Goredolf asked.

"It wasn't the shitty bug that we had to deal with. It was the one from your own history who decided to show his face." Morgan said.

There was silence for the next few moments, for almost everyone was too busy gaping in shock at her to speak. After all, they'd never heard her swear before...ever.

"But...how…?" Goredolf spluttered, once he finally found his voice.

"Apparently he summoned himself to the Singularity." Artoria admitted, bowing her head. "It seems that he was drawn to the presence of my Round Table, wanting to avenge his death at my hands...I can only apologize for the problems my presence caused, Master."

Yes...admit just how badly you've screwed up, Artoria. Morgan thought with some glee. That way Master will-

"It's okay." Ritsuka assured her, patting the King of Knights on the shoulder. "You couldn't have predicted that Vortigern was gonna show up."

A nervous chuckle from Da Vinci caught the group's attention. She was averting her gaze and looking quite guilty.

"...you have something to tell us, juvenile genius?" Morgan asked, tilting her head and raising her eyebrow.

"Ah...um...we picked up the signal of an unregistered Avenger Class Spirit Origin, just a couple of hours into the mission." Da Vinci admitted, still unable to meet the group's gaze.

"And you didn't inform us about this, why?" Both Artoria Alter and Morgan asked together, glancing at one another in surprise at their synchronicity before returning their attention to the Rider.

"We...We didn't think it looked suspicious enough to report at the time, a-and by the time we did try to contact you, the interference had appeared and we couldn't get a message through!"

"So, you decided to risk all of our lives on an unknown quantity...simply because you didn't think said quantity was worth mentioning?" Morgan snarled, blue eyes narrowing.

"I...I'm sorry." Da Vinci bowed her head. "I should've said something."

"Yes, you should have." Saber Alter growled. "And you are supposed to be one of this place's geniuses...pathetic."

"Alright, alright." Ritsuka stepped in, a tired sigh on his lips. "It was an honest mistake, alright? Da Vinci's sorry and all of us non-immortals managed to get out in one piece, no need to hold it against her for too long."

As much as Morgan wanted to continue laying into the supposed 'genius' for what she considered a rather serious lapse in judgement, the Fairy Queen forced herself to bite her tongue and withhold her critique.

No sense in ruining future attempts at currying favour with Ritsuka, after all. He did like his Servants to get along, didn't he?

"Very well, you are...forgiven." Morgan managed to say.

"As you wish, Master." Saber Alter sighed, clearly wanting to say more herself but willing to acquiesce to Ritsuka's wishes.

"So...everyone who needs it is receiving medical treatment, yes? And you retrieved the materials you originally set out to get, Ritsuka?" Goredolf asked, wanting confirmation.

"Uh, yeah. The mission was pretty successful, all things considered."

"Good. Well then, I will check in on all of you later. Come with me, Da Vinci, we will discuss your punishment now."

"Eh?!" The Rider squeaked in surprise.

"Well, you could have saved a lot of unnecessary trouble for the Rayshift team had you kept them properly up to date on the situation within the Singularity. For failing to do so, I believe some sort of sanction is in order!" Goredolf insisted.

"Ah, yes! No QP to fund your experiments for the next few days!"

"WHAT!?" She screeched. "B-B-But Director-!"

"No buts! No ifs! If necessary, I will ask some of our Casters to place bounded fields around the QP storage to keep you out!" With that, Goredolf turned and strode off, with Da Vinci following along behind him.

"Wait, Director! S-Surely there has to be another…"

As they came to a junction and rounded a corner, the Rider's voice trailed off, leaving the Master and his Servants alone in the corridor.

"Well, I will take my leave too. I must check on my knights...and I am quite certain that Bedivere will want an explanation when he sees what happened." Artoria bowed to Mash and Ritsuka. "Thank you for forgiving my mistake, Master. I will try to take further precautions next time."

"Ah, wait a moment Artoria, everything was so hectic that I forgot to ask...do you want the usual reward?"

"Ah." The Saber's cheeks were dusted with a faint blush. "Well, I suppose I could spare a moment…"

Laying her head in the offered hand, Artoria tried not to blush too hard as Ritsuka scratched her chin and pet her head.

"Oooohh…!" Habetrot cooed, stars in her eyes. "Can I have some too, Master!? It looks really nice!"

"And for me as well, Master...in the interest of fairness, of course." Saber Alter insisted.

"I would...like some as well." Morgan muttered.

"Yeah, sure! You can all have some!"

After a few moments Artoria withdrew her head, the blush still present.

"Th-thank you for the reward, Master." With that, the King of Knights departed. Off to find the medical wing.

Before anyone else could protest, Salter Alter stepped forward and placed her chin onto Ritsuka's hand.

As he began to scratch her, Morgan was a little bit disappointed to see that the tainted king had barely had an audible reaction to the petting, save for the tiniest of smiles creeping onto her face.

"Mmmm, thank you, Master. That was most pleasant." However, despite pulling back from Ritsuka's petting, Saber Alter did not leave, instead merely stepping back and allowing Habetrot to take her place.

She needed to stand up on her zeppelin, while Ritsuka needed to bend down a little bit, to be properly reached by the teen's hand. But once he started…

"Brrrr...Brrrr! Nyaaaaa~"

Everyone's eyes turned to the Rider.

Habetrot's face turned red as a tomato.

"A-Ah! W-Wait...Master, that wasn't-"

"That was adorable!" Mash squealed happily.

"Quite the unexpected reaction, to be sure." Alter commented, a small smile on her lips.

"My, giving others a show of your cuter side, Habetrot? Ah, and I thought I was the only one who could see that side of yours..." Morgan feigned hurt, taking an experimental foray into the realm of 'teasing'.

"Nya! I didn't mean to do thaaaat!" The Rider whined. "It just felt really nice, okay!? Habenyan likes getting scratched on the chin! There, I said it!

"O-Okay, just go to the next person now, I've had my fill!"

Habetrot skittered away, leaving Morgan to take her place.

Stepping up, the Fairy Queen placed her head on Ritsuka's hand and prepared herself.

As he began scratching at her chin and patting her head, she tried not to squirm too much, no matter how good it felt. She refused to show any sort of weakness in front of that tainted Artoria.

"Thanks for your help today, Morgan. I...don't know what we would've done without you and Habetrot there."

"Well I...was...happy to help." Morgan replied softly, trying to suppress the warm blush that started staining her cheeks.

While she would have liked to bask in the praise, maybe even ask for more of it, it would probably be better to accept the praise she was already getting with some humility.

I'm sure he'd like that...I hope.

"Ah, well then, I guess I'll go and check on the others now as well." Ritsuka said, withdrawing his hand, much to Morgan's displeasure.

"I'll come with you, Senpai!"

"Alright then, let's go."

With that, Mash and Ritsuka turned back and began to make their way towards the medical wing, leaving only Morgan, Habetrot and Saber Alter in the corridor.

"Well, I will take my leave as well. I have worked up quite an appetite from all of this exertion." The corrupted king said.

"Hold on a moment."

Morgan's hand on her shoulder stopped her. Turning back, she noticed the Fae Queen staring at her with a displeased frown on her face.

"...what is your problem now? Or do you perhaps want to throw that tantrum about me telling you what to do?"

The sheer condescension in her voice had a vein pulsing in Morgan's forehead, the corners of her mouth twitching upward into an angry scowl.

"That corrupted sword of yours. To be specific, its name."

"What about it?"

"It is my name. MY name. Attached to a weapon that can only destroy. Do you have any idea how insulting that is?" Morgan spat, blue eyes narrowing.

"Everything I did. Everything that I went through, I did to build a kingdom. The most stable and stalwart kingdom that I could. A kingdom that could stand against every Calamity of Fairy Britain and come out intact. THAT is what my life was about...so to have my name attached to that weapon of yours, it spits in the face of everything I fought for. Do you understand NOW, tainted Artoria?"

"I do."

"Well then, change it."

"No."

"W-What?" Morgan practically spluttered, her anger spiking further.

"Your issues with my blade's name are yours to deal with. If you are truly as strong as you seem to be, then you will find the inner strength to realise how petty this grudge of yours is and move past it.

"I have no responsibility to deal with your issue for you and I refuse to bend to your demand. Our Master's demands are the only ones I will ever heed."

With that, Saber Alter turned and began marching away.

"Where do you think you're going?" The Fae Queen snarled, eyes narrowed to pinpricks and her spear shaking in her hand.

"To the cafeteria, away from this pointless conversation. I suggest you do likewise before you embarrass yourself any further."

A few moments after she rounded the nearby corner, a loud crash reverberated through the corridor as Morgan smashed her fist into the wall, leaving a large dent. Though her expression remained as a sight frown, her eyes blazed with anger.

...she might have found someone she hated just as much as that shitty bug Pretender.

"Wooaahh...that's a really intense expression you've got on your face." Habetrot's voice managed to snap her out of her angry haze. Blinking, she focused on the Rider, who was looking up at her with concern in her eyes.

"Ah, m-my apologies for...for losing my composure like that." Taking a few deep breaths to calm herself, Morgan turned to Habetrot and tried to give her most reassuring smile. "It's just, that damned woman…"

"Yeah, you certainly know how to get on each others' nerves." Habetrot chuckled. "But I think that's a good thing!"

"Eh?"

"Well, when he first met, you were so subdued and closed off to just about everyone except me and that one knight of yours! It's really nice to see you opening up to others, even if it's to get mad!"

"Ah, I see...always looking on the bright side, aren't you?"

"Yep! Yep! That's Habenyan, raising the spirits of any maiden and helping out wherever she's needed!" The Rider posed proudly, a goofy and happy grin on her face.

"Fu fu. Speaking of helping out, that was...quite the performance you put in against the Vortigern of the Pan-history."

"You liked it?! Did I succeed in showing you my 'cool' side, then?"

"Yes, you certainly did. But, I must ask...about that contraption you have in your bridal wheel, it's a bit unfit for a wedding planner, isn't it?"

"Oh, you mean my railgun?"

"Yes, that...how did you end up with it?"

"Oh! That's something I actually wondered about myself! At least, when it comes to that metal cannon thing I found hidden in my spinning wheel."

"Metal cannon thing? What 'metal cannon thing'?" Morgan asked, confused.

"Well, it started shortly after my summoning. You see, I found myself feeling really tired, and even feeling a bit sick at times, so I went to Chaldea's medical staff to see what was wrong. On the way, I bumped into Mashu and Master.

"When I told them about my symptoms, they were really worried all of a sudden. When I told them about what was in my spinning wheel, they asked to take it away for a bit so they could have their technical whizzes take the cannon out of it.

"They said it was bad for my health and that they were sorry for saddling me with it in the first place, like they thought it was their fault somehow. But that's just silly, right?"

So...they were making Habetrot sick, were they? Morgan growled internally, clutching at her spear.

Memories of her time as Tonelico came rushing back. Memories of Totorot making a promise to Mash...a promise involving some weapon she'd been lugging around. Just being around it for a mere few hours had made the young Avalon Le Fae feel physically ill…

Did Habetrot have that weapon now because Chaldea remembered Totorot carrying it on her for so long? Had...had that weapon been what killed-

Curse you, Chaldea. I won't forgive you!

"So, how does that translate to…?" Morgan gestured to the spinning wheel again.

"Oh, right! Well, a few days later, Miss Da Vinci, Miss Sion, Mr Edison and Mr Tesla all came up to me and presented me with it! They said that they'd taken the cannon apart, removed most of the really 'high-tech' stuff and added magical components and protection wards so that I could use it safely!" Habetrot chirped.

"It's just like what they did with my zeppelin! Yep, those magicians and geniuses souped up my baby real good! It runs better than ever now!"

"And, why would they do something like that?"

"Well, they said things like 'too cute', 'kawaii' and 'must protect' when talking about me, and that they felt compelled to make my life here easier. That's funny, usually it's me who takes care of people, you know? It's nice to be helped, but I wonder why they were so eager."

Ah...they were taken in by her earnest nature and sweet disposition, weren't they? Morgan smiled to herself, being all too familiar with her best friend's charms.

At least now she had potential confidants to turn to, others who could understand exactly how hard it was to ever tell the linen-spinner 'no' or otherwise refuse to help her.

"Don't worry about it, dear Habetrot. The point is that they helped you when you needed it." She said, patting the Rider on the head.

"Yeah, I guess so. And if we're talking about help here, then Habenyan's gonna take this opportunity to help you!"

"Eh? How so?"

"By telling you this: your bridal power's gone up!"

Eh?

"E...Excuse me?"

"Yep! I couldn't quite believe it myself, but it has! I can feel it in my bones! There's something different about you now, it's like you've lightened up a bit!" Habetrot cheered happily.

"Ah, really?"

"Yep, yep! Ooooh, this is so great, you've taken your first step on the road to becoming a fine maiden! Don't worry, ol' Habenyan will be here to support you every step of the way! We'll take this journey together!" The linen-spinner assured her, patting the Fae Queen on the leg in a gesture of support.

"Truly? Well...thank you, dear Habetrot. That means a great deal to me." Morgan paused, thinking for a moment. "Well then, as a part of this new journey...would you care to have a meal with me? I must admit, I've worked up quite the appetite."

"Sure thing! Lead on, Morgan!"

Would you look at that, she's finally addressing me as I asked.

With that, the duo set off at a leisurely stroll towards the cafeteria. As Habetrot started enthusing about all the bridal dresses she wanted to design for her, Morgan did her best to follow along even as the Rider's motor mouth got the better of her, a contented smile on her face.

Despite the unexpected problems today had brought, she'd managed to earn a better standing with Ritsuka, received praise from him, had apparently become eligible for bride-dom and was now spending some quality time with her best friend.

Today had been a good day for her after all.

Hi all! I decided to try something a bit fun here and put together a little profile for my interpretation of the Vile King. It'll probably be a little bit barebones compared to some of the other fan-created content out there and certainly not structured like the others, but here we go!

Servant Profile: Vortigern

Alias: The Usurper King, The Vile King, Denier Of The Age Of Man, The White Dragon Of England, King Of Shadows.

1.) Characteristics:

Gender: Male

Species: Servant, Heroic Spirit, Fairy, Human, Dragon.

Blood Type: Unknown

2.) Personal Information:

Likes: Age of Gods conditions, accumulating power, victory, humiliating his historical enemies.

Dislikes: Humanity, Age Of Man, Artoria Pendragon, Merlin, Uther Pendragon, Knights of the Round Table, Morgan Le Fay.

Natural Enemy: Wielders of the holy lance Rhongomyniad, Merlin.

3.) Servant Stats:

True Name: Vortigern.

Type: Heroic Spirit.

Source: Arthurian Legends.

Region: Britain, England.

Alignment: Lawful Evil (If summoned as Saber or Caster)/Chaotic Evil (If summoned as Avenger)

Hidden Attribute: Earth

Armament: Armour, sword, black magic.

Family: Uther Pendragon (Brother), Artoria Pendragon (Niece), Morgan Le Fay (Niece), Vortimer (Son), Catigern (Son).

Traits: Servant, Hominidae/Humanoid, Riding, Fae, Dragon, Lawful Evil or Chaotic Evil, Male, Threat To Humanity, Weak To Enuma Elish.

4.) Qualified Servant Classes:

Saber.

Caster.

Avenger.

5.) Parameters:

Strength: A++

Endurance: A++

Agility: D

Luck: C

Mana: A

Noble Phantasm: A+

6.) Class Skills:

Magic Resistance A

Riding C

Oblivion Correction A (Avenger Only)

Independent Action B+

Presence Concealment B

Territory Creation (Blight) A (Rank C as Saber)

Avenger B+ (Avenger Only)

Self-Replenishment (Mana) A+ (Rank C as Saber or Caster)

7.) Personal Skills:

Mana Burst (Shadow) A

White Dragon's Avatar A+

Primordial Magecraft A+

Slayer of Man B+

Shade Walker B+

Dragon-kind Modification A

8.) Noble Phantasms:

Dark Heart Albion: The Hole In The World That Swallows All Light

Noson Dywyll Vortigern: Wrath Of The Dark Dragon

Clogyn O'r Nos: Barrier of the Shadow King

9.) Profile:

Bond 1:

Saber: "I am Saber, Vortigern. I did respond to the summons, but I fight for the sake of Britain. Now then...bring me to the battlefield. Should the Round Table and my niece be here, it would be in your interest to keep them well away from me."

Caster: "The Vile King, Vortigern, has answered your summons. The primordial magic of Britain shall sweep away any obstacle that bars your way. However...know that my sole reason for being here is for my homeland. I will not have it sullied by these invaders. Once Britain is safe, our contract will be over."

Avenger: "Hmph, to think that a human would have the nerve to summon me...does your species' arrogance know no bounds that you think that you can bend me to your will like these other fools? Now then, unless you want me to gut you like a fish and mount your head on a pike, bring the members of the Round Table here. Don't deny it, I can sense them. My vengeance will not be denied any longer, understood?"

Bond 2:

The embodiment of the will of the British Isles, and of the White Dragon of England, Vortigern was born as the land's final effort to remain within the Age Of Gods and stave off the encroaching Age Of Man.

Killing his chief rival and champion of mankind, Uther Pendragon, he later fought against his niece, the legendary King Arthur, for control over the fate of Britain.

Despite gaining great power through the essence of the White Dragon in his final clash with the Round Table, he fell at the hands of King Arthur wielding Rhongomyniad, the sacred lance that holds together the world.

Bond 3:

An imposing swordsman and magic user, and a dour and grim being by nature of being born in the Age of Man yet for the purpose of preserving the Age of Gods in his homeland. He knew how difficult his task was, yet he persevered regardless.

Vortigern only tends to smile when victory is in hand, or when he is taunting or mocking opponents that he most despises. He tends to laugh and enjoy their suffering, as he often does when crushing humanity and its champions.

Possessing his own set of values and morals when it comes to combat, Vortigern disdains trickery and deception, believing that overpowering your opponent and killing them in a straightforward fight is the finest victory one can earn. He will not have himself compared to the cowardly manipulators that are Merlin and Morgan Le Fay.

If he heard about the guile tactics and manipulation talents of his Lostbelt self, the composite being that is both 'Vortigern' and 'Oberon', Vortigern would surely seek to eliminate him, appalled at any version of himself adopting methods he despises.

Despite this, he is willing to use the primordial magecraft in his possession to even the odds or weaken his opponent when fighting them. As far as he is concerned, it still qualifies as displaying his own personal power and skill as superior, so there is no problem in relying on it.

Bond 4: Mana Burst (Shadow) A

The primordial dark magic of Britain, inherited by Vortigern, grants him an affinity with the dark. With his personal Mana reserves, this control can be boosted to shape the shades of the world into weapons against his enemies.

Rigorous training and practice upon the Throne Of Heroes has allowed Vortigern to combine this power with the abilities of his draconic form. Now, even in his human guise, any holy blades nearby will find themselves weakened and sapped of light, a feat Vortigern could never manage in life.

Sheer proximity to the dark strengthens the Vile King, it is his domain. When completely wrapped in the embrace of the shadows, his strength and durability are boosted to far greater heights. It would take those possessed of Monstrous Strength or the power of a Demigod to match Vortigern's physical might in those conditions.

Bond 5: White Dragon's Avatar A+

The blood of the White Dragon of England, a 'child' of the first dragon Albion, flows in Vortigern's veins and in his heart, gifting him with a Dragon Core in much the same manner as his niece.

Aside from granting Vortigern a constant supply of Mana to sustain him, independent of his other methods of Mana replenishment, in times of need the Vile King can forcibly awaken the power of his draconic blood. This allows him to manifest traits of the White Dragon on his person and display his connection openly, while also bolstering his parameters.

To dragonkind, Albion is the supreme being. The oldest dragon that ever existed, that predates even the Earth itself. All Earth-born dragons recognise the supremacy of this age as fact, despite Albion itself being long dead, and Vortigern's display will compel these dragons to bow to him.

Only the Red Dragon of Wales, itself an offshoot of Albion and a counterpart to the White Dragon, can resist the compulsion to submit. Those that carry its blood are among the few that Vortigern cannot simply dominate to his will with this skill.

Of course, those with sufficiently strong wills might also be able to resist...for a brief while.

Dark Heart Albion: The Hole In The World That Swallows All Light

Rank: A++

Vortigern's transformation in life was out of desperation, a last-ditch effort near the end of his life to eliminate his hated enemies in the Round Table and ensure the Age of Gods could be preserved in Britain.

Despite the power he displayed in that form, most of its potential was untapped and abilities unexplored, so Vortigern could not bring out the full power of his draconic heritage against King Arthur.

Through training and exploring his limits on the Throne of Heroes, the Vile King has managed to unlock more of that potential and expand the power granted to him with this Noble Phantasm. Now, he can gather strength by feeding on the rage of those who fight him, in addition to being bolstered by his own fury.

In life, he was limited to consuming the light from a mere two holy blades. In death, once he assumes this form, almost any weapon that relies on light or heat will be helpless against him.

After all, fire of any source produces both heat and light. It is simply a natural extension of the Vile King's powers to sap nearby flames of their potency as well, but this was not a connection or realisation he had the time to make in life.

The exception to this is the holy lance, the weapon that drove back the mightiest of his shadows with its radiance and ultimately dealt him a mortal wound.

And of course, weapons fuelled by dark magic, or that draw upon the very shadows Vortigern commands for their strength, are another blind spot in his powers.

Trivia:

The Welsh involved in the names of two of his Noble Phantasms was picked up by Vortigern during his exile in North Wales, after former human allies Hengist and Horsa revolted against him and formed the Kingdom of Kent from his ex-fiefdom.

Ordinarily, adapting any sort of human language to his use would be beyond incomprehensible for the Vile King, but since his hated niece represents the Welsh Red Dragon, Vortigern decided to include the nation's language in his Noble Phantasms as a form of mockery.