Urged by Merlin's warning and the chilling realization that time was a luxury I no longer possessed, I gathered my remaining soldiers and made for Camlann.
I felt a pang of guilt for forcing the men to march again so soon after their brief respite, but the stakes allowed for no hesitation. The Hill of Camlann was not far—a ride of roughly one hour at full gallop.
We had to make haste. If we did not, Artoria would surely fall into whatever trap Morgan had laid for her.
Fortunately, the steeds held true. Whether by virtue of the Age of Gods or the sheer density of the atmosphere, these horses possessed a constitution and stamina far beyond anything seen in the Age of Man. Their speed was uncanny; a journey that would take three hours in the modern world was conquered in one. In this race against fate, they were the finest companions I could ask for.
After a relentless gallop, the horizon finally yielded the silhouette of the Hill of Camlann.
From the distance, the clash of steel and the roar of war reached my ears. The royal army and the rebels were locked in a desperate, grinding struggle. Amidst that blood-soaked theater of war, I spotted Artoria. Her golden hair was an unmistakable beacon as she cleaved through the ranks of rebels surging toward her.
I urged my horse forward, intent on joining her side, when a sudden, malevolent surge of magical energy washed over me. It originated from directly beneath us. My instincts screamed with the intensity of a physical blow.
I hurled myself from the saddle. In the same heartbeat, spears composed of pure, crystalline prana erupted from the earth. Every single horse and soldier in my company—save for me—was impaled in an instant.
'A thousand men... in a single breath?' I whispered, my voice trembling with disbelief.
"Wh-who..."
"As I expected, you have come."
"!?"
A voice, elegant yet laced with a chilling frost, drifted from behind. I spun around, my hand going to my hilt.
Standing there was a witch with flowing, silver-white hair and eyes as piercingly blue as the summer sky. I had never laid eyes on her before, yet her identity was unmistakable. Her face was a perfect, haunting reflection of Artoria's own.
I spoke her name with a heavy breath. "...Morgan."
"I have been waiting. I suspected you would come to save that wretched girl, and so you have. Now... die."
As Morgan struck her staff against the ground, I channeled a Prana Burst into my limbs and performed a desperate backflip. A forest of azure prana spears tore through the spot where I had stood just a second before.
Closing the distance was a nightmare. The ground itself had become her weapon; she could manifest those lethal spears anywhere within her domain. Every time I tried to lunge forward, I was forced to retreat or dodge, resetting the gap between us.
With every movement, agony flared from my broken ribs and shattered collarbone. Yet I could not stop. I could not afford to let her stall me any longer.
The moment my feet touched the soil, I charged again. She answered with a beam of concentrated mana. I raised my sword, reinforcing the blade with my own prana to deflect the blast. The sheer force of the impact vibrated through my bones, but I parried the light and kept running.
Morgan leveled her staff at me. A complex thaumaturgical circle formed at the tip, and a massive spear of light shot forth.
"Not today!" I roared, batting the projectile aside. It struck the ground behind me and detonated, kicking up a colossal screen of dust and grit.
...This was my chance. I funneled every scrap of my prana into a singular, explosive burst, further churning the soil into a thick, obscuring shroud.
"Such a paltry trick!" Morgan sneered.
She conjured a gale to sweep the dust away, but by then, the distance was closed. I was already upon her. Even in that sliver of a second, she managed to weave a spell, sending a prana spear straight for my left shoulder.
Truth be told, I could have dodged it. But to do so would allow her to slip away and reset the distance. My injuries were too severe for a prolonged duel; I had to kill her now, within this narrow window of time.
I chose to take the hit. The spear drove through my shoulder. The pain was blinding—a white-hot iron through my nerves, compounded by the ache of my fractured collarbone—but it bought me my opening. Morgan's eyes widened in genuine shock.
"What?! You fool—!"
I swung my blade in a clean, horizontal arc aimed straight for her throat. It was a strike meant to end it all.
Yet, the blade stopped. A magical barrier, manifesting as a dense geometric seal, hummed between my sword and her neck. I stared at it, aghast.
"A magecraft capable of stopping a Noble Phantasm...?!"
"...I suppose I should commend you," Morgan said, her voice trembling slightly. "Had I not prepared this Mystic Code for such an eventuality, I would be dead."
The gemstone on her necklace pulsed with an eerie light. Damnation. I had underestimated her. She was a practitioner of Age of Gods magecraft; I should have anticipated a trump card of this caliber.
Morgan gestured, and chains woven from dark prana lashed out from all directions, binding my limbs. I was pinned, unable to even twitch beneath the crushing weight of the magical restraints.
She manifested a spear of mana in her hand and stepped closer, her expression one of cold disdain. "To attempt the life of a Queen is a sin beyond forgiveness. For that crime, you shall pay with your life."
The spear drove home. *Thuck!*
"Gah...!!"
The tip pierced my lower right chest, shattering bone and puncturing my lung. I vomited a spray of crimson blood. My vision flickered, the world threatening to fade into blackness, but I clamped down on my consciousness with iron resolve.
I could not fall here. Not like this.
A memory surfaced—a similar desperation. I remembered the legend of the King of Heroes binding the great Heracles with his chains. How did the hero of Greece respond? He had shattered those impossible bonds with nothing but pure, unadulterated strength.
I reached deep within, pulling every last drop of prana from my Circuits. A storm of energy began to swirl around me. Sensing the shift, Morgan's eyes nearly bulged from her head.
"What are you doing...?!"
She tried to pull the spear out to strike at my heart, but she was too slow.
"...Prana Release."
A thunderous boom shook the air. The compressed mana within me exploded outward, and with a primal roar of effort, I flexed every muscle in my body. The dark chains shattered into a thousand fragments.
Even the spear she held was deflected by the shockwave. In that moment of vulnerability, I poured everything I had into Twilight. The blade erupted in a blinding radiance.
I brought the glowing sword down upon her defense. *CRACK!*
Under the overwhelming weight of Twilight's strike, the gemstone of the Mystic Code finally reached its limit. It shattered like glass, and the barrier vanished into the wind.
Morgan tried to frantically weave another spell, but at this range, I was faster. I lunged, driving my blade straight through her heart.
"Y-you... how dare you... curse... you..." She coughed, blood staining her lips, yet her gaze remained fixed on me with a venomous intensity.
"I... as a fairy... curse you... You shall be betrayed... by the very one you sought to save... and you shall find your end... at her hand..."
"...I have been prepared for death since the beginning," I replied, my voice raspy and thin. "It matters not, so long as she is saved."
I twisted the blade. Morgan let out one final, ragged gasp before her body went limp. I withdrew my sword, and the High Queen of the Fairies crumpled to the earth, a lifeless husk.
I stood over her for a moment, catching my breath, before turning away to stagger toward the battle where Artoria fought. Because of my injuries and the haze of battle, I did not see it—the dark, miasmic wisp of black-red energy that detached itself from Morgan's corpse and seeped silently into my skin.
I did not know then that in that moment, my destiny had been irrevocably sealed.