บท 33: Father vs Son
Martha sat on the cave floor with her legs tucked under her, one hand atop the other and eyes closed serenely, casting a saintly image that would knock most others right out the park. She'd laid down her cloak earlier so the bits and pieces of Earth here and there didn't bother her much.
"Shouldn't we help her?" Mash asked worriedly, still on guard because... well, unlike certain dumbasses she recognised their situation for it was.
A battle against a legend the likes of which all in the world had heard about in some way.
Giggling, Martha tried to assuage the demi-servant's thoughts, "Trust me dear, she's inclined to be even angrier if someone does help her. Problems such as hers can be like that, let her 'knock herself out'."
The dragon vanquishing Saint wasn't really worried about Mordred, no, what she was worried about was what the battle would mean for the one who provided her the opportunity to face her problems so directly, and what sort of thoughts the brat would have towards said person afterwards.
Martha cast a glance at her Master and saw him sitting cross-legged, facing the other way and rigorously shaking his hand up and down while grunting... Olga seemed to be watching him do it with wide eyes, too speechless... like she was most of the time.
Now that was fine, but why were his hands so close to his crot-
"You could hav-...!! What the fuck is wrong with yo-...?!"
"Oh yeah."
Martha was cut off by the three feet long red laser that extended from his hands as he threw his head back, eyes closed in some strange satisfaction.
He seemed to catch her outburst though, and turned around with confused eyes, "What? I knocked it against a rock earlier and was tryna see if it still worked." Nicholas held up his mystic code with all the innocence of a child with a toy.
That innocence was shot in the head when his eyes widened slightly in realisation because of course, leave it to him to recognise every single fucked up thought like he wasn't a ret-
"Ohhoho, what you thinking about over there?" A small sheepish grin flickered across his face, "Then you get angry when I call you back alley saint."
"B-But you were holding it so close to your-... Ahhhh! Stop messing with me! I'm not a prostitute! My dress is fine! I'll bust your head in!"
"I didn't even call you a prostitute that time. Now I wonder why your mind would go there."
"Grrrr..." Martha lowered her head in shame, "It's my fault. I should never have given you the opportunity."
It was like kicking a bear in the ass and expecting it to not rip you a new one... Although that one time she did kick one, she broke it's hips.
Olga silently crawled over to her and patted her shoulder, "It's alright, he does this to everyone."
"Erm..." Mash hesitantly held up her hand, "Not me. I don't think Nicholas senpai has ever insulted me."
"Hey, I'm a cunt not a monster. I dare someone to talk shit to the Mashmallow."
Their conversation was interrupted by a loud roar and an arc of crimson energy that crashed down nearby, shaking the landscape as it tore into the ground.
At the same time, it also threw dirt in Nicholas' face.
"Mash, next time, we walk into this bitch with a whole platoon."
The Chaldean Master wiped his face and dusted off his clothes before turning to look at the ongoing battle.
-
"It seems it is destiny for yourself to fall to my blade."
Mordred glared up at her 'father', at the raised Sword of Promised Victory that was going to take her life another time.
It didn't matter that this King Arthur was clearly darker in both visage and brutal in nature unlike the King of Knights. Both were cruel, heartless monsters that would discard everything for a people that didn't care for them after all they did for them.
This was her fa-... Mordred chuckled, her hands clenching around Clarent as she tried to force her knees to move, tried to stand up another time after being beaten down like she was at Camlann, "I guess it would... be better to say mother. You're like that... bitch too. Neither of you ever gave a shit, did you?"
"...Does it matter?"
"Course it fucking does..."
"Why?"
"...Dunno but... I admired you more than anything you know? I was happy when my fucked up bitch of a mother told me I was your kid... Why wouldn't I be? The greatest knight to ever live was my fa-..." The Knight of Betrayal chuckled to herself again, "I ain't a human but I was happy all the same."
"..." King Arthur looked down at her with a bright golden eye, the other hidden behind what was left of a shattered black visor, "And rebelling would prove what? Was the adoration of the fools who used your hate to fuel their agendas going to prove yourself a worthy ruler?"
"I didn't give a shit about them! Why the fuck would I care about those damn idiots?! It's cause I fucking hated you for kicking me down cause of my bitch mother!"
"... Why must you continually refuse the truth? I never despised you. You rebelling over such a meagre, foolish, misunderstanding is why I will once again reaffirm... You are not fit to rule."
"Bullshit! Why else would you deny me my right?!" Enraged, Mordred shot at her 'father' as crimson energy burst from her figure, boosting her parameters far over what they were meant to be and slashed down with Clarent lowered to the side.
Mordred didn't want to accept what happened next.
The King's fingers twitched and her body moved but then... it relaxed almost as if she had no intention of resisting at all. That was proven when Clarent tore into shoulder and lightning seared her flesh.
Mordred was met with no resistance as her blade moved through her 'father's' body and sliced it apart.
"...What?"
The Knight of Betrayal watched in shock as King Arthur's body fell backwards, a wry smile across her lips.
"F...Foolish offspring of mine... I regret that I could not..."
"What the hell? Why didn't you block?! You coulda easily..."
But the moment passed and the King's gaze moved from her rebellious child to the pale haired teenager standing to the side, "I... Thank you... Face this peril as man... and overcome it."
Mordred didn't know when her Master had approached them, she didn't care.
Clarent fell to the ground with a loud clunk, "I-I did it, Master... I beat father."
"Yeah, good job."
"Hey Master... Why don't I feel good?"
"Cause you didn't hate her, I'd know if you did." He answered flatly, placing a heavy hand on her head, "Next time, talk it out or I'll beat the shit out of both of you."
Mordred chuckled dryly at his lack of tact, "I-I guess I'll... try."
"It may not be as good as her approval but you're awesome. I'd love a King that tries her best over a cold one fixated on a utopia."
She knew his words were true because the fucker was adamant about never lying.
"F-Fuck would you know?"
Nicholas only hummed in response.
And Mordred, she didn't know why her cheeks felt wet... nor why those words made her happy like they did... nor why she wanted to cry over the death of a father she hated.
Also, she definitely didn't cry like a kid afterwards!
Definitely not!
-
I hope I could convey what was on my mind properly.
Also hope you enjoyed the chapter.
Mordred is kinda like a neglected kid in a way... The sort that just wants genuine approval from her 'father'.
heh, daddy issues.
Nicholas was right.
Of course that also makes her vulnerable at certain times.
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You can find up to 7 chapters ahead at patre0n.com/Bleap
One behind cause I got a heavy ass injection and can't move my arm that well.
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