Altered Mordred

Chapter 7

AN: Gore ahead and King Arthur is still female.

My rebellion was a battle between armies: the will of the people against the ideals of a god-sent king. The death toll of that day was monstrous. Fighting a force greater than that day using a single sword and any weapon I could grab from their rotting corpses was inevitably difficult. The only saving grace was that they were mindless corpses. Their move sets were highly predictable, where no signs of intelligence was visible in their actions. They were merely puppets that moved and attacked anything that was not their own.

Morgan's gift was a blessing as it both concealed my presence and my identity to a point I was invisible to the zombies until I attacked them. If I were to leave their line of sight for even a second, they would ignore me until my next attack. I even fell asleep one time in the midst of the horde, only to wake up unharmed.

My days would go by with killing undead, like mowing grass using a scythe. It reached a point where I grew tired of killing. The massacres of enemies were difficult in the sense that they were near endless. My main concern was running out of rations since the undead had devastated the wildlife of its game. Eating bugs for protein and water from tree leaves for three meals a day was revolting. Though, I have to say that ants were surprisingly delicious; those bloated ants filled with sweet liquid were like nature's little candies.

This routine would repeat for days until I paved a path of rotten bodies leading to a cave entrance on the side of a mountain. The opening was located in a grass field and littered with broken weapons and corpses. The ominous pillar of light pierced from the tip of the mountain. Its power engulfed the blue sky, leaving sickly twisting purple vortexes in its place.

I brought my eyes to the base of the mountain to see a figure blocking the entrance; someone I knew should be dead.

King Arthur stood with her Excalibur planted into the ground. Her clothing, features, and even sword were different. They irradiated corruption present on all of the undead soldiers and the dark pillar of light. The oddest sight was the theme of his clothing, which consisted of a black dress and little to no metal components. The corrupted Excalibur glowed sickly in black aura. Her height was the same and her chest was sadly still flat.

That's one win for me.

"In the end of it all, we meet to fight once again to decide the fate of -" I was cut off by a vertical wave of energy shooting out of the corrupted blade. I kicked the ground to dodge the energy projectile.

"Okay, straight to the fight." A horizontal wave shot forth a second later. I dug my blade into the ground to stop my momentum and push myself to waist level. The wave of death sliced off the uppermost part of my helmet. The dislodged metal landed before me as a molten chunk.

I whistled in surprise at the destructive force of Excalibur. Or tried to because the revived king kept dishing out projectiles, all of which I had to avoid. I constantly moved around the battlefield to find some way to reach him. My eyes landed on a couple of lances that I then kicked into the air and struck them with the flat side of Clarent. Many broke on contact, but a few lances successfully flew towards Arthur and forced him to block.

In the valuable time I brought myself, I rushed in with my torso leaned forward. I picked up two short swords in mid-run and threw them as well in hopes of prolonging Arthur's next energy attack. Before getting close enough to engage, I grabbed a rusty longsword with my left hand and held Clarent on my right.

I swung the rusty blade upward in a diagonal. Arthur blocked it with Excalibur held in her left hand. I continued my attack by thrusting Clarent at her neck. Swiftly, Arthur deflected it using the back of her right hand against the flat side of my blade and followed up by punching my chest area. I was blown away by the force of her bare fist; the Arthur I was fighting was juiced up to hell. I dug my boots into the soil to regain my footing. He didn't leave me a chance as she dashed at me.