A glitter so bright that could blind anyone if stared at directly, a light that could never be imagined to shine in this barren land of underworld.
A glitter which was followed by the manifestation of an ancient deity, the very Earthmother herself, Tiamat, and the collapse of a false world.
A glitter which made even Tiamat stagger on her feet, and a glitter which made a single man fly through the skies of the underworld.
"I call upon you, Meslamtaea!" Shouted the Goddess of The Underworld, Ereshkigal. You did well, she thought, I had enough time to prepare, as she looked at the body of the man being caught by a guardian of hers, which started to flee from the Earthmother as soon as it landed on the ground.
"The heel of mine represents the whole anger of Kur!" She felt relief. To see him not to leave her side yet. He was safe, as much as safe can go by.
"Come forth, the Pyrexian Shrine!" She did not know why, but the face of that man was different. Not that she experienced that much of accompaniment, but the face of his left a different effect on her. Not because he was the only company she had after centuries, and that company centuries ago was an insolent fool of a goddess she would rather not talk about, but because he was... Him.
"Repent for thine sins, regrets, faults." The usually clumsy Ereshkigal, as much as she would rather die to admit that, with a single promise of his, became so confident and proud that she would not even lose to even the Mother of All!
"Behold, this is my Kur Kigal Irkala!" Ereshkigal shouted as she hit her spear to the ground, causing the whole underworld to commit to her will.
What Archer did was impressive, but nothing to be at awe. It might have been the strongest blow he had, but he could only graze the opponent of his. It only could stagger her on her feet a little, and incapacitate her for a few seconds, but that was it. He had to use all his mana output, his whole world and the lance of The Unreachable King, and this was all he could do.
Whilst this was enough for his role, if only his sacrifices were limited to those he had thought about.
His whole body was covered with swords due to his overuse of mana and magecraft, incapacitating him as well. But this held no weight on him, as he was used to pain. No, rather, he never cared about his own pain to begin with. What he was not aware of in the last moments of his consciousness, which was accompained by the screams of Tiamat and a glitter coming from bellow her, that pulling such stunt cost him one of the few but priceless treasures of memories. The ones he wanted to protect forever, even though he knew he would fail to keep them one day, which he stubbornly clinged on to, was ironically and fittingly were sacrificed again for the ideal he kept stubbornly clinged on to even more.
For him, the path was only one. Which is why, the moment he sacrificed even the most exquisite of his treasures of his memories, his eyes already lost the glitter of humanity left within already.
***
There was darkness, and darkness alone. Not a single shard of light met the eye even until the horizon, no sunlight shared its warmth with the people of the Kingdom of Camelot.
No morning breeze flew across their lands granted by the mother nature, and no song of the birds and animals were allowed for them to listen to.
The only thing they were allowed to see and hear, and it was the demise of the castle of their king, accompanied by the disturbing sounds of explosions to hear and typhoon-like winds to feel. With a twister of darkness surrounding it, no knight nor peasant were able to enter the castle to help their all-loved king. They could only pray to the lord for King's victory, like every other time they were saved by King's sword.
And as if ridiculing their prayers, laugh of a woman echoed through the castle.
Lord Lancelot, said to be the most versitile of the knights, was sitting in front of a wall, with his back leaned on to it. He was trying to stand up, but his legs were not lending him their ears, and were not commiting to his orders. He tried to take strength from his trustworthy sword, Arondight, but he still was uanble to get back up to fight alongside his king.
He was on a crimson puddle.
And he still hadn't have realized he had no legs to order to.
He was not the only one completely defeated of the round table.
Sir Tristan was hanging from the ceiling, with a spear of black pining him there by his abdomen. His harp broken in two, blood coming out both from his stomach and mouth, he was still breathing and trying to free himself, although failing miserably due to his lack of strength left.
Sir Kay had numerous chains piercing through his body all over. His beautiful appearence was messed up, his face torn apart, his limbs bending the ways they shouldn't have and dingling like a ragdoll. His death was gruesome because of his kinship with the king.
Sir Gallahad, the very son of Sir Lancelot, had broken bones in every of his limbs, whilst he tried to take a blow head-on to protect the king. Whilst he succeeded, he had to sacrifice all of his limbs, and was lying on the ground under his shield like a ragdoll.
And there was the Mage of Flowers, who was tied by some kind of fabric-like substance of black and red. His whole torso and mouth was tightened by the said fabric, and there were crimson marks expanding slowly by second on his pale skin. His expression seemed in pain, and he was struggling with all his might, despite it all being futile.
And the only ones standing were of four, which were of Sir Agravain, Sir Mordred, Sir Gawain even though he was holding his sister, his blood-soaked and ragged-breathed sister, in one of his arms while the other held his Sword of Revolving Victory and the sister-sword of The King's, Excalibur Galatine. And surely the last one, the very king herself, Artoria Pendragon, who had a face of rage that no other has seen from her before.
"All that blood shed." The king murmured while trying to contain her rage, with her shoulders shaking. "All the lives you have taken away. All the pain you have caused, and all the despair you have created. What were they for, you witch? What did you gain by all these actions, Morgan?" Artoria shouted as the grisp on her sword grew tighter. All the knights who were unable to fight on or got killed was because of her. Because she was not strong enough to protect them. Because they tried to protect her, because she was not enough of a shield for them, her men were in this condition. For this, she could never forgive herself, but even more so, her.
Her, Morgan Le Fey, The Witch of Jealousy, who had her appearence completely changed and was laughing at Artoria. She, who had red marks spreading through on her skin, who had her dress completely blackened with red stripes on it, whose dress was dissolving into the said fabrics and were standing their ground around her like serpents ready to strike at any moment, who was standing on the figure of an omnious dragon, was laughing her lungs out at her sister's comment.
"Oh, my dear, naive Artoria." She said with a low voice, yet all were able to hear her. No, not because of her tone, but because everyone in there was so scared of her that they would never blink in her presence as it would equal death. "How cute of you to ask such a meaningless thing at this point. What would change if you were to learn? What twist of fate occur in such a scene? If you learn of my ideals, my ideas, my reasons to act the way I do now, if I were to tell you that I stand on the right path and side, would you forgive me and compromise your own ideals and stance as The King?"
Artoria remained silent at her remarks, with her hands grasping her sword tightly and her feet digging into the ground strongly.
"Of course not." She went on. "You are the king, the ruler and protetor of Camelot. You are not a simple person, not an ordinary one that your opinion matters. You have to decide on something if it benefits your people, not if it suits you or not now haven't you?" A frown formed on Artoria's face, as did a smirk on Morgan's. "So the only thing you have to know, my dear sister, here, there is no luck nor destiny that will help you out. What else do you expect me to say to those whose last moments are of next few seconds?"
With that, the fabric-like serpents striked forward, all aiming at the king. But the blows were blocked by two other knights, who were of Morgan's own blood. However, their bodies were exhausted to begin with, and their strength failed them. Thus, including the king, the three were flung away and hit the ground.
"What the hell are you doing, mother?" Mordred yelled as she pulled herself up after being flung away. "Weren't you going to prove yourself to the whole kingdom? Weren't you going to be the best sorcerer and queen they have ever seen? Weren't you going to make your father eat his own words? What will you prove if there is none left to prove to, huh?" Mordred roared as sparks of crimson began to form around her.
"Oh my, so you had some dignity and loyalty within you. Now that's surprising." Morgan replied with a genuinely surprised expression, which made Mordred growl even louder. Before Mordred thought to move at her mother's throat to chop it off, several fabric-like tentacles rushed her down and tied her to the ground. It was the work of an instant. Thus, not Agravain nor Artoria were able to catch up and help Mordred.
"The fu-" Before Mordred could finish her saying, her mouth as well as her whole body got covered and she lost the ability to move any muscle in her body.
"But you see, my dear child, such ideals equal to nothing against the absolute power." Morgan said with a delightened smile on her face.
"O' Witch of Jealousy, you should be ashamed of yourself." The knight in black, the assassin Morgan has sent originally, Agravain talked. "You, who have tried to make the kingdom her own, failed so miserably that you could do nothing but to stain its people and walls? To think I used to serve such a coward." He added, as he kept his charge.
Morgan's eyebrow twitched.
And so, the athmosphere in the castle got frozen of murderous intent simultaneously.
A chill ran through the spine, no, the whole body and soul of Agravain, and his charge came to a halt.
"Agravain." Morgan said in a sub-zero cold voice. "You have served me well. And this will be your reward." The next instant, his upper body was gone.
So it was planned by the witch, but Agravain managed to evade the attack, as he was not blinded by rage like Mordred did, so he was able to see it coming.
However, Morgan was no fool, and did not underestimate her subordinate. She knew he would dodge, so this all was a trap to begin with.
"..!" Before he could even grunt, all of his limbs were tied and he was held in the air as if he was being nailed to a cross. His sword flew into the air, leaving its owners hands.
"Wish to say one thing else, dear Agravain? Accept your reward of this chance, I would advise." Morgan looked at him with fake pity and mercy in her eyes.
Agravain slowly turned his head to Morgan. He had nothing else to tell her, so this final glare would be sufficent. Then, he fixed his gaze on his oncoming king, who were only miliseconds late to him, and said,
"Forgive me, O King of Knights. If I could, I wou-" Before he could finish his sentence, all of his limbs got torn apart simultaneously as a horde of fabric-like serpents tore his torso and head.
Morgan laughed.
She said one thing else.
He asked for forgiveness from his king.
She never promised a second one.
Thus, his reward has been given.
"MORGAN!" Artoria yelled as she released her holy sword. The glitter more beautiful than the sun itself, The Sword of Promised Victory shined through the castle of Camelot.
She raised her holy sword near her body, and started to chant its name.
"Ex-" But Morgan, who was well aware of the power of the said sword, only smirked and comanded one word.
"Vortigern." The omnious presence below her, who was her mount the whole time, opened its mouth.
"-calibur!"
And the shine of the divine blade dissappeared as if a candle blown away. No, it still had its light, but it was so weakened that the true name of her sword could no longer be used.
"What?" Artoria, surprised, could barely blocked the incoming tail strike with her blade, but could not stay her ground and was flung away again. She stopped when she hit the wall, and fell on her feet this time.
She did realise that the pure, dark presence beneath her feet was a dragon.
-A dragon with the glitter of yellow only in his eyes, with all other aspects of him being dark. It's round eyes were staring straight at her, as if demanding her soul.-
But she never expected it to be able to consume the light of a holy blade!
"How rude of me. You did not meet with him yet, now did you?" Morgan laughed. "This is the king of a far away tribe, called Vortigern. Well, he used to be, then it is said that he had slain The White Dragon, drank its blood, and lost his humanity in the process to become the very dragon in your presence now. He gained a few abilities like consuming the light of the holy swords as long as he is in front of them, as it shows."
"I see I see..." Said a voice after a long time, as he was freed from his binds by the throw of Agravain. "But it still does not explain how you got a grail in your hands, and why it does act like it is an outherworldy being now does it?"
"You..." Morgan hissed, and also a little paniced because now the most troublesome of her opponents was free again. "Merlin! How did you set yourself free?"
"Well well, you were occupied by Arthur and controling that enormous familiar now, weren't you. Isn't that a great oppurtinity for a slippy flop to escape from your grip?" The Mage of Flowers replied, half jokingly and half lyingly. Of course he would not be able to, nearly all of his mana and od was drained from him, and the corruption was still visible on his body. Even though he would be able to cure himself should he be given time, he had no such luxury right now.
"I see, fitting for a bug such as yourself, I suppose." Morgan replied, having gained back her composure. "Oh, interested in my work, Merlin?"
"Well yes of course, you, who were nothing more than a pebblestone in the way of Arthur, how did you maange to ruin the whole kingdom in the matter of hours?" Merlin said, provoking the witch.
"You should thank that brat under the shield there then." Morgan replied, whilst glaring with obvious and concantrated intent of murder, still protecting her composure.
"Galahad? What does he have to do with this?" Artoria asked instead, taking her place next to Merlin.
"Isn't it him though?" Morgan asked with intend to continue. Of course she would go on and tell them the truth, because it was her once in a lifetime chance to brag and crush that foolish mage. How beautiful the expression of terror on his face would be, she simply could not wait for it.
Also, it would differ not at all to tell those who were indifferent from literal corpses.
"He finds the original Holy Grail in the future, don't you know?" With that, Merlins face froze up. "Oh my, what is it, do not tell me you could not see that. Ah!" Morgan clapped her hand with geniune joy in her eyes. "That is correct, you were not able to see the future now were you?"
"Morgan..." Merlin mumbled, and Artoria understood.
Clairvoyance. Only the greatest of mages would be able to possess this skill, and whilst being nearly all-powerful, they had limits. At least, Merlin had.
The eyes of The Mage of Flowers were able to see the whole world simultaneously, yet he was not able to gaze through time. This was the limit of his clairvoyance. However, the witch said she had obtained those eyes. She pulled the grail of Galahad which he found in future, she took control of The Dragon Vortigern, who was yet to become the said dragon, and had completely conquered the grail.
No, wait. Merlin thought. If she managed to do so, why would she become one with the grail itself?
"But I suspect the Holy Grail to be such a filthy existence." Merlin said, having taken back his calmed state. "So you were unable to open the path to The Throne of Heroes, and used your own darkened mana to possess the grail by corrupting it. How very much like you, you filthy hag."
"And how very much like you, to try to insult a superior talent the moment you understand you can do nothing else, Merlin." Morgan replied with a cruel smile on her face. "Now then..."
In an instant, the whole room beneath their feet got covered by Morgan's shadow. The pitch black beneath their feet swalowed every single knight that was fallen within nanoseconds, leaving them only the time to take a one look at their king full of regret and shame of not being able to fight by her side anymore.
The shadows were not able to swallow Artoria and Merlin, as they were able to react to its movements and managed to evade the attacks. However, ehat they were facing was not only Morgan and her shadow, but also the familiar she had.
With a roar that could shake the whole earth, the dragon charged at them and swang his claws, his tail, wings to hit them, but they were able to defend. However, they knew that should they keep this up for too long, they would be overwhelmed. The shadow beneath them was striking without a pause, and even if they were not hit, they still had to step on it, which drained them of their strenght and energy by second.
Which they were once the dragon began to use his breath of black fire. They were able to protect themselves up until now, but they both knew they had no other choice but to take the flames head on, which without a doubt wouldn't leave them uninjured.
But the flame missed.
Because one other knight was remaining and used all of his strenght to crash his shoulder to the chin of the dragon.
"Do not dare to try to reach my king with that breath of filth you have, lizard!" Gawain shouted as he swang his sword, managing to cut off a horn of the dragon before getting hit by one of its claws. The dragon was not able to feel pain, thus this attack did not carry much meaning.
Just like one would think he managed to stab the stirking claw with his sword.
But this angle was what he aimed for, and he put all his strenght into the blade, chopping off a finger from the dragon and retreating.
He would be happy, joyed beyond compare that he was able to fight near his king, but only the lust for blood was filling his mind now.
His sister, Gareth, whom he was not able to leave the side of until got devoured by the shadow before Gawain could pull her away, was gone forever by the doing of this witch. His rage was unrivaled even by King Arthur himself. He did not care if he got slashed in two in the process if it meant he could take the head of the witch.
"Worthless witch!" Gawain roared, before Artoria could say anything to him. "How dare you to show such unsightliness to my king! How dare you to disrespect my comrades in arms! How dare you to lift your filthy hands to try to attack my king! I swear on the very name of my sister Gareth, I shall have your head!"
"Gawain!" Artoria shouted after the furious knight to stop his charge, but he heed not her words. For the first time in his lifetime, Gawain, The Knight of Shining Sun, ignored the orders of his king.
But before Gawain could reach the witch, an enormous wall of shadows had risen before him, to stop his pursuit.
But the knight cared not about his health at all, and with all the mana he could pour into his sword, Gawain sliced through the wall and jumped so that he could be face to face with Morgan. However, the expression of the witch did not change from her delightened, cruel smile.
Because Gawain's pursuit was denied the moment he went through the wall.
Fabric-like tentacles held all of his limbs, denying all movement even though he was literally face to face with Morgan!
If he could use the name of his Holy Sword, he could have completely slice through the shadow, but the dragon's inhale absorbed the whole light of the blade, striping its ablity to do so.
"Hotheaded ones always tend to trip while running first, sweet boy." Morgan said as she ran her fingers by his chin.
"Well done, Gawain!" Artoria shouted as a strike of wind came right for Morgan. With a reflex of the dragon, she was able to dodge it, even though not completely.
But the wind was not to kill her, but to free the knight.
"Artoria!" Morgan howled as the shadow covered the injury on her arm, stoping the bleeding and fastening her healing process.
"How sure of yourself you are, Jealous Witch!" Artoria declared, her sword ready in hand with its glorious light shining still.
"But how? Vortigern should have eaten your sword alredy!" Morgan raged as she noticed the glitter on her sword.
"Hah! For a mere dragon to consume Excalibur? Aren't you getting ahead of yourself now, Morgan? The light that protects my kingdom, my people, that ensures the victory of rightous still shines brightly here!" Artoria said as she raised her sword, the sword that was shining even more than ever!
"Thank you, my king. And my apologies." Gawain said, as he picked himself up with his sword in hand.
"No, thank you Gawain. It is thanks to you that we have seen the path of victory." And after she had recieved a shocked face from her knight, "Can you lend me your strenght, Gawain? Even for five seconds, you will be my only shield."
The expression of shock left its place to one of joy and greatfulness.
"Until the end of time, My King!" He reponded as he readied his stance.
"Then here we go, Gawain!" Artoria shouted, as she took a huge leap back, and raised her sword, charging with all the magical energy she could pour.
"You damn insects!" Morgan shouted as she simultaneously attacked with her shadow and dragen to Artoria, and started to charge up her own darkened mana as a huge blast as well to counter Artoria's Excalibur. She did so, because she knew that no matter what attack she did, the knight protecting his king would not fall in time. Because of his stupid loyalty to the usurper named Artoria, and because he was ordered to do so by her.
But she was smiling still.
Because she understood that Artoria was bluffing.
Vortigern was not able to extinguish the fire of Excalibur, it was correct. However, it surely was weakened. The light that shined first was simply a bluff of hers. If the original light of the said sword was a bonfire before, right now it was no more than a torch.
"Excalibur!" Artoria shouted from the top of her lungs as a blast of light and wind cut through eerything in her path until it met the blast Morgan shot, clashing against it.
Artoria, too, was aware that she would lose.
Her holy sword was too weakened to simply cut through the enormous amount of magical energy Morgan has opposed her with.
But she didn't need to defeat her. Because she was simply a distraction. She knew she could not defeat Morgan as she was then, so she needed to postpone the real fight to some other date.
It would not be her who would fight, she was aware of that as well even while the darkness Morgan shot was swallowing the light of hers.
But she entrusted it.
Her wish.
The salvation of the people she held the most dear.
She knew that, as she took a final look at the flower on the ground which was left by the bygone mage with a smile, that hope would come to answer her wish.
She knew that,
By the words of her mentor,
A single knight,
Without a name
Without a past
As if a forgotten ghost
But looked for colour in his hollow, glass heart
Would come to her
To grant her wish.
To bring them
The Promised Victory.