Davidian's Holy Grail War

He acknowledges me as his son, but why is he unwilling to pass the throne to me? Why is he unwilling to tell everyone in Britain about this? Why? Why?

This question had been plaguing her, Mordred's entire being was focused on it, and she couldn't shake it off. In fact, one could say she desperately wanted to understand why.

Is it because I'm Morgan's son? Just because I'm her illegitimate child? So I can't, but everyone else can—David, Gawain, Gareth, maybe they can. But why can't I?

This was an answer she didn't want to believe, but considering the facts, that's how it was; she wasn't lacking in talent, she wasn't lacking in ability.

But King Arthur himself told her that she would not choose him as the heir to the throne.

So when Agrave led his knights to try to capture Lancelot, and Lancelot killed Agrave with a single punch and seized the weapon to start killing everyone, Mordred immediately chose to flee.

She cannot die here; she must know the answers. Why can't she become queen? Why can't her identity be revealed to the world? Why?

She ran away from the garden to find someone... her mother, her mother will surely tell her why.

When David and Artoria arrived at the garden with Winchenrib's guidance, all they could see were twelve corpses, including Agravín, and the Queen standing there, her body unstained by blood.

David's eyes widened in disbelief at the scene of devastation. He couldn't believe Lancelot had done this. Slaughtering his own people, and having an affair with the Queen.

How could his friend and brother, Lancelot, do such a thing?

Artoria could only sigh; she knew this day would come sooner or later.

From the day Guinevere actually married her, she knew that this silent, cruel, and relentless pressure would eventually overwhelm her.

I just never expected that reality would spiral out of control to this extent.

She walked over, and before the others could arrive, she took off her cloak and draped it over Guinevere's shoulders, saying softly, "It seems it has come to this in the end. I'm so sorry, Guinevere."

"How could this be... Your Majesty, it's my personal issues that led to this situation. I... I..."

The sight of the princess in tears left David and Artoria at a loss for words, unsure how to criticize her mistake. How could David and Artoria, who deeply understood her inner turmoil, possibly condemn her error?

However, by the time the other knights arrived, Artoria was already far from the queen, and Davidan and Winzenrib had already collected the bodies of the knights at the scene.

"Your Majesty, what exactly happened?" Gao Wenqing walked over with a cold face, unable to believe such a thing could happen. The Queen Consort had actually been secretly meeting with Lord Lancelot behind the King's back; this was an extreme breach of morality.

"Put the Princess... no, Guinevere in solitary confinement to reflect on her actions. We'll decide how to handle this matter tomorrow."

After a sigh, Artoria made a decision about the current situation, one that even Davian had no right to comment on. If anything was to be said at this point, it would only be to agree with the King's decision.

Under the watchful eye of a squad of knights, Guinevere was led away from the scene. Gawain looked at the last piece of white cloth, beneath which lay Agravan's body.

Gawain was consumed by rage. Agravan was not at fault in this matter. That French knight, after committing such a shameless act, had gone on to commit such a heinous crime. How could this be forgiven? How could this be pardoned?

"My King! I volunteer to go and capture Lancelot! In the name of the Sun Knight, I will surely make him confess his crimes and be executed!"

Gawain immediately knelt before King Arthur and volunteered to capture Lancelot. He couldn't let Lancelot escape justice, for King Arthur's sake and for his brother Agravan's.

But Artoria disagreed with his idea; instead, she shook her head and advised Gawain:

"Gao Wenqing, don't forget our duties. The most urgent task now is to ensure this matter doesn't spread. We can discuss Lancelot's matter later. Understand?"

Although unwilling and angry, Gawain endured it because of the king's orders. He wasn't yet blinded by rage, or rather, he could still control himself.

Davidian rose in silence and looked at the Knights of the Round Table who remained present, saying, "We'll discuss today's matters tomorrow. In the name of Lord Camelot and King Arthur, all of you may return."

Davidian had already used his authority to drive the crowd away, and no one else dared to say anything more. It was clear to everyone that this was not a matter they should be involved in.

Meanwhile, Mordred had found the person she was looking for. Morgan appeared before her at just the right moment, having come simply because she wanted to see her mother.

“My son—Mordred. Why are you so troubled?” Morgan’s gentle words entered his child’s ears like a spring breeze.

Because of Agravan's failure, she adopted a completely different approach to Mordred's education. In fact, one could say that Mordred relied heavily on her.

"Mother, why does the Queen acknowledge me as her son, yet refuse to pass the throne to me? Why? Is it simply because I am a bastard child who cannot be born?"

Mordred's expression twisted; she was caught in an internal struggle, trying to convince herself that it wasn't because of these things that the king hadn't chosen her as his heir.

Morgan chuckled and continued whispering in her ear, “My child, you are the king’s son, and you are equal to her in ability. She is unwilling to pass the throne to you simply because she herself is a bastard.”

Because of this shared experience, even if she professes you to be her son, you are nothing but a stain on her reputation, a disgrace. How could she possibly pass the throne to someone like you?

“No! No! The Queen is perfect, she wouldn’t have such selfish motives! She wouldn’t!” Mordred roared, clutching her head. She couldn’t believe such a thing could happen, and that the Queen was not treating her this way because of these things.

Chapter 148 Let Britain Burn!

"Then why didn't she pass the throne to you? Don't you have talent or ability? No, no, no, no, my child."

You know in your heart that after years of being around Davidian, you already possess the talent to be a king. So why not make you the heir to the throne?

Why? You already know the reason, don't you?"

Morgan's whisper led Mordred's mind to that dark answer, the answer Mordred least wanted to believe.

At this moment, in Mordred's mind, which was in complete turmoil, Morgan's words were gradually tilting the scales of good and evil toward imbalance.

"You can never stand in the sunlight and proudly declare to the world that you are her son."

Because of your birth, because you are my son Morgan Pendragon and not Guinevere's son.

So you can't, but Davidian can, Gawain can, and even Gareth can.

But... oh my poor Mordred, you will never win your father's love, nor become the heir to the kingdom.

Simply because she hates you!

Every word Morgan spoke struck Mordred's heart with the precision of a chisel.

Mordred, who was not particularly cunning, was completely manipulated by Morgan at this moment, and the scales in her heart had plummeted to an abyss.

Mordred has strayed from the right path, for no other reason than that Morgan is stating the "truth."

Mordred swore to become the tip of my king's sword and to be the one who cleanses him of his filth.

But now, a terrible truth is laid bare before her. She herself is King Arthur's defilement, and the king will not remove it.

The reason is that doing so would only cause the round table to fall apart further and cast a shadow over the king's own glory.

That's exactly how she sees it, even though there's already a precedent of infighting within the Round Table.

Davidian severely injured Tristan, nearly killing him. Lancelot went even further today, killing Agravure and utterly destroying the former unity of the Round Table.

But the Queen has never done such a thing. The Queen is perfect, the Queen is rational. She will not reveal Mordred's identity to the world, simply because she is a shameful bastard, the child of a witch.

But she would never attempt to expel Mordred, simply because she had become a member of the Round Table.

"Why, why must it be like this! Why won't they pass the throne to me? Why can they all have it, but not me!"

I once only wanted to be your shadow, but you refused to acknowledge me! You! You! You! Everything! Everything! Everything! I will destroy it all! Arthur! Let this Britain burn!

Mordred's heart was plunged into darkness; madness, longing, and craving—these many emotions sealed her heart.

No more light could enter her heart; she would become the destroyer of the kingdom. She would destroy Britain, she would destroy Camelot, she would destroy everything.

“That is right, my son. If she does not hand the kingdom over to you, then you should take it all for yourself. If you cannot take it, then it is better to destroy it.”

Morgan deepened her influence over Mordred, and the situation was now developing exactly as she had planned, the perfect revenge accumulated over countless years.

“Tell me! Tell me! Mother, what should I do? How can I do this?” Mordred asked her mother for help; she couldn’t do it alone.

She needs more power, she needs more supporters.

Morgan chuckled and said to her, “Go back to the round table, my child.”

Lancelot's actions have undoubtedly added a huge wound to the Round Table. All you need to do is continue to demonstrate your excellence and gather those who have long harbored resentment towards King Arthur.

When the time is right, you can naturally raise your voice and get everything you want... or destroy it.

Mordred nodded and left. After she left, Morgan burst into uncontrollable laughter.

This was an outpouring of her inner emotions; she had maintained the facade of a virtuous mother in front of Mordred for so many years. And on this day, her efforts were rewarded.

But the next moment, petals drifted past Morgan. Morgan turned around and could see Merlin descending right before her.

"Oh my, what a rare guest! How long has it been since we last met? Ten years, or twenty? Master Merlin?"

Morgan looked at Merlin with a contemptuous smile; at this moment, her evil side was fully revealed. Anyone who witnessed this scene, except perhaps Davidian, would probably find it terrifying.

"Looks like your revenge is about to succeed? Should I congratulate you?" Merlin's face was not as relaxed and carefree as usual. In his eyes, the story of King Arthur was coming to an end.

Mordred will be the one to bring this to a close, so be it. He's deeply moved by his years of hard work and how things have progressed to this point. Let Artoria rest.

Britain has reached its limit, and the king's mission to save the country should also come to an end, so he felt that she should rest. That's it, it's time to end it.

"Congratulations to me? If I had obtained Camelot, the throne of chalk, and Davian, then you should be congratulating me."

But you must have already seen the ending, right? Yes, just like Davidian, you saw that damned ending.

Morgan hated it all, because she could push Mordred to destroy Britain, to destroy Camelot. But what would she gain after that? Nothing.

"No one will get the happiness they desire at the end of this story, whether it's Davidian, Artoria, Mordred, or even you in front of me. No one will get what they want."

But everyone did what they could to get things to this point. Therefore, it's a fulfilling story. That's all.

Ah, one last thing. I will get David free from your clutches. He's tried so hard for so long; I shouldn't let someone like you haunt him to death. This is my reward for his more than twenty years of hard work.

The moment Merlin finished speaking, a cold blue spear of light struck him, blasting a huge crater into the spot where he stood.

However, Morgan clearly saw that Merlin vanished in the instant before the spear of light struck him, turning into countless petals.

No one in this story will ultimately find the happiness they desire; for others, this would likely be nothing more than a malevolent prophecy. But for Merlin, it is often the impending reality.

Morgan gazed into the distance, at the very place where Britain was, at the very place where David and Artoria were. From this moment on, the story of Britain would begin its final chapter; everything would come to an end.

What will she gain in the end? She doesn't know, because she can no longer see any more of the future.