I Don’t Want to Be a Heroic Spirit

By the power of Tapisserie Éternelle, this story is granted two bonus chapters—rejoice in this reward!

---

I once stood so close, basking in that radiant light.

The King of Oaths, the Perfect King, the Ideal King, the Glorious King.

All the world's glory should belong to her; all the world's brilliance should adorn her.

"She is the enemy you must defeat. Your very purpose in this world is to pierce her body with your blade and destroy her kingdom with flames."

No, that's not true.

The King is beautiful in her perfection.

And so, I decided to serve her.

Even if it meant becoming the King's shadow, the blade that cleansed her of filth in her stead.

As long as I could remain close enough to gaze upon her always… I would be satisfied.

"That King is too perfect… and that is why we must betray her."

What foolish words. How could there be anything wrong with a perfect King?

Her decisions were always absolutely correct.

To stand so close to the King, to bask in her glory—I was content.

My armor bore the blood of those fools who opposed her, while my face was bathed in the light of her radiance.

Until one day, my mother told me something.

"You are the legitimate child of King Arthur, a fragment of the King's very essence brought to life."

Yes, I… I am King Arthur's son.

The one and only heir to the throne.

I felt proud of this identity and rushed to the King to share this revelation.

But… but…

She did not acknowledge me.

She didn't spare me a single glance.

Why?

Why, why, why, why…

Why?! Why won't your beautiful eyes reflect my figure?

Why won't you turn around and look at me—?!

Is it because I'm the child of a witch?!

"Ar—thur—!!"

I will destroy you!

I will destroy the kingdom you worked so hard to build!

I will destroy everything you have ever been proud of!

Hate me! Let those beautiful eyes burn with the fire of rage!

And then… look at me with those eyes…

---

Kairi Shishigou awoke from a nightmare.

He found himself lying in a wooden coffin, lined with straw for comfort.

Of course, the nightmare wasn't caused by the makeshift bed. As a necromancer, he found sleeping in a coffin far more comfortable than a five-star hotel bed.

The real culprit behind his nightmare was undoubtedly the Servant he had contracted with.

Thanks to the Mage's Association's sponsored fragment of the Round Table, he had successfully summoned one of its knights—Mordred, the Rebel Knight.

The nightmare he just experienced? Clearly drawn from Mordred's own memories.

This wasn't unusual during a Holy Grail War. The magical connection between a Master and their Servant often caused fragments of each other's memories to surface in dreams.

Even though he had been awake for a while, the emotions lingering from the dream continued to unsettle him, leaving his thoughts in disarray.

After clearing his mind, Shishigou decided to sit up—only to nearly collide with a skull hovering above him.

The bony skull wobbled, its jaw clattering as it spoke.

"Master, I'm bored…"

The skull was promptly removed, revealing Mordred, who wore an expression of utter boredom.

Having long since grown accustomed to skeletal remains and corpses, Shishigou calmly climbed out of the coffin.

"Saber, don't mess with other people's skulls. It's disrespectful."

"And you, a necromancer sleeping in someone else's coffin, think you have the right to lecture me?!"

Mordred retorted loudly before losing interest in the skull and tossing it aside carelessly.

"Master… Master… I'm so bored… There's nothing here but corpses, not even anything fun to play with…" Mordred sat on the floor, hugging her knees and rocking back and forth. "At the very least, there should be something to eat, right? That burger you got me last time was great—way better than Gawain's lousy mashed potatoes."

"Spare me. If you eat like you did last time, I'll be broke before the Grail War even ends," Shishigou grumbled, pulling out his significantly lighter wallet with a pained expression.

"Well, it's not like I can help it…" Mordred mumbled, looking embarrassed. It seemed she wasn't entirely unaware of her appetite. "How about this: when I win the Grail for you, I'll pay you back, okay?"

"...You're planning to use the omnipotent wish-granting device to get money?"

For some reason, it felt like watching a billionaire spend their fortune on a street-side snack.

"That's not what I mean!" Mordred protested. "My wish is to go back in time to before Father pulled the Sword of Selection and… take it for myself!"

As if picturing the moment, a flush of excitement spread across her face.

"Then let's see how Father denies me as her heir!"

Rather than directly wishing to become King, she wanted a chance to prove herself and earn the title through her own efforts.

As for the possibility that she might fail to pull the Sword of Selection… Mordred hadn't even considered it.

She was King Arthur's only child. If her father could do it, why couldn't she?

"Well? Master, don't you think I'm amazing?"

Convinced of her own brilliance, Mordred folded her arms and smirked confidently.

But she didn't get a response from her Master.

When Mordred glanced down, she found Shishigou staring at her, his mouth half-open, as if he had seen a ghost.

"What's wrong with you, Master? You look like you've seen a ghost."

True to her blunt nature, Mordred voiced her thoughts directly.

Then…

A voice, unmistakably familiar, came from behind her.

"Mordred."

"—A ghost?!"

Like a startled cat, Mordred jumped up, weapon at the ready.

Anger, confusion, fear, and uncertainty surged within her, crashing like waves against the shores of her heart.

She opened her mouth to roar the intruder's name but froze the moment she turned to face them.

The sight before her nearly blinded her.

So big… so radiant…

Artoria watched as Mordred leapt back like a frightened lioness, baring her fangs and crackling with red lightning.

But when Mordred finally saw her, the storm of energy dissipated, leaving an eerie stillness.

For a long moment, Mordred didn't move, not even to breathe.

"Mordred?" Artoria called again, snapping her out of her stupor.

Finally regaining her senses, Mordred stepped back, her wariness and fury redoubling.

"Who are you? How dare you impersonate my father—!"

My father would never be so big-hearted—!!

---

Rejoice, my loyal subjects! Though your power did not summon the full might of Tapisserie Éternelle upon this tale, the ripple of such an achievement cannot be contained.

By my decree, this story has been graced with two bonus chapters, a tribute to the grandeur you have displayed elsewhere. Such rewards are a reminder that even in the shadow of greatness, the king's benevolence extends far and wide.

Take pride in this gift, and let it spur you onward. Should you wish for more, show your resolve, and perhaps this story too shall bask in the full glory of the Eternal Tapestry.

Now, celebrate, for the king has deemed you deserving of this favor—do not squander it!