Type-Moon Simulation: Starting with Conquering a Greek Goddess!-Chapter 130 - : You Are His Daughter

"Guinevere, you will become King Arthur's queen!"

[King Leodegrance joyfully declares]

[Burying her first love deep in her heart, she nods to her father, following her destiny]

[A sorrowful love]

[No one will know of this~ love]

[Let her keep this secret in her heart, she has no right to choose her destiny or love]

[The young girl is certain of this]

[At the same time, in another direction of the street]

[There are also others watching]

"That is the Golden Fleece..... so beautiful....."

A young girl wears a cloak enchanted with magecraft.

She gazes at the street from behind the crowd.

Her eyes are drawn to the golden fleece hanging high on the flag.

She can feel the warmth emanating from the ancient mystery.

However, it's not just about seeing these things.

The dazzling treasures were indeed witnessed, but the young girl was more concerned about the king and the knight who brought the Golden Fleece.

"The ones who brought such a treasure are... King Arthur... and that pure knight... Moran..."

The girl's emerald eyes sparkled.

Reflecting the outlines of Moran and Artoria.

At this moment, a hazy and indistinct light emerged behind her, gradually outlining the figure of an incredibly beautiful woman.

"That's right, they are the targets you need to remember, Mordred. The future of this country is already rotten, everything built upon the suffering of the dragon, hmm, that King Arthur... these people are utterly foolish, there is no need for redemption at all!"

[This incredibly beautiful woman is Morgan]

[Her kaleidoscope-like, dazzling eyes are now fixed directly on Moran, who is riding on a horse]

[They seem to be brewing with sorrow and anger]

[Not directed at this man, but rather at the tip of the sword aimed at the Knight King who is traveling with him]

"Mother..."

Mordred doesn't understand Morgan's disappointment.

Somewhere in her heart, she wants to respond to her mother's expectations.

But when she looks again at Moran and Artoria traveling together, she only feels one thing—

Those two are too dazzling.

"Mother... I can't do it... Whether it's King Arthur... or the pure knight Moran... they are both too dazzling..."

Mordred feels that the two are too dazzling.

She could never compare.

Listening to the adoration and reverence from the people around her, she feels even more ashamed.

"Mordred, you are truly foolish. Can't you feel it at this distance? The reason I brought you here this time. You can catch up to those two, because you are the culmination of my and his magical talents."

Morgan gently caresses Mordred's face.

Her actions are very gentle and affectionate.

She possesses the dignity that a mother should have.

But even the encouragement from her mother is far from enough to ignite the fire of confidence in Mordred's heart.

"But, Mother, even Sir Gawain and the others have succumbed to the glory of King Arthur..."

"Gawain and the others are too straightforward, but there is also the reason that I was not decisive enough in the past. Mordred, you don't need to worry about these things. Compared to Gawain and the others, you have something more decisive."

[Mordred shows a confused expression]

[She doesn't feel that she is any different from ordinary people]

[In response, Morgan shows a faint smile]

[She points her jade-like finger at you, who is riding on a white horse]

"The pure knight you are looking at now, Moran. He is your father, connected by blood! Mordred, you are the daughter between me and him. You have inherited my fairy blood! And his Albion bloodline!"

"I have the blood of Albion... I am... the daughter of that pure knight... Moran..."

Mordred murmurs as she watches the marching army,

[The truth told by her mother leaves her in a daze]

[The emotions surging in her heart are like a tsunami, constantly churning, and the questions she has always had are finally answered]

[Now, looking at the dazzling pure knight]

[The distance no longer seems as far as she imagined]

[Such a noble person, worshipped by the world, is actually her father, connected by blood]

[She can't help but show a joyful smile]

[The timid eyes also show a sparkle, as if saying she wants to get closer to her father]

"Mordred, I have told you the truth. Even if you want to run to Moran and ask him, it's fine, that guy will give you a good answer."

"Mother... what do you want me to do...?"

"Haha, I don't want you to do anything, I just brought you here to see the holy city of Camelot, King Arthur, and your father. I believe that after you understand everything, you will make your own choice."

[Morgan's attitude makes Mordred feel strange]

[However, she doesn't think too much about it]

[Although she has learned about her origins, she still has many unanswered questions and wants to get closer to the pure knight]

[Just thinking about getting closer to him]

[Like the children she used to see in the neighborhood, she wants to act spoiled and rely on him as a father]

[—She has her own father]

[Just knowing this makes her happy]

"Mother, what kind of person is Father, specifically?"

"Hmph, you're asking this now..."

Complex emotions emerge in Morgan's beautiful eyes.

For a moment, even Mordred feels the pressure increase.

It's as if the air has solidified.

"That guy is a bastard who is both loved and hated. If I hadn't met this guy, it would have been better, if I hadn't met him, I wouldn't be like this now. He always wants to strive for more, and in the end, he will just disappear..."

"Mother... do you hate Father?"

"...Hmph, Mordred, you're asking too much. But, hate? If that were really the case, then it would be good."

Morgan shows a self-deprecating smile.

As the child of the island, she knows too much.

[Looking at Morgan with such complex emotions, Mordred feels that there might be a deep story behind it]

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[However, there is not much to think about]

[Now that she knows her origins, Morgan tells her to act according to her own thoughts]

[In that case, she will only go in one direction]

[That is, to move towards the Round Table]