Disclaimer: Don't own Worm or anything from the Nasu-verse. This is a nonprofit work of fan-based parody, written for personal enjoyment and the perusal of the masses.

AN: I've really wanted to see this concept done and have searched high and low across the internet to no avail. Thus, it appears to have fallen to me to make my idea a reality. One thing I feel is interesting is that by the Battle of Camlann (and excluding the Holy Grail War nonsense), fate/stay Artoria Pendragon has a lot in common with post-Worm Taylor.

And that got me thinking...

Return 1.1

Blood soaked the earth, dying it in muddy red, countless weapons stood as tall, grim tombstones, and broken, torn bodies littered the hills of Camlann as far as the eye could see, as the rank, putrid scent of rot and death billowed on the wind. And in the center of it all, beside the body of a crimson-clad traitor, a king collapsed to her knees and despaired.

Bleeding out, the girl, who had once been Taylor Hebert, only to find herself reborn in the past with a grand and grim destiny before her, leaned against Excalibur for bodily support and meager comfort. Regret and grief were her only companions now, as she stared out at the untold thousands of men, once comrades in arms, who had slaughtered each other without hesitation. Bile rose to the fore, but did not escape her throat; she had perpetrated far too many scenes of like description to be sick at the sight.

But the tears... For the first time in far too long, she allowed them to fall, allowed herself to again be the little girl with far too much responsibility thrust upon her shoulders.

She had failed.

Camelot had fallen to treachery and corruption.

And the worst part?

Some part of her had known it would happen. A heavily suppressed part of her that she had violently rejected had known it was coming, how it would all pan out, who she had to stop to prevent everything and see Britain flourish.

In another life, in another time, she had been a far different person, who had met with a disturbingly similar death.

She had been born a reincarnation of a girl, who had suffered dearly and died a sobbing coward, too stubborn to stand up for herself or ask for aid... And she had rejected those memories and that person with harsh, decisive confidence.

Who cared what knowledge there was to be learned. Who cared about the future, so long as she didn't have anything to do with that past self of hers, who would hinder her duties as King.

That was what she had thought.

Annette Hebert, her first mother, had been an English and literary buff, and her daughter had inherited that part of her. She had known the legends, she had been aware of her hidden enemies from the start. With her memories in full, she could have prevented all of this needless death and destruction.

But she didn't.

And why?

Because she was afraid of irrevocably changing the future? Because she was so afraid of even the vague possibility becoming someone she didn't like, a person she considered a complete hinderance?

She had gotten enough of her old memories, before she locked them away, to know that she had been reborn as an important figure, a legend, a hero, who would be famous over a thousand years later. She had glimpsed tales of the Round Table, Camelot, and great hosts of knights swearing fealty to a perfect king. She had seen before her a grand destiny in which she would unite and liberate Britain. She would be hero above heroes, a legend of worldwide renown, but... there was minor hiccup. She had looked upon the pathetic, beaten, and cowed wreck of a girl in the scraps of her past memories and said with finality, "No." She could not -would not- allow that person to interfere with the fate of her country, with King Arthur's skill as a ruler. She could not allow that aspect of her to influence her reign under any circumstances.

She had rejected all that would be in favor of focusing on the now. She had rejected the knowledge of the future as useless to the people and herself, harmful even. After all, were she to be a poor king, her country would suffer, no matter how many advancements she introduced. Britain didn't have time for worrying about the future, when the wars with invaders, rebels, and bandits were happening now!

Only now, bleeding out among a field of corpses, had she allowed herself to truly remember in full just who she had been and what she had known, and, oh, how very wrong she had been to remain so willfully ignorant. How foolish and utterly selfish she was to reject knowledge in favor of her pride in who she had been reborn as.

She was from the future! She had knowledge literally centuries ahead of her time on agriculture, politics, warfare, basic human rights, and technology! She could have revolutionized everything! She could have changed the future of the world, prepared humanity for Parahumans and the Endbringers so far in advance it wasn't even funny! She could have saved Hero, stopped Behemoth at the start, warned everyone of the Simurgh's schemes, and if she'd prevented the theft of Avalon, she would have not aged a day throughout it, nor would she be dying right now, resigned to the fate of the legend she'd foolishly refused to tarnish the reputation of by acting in any way different!

What arrogance. To think she could be a worthy replacement for the actual Arthur, to think that she could do just as well.

Merlin was gone to parts unknown, likely trapped by Morgan.

The Knights of the Round Table were broken and scattered.

And here she lay, wallowing in her failure, like the coward she'd been in the face of Emma's betrayal.

What kind of king was she?

A fake, a mistake, a foolish child with dreams of glory.

She had tried to be someone she wasn't and failed miserably.

She was not King Arthur. She was Taylor; she was Artoria; she was a lie from the start, a woman under the guise of the perfect, male heir to Uther Pendragon, and a false promise of peace and prosperity to a suffering nation in need of a savior. Who the hell was she trying to kid?

Regardless of the risk to the timeline, regardless of the consequences, the real Arthur would never have allowed this tragedy to occur if he had possessed the knowledge of the future she had. He would never have stood by, knowing the further suffering in store for his people in the wake of his death.

She could try and tell herself it was better this way. She could tell herself that the future was best left the way it was, but... that would all be a lie, wouldn't it?

Humanity's future was already bleak as it was. Villains outnumbered heroes over two to one, Endbringers drove society toward an inevitable collapse less than a century away, and their only hope was a glowing, golden idiot, who had likely been responsible for powers and the suffering caused by them in the first place. That, at least, was something obvious to her given time to think about now it in combination with the Dark Ages' harsh removal of her rose-tinted vision of the world.

She nearly choked on the bitter laugh that escaped her throat. How selfish could she possibly be? The chance to save the world, and she had disregarded it entirely, wasted it pathetically, all for the chance to be the hero, to be loved as she never had before. What were childish desires weighed against the fate of the world?

Nothing.

They were worth less than nothing. She had known that from the start and chosen to be selfish anyway, to seek fame, glory, and the adulation of the masses, as she rode to their rescue with a cadaver of loyal allies beside her, rejecting knowledge of the future utterly in order to enjoy living in the present. All this she did, even as she sacrificed entire villages for the sake of the kingdom, stripping them of resources to fuel her army. Countless innocent lives were sacrificed in her campaign, and only now did she allow herself to look back upon them with regret. How could she look herself in the mirror and honestly call herself a hero?

At the very least, Merlin could be said to have spoken the entire truth back then.

To be a king was to give up one's humanity, to sacrifice everything.

To be a king, was to be a monster, and she had become that.

But she had never been the king she should have been.

She had never been a hero, and she never would be.

All she had been was the cold, logical monster.

Pathetic.

The friendless, ostracized, and betrayed girl, who succumbed to a dark, desecrated locker, would die once more, alone, crying, betrayed, and surrounded by rot and filth.

Thick, salty tears stung her with shame, as they streaked down her cheeks. Every opportunity had been wasted on the fool that she was. She could have halted Morgan's schemes. She could have prevented Guinivere's affair with Lancelot from being made public and thus being forced to go through with the execution that would lose her an entire three Knights of the Round Table. She could have accepted the -also strangely female- Mordred as her heir and loved her as the child craving parental love that she was, usurping her loyalty from Morgan and preventing the uprising. She could have given up the search for the Holy Grail in far-off lands as the wild goose chase it was and worked harder to solidify her kingdom's integrity at home.

Darkness crept at the sides of her vision. Such was her grief and blood-loss, she barely acknowledged Sir Bedivere's arrival, was barely aware of being carried and her fatal wound dressed and treated to no avail. As her body finally gave out, she suddenly realized bitterly that, for all the trouble she had gone to in order to resist changing things unnecessarily, she had not sent Bedivere to return Excalibur to the Lady of the Lake. In allowing herself one final breakdown, she had likely made every last bit of sacrifice pointless. For possession of such a weapon could be enough to change to world in anyone's hands... for good or ill.

Guinevere... Kay... Lancelot... Bedivere... even you, Merlin, you old pervert, I'm so sorry...

One final failure for an utter failure of a king and wannabe hero.

Really, she decided, almost anyone could have done better.

She barely resisted wishing aloud that someone had.

Thus it was that King Arthur's legend came to a close...

...or, at least, it should have.

The darkness was all-consuming, pressing down against her like physical force. The smell of rot and filth pervaded her being and offended her core, and dried tears had left crusty streaks on her cheeks. It had been a change of pace both sudden and startling.

She shifted uncomfortably. Was this Hell? Was she being punished for her crimes, for abandoning Humanity so thoroughly in its time of need? She shif-

The scraping of her vambraces on metal cut off that thought.

In an instant, she reassessed her situation, as adrenaline began to pump through her veins. How had she been imprisoned this way? How was she even alive?! Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, as she stood stock still, examining what she could from her confinement.

Quickly, she noticed it wasn't just the smell of the rot surrounding her in this metal... box that tickled unpleasantly at her nose. There was something else, something that pervaded further, older and more omnipresent, almost like smoke but far more unhealthy. She struggled with long unused terms in her head, trying to put label to the... fumes.

It struck her like a lightning bolt after a long moment of contemplation. Exhaust. Fossil fuels. Those... Those were modern concepts, many centuries beyond the time of King Arthur, her time now, and the Dark Ages.

Sounds were beginning to reach her now. Horns from horseless transportation that she had once known well sounded in the distance, and her senses, which she was beginning to note were rather unnaturally sharp right now, even for her, caught the sound of water flowing through pipes somewhere before and above her.

Where-?

Where was she?

What the hell? She should have died! That should have been the end of it!

There... were no such things as exhaust, water pipes, and... and... those horseless things, which currently escaped her to label, in her age!

So, there could only be one place that she could possibly be. Emerald eyes widened in the darkness, and she sharply twisted her body with rough, backwards shove.

Being that she was trapped in a metal box, she had, even with her body enhanced by dragon blood and magic, expected to be in for a bit of trouble escaping her current confines.

So, it was with more than a little surprise that she practically blasted out with a harsh shriek and snap of tearing metal. The filth flowed outward with her onto grey, cracked tile and almost caused her to slip into the rotting, infested muck.

She full-body flinched, as the door of her former confines clattered and rattled with no subtlety whatsoever across the floor whilst bent nearly in half to smack against the wall with a further bang. Shaking her head after a moment of cringing pause, she glanced around at the empty hallway with a frown. The pervading presence of fresher air, though welcome, only served to highlight for her the true stench of the filth she had been trapped with, curling her lip in utter disgust. She was from the Medieval Dark Ages, but even then she still had standards for cleanliness.

The light was almost unwelcome, as it revealed the sight of scattered, formerly white pads, blackened and browned by what her mind told her was dried blood. These pads she felt instinctively insulted by featured prominently among other miscellaneous garbage and a plethora of cockroaches and maggots. And it was all spilling out of a single school locker...

Taylor snarled and turned away from the sight, glancing about once more, as she brushed what filth she could off her garb. Her boots scraped against the tile, as she shifted, and she raised an armor-clad hand, clenching it tightly. Locks with a golden luster swayed at the edge of her vision, as she examined her equipment, and she could feel how her long, braided hair protested not uncomfortably from it's confines in a tight, practical bun atop the back of her head.

It appeared that she had arrived in possession of her armor in whole as well as her second body, hearty, healthy, and distinctly lacking a mortal wound, but she was also frighteningly unarmed. And also...

Her left eye twitched.

Her chest was rather conspicuously missing the bindings she usually wore to conceal its mild protrusion. A second later, she lightly admonished herself for finding that to be one of the most bothersome things about this situation.

Her hands clenched into fists, drawing squeaking protests from scraping, enchanted steel.

It was all too apparent that she had been returned to the Modern Era, upon her death as King Arthur, for reasons she could not begin to fathom. Not only that, but...

She glanced at the ruins of her locker.

Without proper leverage, even taking her inhuman strength into account, it should not have been so easy to break out. She had dragon-blood, yes. She had magic and could brute-force her way through a fight with Mana Burst if need be, yes also. However, she had additionally always had a good holy sword in hand to aid her and had tended to put a bit more reliance on her weaponry than might be wise. She had been beyond human, able to slay hundreds alone and unaided, but...

She had not been this strong.

She clenched her fists again. Something was different now that she was deliberately looking for it. It wasn't just that she was stronger; she could actually feel that she was stronger. Her slight body of a bare centimeter short of five feet felt like condensed power given physical form. The magical core in her chest pulsed and flared with some sort of extra kick to it.

She took a deep breath, extended her meager magical senses and sighed out, exhaling an invisible cloud of prana, like the dragon in human form that she was, producing, herself, such an excess of magic that she could actually emit the extra in her breath.

She shook her head. Focus thine attentions, Artoria, beside a busted locker in an empty hallway is hardly the proper place for investigating these internal matters.

With that, Taylor Hebert, Arturia Pendragon, former ruler of Britain, and King of Knights nodded her head, turned on her armored heel, and moved.

She was almost startled by the sheer speed with which she rushed through the facility with a small explosion of displaced air in her wake, having to abruptly slow herself so as not to further damage the tile beneath her feet from simply running, as she located and ascended the stairs to the roof in mere moments. The padlock on the door at the top provided absolutely no resistance, as she tore it off with frighteningly casual ease and proceeded forward. The door creaked in loud protest on rusted hinges that had fallen into obvious disrepair, much like the rest of facility.

Clicking her tongue in dissatisfaction and worry that the noise had been heard (if her escape from the Locker had also not been by some miracle), she stepped out onto the rooftop and found it to be mercifully deserted, allowing the door to swing closed behind her with another low creak.

Outside, the noises and smells of the city were far more prominent. She could hear the blaring of car horns and the sirens of ambulances and fire trucks ringing out through the air. The wind carried the scent of industry in the form of gasoline and exhaust with tantalizing hints of spices and sizzling, modern food wafting from restaurants in a low undertone; for someone who had lived the past several decades of her life in a time devoid of showers or even plumbing it was rather pleasant by comparison, save for the sharp tang of pollution. In the distance, tall buildings with gleaming, glass windows dominated the skyline, and in the bay...

Artoria's lips pursed tightly. For the life of her, she could not recall if it had a particular name beyond being called "The Rig", but the repurposed oil rig out in the bay she knew was home to the local parahuman law enforcement. A large, flickering, translucent dome, the obvious work of the vaunted Tinkers, curled around the structure, shielding it from all conventional (and often unconventional) ranged assault, and, even from her position, she could glimpse aircraft making use of its open dock.

Parahumans...

She really was home, wasn't she? Everything was as it had always been without her. She had made no difference in the past at all, except to perpetuate the mistakes of her namesake. What the hell was the point of studying history if not to learn from it? And she had learned nothing.

She sucked in a breath and released it shakily, shaking her head. This was not the time for self-flagellating. Three decades absent from the Modern Era she might have been -and a failure of a king besides, but she knew a pity party would do nothing for her at this juncture. Because she, King Artoria Pendragon, had returned to the world of the living once more... whether she liked it or not.

Blinking, she chuckled humorlessly.

Wasn't that what it had always said in Arthurian legend? Wasn't it said that Arthur would one day return from his rest in Avalon to rule once more in his home's time of need? Well, it was something along those lines anyway; it's not like she could have read stories about herself before they even existed during her reign. She hadn't even gotten the chance to see Avalon, beyond glimpses when using the sheath with the same name. And besides...

She had no intention of taking up the mantle of King again... If people wanted to be led, then they could do far better than a failure like her. She'd tried being King, but she'd been proven all too human for the job, all too selfish to just do what needed to be done to secure the future for Humanity.

She exhaled explosively and squeezed her eyes shut for a moment in aggravation, rubbing them slowly with steel-clad fingers. No! No more of this nonsensical depression! She needed to get her feet back under her and take control of her situation again! She may have failed her brother, her best friend, her knights, and her people, but here and now in this time, she still had someone to care for.

She had a father, who loved her, even if he wasn't very good at taking care of her, between his job and mild depression. In the end, the important thing was that he tried. He tried, and, even if he failed, that was more than she had ever done.

The part of her that was Artoria was shamed by the part that was Taylor, offended by the girl, who had let herself be driven so far into the dirt with barely token protest. But... she, Artoria, had wasted the chance to be just Artoria. Now, she couldn't stop being the other part of her whole any longer, and all that she had left in this world belonged to the part that was Taylor.

Tears prickled at the edge of her vision, and the King of Knights, felt yet again like the little girl she hadn't been allowed to be in decades, who'd never had a real childhood, between the bulling before her death and the frantic, obsessive preparation to take up the throne in her new life from far too young an age.

She aggressively wiped the wetness from her eyes with the flaring, royal-blue fabric adorning her upper arms.

I... I want my dad...

She stood straight-backed and as tall as her just nigh five-feet of height would allow near the roof's edge. A steely expression overtook her visage, as she looked to the horizon. The King of Knights nodded resolutely to herself and took a step forth, before abruptly halting, golden brows furrowed, as she examined the sprawling, bayside city once more with a quizzical gaze. Her right brow twitched briefly in irritation.

I do wonder, where perhaps didst my prior abode reside?

AN: Aaannnd, that looks to be a good place to stop.
Now, before anyone says anything, Taylor's return to the modern world and the reasons she was reincarnated as Artoria are getting hand-waved for now, unless I can think of a good reason that will add to the story productively. Mostly, I just really don't want the Holy Grail to be included in this story AT ALL. It's too much trouble, and I'm not in the mood for a magecraft and/or Holy Grail War sub-plot. This also means that, even with several Servant-like abilities and boosts, she has to learn how to use them on her own, lacking instructions from the Grail. At this point, I'm going to chock everything up to being a bored Zelretch ("Hey, it's not always my fault!") and go from there. Or maybe, some Earth-Bet Alaya machinations might be going on... Things to think about.

Other than that, the only magic around here on Earth Bet will be what Taylor has.

The reason I have Taylor have Avalon is that the only reason Saber didn't get summoned with the sheath in her possession was due to something having to do with her deal with Alaya. Since Taylor never made that deal, Avalon is returned to her possession in her Servant-like resurrection.

In regards to her return, she's been away from the modern era for more than twenty five years at least! She's going to have a bit of trouble remembering some stuff about modern devices, locations, and culture, but it shouldn't take too long for our Queen of Escalation to get back into the swing of things.

As far as Artoria!Taylor gaining more power than she had in life, it's because her body functions as a Heroic Spirit now to a degree (because reasons). In that way, her power is rather memetic in that, like a Servant, the greater her legend grows, the more powerful she becomes. In other words, the more people she inspires to believe in her power the more powerful she will get as time goes on. Of course, it will be an extremely slow increase, unless she does something truly ridiculous that gets her fame and adulation worldwide... I'm sure you all have quite a few ideas about what she'd have to do for that. ;)

Class: Saber (Trump 10, Brute 9, Thinker 8, Mover 7, Master 6, Striker 5, Blaster 10+, Shaker 12)

Name: Taylor "Artoria (King Arthur) Pendragon" Hebert

Master: None

Alignment: Lawful Good

Strength: A (Brute 8)
Endurance: B (Brute 7)
Agility: B (Mover 7)
Mana: A
Luck: A+ (Shaker 8)
N. Phantasm: A++

Class Skills:

Magic Resistance A: (Trump 10)
Cancel spells of A-Rank or below, no matter what High-Thaumaturgy it is. In practice, the Servant is untouchable to modern magi, so it would not be an exaggeration to title the Servant a 'Magus Killer'.
As her 'Pendragon' name shows, King Arthur is the holder of the Element of the Red Dragon, charged with the task of protecting the kingdom. She carries the very magical power of the Dragon. This humongous magical power is also the source of King Arthur's Magic Resistance. Due to the characteristics of a Dragon, King Arthur has much trouble with existences such as Seigfried, who is associated with tales of 'Dragon extermination'. If she is targeted by 'Dragon-slaying Sorceries', it is possible that Magic Resistance will not function to its fullest extent.

Riding B: (Thinker/Master/Striker 4)
Most vehicles and animals can be handled with above average skill, even vehicles that did not exist in the time period one was alive in for they are no exception. However, cannot ride the likes of Phantasmal Species such as Monstrous Beasts.
Since 'knights' are soldiers who are proficient in mounted warfare, Saber's Rank in Riding is very high. Chariots can be ridden the same way. Motorcycles and automobiles are treated as 'modern mounts', thus a high rank in Riding is also applicable. However, King Arthur can ultimately only control normal mounts. This is due to her Class not being Rider, as well as the fact that she was a King in the Age of Man, thus did not have the fortune of having "Legends of Riding Phantasmal Species".

Personal Skills:

Charisma B: (Master 6)
Having B Rank in this Skill is sufficient to lead a nation as its King/Queen. The morale of military forces he or she commands is extremely high.

Instinct A: (Thinker 8)
At Rank A, it is essentially in the realm of predicting the future. Through this ability, it is possible to negate the penalties inflicted by visual and auditory interference to a certain extent.

Mana Burst A: (Trump 7) (Striker/Shaker 5)
At Rank A, even a stick can become a weapon of great power. A normal weapon that is not on the level of a divine Mystery can be destroyed in one blow. Can also raise her defense several times over. King Arthur uses this Skill mainly for defense and high-speed movement. Executing large-scale body reinforcement through Mana Burst is only possible with King Arthur's immense magical power. While she herself possesses average physical strength, she managed to defeat countless enemies by strengthening all of her actions with her excessive magical energy. Additional plus modifier added to Strength, Endurance, and Agility while in use.

Noble Phantasms:

Avalon (Barrier) EX: (Shaker 12) (Brute 9)
A Divine sword sheath, created by the fairies, it bequeaths limited immortality through constant regeneration, as well as preventing physical deterioration caused by aging. The holder of the scabbard is granted potent healing, allowing for critical and fatal wounds to be rapidly repaired to restore the wielder's health. Minor injuries are restored easily, and even large missing portions of the body and destroyed vital organs like the heart can quickly be restored at the critical moment before death. Targeting anything other than the holder's head in order to destroy their brain is futile, requiring for a decisive strike to be landed in order to cause any true damage.
Its function as a Noble Phantasm is an "absolute defense" that completely shields its user in the domain of the fairies, Avalon, the unreachable utopia that King Arthur dreamed of and was said to have gone to after her death. It is the greatest protection in the world that goes beyond defending or reflecting, completely isolating its user in a world completely separate from the regular world. The scabbard dissipates into countless tiny particles in the air and engulfs the user to become a "portable fortress" that shuts out all interference. It is the Bounded Field of the tranquil domain of fairies that keeps out all filth from the outside world, and allows nothing to harm the tranquil King that stands in the land of Avalon. The individual is shielded from all destructive interference in the physical realm, transliners from parallel worlds, and multidimensional communication as far as the sixth dimension. It is on the level of true magic, an actual true magic in itself, that transcends all magecraft, and not even the Five Magics can overcome the barrier

Excalibur (Anti-Fortress) A++: (Blaster 10+)
A Divine Construct, the pinnacle of holy swords, and the strongest holy sword whose equal is the strongest demonic sword Gram; one of the ultimate god-forged weapons, a Last Phantasm, forged by the planet as the crystallization of the wishes of mankind stored and tempered within the planet.
Excalibur is a "sword that amplifies", converting its user's magical energy into offensive power and releasing it. It is a weapon of directive energy that converts the magical energy of the wielder into light by accelerating it with her factor of the dragon, intensifying the kinetic energy by convergence and acceleration, allowing for the use of Divine Spirit-level thaumaturgy. It is an "ultimate killing technique" that releases light holding energy equaling Artoria's total amount of magical energy from the tip of the blade once the sword is swung. While the result is what looks like a large beam of light, only the tip of the attack, which is a wave of light that can mow through the surface of the Earth, is capable of doing damage, as the beam is the result of the "dislocation" of everything the attack destroys in its path. Even if it is dodged, those in close proximity can still be temporarily distracted by its intensity.
The speed required for activation is less than a second, slightly surpassing the speed of the charge of Via Expugnatio. It requires a sufficient amount of distance between her and the enemy, and the further the distance of the opponent increases its effectiveness. Once something is struck by it, no human magecraft of any kind can match it.

Invisible Air (Anti-Unit) C: (Shaker 8)
A Bounded Field closer to magecraft than a Noble Phantasm that is made up of multiple layers of wind compressed into super-high pressure air with a massive amount of magical energy, which distorts the refraction of light and renders what is inside completely invisible. It is primarily used to conceal Excalibur but can be applied to other objects.
The compressed wind can also instead be released as a single use projectile weapon called Strike Air: Hammer of the Wind King. Acting like a hammer made out of wind, it creates a gale made out of super high pressure condensed air that is powerful enough to easily crush and blow away armies and fling a stone slab weighing several tons into the air as if it were nothing. It is a long range attack with a constant amount of damage that is not influenced by Saber's physical condition or her level of magical energy. It can only be blocked by overwhelming it with a higher amount of magical energy. It can also be used to accelerate her own body towards her opponent, allowing her to travel at three times her normal speed. By holding the sword in a backward wide stance, she releases the air and changes into a supersonic bullet that charges towards her opponent.

For this, I gave her King Arthur's maximum potential form, which Rin Tohsaka was able to achieve in comparison to Shirou. I completely disregarded the Kiritsugu version, because, despite the Endurance and Agility boosts in exchange for a drop to Strength (that can be compensated for with Mana Burst), that massive Luck stat drop is completely unacceptable in the Worm setting. I'd rather have Instinct operating at maximum efficiency thank-you-very-much, instead of having to make her take a chump-attack that does a lucky crit.

To put why I put so much value on Luck and Instinct into perspective, remember this. Arturia was weakened by having Shirou as a Master in the war and only had C-Rank Agility. Meanwhile, Cu-Chulainn was at full power when they fought, had A-Rank Agility, an equal Strength stat, and could move at supersonic speeds. With Instinct and Luck at such a high level though, that didn't even matter, and Arturia was able to even match his speed once she started using Mana Burst. She was able to take on a supersonic opponent while weakened and then proceeded to redirect a literally fate altering attack. He ran at that point, not being an idiot. Like hell am I getting rid of the advantages that let her do it.

Seriously though, fuck having Lancer-level Luck.

Constructive criticism is welcomed and encouraged, but pointless nitpicking and flaming are both decidedly not. I welcome helpful trivia and edits that will help me improve my writing, but try not to take this all too seriously, dear readers. I am writing for fun.