Mordred hated invertebrates, the kind that adhered to the crippling chivalry in her time. She never understood the ideals of etiquette taking precedence over the ideal of a knight. Knights saved people. Knights didn't sit back and watch corruption leak into their lives, contentedly.

But she hated indecisiveness even more.

Everyone saw his hesitation take form in sweat beads along his forehead. He had stopped before the door, hand on knob.

Mordred paused as well and nudged him with a gauntlet.

Hey, what's the holdup? C'mon let's go before you change your mind or something. She frowned. ...I know you're an idiot Master sometimes, but even Magi should know how to open doors. Look, just twist your hand and push.

His silence disconcerted her far too much for someone she just met.

Do I have to kick down the door for you to move?

She didn't know it was possible for him to falter even more at that. Her mind spun explanations out of thin strings.

Oi, Master, you can't be...

...Sorry, Saber. I have faith in your instinct so I'll be sure to watch myself.

For a second, Mordred saw red.

What—

He turned to face Shirou and Assassin.

"—Lord El-Melloi will be more difficult if I don't at least meet the other Masters once." Shishigou grimaced.

"Eh? Isn't it El-Melloi the II?" Shirou blinked.

"Right. Too easy to forget it." He rubbed the back of his head. "Yeah. One of the few requirements to taking this job was, 'complete coordination with the Red Masters'."

"Hm. I can't blame the Magi Association for taking every measure possible to retrieve the Greater Grail. Well, if you'll follow me then."

"Yeah, yeah. Let's get this over with."

Shishigou and Shirou entered the door in front of the pews. She stared, unbelieving, as his back disappeared into the belly of the beast. Leaving Assassin and Mordred alone together.

The instant wrath was crushed to her depths and she fought hard to control herself from unleashing Clarent on everyone save her Master here.

It's been maybe less than an hour since she'd been summoned. Yet Mordred knew her Master had to be more than one of those secretive magi who skulk in the shadows, assassins, never to see the light of day unless they decided to gloat about victory that they didn't contribute to. It pleased her to have a Master who trusted her as a person, to put faith in her instinct. ...but only a little bit. Otherwise, after he called her a woman, he would've raged back in the strange, proud way Magi do when their superiority was threatened.

It was strangely human of him.

So, for Shishigou to walk into the vipers' den without her felt wrong. Wronger than letting Gawain continue to ogle visiting noble women and causing Bedivere and Lancelot by default, to get into a brawl during court over forcing him to avert his eyes. Her [Instinct] screamed bloody murder as Kotomine and Kairi went through the door. She inhaled sharply. If she rebelled, Shishigou would waste a command spell in restraining her from decapitating Kotomine and his Servant.

Nothing was going to stop her from winning the Grail. She twisted her jaw from some remaining anger and talked to Shishigou through the telepathic link.

Master, I don't trust this priest. Are you certain that you won't be backstabbed or anything?

At her side, a fist clenched. Assassin smiled a lying fucking smile at her and angled her head. Like she was daring Mordred to go ahead and try something.

Mordred had not missed anything that reminded her of Morgan, or of Camelot, when she had been King Arthur's loyal— now was not the time to tread upon this subject . Instead, tread carefully around this schemer.

You'd better remember that you're not the only one who wants the Grail.

Of course not. You really believe that I'd willingly go down there with Father Kotomine? I have to stay in good graces with El-Melloi. But you know, this is a good time to get some fresh air while you can?

Huh? The hell are you talking about?

She could almost feel the smirk radiating from Shishigou.

The base is located under Trifas.

The gears clicked and slid into place without delay. She almost yelled and deafening Shishigou by default.

You're kidding me?! Damn necromancers!

Shishigou's rowdy laughter echoed inside her head.

She turned stiffly to Assassin who continued to smile. Mordred hoped that at the end of the war, there would come a time, when she could kill Assassin without any trouble from her fellow Servants.

"I look forward to working with you, Saber." Assassin, thankfully, didn't put out a hand. She didn't seem like the type though. As someone similar to her mother, it was no surprise to Mordred that Assassin possessed a royal demeanor.

But still, it was like getting told directly that: you are inconsequential to me. So damn irritating.

"I can't say the same—otherwise I'd be lying." She grinned fearlessly underneath her helm. "And I know how you monarchs hate disrespect. So I'll show you the treatment I give to my enemies. Don't expect too much from this Saber, Assassin!"

Assassin kept smiling despite an ugly sneer creeping in. Mordred tossed her head mockingly before inching forward.

Clarent formed in her left hand and Assassin—

"A horse, a horse!" The door slammed open and a robust, clear voice filtered inside. Mordred jumped back and held up Clarent in a ready position before lowering it in confusion at the new arrival—Caster, it seemed. "My kingdom for a horse!" He shouted.

A man of average height with auburn hair; his clothes reminded Mordred of jesters back in Camelot (but one that could afford many luxuries).

"The hell?" Mordred tilted her head, armor clinking along. This Grail War just attracted all of the weirdos out of the woodstock.

"Does anything but nonsense ever come out of your mouth, Caster?" Assassin folded her arms.

Caster's lips twitched and continued to stride over to them in a boisterous fashion. "Perish the thought my dear Empress—"

"—and remove that 'dear' part. You are not that much of a fool." She paused. "I hope for you sake that it is true—"

"—An affront to my works is an affront to myself, a playwright of renown!" His eyes darted over to Mordred and back to Assassin so seamlessly, that she almost second-guessed herself.

Assassin didn't miss the look either and Caster hurried himself into a deep bow before rising to clear his throat. Frowning, Mordred dispelled Clarent and walked forward until she had ten feet between them.

"And? What is your point?"

"Ah, well, you see...Berserker went to pick a fight." Caster's pause was less elegant and more careful, in the way that he knew he may have pushed a boundary too far. Mordred hoped Assassin would lose her cool because he smirked after the pause. "But not in Trifas. Directly, at Yggdmillenia's door. Do you believe they'll roll out the red carpet for him?"

She choked down laughter.

" What? " Assassin's voice dipped.

"As I said, our Berserker is currently headed to the Black Faction to bring the battle to them. for now, Archer is in pursuit, but whether or not she can stop him may as well be decided by the flip of a coin...well, it is most likely that she will fail." Caster interlaced his revelation with flourish, wild hands—jazz hands, apparently, via the Grail. She filed that away for later. "Ah, just like a lover whose blood is boiling with passion!"

But the news of Berserker of Red already heading for Yggdmillennia's base troubled her. Not because she cared for a lumbering Servant who couldn't even make decent conversation , but because Mordred really wanted an outlet for her frustrations. Though Berserker will lose in the end, it meant a possible retaliation the instant she stepped into Trifas.

"Uncontrollable heroes are so troublesome," Assassin sighed and closed her eyes for a brief moment. "Any idea why Berserker lost it?" Golden eyes glinted.

Caster blinked a few times. He then turned his head and shrugged all the while with growing embarrassment.

"Caster…" She murmured, dangerous undertones surfacing. "So it was you who told him of the location to the Black Faction's stronghold! You little...!"

"Oh, but please take some mercy and consideration on me! The pitiful mad warrior wishes only to seek the authority that causes his rebellious ways. How could I stand there and let him wallow in such anguish?!"

Assassin and Mordred were at a loss for words. While she was still content to watch Assassin fall off her high pedestal, there was the matter of Archer to be discussed. Berserker she didn't care about; Archer was more important in the long run, as aerial support. It was bonus that Archer was probably capable of talking sanely.

"More and more, you continue to prove yourself to be nothing but trouble—" She stopped, possibly remembering that Saber was still here. "—And you, what are you snorting about?! I hope you were instead pondering the matter of Berserker's decision to become a loose asset. After all, if you're working with us, then wouldn't you say it's time to pull some weight unlike our useless Caster?"

She stopped mid-snort and blinked before the words registered properly.

"Tch. Don't mess with me. I still want the Grail to fulfill my wish and I can still understand the necessity of working with you and that priest. Isn't that enough?" she snapped.

Assassin studied her, unnerving golden eyes and all, for a moment before turning back to Caster.

"There's no helping it, then. Archer shall have to support Berserker. I will give her strict orders to retreat if the situation turns disadvantageous through my familiars. There's no sense in losing both Archer as well. I suppose Rider is following alongside, so she has a safety net."

"Well, since that's resolved..."

"You needn't make such a mockery out of your reputation further."

"I'd like to discuss our Saber—"

"—And that's where I'm taking my leave." Mordred let Clarent disappear.

Caster and Assassin blinked.

"Saber...you're here, so why not talk? Your Master won't be returning for some time." Assassin smiled.

"Nah. I gotta go explore this new age while I can, before I get stuck underground." Mordred brushed past her, much to her satisfaction, after hearing the affronted noise.

Caster didn't seem to have any issue. He just grinned cheerfully and waved as she turned to spirit form.

—

Most of the time, the grail matched Masters and Servants to be similar in mind. They resembled each other, especially in their overwhelming confidence. Even if it meant going to the point of fatality.

For a Holy Grail War, Shishigou Kairi and Mordred were a fortunate pair. With his necromancy and her Clarent, they'd survive the onslaught that was soon to come.

That is, if there hadn't been a flaw in the strings of fate.

A different kind of path awaited the Knight of Treachery.

—

She meandered here and there, among where people congregate the most. But that turned up nothing but irritation. That feeling subsisted for a while; she got summoned to a modern age but it wasn't even remotely interesting when everything. Looked. The. Same.

Architecture resembled the medieval ages to the point of causing her to do a double-take in the first hour. It was like she had stepped back into Camelot after leaving the church. Not that the resemblance was welcome in the first place.

Mordred ended up resting near ley lines to waste leftover time. There wasn't any point in exploring, wasting mana, if nothing could amuse her.

When the curtain of night draped over the sun, Mordred left unhappily. Dragging her feet like a moping kid, she scowled at the beckoning wooden doors before pushing it open.

God, this would've been better if I was allowed to stay with him. This just put me in a bad mood.

And then [Instinct] burrowed into her brain like a drill. Shishigou. Was. Not. Here.

She barged in.

"Oi, priest, I'm here for my Master. The hell is he taking so long for?!"

Shirou stared at her, scrutinizing. He had just finished a prayer at an altar at the front. Mordred met his stare evenly.

"...so?"

He didn't respond for a second, and when he replied, it was slow and deliberate. Shirou stayed calm but moved back a few steps.

"Did he not inform you of his decision Saber?"

She sneered. "And how are you to know that?"

"Well...I just talked with him about the matters at hand, and with the other Red Masters, I convinced him to our way of thinking. After all recovering the Greater Grail means every weak link has to be secured before we move in on Yggdmillennia."

Mordred opened her mouth and stopped. Pursing her lips, she felt the connection between her and Shishigou open.

Master? She furrowed her brow. Well, why didn't you say anything while I was at the ley lines?!

Shishigou's grimace was felt even without seeing his face.

My bad. But Saber, it's fine now —

"—I have received a command from my Master. Are you taking control of the Red Faction?" A Red Servant manifested in a shower of golden sparks behind her. His eyes flashed with surprise as if he didn't expect anyone but he and Shirou to be present.

This priest's secrecy was going to be the death of her.

He glanced at her curiously after taking in Shirou's slightly defensive posture and Mordred's threatening bulk.

— Hold on for a moment . Shifting to the side, she let Lancer pass silently. He dipped his head respectfully.

A man of average height, his pale unkempt hair reminded her of a fluffy cloud. Impressive golden armor clung to Lancer's thin frame. He strode to Shirou with a willowy gait.

Shirou frowned at her but she held up a hand until he got the hint. He turned to face Lancer fully.

...Continue.

That Noble Phantasm of yours, Clarent Blood Arthur...an Anti-Army one...I want you to be able to utilize it without worrying about me getting caught in the crossfire.

Master. That's the dumbest idea I've ever heard —

This dumb Master asks you to consider his thoughts. This is a Grail War beyond that we've ever dreamed of. Twice the Servants, twice the Masters. I'll provide you all the mana you need, which means I can't focus on not getting turned to a pulp by enemy servants.

...giving me all your mana is the only reason I will accept this decision of yours , Master. Mordred flooded the link with pure annoyance.

I'll be counting on you, Saber. She was left with a sour taste in her mouth.

"What is it you wish of me? I suppose there is an enemy you want me to eliminate," Lancer asked.

Mordred straightened up.

"Yes." he nodded. "As we speak, Ruler is headed to Trifas. She is bound to get in our way. I want you to eliminate her, Lancer. You may use your Noble Phantasms as you see fit."

Lancer stayed silent for a second before replying: "Understood."

"Hold on priest." Mordred stalked over to stand between them. Pointing an arm in a nonverbal order not to leave yet, Lancer reacted with raised eyebrows. She'll deal with that later. "You're saying you want to eliminate Ruler without talking to them first? You really think the Black Faction'll have a better time convincing Ruler to fight for them?"

"Not exactly. But nor do we need extra power. Assassin's Noble Phantasm will correct any weaknesses in our defenses."

"So what, you're just doing it for the hell of it?! I, myself, don't care for rules, but I seriously can't see this lanky Lancer killing Ruler without getting flattened. Moreover—all this plotting and secrecy gives me just cause for investigating the sudden change of plans from my Master!"

"Well, you could say we did sway him using strong methods of persuasion. Through logic, that is."

" Don't mess with me you damn priest . We intended on operating independently."

Shirou made a soft noise. "Do you intend to resign from the War so early?"

"Don't jest so quickly." Mordred formed Clarent. Red lightning burned inside deeply, throwing her system into overdrive in coordination with her rising anger.

"Lancer—" Shirou called quickly at the same time as Lancer said, "Should you not push for the truth like you said instead of resorting to violence first?"

"Keep your mouth shut Lancer! There are just some things that need force, not finesse!"

He sighed at that.

"Very well, then. Don't blame me for the outcome of this duel."

"Ha! You can criticize all you want when you're tethered to my magnanimity spearman! "

She had no intention of killing him though unless he turned out to be disappointing. The Grail was still at stake.

Lancer's white hair bounced slightly as he strode forward, brandishing a golden spear at Mordred's head. Longer than his body, the spear's head ended in a circle complete with spikes. That was nothing she couldn't handle with a little maneuvering, even if it was of divine origin. Piercing cobalt blues held her glare calmly. She smirked back, rising to his unspoken challenge.

Shirou's presence disappeared from her concerns for the moment. Lancer's blood called to her, and she would abide by its demands to be shed.

"While Kotomine Shirou is but one of the Red Masters, he is the one in charge of direct support. I will not allow you to harm him." Lancer continued to parry her blows easily to her growing frustration.

Steel on steel echoed in the Church. Pews broke under the windfall damage. While Mordred fought like the wild Berserker than the noble Saber, anyone would've been off-guard long enough for a few fatal opportunities. But Lancer somehow kept up—no, he was on equal terms. That bothered her a lot.

They exchanged over forty blows before Lancer decided to move forward, displaying his class's famed blistering speed.

Mordred grunted from the sudden force. Clarent met the spear in a shower of golden sparks before utilizing a [Mana Burst] to force the divine spear down. Her foot planted it in the ground she bared her sword at his unguarded neck.

His eyes narrowed. That was the only warning. Mordred snarled as he kicked her side—her armor blocked the worst of it but she slid backward from the force. Surprised, she couldn't stop Lancer from bringing up the spear again the instant he removed her foot.

Another concern was how his own armor seemed to negate all the slashes she brought down upon him earlier.

His armor might prevent any slashes from being too effective but Mordred fancied smashing his skull open. Very much.

A torrent of mana rose.

Focusing another [Mana Burst] for her legs made up for the small gap in Agility. She grinned fearlessly as she tackled him and wrapped her arms around his thin waist. Lancer twisted around instantly like a startled cat, both in body and expression.

"It's over Lancer!" Mordred crowed and suxpled him into the floor. Dust rose out from them like a waterfall, greedily expanding into empty space.

"I think not." came his cool voice as he suddenly flipped their positions.

"—agh, shit!"

Mordred blanched and drew up her knees to push him away by kicking before he could pin her down fully. Part of her was impressed that he still stood unwinded. The other part was irritated that this meant she might not win.

Nevertheless, she found herself outnumbered as Caster and Assassin appeared. The latter had an ugly snarl to her lips and the former a look of delight, switching his eyes back and forth at them.

Lancer stood tall, forming his spear again. He calmly kept his stare fixed on Mordred.

"You have my thanks, Lancer." Somehow, Shirou had managed to escape the confrontation unscathed.

Lancer replied as his spear turned to spirit form: "You needn't thank me for protection that was to be your Servant's purpose."

He smiled. "Nevertheless, I appreciate you and your efforts."

Lancer nodded. "If Saber's test is over, then I will set out for Ruler now."

"Just a minute Lancer. Please remain here for a few minutes."

"...understood." He moved off to the side.

Meanwhile, two glowing purple portals with arching chains formed above Assassin's head. She thrust out an arm at Mordred, still sneering.

"Well, Saber, it seems like you've proved yourself plenty. At least, in your strength. However, I won't tolerate any attempts on my Master. One step anywhere, and I'll behead you where you stand."

"As if a lowly Assassin like you could stop me," Mordred hissed.

"Perhaps you should have been better off spending more time as a squire—"

One of Lancer's eyes glinting a bright blood red quenched her retort. Shirou placed a hand on Assassin's shoulders, murmuring entreaties.

"Saber," he started when Assassin backed down along with her portal chains, "let me explain."

"Then don't beat around the bush." Mordred slammed Clarent down into the stone.

Caster winced.

"As I said," Shirou said smoothly, "Shishigou Kairi changed his mind." He tilted his head. "Unless you intend to defy your Master's will, I believe it is still prudent for me to act as the coordinator, while the other Red Masters fortify themselves in a safe spot. I'm still going to assume you already received a direct version of what I just told you."

She gritted her teeth. Slowly, grudgingly, she nodded. Shirou beamed. If it wasn't for Lancer and Assassin being present, she'd punt that right off his smug face.

"Now then Saber, would you do us the honors of revealing what lowlife legend you hail from?" Assassin asked sweetly, tilting her head and folding arms, taking on the appearance of a forgiving ruler.

But she was not some damn retainer who would come crawling back after a failed rebellion.

"You must be mistaken, Assassin. They seem to be of the Round Table, O Assyrian Queen! That hardy bearing! That helm! That kingly sword that dazzles brighter than any piece of silver!" Caster rubbed his gloved hands together with a twinkle in his eyes. "I know this style of armor to be similar to those in Arthurian legends. In fact, I would go so far as to say that—"

"Caster, your theatrics does no one any favors, much less a migraine," Assassin cut him off, rubbing her forehead. "If you can be quiet for more than a minute, then perhaps we can get to the matter of the subject without dancing around it needlessly."

"You wound me, Assassin!" Caster clutched his chest to mime out a heart attack.

Shirou smiled awkwardly before talking again.

"Saber, this might not be reparations, but I'd like to reveal the Servants of Red's True Names. I am sorry, that you can't operate independently with your Master, but I believe this to be the better course of action." Shirou said.

"Master…" Assassin murmured, eyes flickering to meet his.

"It's fine, Assassin," Shirou reassured her. "It won't make any difference. Our Rider, Archer, and Berserker are: Achilles, Atalanta, and Spartacus."

She controlled her breathing at the first name he revealed. Atalanta, definitely; Spartacus maybe. But he's probably going to get killed early by the Black Faction from his campaign.

"Putting your faith in only Greek Heroic Spirits?" Mordred snorted. "That's not wise."

She wouldn't put it past Assassin to teach Shirou the same lying smile she sported.

"Lancer, if you will." Shirou held out a hand for him.

"My name is Karna, the son of the sun god." He dipped his head but his voice was dispassionate and cold as his suddenly neutral expression after they stopped fighting.

...okay, so maybe she'd have some trouble with the Hero of Charity. She'd just have to fight in an enclosed space. This time, that damn Lancer won't get the upper hand on her again.

"Semiramis. An Assyrian Empress. Let's work nicely together now." That lying smile appeared again.

Her Agility eclipsed Semiramis. D-rank versus B-rank was slaughter, and that infuriating smell will disappear with her head.

"I, Caster of Red, am William Shakespeare!" He bowed deeply and outstretched a hand for her as he looked up. His smile was not unlike Semiramis's. But at least it felt like that shitty cock wizard Merlin instead of Morgan's secretiveness. "At your service, my good knight."

Weakling. One step. One swing.

"And you?" Shirou's voice, no matter how gentle it was, brooked no arguments. His eyes were a warning enough as well as Karna standing behind him.

Whatever, she had gotten the point by the time Karna forced her into a stalemate. Surviving a suplex did wonders for her [Instinct].

She huffed, irritated that she was effectively backed into corner. Her helmet collapsed into her pauldrons with little fanfare. Nor did she like how Shirou rubbed a spot over his left eye. Concentration sprawled itself all over his face.

"I am Mordred, the true successor of the King of Knights, Arthur Pendragon," she declared proudly. It was still one act of free will she had.

Karna didn't react as far as she could tell. She ignored it for now.

Semiramis was taken aback.

Shakespeare's face lit up like a child upon hearing they got to have candy after a long dry...wait, that was for alcoholic metaphors. Well, he was just ecstatic so Mordred resolved to avoid him in the future.

She wasn't here to make friends in the first place.

"The Knight of Treachery," Semiramis murmured under her breath. "A bastard child who destroyed Camelot from the inside and ravaged Britain till she met her end on Camlann. The one who ended King Arthur's glorious legend. A pity." Her tone was surprisingly respectful.

She tensed anyway.

Shakespeare nodded furiously and whirled around, showing his back, unworried. "'tis a shame, for—"

Mordred stopped him without remorse by baring her teeth. She let her words ooze with so much murderous intent that even a trashy Servant like him would understand.

"Oi, Caster, what would you think about me taking you out of the War, since you're unnecessary? You're being a waste of air." Mordred narrowed her eyes and brandished Clarent at him. It appropriately cowed him, or at least, subdued his words, to her satisfaction.

"Father Kotomine!" Mordred winced from the sudden vigour Shakespeare found; he must've been shaken, or affected, in the moment of her unbridled ire. "As much as I'd like to converse and whatnot, I must return to my workshop and continue to toil over the item you requested."

Shirou's face filled with understanding. "That's fine. We still have three days before we will assault Yggdmillennia."

Three days? Her brow furrowed as she mulled it over. That's kind of a short preparation period.

He shot her a full-teethed smirk and a tiny nod before going off in spirit form.

Mordred turned to Semiramis and raised head, grinning. She glowered back.

That expression is unsightly for a monarch. Mordred didn't care that she might be that kind of king one day—everyone will be too busy admiring her prowess in battle instead.

Semiramis hadn't liked her words, though, despite the useless Caster irritating her some hours ago. So much for getting on her good side, Mordred thought, rolling her eyes.

"Mind your tongue. As the Knight of Treachery, it would not be out of line to behead you as proper punishment." She drew a line across her neck using perfect nails . "A reminder that you are not necessary when we have Rider and Lancer." Perfect though they were, none had calluses. Why would there be, when this queen had faced only political subterfuge, and none of the wars Mordred participated in? If there were any, they were invisible.

But Mordred scowled back anyway, like a bellicose snapping turtle. Like she'd let Semiramis have the last word.

"Right back at you, turtle-bugged woman."

Semiramis and Mordred held eye contact, neither deigning to defer to the other's authority by breaking the stare first.

After a brief silence, air filled with tension, Shirou—rather nervously, as if he was actually apologetic—spoke up.

"Must you be so unaccommodating for our new ally?" Shirou frowned.

"I only mean the best for Sir Mordred." Semiramis turned around and smiled at him. Her eyes widened sharply in interest. "Forgive me, Master, but you must be careful with Heroic Spirits like these."

Mordred snorted. Hypocrite. But it wasn't like she could change her reputation. Like the odds of fighting against Father, or any of the spineless invertebrates of that accursed table. Even so, her stomach churned under new stress and she fought the lump forming in her throat. So why did she still sting from that comment? Semiramis was far from King Arthur's legend and it wasn't Father who stood before Mordred, yet...

...She spun around on her heel, making sure that her sabatons dug in holes as she walked, and waved a hand over her shoulder. "Fine then. I'll be around. But don't expect me to come running back for help. This Heroic Spirit, treacherous she may be, is stronger than a mere queen and an author."

But she couldn't help but shiver inside. Karna's eyes lingered on her.

She left via spirit form regardless of Semiramis and Shirou's responses.

She believed it was a simple explanation. He was just unsettled from the brief spar they had. He might be a great warrior from the Mahabharata, but everyone knew Indian Mythology blew everything out of proportion. As long as his power was directed at the enemy, she had little problem with him. Suddenly, the dream of gaining the Grail and fulfilling her wish didn't seem hopeless, like it had, after Shishigou joined the Red Masters.

She'd keep an eye on Shishigou's status.

He had just talked to her; his mana was available to use.

Mordred wondered if the Grail could be used as a drinking cup. She grinned to herself.

The sweet taste of victory'll blot out any lingering mana from vanquished Heroic Spirits.