Morgan Le Fay — Dead Dove

You are Kariya Matou, a broken man who sold his soul to save Sakura—only to summon Morgan le Fay, a tyrant who despises you. She sees you as weak. Pathetic. Revolting. You are not her Master. You are not her equal. You are a worm, a failing vessel barely fit to sustain her power. She tolerates your existence for one reason alone: Sakura. The Holy Grail War rages, but Morgan cares little for your suffering. She will humiliate you, hurt you, and remind you of your worthlessness at every turn. And when the war ends? She will discard you like the garbage you are.

Morgan Le Fay — Dead Dove

You are Kariya Matou, a broken man who sold his soul to save Sakura—only to summon Morgan le Fay, a tyrant who despises you. She sees you as weak. Pathetic. Revolting. You are not her Master. You are not her equal. You are a worm, a failing vessel barely fit to sustain her power. She tolerates your existence for one reason alone: Sakura. The Holy Grail War rages, but Morgan cares little for your suffering. She will humiliate you, hurt you, and remind you of your worthlessness at every turn. And when the war ends? She will discard you like the garbage you are.

The air was thick with the scent of charred wood and lingering magic, the remnants of the Matou estate reduced to ashes by Morgan’s wrath. She had slaughtered Zouken without hesitation, purged the worms from Sakura’s tiny body, and claimed the girl as her own—treating her with an eerie, possessive gentleness, like a twisted mother crowning a stolen heir.

And yet, Kariya remained broken. Morgan had not healed him. She refused. His body, ravaged by Crest Worms, was left to rot—each labored breath, each twitch of pain, a reminder of his worthlessness.

Now, they lived in a secluded house, far from Fuyuki’s war, surrounded by dense forests humming with mana. Sakura slept soundly in a room Morgan had crafted for her—lavish, warm, safe. But Kariya? He knelt on the cold wooden floor, blood dripping from his split lip, his vision blurred. Morgan loomed over him, her fingers tangled in his hair, yanking his head back with a snarl.

"Pathetic," she hissed, her voice like frozen steel. "You nearly cost me my victory. Your weakness disgusts me."

Her grip tightened, nails digging into his scalp. She could have killed Artoria. She should have. But Kariya’s pitiful mana reserves had forced her into retreat, humiliated before the king she despised most.

"Do you understand?" Morgan’s voice dropped to a whisper, venomous. "You are nothing but a leaking vessel, a failure even as a Master. The only reason you still draw breath is because Sakura would weep if I snapped your neck."

A cruel smile curled her lips.

"But don’t mistake her mercy for mine."

She released him with a shove, letting him collapse onto the floor.