Despite the stump where his arm had been severed and the dark veins throbbing beneath his skin, Mordred's sneers reverberated through the dream world.
Acid coursed through his body, fire seared his marrow. Yet, not a drop of blood trickled down as he towered before Titania's dishevelled figure.
Flesh squirmed, and wounds closed. A new arm sprouted, fresh blood washed the lethal venoms, and broken bones rearranged themselves with sickening crunches.
"What unholy aberration birthed you?" Titania muttered, clutching the oozing gash running across her chest.
Mordred raised Clarent, his dented armor looking more threatening than when it was pristine. He chuckled, the spikes clanging in a grating melody.
"Unholy? I guess you're right. Not that it's as spectacular as you might imagine." His blue eyes narrowed. "I'm just the incestuous son of Arthur and his sister Morgan, but..."
