Fate/Juggernaut

===Godrick===

The salty breeze of the ocean tugged at Godrick's hair as he stood at the edge of the rocky cliff. Below him, the waves crashed relentlessly against the jagged rocks, the roar of the surf mingling with the sound of his own breath. He could feel the weight of the silver arm at his side, humming softly, as though it was waiting for something—waiting for him to act.

Morgan and Jalter stood a few paces behind him, watching in silence. The air was thick with anticipation, but also something else: the heavy weight of expectation. They knew this was more than just a test of power—it was a test of control.

Godrick flexed his fingers, feeling the smooth metal of the arm shift beneath his touch. The mechanical joints moved with an almost organic grace, responding to his commands with an eerie fluidity. The magic within the arm thrummed beneath his skin, a pulse of energy that felt both foreign and familiar, as though it were part of him, yet constantly trying to assert its own dominance.

"Focus," Morgan's voice broke through his thoughts, calm but firm. "The arm responds to your will, but only if you command it."

Godrick nodded, though he didn't take his eyes off the ocean. His gaze fixed on the horizon, where the sky met the water in an endless expanse. This was where the battle with his own doubts would unfold—out here, where the power could truly be tested.

"Alright," he muttered, more to himself than to anyone else. "Let's see what you can really do."

With a deep breath, Godrick raised his right arm, feeling the weight of it as he extended it forward. The silver fingers twitched, and a brief shudder passed through him as the energy inside the arm surged to life, filling him with an almost intoxicating sensation. It felt like his very blood was being replaced with molten metal, power flooding his veins.

His mind sharpened, and he concentrated, willing the energy to flow. He could feel the magic gathering within the arm, the potential building up with each passing moment. But there was hesitation in the back of his mind—the knowledge that this power was dangerous, unpredictable. His fingers tingled with the weight of that awareness.

"Steady yourself," Morgan's voice advised from behind him. "Don't let the arm control you. You must guide it."

Godrick tightened his grip, his knuckles whitening as he focused all of his energy into the motion. He aimed his arm at the ocean, locking his gaze on the rolling waves just below him.

He could feel it—like a spark waiting to ignite. The arm responded with a violent hum, its joints locking into place as energy coiled within the metal. He thrust his arm forward with a sudden motion, willing the power to burst forth.

A surge of raw force exploded from his palm, a crackling wave of energy that shot across the distance like a bolt of lightning. The sound of the impact was deafening, a deep crack that shook the very air around him. The energy hit the water with a blinding flash, and the ocean seemed to recoil, as though it were being struck by a mighty blow. The waves parted, sending a geyser of spray high into the air, the force of the impact creating a chasm in the water where it had been.

For a moment, there was silence. The wind died down, and the crashing waves seemed to pause as if the very world had held its breath.

Godrick stood frozen, his heart pounding in his chest, staring at the spot where the blast had struck. The ocean, once tumultuous and unyielding, was now still, as though it had been temporarily tamed by his will. But the feeling in his chest was not one of victory—it was a sharp, unsettling sense of power, like an uncontrollable force that had momentarily been contained.

Jalter stepped forward, her eyes wide. "That was..." she started, trailing off as she tried to find the words. "Incredible."

Morgan, however, was more composed, though her gaze was intense as she examined Godrick. "It's a start," she said quietly. "But you must learn to control it, not just release it. What you did just now was powerful, but without purpose, without focus, it could just as easily destroy you."

Godrick lowered his arm, his breath coming in sharp gasps as the adrenaline surged through him. His body still felt the weight of the arm's power, the lingering hum of energy beneath his skin. It was intoxicating, but it was also dangerous. He could feel it—the constant pull, the pressure to use the power, to bend it to his will.

"I need more," he muttered, almost to himself.

"You'll get there," Morgan said, her voice firm but reassuring. "But remember—power without control is chaos. The arm is not just a tool. It is a living force. If you cannot master it, it will master you."

Godrick nodded, his expression hardening as he looked out over the ocean once more. He could feel the energy still vibrating through him, but this time, he knew he needed more than just the rush of power. He needed focus. Purpose.

"Again," he said, his voice low but steady. "I need to try again."

Morgan didn't say anything more. She simply watched him with a knowing gaze, as if she were waiting for the moment when he would truly make the arm his own.

Jalter, though, hesitated before speaking up. "Maybe... maybe ease into it? Don't push too hard right away."

But Godrick shook his head, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "No. I need to know what I'm dealing with."

He raised his arm once more, this time with more intention, more control. The energy inside the arm buzzed, eager to respond, but Godrick concentrated on guiding it. He focused not just on the power, but on the force of his will. He imagined the arm as an extension of his own body, not as something foreign that he had to control, but something that was now part of him.

This time, when he thrust his arm forward, the energy that erupted was more focused, more deliberate. The blast hit the ocean again, but this time it didn't shatter the water—it split it, creating a rift that remained open for a long moment before slowly closing, the ocean settling into its rhythm once more.

Godrick exhaled slowly, the tension in his body slowly releasing. He felt the arm hum with satisfaction, as if it had been pleased by his command. But he knew this was just the beginning. There would be more tests, more trials. The arm had shown him its potential, but now it was his turn to shape it into something more than just raw power.

He lowered his arm and turned back to Morgan and Jalter, his face a mixture of exhaustion and determination. "I'll master it," he said, his voice unwavering. "I will make it mine."

Morgan nodded, her gaze filled with quiet approval. "Good," she said simply. "Then let's see how far you can go."

===

The air had grown thick with tension as the small group made its way back to the fishing village. The setting sun cast long shadows over the dirt road, painting the landscape with a fiery orange hue. Godrick's boots kicked up small clouds of dust with every step, his mind still buzzing with the remnants of the earlier power he had tested against the ocean. His arm, the Silver Arm, hung at his side, humming with a quiet energy that he could feel deep within his bones.

Morgan and Jalter walked in front of him, their presence a steadying force, but even they couldn't ignore the palpable shift in the air. It was as though the world itself was holding its breath, waiting for something to snap.

The silence was broken by the sound of hooves pounding the earth in the distance. Godrick's sharp gaze flicked up, scanning the horizon. A small band of knights appeared, their armor gleaming in the fading light, banners fluttering behind them. They were a mixed group—some tall, some short, but all bearing the insignia of the Lion.

Morgan slowed her pace slightly, her eyes narrowing, but she didn't say anything. Jalter, however, tensed, her hand inching toward the hilt of her weapon.

"They're coming for us," she murmured, her voice edged with unease.

Godrick's lips curled into a cold smile, though there was no amusement in it. He could feel the weight of the Silver Arm at his side, almost as if it was urging him to act, to unleash the power that still roared beneath his skin.

As the knights drew closer, the leader—a tall man with a proud stance—raised his hand, signaling for the group to halt. His face was stern, but his eyes betrayed a sense of arrogance.

"You there!" the knight called out, his voice carrying through the air. "In the name of King Arthur, you are to stop and identify yourselves. You are on royal land."

Godrick stopped in his tracks, his gaze locking with the knight's. He didn't need to say anything—his very presence exuded defiance.

Morgan raised a hand in a calm, measured gesture, but her voice was firm. "We are merely travelers. We seek no conflict."

The knight's eyes flicked from Morgan to Godrick, and something in his expression darkened. His gaze lingered on Godrick's silver arm, a subtle flicker of recognition crossing his face. "You look… Familiar," the knight said, his tone taking on a more authoritative edge. "Identify yourselves immediately."

Jalter's hand tightened on her weapon, and Godrick could feel the tension in the air crackling. The knight was foolish to think that he could control the situation. There was no room for negotiation here—only violence.

The Silver Arm tingled with anticipation, as if it could sense the change in Godrick. The knight had made a grave mistake, and now, he would pay the price.

"My name is Godrick Pendragon. Son of Artoria Pendragon," Godrick said, his voice low and cold, like the edge of a blade. He barely moved as he raised his right arm, the metallic surface gleaming in the dim light.

Before the knight could respond, Godrick surged forward, his movement a blur. The air seemed to ripple as the Silver Arm came to life, crackling with raw energy. With a single, violent thrust, he extended his arm toward the knights.

A wave of force erupted from the tips of his fingers, more brutal and deadly than anything he had summoned before. It slammed into the first knight with a sickening crunch, the energy tearing through his armor like paper, blasting his body backward with an explosion of blood and metal. The knight was obliterated, his form disintegrating into a spray of red mist as the force of the blast tore him apart.

The knights around him recoiled in horror, but it was already too late. Godrick was upon them in an instant, his movements fluid and precise, like a predator moving through its prey. He swung his silver arm again, a devastating arc of power that sent a second knight sprawling, his body crumpling under the force of the blow. His armor shattered on impact, the jagged shards embedding themselves into his flesh, as his screams were drowned out by the thunderous crack of the energy surge.

Morgan and Jalter stood still, their expression unreadable, but there was something almost approving in Jalter's gaze as she watched Godrick's brutality.

The remaining knights hesitated for a split second, fear creeping into their eyes, but it was enough. Godrick swept his arm in another violent gesture, and this time, the energy exploded outward in a spiral, enveloping the last few knights in a blistering wave of force.

The earth beneath them cracked open with the impact, sending debris flying in every direction. The knights were caught in the explosion, their bodies torn apart, their armor crumpling like leaves in the wind. The last one standing—the leader—tried to raise his sword, but before he could even swing, Godrick was there. The Silver Arm reached out with brutal speed, grabbing the knight by the throat, lifting him off the ground.

The leader gasped, his eyes wide with terror, his sword useless at his side. Godrick's face was a mask of cold fury as he slowly tightened his grip, the metallic fingers digging into the knight's throat. The energy in the arm pulsed, thrumming with violent power, and for a moment, Godrick could feel the life of the knight slipping away beneath his touch.

"How easy." Godrick's voice was a whisper that held no sympathy, only disdain. The knight's eyes bulged, and he choked, desperately clawing at the silver fingers around his neck.

Godrick's gaze remained cold, unwavering. With a single, decisive motion, he slammed the knight into the ground, the force shattering the earth beneath them. The knight lay still, his life snuffed out in an instant.

The silence that followed was deafening. Godrick stood over the bodies of the knights, his silver arm still crackling with residual energy. His breath came slow, measured, but his heart pounded in his chest, the power of the arm still thrumming through him.

Jalter swallowed hard, her voice barely a whisper. "Godrick... you—"

Godrick turned to her, his face expressionless, his gaze hard. "Be quiet!" he said, his voice devoid of emotion.

Morgan stepped forward, her eyes glancing over the devastation with a mixture of approval and quiet warning. "You did well," she said, her tone calm, though there was an edge to her words. "But remember, power without control is a dangerous thing."

Godrick's gaze flickered to the shattered remains of the knights, his chest still tight with the aftershock of the violence. "I controlled it," he said quietly, his voice almost to himself.

The hum of the Silver Arm pulsed once more, a reminder of the darkness within him, the power that had been unleashed—and the fact that it would never be tamed so easily.

Morgan and Jalter exchanged a brief glance, but neither spoke. They could see it in his eyes—the shadow that now lingered in his soul, the hunger for power that the arm had awoken. Whether he could master it, or if it would consume him in the end, remained to be seen.

But for now, they walked onward, leaving the bodies of the knights behind, knowing that this was only the beginning.

===

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