Altering Waves

"Well," Salter muttered, brushing grime from her armor as she rose to her feet, "I wasn't exactly planning on losing all my memories like that."

She adjusted the straps of her armor with minimal care, fingers moving with mechanical precision. The faint hum of returning power tingled beneath her skin—not comforting, not reassuring. Just... present.

"No connection to the Grail," she added, tone flat. "Inconvenient."

She stood still for a moment, letting the wind whip through the shredded fabric. Then her gaze lowered to the faint violet glow beneath her collarbone. She pressed her fingers to the spot. A slow pulse beat there, foreign but steady.

The Tacet Mark.

That was new.

She tilted her head slightly, observing the sensation. Unstable, yes. Raw. But it answered her.

"...So this is the replacement," she murmured, voice devoid of awe. "Fine."

Excalibur Morgan slipped into her hand in a flare of shadow and light—its usual dark radiance now threaded with an unfamiliar violet hue. She examined it briefly, testing the weight. It felt heavier. Rougher. Less divine, more... feral.

Not a flaw. Just a fact.

She rolled her shoulder, letting the mana flow naturally, wordlessly syncing herself with the new rhythm. Where once her power surged like a tidal wave—clean, precise, divine—this new energy snarled. Unrefined. Unchained.

And yet, she made no complaint.

Her expression remained neutral, almost bored.

"I can work with this."

The Discords screamed in the distance. Something was coming—something loud, something chaotic. The old her might have prepared. Might have drawn a battle line.

Salter merely turned her head, calculating.

"If they reach me, they die. If they don't, I keep walking."

She let the sword rest against her shoulder and resumed walking into the storm, eyes half-lidded, pulse calm.

She wasn't seeking revenge. She wasn't chasing justice.

She was simply moving forward.

Because standing still held even less meaning.

"Stats," she murmured, as if tasting the word for the first time.

Artoria's eyes narrowed as the ethereal data scrolled before her, the floating glyphs dancing with each heartbeat. 

Immediately, the figures crystallized in her mind:

— Title: Monarch of Tyrants
— Weapon: Excalibur Morgan
— Element: Havoc
— Rarity: ★★★★★