chpater 8

3

Chapter Text

For the first time since we arrived, I slept peacefully that night. No dreams or haunting memories, only blissful slumber. When I awoke, I felt ready, ready for the daunting task we were about to embark upon: attacking Orléans.

Nearby, I saw that Ritsuka was also waking up. "Good morning Rits," I said softly, getting a sleepy 'hi' in response from my fellow Master. I stood up and stretched, seeing that our Servants were getting ready as well.

There was a mixture of emotions in the air. Excitement, fear, nervousness, determination.

And why shouldn't there be? After all, we were about to embark on the final leg of our journey. One that we must ensure ended in victory, no matter the cost.

Breakfast was quiet, and a part of me felt like it was like a last supper. In a way, I suppose, it was, at least for some of us. Whether we won or lost, Jeanne and the others whom we had met on this journey would return to the Throne of Heroes at the end of this day. It was a sobering thought, though there was still a chance that some or even all of them could be summoned back at Chaldea, and preferably with the memories of these past few days, too. An hour later, and Ritsuka, Mash, and I were packing up our small campsite, our breakfast finished.

Another visit to the town's mayor had seen him outfitting our party with horses after I explained how we needed to get to Orléans quickly, as we had the only way to fix everything. The clear desperation in the man's eyes was heartrending, even if it allowed for us to gain a faster method of transportation that wouldn't exhaust our Servants before our inevitable battle with Jeanne Alter and the forces she could muster.

Thirty minutes later, and we were all saddled up. On the walls were throngs of citizens of Thiers, cheering and waving at us. Apparently, the mayor had spread word about what I had told him, and the locals wanted to wish their 'heroes' off. Ritsuka and Mash looked the most uncomfortable with the attention, while Elisabeth seemed to relish in it. I cleared my throat, gaining everyone's attention.

"Today, we march on Orléans. I can think of no finer colleagues to fight alongside. We fight for not the Holy Grail, but for humanity's survival," I said, trying to be as charismatic as I could be. After all, the stories all told of a speech before the final battle, didn't they? "Do your duties, and look after one another. To victory!" The others repeated the claim, minus for the quieter Servants, like Medea, or more battle-hardened Servants, such as Jeanne, Chulainn, and Mordred. Though, as always, the latter had an excited gleam. Well, she's always going on about wanting to have a challenge.

Who am I to deny my Servant such a simple desire?

"Forward!" I said, and the crowd watching us roared louder as we spurred our mounts forward, making all due haste to the lair of the Dragon Witch.

The first two hours were quiet. Too quiet. The enemy must know of our movements, not that it could have been helped. But still, what choice did we have but to push forward? I will admit, however, that it was a welcome release when I heard an irritatingly familiar roar far above us. I gripped my sword briefly, but didn't draw it, instead pointing skywards, shouting to grab the attention of the others.

"Here they come! Take them down!" I roared, sweeping my hand before the diving squadron of wyverns. Taking bold actions, I raised my other hand and began to fire bursts of Gandr, an action I was copying from my fellow Master the previous day and who was repeating it. The two Casters of our group added to the improvised AA fire, and in those opening moments, several wyverns fell towards the ground, their wings cut or severed.

Still a dozen and a half or so wyverns were almost upon us. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sasaki stand up onto the back of his horse, his sword gripped tightly as he assumed the posture that indicated that he was about to unleash his Noble Phantasm. Sure enough, a wyvern unfortunate enough to have moved into his range was carved up into three bloody slices.

Towards the rear, Chulainn adjusted his grip on Gàe Bolg, moving the seven-blade spear into an overhand position before throwing it at a wyvern. The cursed weapon pierced the scaley breast of the beast, and its dying bloody tumbled over the ground. The Lancer deftly picked up his weapon from the dissolving corpse as he urged his mount past it, his red eyes already searching for his next target.

Another wyvern swooped down at me, but before it could attack me, the blade of a large broadsword whistled through the air near me, and the wyvern's head was parted from its now-twitching body. "Thanks," I said to Mordred, who nodded back at me, her eyes gleaming hungrily as they typically did in battle.

Before long, the enemy squadron was eliminated. The only things moving in the flat field we were in being our group. Still, the hairs on the back of my neck were still standing, the first clue that something was wrong. The second was a series of high-pitched whistling noises slowly growing louder. My eyes widened as I looked ahead and skywards.

"Incoming! Take cover!" I shouted as dozens of arrows began their final approach, having reached the apex of their flight. Jeanne leapt off of her horse, holding her furled flagpole aloft.

"Oh flag of mine, protect our comrades," she began to say as the arrows drew closer. Warm golden light began to appear around the fabric as the banner unfurled. "Luminosité Eternelle!"

She had finished deploying her Noble Phantasm not a moment too soon, for seconds later the hail of arrows struck. Before I could finish blinking, the ground surrounding our group was covered with arrows, but not a single one had struck us. Despite a somewhat strained look marring her expression, the saint maintained her Noble Phantasm as we looked around frantically.

"Did anyone see who did that?" Ritsuka called out as we grouped up, our Servants dismounting. I tried to follow, but Mordred stared at me, and I could feel her glare behind her horned helmet. I nodded my surrender in silence and she returned the gesture, standing close by.

Thankfully, we didn't have to wait long for our attacker to reveal themselves.

"RULER!!!!"

The shouter was a woman in an intricately-designed green dress. Her hair was an unusual mixture of greenish-blue in the front and blonde, and at the top poked out what appeared to be two ears like the ones of a lion. A lion's tail trailed behind her. She carried a bow, an arrow already notched and the bowstring drawn. Her green eyes bore into Jeanne d'Arc, who was unable to move as she was still deploying her protective Noble Phantasm.

"MONSTER! MURDERER! DIE!" The Servant howled. So, I had three things to go off of right now: She was an Archer, she had been given the Berserker trait, and she had a hate-boner for Jeanne d'Arc apparently. "I'LL KILL YOU FOR WHAT YOU DID!"

Yep, definitely getting from Berserker Archer a strong feeling of hatred towards our French comrade.

"What the hell, this really is a Greater Holy Grail War reunion!" Mordred groused. I grunted at my Servant.

"Another old colleague?"

"Mhm. She was Archer of Red. My…teammate. I didn't learn what her True Name is," Mordred said quickly as Berserker Archer prepared to fire another rapid volley of arrows. "Nor the reason why she's going after Ruler," she added before I could ask.

"Damn it! She's certainly living up to her class then! Anything else about her that you can share?" I asked a bit gruffly as more arrows impacted against the invisible barrier Jeanne had given.

"Yeah, don't get shot," the Knight of Rebellion responded dryly. I gritted my teeth but didn't snap at her. Honestly, we were stuck as it were. Berserker Archer had a range advantage, and if Mordred's advice was anything to go with, her Noble Phantasm was probably some sort of crazy 'area of effect' type.

"Not coming up with any good plans here," Ritsuka said warningly to me. I growled in agreement, biting my lower lip when suddenly, to my surprise, the rain of arrows had stopped. She couldn't possibly have run out of arrows, not for a Servant.

"Gah! Damn you! If you won't die to my arrows, then I'll rip your throat out!" The crazed and bloodthirsty Archer roared, leaping forward. A dozen more wyverns had appeared by now with the apparent intent of assisting the Servant against us. Well, this was still problematic, but at least we had a better advantage now.

"Siegfried, Georgios, Sasaki! Bring those beasts down. Mordred, go protect Jeanne! Elisabeth, Amadeus, stay back in reserve," I barked out my instructions.

"Mash, please assist Mordred. Chulainn, stay back for now. Medea, Kiyohime, assist the others," Ritsuka said immediately after me. Our Servants sprang into action. "I'll keep an eye on the wyverns, you go focus on watching the others defeat Berserker Archer," my fellow Master offered. I nodded graciously before looking just in time to see Berserker Archer skid to the side, courtesy of Mordred's slamming of Clarent's cross-guard into the side of her face.

Berserker Archer recovered quickly, however, and lunged at Mordred, gripping the bottom section of her bow with the apparent intent of using it as a club. She swings it but Mordred easily blocks it with Clarent.

Mash came charging in from the side next, slamming her massive shield into the maddened Servant's side. She quickly recovered, however, with a feral snarl she lashed out at Mash. Ritsuka's Demi-Servant barely managed to deflect the strike with her shield before Berserker Archer suddenly changed tactics, swinging her bow low, knocking Mash off her feet. The Shielder cried out in alarm as her back hit the grass beneath her, Berserker Archer glaring down at her.

Mordred came charging in next, intent on bisecting the troublesome Servant at best, or at the very least, force her to switch her attention away from the prone Demi-Servant at her feet. In a blur of motion, Berserker Archer lashed out with her foot, hitting Mordred hard in her midriff and sending the Saber skidding several yards away before she lost her balance and tumbled a few yards more.

However, Berserker Archer didn't follow up with attacks on either of the two girls, instead still glaring murderously at Jeanne. As the Maid of Orléans began to break off her deployment of her Noble Phantasm, the Archer was within her guard, delivering a strike with the tip of her bow to the Ruler's midriff. The force of the blow caused the Ruler to bend over, wide-eyed, before a hand grabbed her by the throat, holding the now-thrashing Servant off the ground as she fought for air.

"Ruler!" Mordred exclaimed angrily, trying to regain her bearings.

"Now die, Ruler!" Berserker Archer roared as she threw Jeanne to the ground before swiftly notching an arrow and pointing it at the Ruler's heart.

"Jeanne!" I cried in alarm, and Mordred pushed herself back up onto her feet, running forward as fast as she can. She wasn't going to make it…

"Chulainn! Now!" Ritsuka called out next to me. The Irish Lancer looked over at his Master briefly, nodding, a wild glint in his eyes before he locked his gaze onto Berserker Archer.

"Your heart is mine! Gàe—" Chulainn turned into a blur of blue, silver, and red, dashing past us as cold red energy pulsed menacingly from his spear. The next moment I could see him properly, he was within Berserker Archer's guard. Her eyes widened, and even in her state of madness she had recognized the danger.

Too late.

"BOLG!" A horrid, wet squishing sound could be heard as Ireland's Child of Light impaled Mordred's former teammate. The Archer gasped in pain, a line of blood drippling out of the corner of her mouth as Ritsuka's Lancer withdrew the cursed spear that had pierced her heart.

"….thank…you," She whispered, the hold of madness Jeanne Alter had afflicted her with now broken. She closed her eyes and faded away without another word. Meanwhile, Mordred helped Jeanne back onto her feet, the latter rubbing her throat with a wince.

"You okay over there, Jeanne?" I called out. The Ruler looked at me with a soft smile.

"Yes, Master, I am fine. She just caught me off-guard," she explained a bit sheepishly. I nodded, forcing my shoulders to relax as best I could before speaking into my commlink.

"Doctor Roman, what are your scanners telling us now?" I asked, unwilling to relax despite our victory.

"At least several Servant readings and one ultra-sized lifeform are waiting just a few miles ahead," the acting-director of Chaldea reported to us dutifully. I looked at the others, noticing the unanimous display of resolve. This was one of the things that it meant to be a Hero. To face long odds with steel in their soul, and sword and spear and bow in hand.

"Well, let's not keep them waiting for us, huh?" I said, forcing a grin on my face despite my anxiety over what was to come. Everyone else had dismounted from their horses, unwilling to risk the faithful steads to dragon fire. When Ritsuka and I began to do the same, however, we were stopped and told that it would be better for us to remain mounted so we could keep up with the others without having to use prana. With no further words needed to be said, we began moving closer and closer to Orléans.

Fifteen minutes later, we stood before Orléans. The ground was barren, scorched to the earth with dragon fire. Blackened bones and broken weapons were scattered everywhere, the signs of the destruction Jeanne Alter had rendered upon the city and its surrounding areas. It was like a chapter straight out of a fantasy novel. Of the heroes facing off against an army of evil. An irony that wasn't lost on me as I gazed up at the host before us.

The air was filled with hundreds upon hundreds of wyverns of various sizes and colors. Red, green, and black. They hovered, their orange eyes gazing hungrily at us, but they didn't move forward. Nor was our attention truly focused on them, numerous though they were.

No, we gazed at the massive black dragon we had encountered only a few days earlier. Fafnir, the Evil Dragon. And before him stood a familiar figure, her flagstaff firmly planted into the ground, its banner unfurled and fluttering in the wind, displaying a stylized depiction of a dragon.

"Hello, trash I left behind," Jeanne d'Arc, the Dragon Witch, said, leering at Jeanne d'Arc, the Maid of Orléans. For once, the words of the fallen Ruler did not affect my temporary Servant, who instead looked the other 'her' directly into her yellow eyes.

"No, I am a vestige," Jeanne corrected. "Most importantly, I'm not you, Dragon Witch."

"But you are me. What are you talking about?"

Jeanne sighed at her alternate self's words, a look of sadness and pity in her eyes. "No matter what I say, I can no longer reach you." She gazed intensely at our foe, slamming her own weapon into the ground as a proclamation of her resolve. "After this battle is over, I'm going to give you an earful!"

"Silence!" Jeanne Alter roared, spreading out her arms to gesture at the mass of creatures behind her. "Behold these dragons! Behold this horde of dragons!" As if to emphasize this fact, Fafnir looked upwards and released an earth-shaking roar. "We have turned this nation into a nest of dragons! They will devour everything, and nothing will eve live in France again! Then this world will be complete. Then this world will be destroyed. The dragons will fight one another for eternity. Endless war. Endless death. Endless devouring…That will be the true Hundred Years' War: A Hundred Years War of Evil Dragons!"

"Fire!"

Suddenly, a wave of booms came from nearby, as well as thudding sounds as balls of stone and fire began to rain down onto the horde.

"What?!?" The Dragon Witch roared angrily.

"Gilles!" Jeanne said excitedly at the same time. Sure enough, the dark-haired man in silvery-green armor from a few days ago was there. The rallied remnants of the French army were at his back.

"Fire again! We fight for the survival of France! Fire everything we have! Fire, fire!" The general roared, as his gunners made ready their primitive cannons to fire another salvo. Further back, catapults and the odd trebuchet were also being prepared to fire.

"Do not be afraid! Do not sorrow! Do not falter! If you have human blood, now is the time to die! I will say it again! There is nothing to fear! For we—" Gilles continued, waving his sword as he looked towards us. Or rather, towards a certain blonde saint. "For we have the Saint on our side!" Apparently, Jeanne's old friend and brother-in-arms had been busy trying to rehabilitate the Ruler's status, for his soldiers and knights all gave out mighty battle cries. More projectiles were launched, and the close-formation of wyverns began to suffer horrendous casualties even as they began to move towards the larger group in response.

"….Gilles!" Jeanne said happily, her cheeks a soft rosy pink. The fact that there were countrymen no longer cursing her must have been heavenly for her, not matter how much she had said the judgement she had encountered hadn't affected her. It seems that she had thought upon the words I had spoken to her about Gilles. Jeanne Alter glowered at both the general and her counterpart.

"Hmph," she huffed angrily, "such stubborn belief. It makes me want to vomit. Fafnir!" The dragon roared upon the Dragon Witch's calling of its name. Jeanne Alter stepped to the side as she pointed her flagpole at Jeanne. "Incinerate that Saint, that army, this nation! Burn them, burn them all! Burn everything to the ground!"

Siegfried stepped forward, his sword held before him. His eyes stared into the eyes of the advancing black dragon. "Hah. I never thought I'd see you for a third time. Perhaps, in another time or world, we could've been connected in another way…Fafnir! I am here, wicked dragon! I, Siegfried, am right here! Once again you shall taste my blade. This, I swear by my righteousness, and by all my beliefs!"

"Damn it! Come forth my Servants!" Jeanne Alter commanded. I recognized the three who answered her call. Berserker Saber, Berserker Lancer, and Sanson. The Assassin looked almost mindless, but was glaring murderously at Amadeus, who gladly returned the favor. Without a word, the two broke off from their respective groups, and prepared to settle the score between them over a certain French Rider. Of Berserker Assassin, there was no sight of her.

"Hey, you guys, good to see you're doing well!" Berserker Saber said with good cheer, beaming at us with a wide, almost unsettling quite frankly, smile on their face. "I am Chevalier d'Eon. This time I lend my blade to evil, but it remains as pure as ever. Now, fight me with all you have! End this nightmare!" d'Eon implored us, taking up a fencing posture.

"So, you came, huh? There's no shame in becoming fallen," Vlad said in his rich baritone. "Defeat is the greatest shame of all. I've become a mere puppet in the search for the Grail. I am praised as the immortal vampire," Berserker Lancer admitted with disgust thick in his cultured voice. "Fiction or not, it is all I have left," he added bitterly.

"Masters, they're coming! The French army is holding off the wyverns!" Mash reported. "This is it!"

"Let's do it, Mash!" Ritsuka said.

"No finer words have ever been spoken at the start of such a battle! Siegfried, Georgios, Sasaki! Focus on Fafnir, hold nothing back! Elisabeth, Kiyohime, take out Berserker Saber!"

"Understood!"

"So be it."

"You got it, Puppy!"

"For my Love."

I then turned to Mordred. "Ready to finish what you started with Vlad back at La Charité?" I asked the Knight of Rebellion. Though her helmet covered her features, I could almost feel her excitement.

"Absolutely," she said with feral savagery, bracing her body before she began launching attacks.

"Then let's do this!" I said, and almost in unison the Servants of Ritsuka and I sprang forward, weapons at the ready as they launched themselves at their designated opponents, who copied their actions.

With that, the Battle of Orléans, the outcome of which would decide the fate of humanity, began.

4

Chapter Text

The air was filled with so many sounds. The sounds of steel slamming against steel. The sounds of battle cries and death wails. The sounds of cannon, neighs, and roars. Once again, the similarities between the sight I was witnessing and various scenes of the final battle in fantasy novels that I had read were crystal clear.

The hardest part, for both Ritsuka and I, was the fact that we had to stay back, unable to directly assist our Servants. Or rather, I was unable to do so in my normal method. Thank god that Ritsuka had his skill in temporary boosting the stats of not only his Servants, both permanent and temporary, but mine as well.

Kiyohime and Elisabeth seemed to have d'Eon under control. Apparently, even under the Madness Enhancement trait forced upon them by Jeanne Alter, d'Eon was surprisingly underpowered for a member of the vaunted Saber-class. That wasn't to say that the French Servant was therefore weak, however, as proven by the kick to Elisabeth's midriff that sent the young teen Servant skidding backwards.

Ritsuka was focused on keeping an eye on Georgios and Siegfried as they engaged Fafnir, while nearby Jeanne dueled with her fallen self, keeping the Dragon Witch distracted. As for my attention, I was mainly focused on the battle between Mordred and Vlad. Both sides seemed eager to finish what they had started in La Charité, and neither of them were holding back. I tightened my fist that carried the Command Seals, ready to use them though hoping that would not be the case. So far, that hope seemed to be validated.

My Saber slammed Clarent into the shaft of Vlad's lance, sending another shower of sparks into the air as she repeated the action from a different angle, only to achieve the same result. Suddenly, Berserker Lancer stepped backwards, reversing the grip of his weapon before suddenly slamming the butt of it into Mordred's protected stomach. The blow was still enough to send the English knight skidding backwards as her sabatons dug firmly into the dry earth.

Berserker Lancer slammed his weapon into he ground, and between the two Servants erupted a wave of earthen spikes, bearing down on Mordred. The Saber stayed still until the very last moment, jumping up just as the spikes that could have killed her began to pop out. She lands on the tips, taking a brief second to adjust her balance before she began running across them.

As she closed the gap, she jumped forward, a leg outstretched that connected with the Servant's chest, sending him tumbling backwards. Vlad recovered quickly, however, and delivered his own fierce lunge. It looked like this hit connected, but not in a lethal way, if the fact that there was only a small blood spray and a superficial cut between the armor plates on Mordred's right arm. Still, it was just enough to cause the Knight of Rebellion to break off.

Closing my eyes, I forced some of my Mana through the connection I had with Mordred, as I had learned to do during our week of preparation at Chaldea, and healed her light wound, earning the quickest of nods before she looked back at her opponent, adopting a defensive stance this time.

With a roar, Vlad charged forward, intent on living up to his title of Vlad the Impaler. With a grunt, Mordred caught the lance just below the head, surprising its wielder before she followed up with a pommel strike to his right temple, dazing the Servant.

"This is it!" Mordred cried defiantly as Vlad stumbled backwards, his free hand clutching the side of his head still in pain, apparently unable to concentrate. To be honest, I don't think many could recover from that so quickly, even with a helmet.

The Knight of Rebellion wasted no time taking advantage of the gap in her opponent's guard, pressing on the attack. To his credit, Berserker Lancer was able to weakly defend himself, at least at first. He blocked about a half-dozen blows or so, rather clumsily though, before a blow from Clarent lopped off his right hand. Before the vampire could even cry out at the injury, however, there was a sickening squelching sound that I was only able to hear due to my proximity to the duel.

"Is it over now?" Vlad said in a dazed tone, his hands gingerly touching the blade of Clarent, firmly lodged in his heart. "My dreams, my ambitions will once again be erased? Hmph," he scoffed in bitter amusement. "Who knew I'd deal with the 'Dragon Slayer' again? How ironic…" Berserker Lancer looked down; his legs gone. "I see, perhaps it will always be my destiny to fall no matter how hard I struggle. You, the Master over there," Vlad said, some blood dribbling out of the corner of his mouth as he pointed to me.

"You are a man who does not lose sight of himself amidst the battle. Next time summon me. Then, I will show you the true power of my lance. The lance that defended a nation…the weapons that defended my people…in your hands, they will shine—" with those final words, Vlad III faded into yet another cloud of golden dust. Two more such clouds soon joined his as Sanson and d'Eon were defeated.

With Jeanne still distracting her other self, I could see no signs of any other Servants, and all the while the hundreds of wyverns still alive were focused solely on the French army. Now all that was left between our foe and ourselves was Fafnir. Focusing on the massive draconic foe, I saw that

I turned to Mordred. "Go help Siegfried and Georgios!" Mordred's helmet retracted, her eyes gleaming excitedly as she turned to the massive black dragon.

"You got it!" She roared before dashing towards the two male Servants, or more specifically, Siegfried. While the Rider saint distracted Fafnir, I saw that the two Sabers were in a rapid discussion, though I was unable to hear their words over the sounds of combat. If I had to guess, though, it would be that the two former foes were coordinating a final attack, for the male Servant nodded in response before raising his sword in front of his face.

Next to him, Mordred's helmet retracted as she did a similar action, Clarent's blade becoming covered in chaotic red energy while calm but intense blue radiated off of Siegfried's. Her ponytail fluttered in the wind as both Noble Phantasms began to create waves of wind that shoot off in all directions.

"CLARENT—"

"BAL—"

"BLOOD ARTHUR!" Mordred roared, swing her sword down, the collected mass of energy shooting forward.

"—MUNG!" Siegfried shouted at the same time as he swung his own sword, blue energy coiling around that. It was a breathtaking sight, seeing the two Noble Phantasms intertwining with one another. Georgios leapt clear of Fafnir, who had sensed the danger as well. The dragon spread its wings and reared back it's head. Fafnir roared as an orange glow began to be emitted from the back of its throat, preparing to breath fire, but it was too late.

The two mighty Noble Phantasms slammed into the center of Fafnir's chest, and then the dragon was enveloped by a massive explosion as a massive wave of dust further obscured the results. I raised an arm in front of my face as I braced my body, hoping that my hat wouldn't come flying off even as I use my other hand to hold it down onto my scalp. The instant I felt my body stop being buffeted by waves of wind, I looked forward.

Fafnir was still standing, but barely. One of the leathery wings was completely gone, while the other one was shredded to the bone. Where the brunt of the energy had slammed against the dragon's thick, scaley hide, there was only burnt flesh. I watched in awe as Fafnir lurched forward suddenly before teetering, apparently fatally wounded by the combined efforts of Mordred and Siegfried.

Finally, with a whimper, Fafnir's head crashed onto the ground, causing the earth to shake as the dragon's eyelids closed one last time, it's bloodied body already dissolving into a cloud of purple shadows. The battlefield fell silent, at least for the moment, both sides struggling to process what had just happened. Hell, even I was. Finally, it was the fallen dragon's rider who spoke up, her tone filled with shock, rage, and hatred.

"Impossible!" Jeanne Alter roared, her body shaking as Jeanne instinctively stepped backwards. Her words managed to cause everyone to resume their actions, and the sound of battle filled the air once more. It was distant now for us, however, as the realization of our achievement finished sinking in for Ritsuka, Mash, myself, and Mordred.

"Fafnir's been defeated!" Mash exclaimed in awe, her eyes shining much like Mordred's were. I spurred my horse closer to the Saber, and then leaned over in my saddle to clap her shoulder proudly. The Knight of Rebellion turned towards me, beaming.

"Congrats, Mordred! You've just helped killing a dragon," I said with a soft chuckle. The wide smile on her face was rather heartwarming, filled with nothing but excitement and accomplishment, and her smile somehow widened even further.

"Confirming Fafnir's complete silence! Amazingly, a new Dragon Slayer has been born!" Doctor Roman reported giddy, and who could blame him? Looking towards the French army, I noticed that the wyverns, while still attacking, dying, and killing, they were far less coordinated, their movements jerky.

"Look! The wyverns are in a panic!" Mash said before I could comment.

"An army without a commander often becomes little more than a confused mob," I replied, my lips twitching upwards slightly. The slight smile quickly slips from my face as I look back just in time to see the fleeing form of the Dragon Witch. She was astride a wyvern she must have summoned while we were distracted.

"I'm off to settle the score with the Dragon Witch," Jeanne shouted over the sounds of battle. Farther away though it might now be, it still required for us to shout to hear one another. It seems that the lull caused by the death of their commander had worn off for the wyverns. Though their leader had fled, their mightiest had fallen, and their numbers heavily reduced, the remaining wyverns continued to dive and stroke out at the valiant French army.

"Master, we should leave as well. We can leave the Singularity Servants to finish up here, and take down the Dragon Witch," Mash suggested to Ritsuka and I. Not a bad idea, truth be told. Siegfried and Georgios would be better suited to deal with the wyverns due to their dragon-slaying lore, and Amadeus didn't seem ready to depart the field just yet.

"You guys ok with that?" I asked. Siegfried nodded solemnly.

"We can handle this. I would advise taking Kiyohime and Elisabeth with you, however. They are better suited to dealing with other Servants," the Saber responded. Ah, so he is politely asking us to not leave the three male Servants to deal with the two.

"Understood. It has been an honor to fight alongside you," I said, staring at the three. Ritsuka did something similar, but we had no time for anything more. I wheeled my horse around, and spurred its sides, sending the beast charging forward.

"Oi, wait up Master!" I almost laughed at Mordred's indignant response before the Saber easily narrowed the distance between us.

I felt bad for the horses bearing Ritsuka and I, but we had to push them as hard as possible without killing them. Every moment we're away from attacking Jeanne Alter, the harder this fight would undoubtedly be. Berserker Assassin was still around, and knowing our luck, there is probably a Servant or two that haven't shown themselves. Worse, I had a sinking suspicion that she had fled with the intent on summoning more Servants.

Within minutes we were approaching the front gate of the castle of Orléans. While I couldn't take the time to fully take in the devastation that had been wrought at the epicenter of this singularity, it was pretty damn hard to miss the burnt corpses and damaged masonry all around the battered walls.

More pressingly, however, was the small horde of skeletons amassed before the broken gate. Their bones were scorched almost black, marking them as undoubtedly reanimated members of the French soldiers and knights who had fallen trying to defend their king against the wrath of the Dragon Witch. Now, they served their murderer, and were in our way. Damn it!

We had not time to try to find another way in, and so we had to fight our way through. I growled angrily, reaching for my hilt of the sword at my side, preparing to draw the blade forth before my knight jumped ahead of our group.

"I'm sick and tired of those damn things getting in our way!" Mordred snarled, before activating her Mana Burst ability to increase her speed. In a blink of an eye, she had smashed her way into the front ranks of the legion of skeletons standing between us and the open gates of the castle.

Her helmet retracting, the Knight of Rebellion pointed Clarent straight up to the sky. "Crimson Lightning!" She shouted, and true to her words, bolts of red energy leapt from her blade before they slammed into the area surrounding her, kicking up both broken bones, rusty weapons, and more than a fair share of dust around her, temporary obscuring my Servant.

When the dust cleared, I saw that Mordred's attack had destroy the skeletons that had been blocking our path forward. I slowed my horse down near Mordred, nodding my head in approval. "Not bad," I observed before dismounting. Ritsuka did the same, and we gazed at the open but uninviting gates of Orléans. I felt a twinge of sadness as I once more felt the absence of Marie Antoinette. I could certainly use her seemingly boundless positive energy right about now.

"Looks like that was it for our welcoming committee," I joked half-heartedly, earning a nervous chuckle from Ritsuka. I then turned to the others. "This is it. We can't afford to stop for anything. Let's go." Then I plunged forward, Mordred and Jeanne by my side, and the others right on our heels.

We made rapid progress into the castle. The smell of ash and blood slammed into us almost immediately, and to my horror, I saw that the source of the latter was large amounts of gore and blood splatter against either side of the hallway. I felt queasy at the macabre sight, but didn't stop, even as the splatters continued to greet us with every step we took.

"Hurry up! If we're too slow, she'll summon another Servant!" Jeanne shouted over her shoulder. Looking over my own, I saw that Elisabeth was slowing down, looking at the walls on either side with an odd expression on her face. Upon being called out, the Lancer's face reddened in embarrassment.

"I-I know that!" Elisabeth stammered, moving forward once more, though still gazing intently at the blood-covered walls. "But you know, this castle's kind of nice…" Elisabeth said in a quieter, somewhat bashful tone that had Ritsuka and me exchange concerned glances. "It's kind of my style, you know?"

"You mean terrible?" I said incredulously.

"Indeed, all this blood," Kiyohime grunted in disgust. "They don't organize, they don't clean…how filthy," the Berserker tutted in further disapproval. "Only a bloodthirsty barbarian would prefer a place like this." Elisabeth didn't respond at first. When she did, she spoke in a quieter, almost hurt tone.

"Y-you're right! This is bad, isn't it!" That last part of her response did not so much sound as a question as it was as if she was trying to convince herself.

"I do admit, it would be far more preferable if there were more maiden blood then simple soldiers coating these walls." The voice came not from ahead, but behind, bringing us to a screeching halt, nevertheless. Well, at least we have found were Carmilla was. Another part of me was also glad that she hadn't tried to lunge out of nowhere and target Ritsuka or I. I still had shivers from Phantom's attempts back in Lyon. "I am afraid I can't let you go any further," the enhanced Assassin sneered menacingly.

"Why you! Why you, why you, why you!" Elisabeth shrieked, causing me to wince as the high-pitched noise reverberated in the enclosed hallway. She glared at Berserker Assassin, who was more than happy to return the gesture.

"This is…quiet irritating," Carmilla hissed. "This 'me'."

"Right back at you!" The young dragon-teen snarled. "How did you get to be a Servant?" Carmilla laughed at the source of her legend mockingly.

"Never thought you'd say that. From where I stand, it's far more maddening to see that've become a Servant as myself! I'm a revered countess, feared by all. The finished product, you might say, who devoured fear to become an Anti-Hero," Carmilla said, holding one hand to her chest while the other clutched her staff, her tone a mixture of boastfulness and condescending. "I'm not an unfinished product like you. You devoured the existence that is me. You simply refused to age, and feared being sealed away." Elisabeth said nothing, trembling with rage as the maddened Assassin tutted in reproach. "Of course you did. From your perspective, I'm just a sign of your sin. The guilt you brough upon yourself, the unassailable record of your murders!"

Those final words appeared to have hit the popstar-themed Lancer like a shot to the gut, for her anger seemed to drain out of her, replaced with a forlorn expression. "That's right," Elisabeth finally said. "You are who I really am, my final destination. The symbol of my sin, that no tears, regret, or sorrow will ever change. Denying you means looking away from the crimes I've committed." She looked straight at Carmilla, defiance present once more on her features. "But that doesn't mean I can't take responsibility! It may be ugly self-deception, but I'll say it anyway!" She took a deep breath. "I…I don't want to be like you!"

Berserker Assassin shook her head in disappointment. "How foolish, we're spirits of the past. The future's already been decided."

"I know that! But I'm saying it anyway! Go on, little Puppies! She is mine!" Elisabeth declared, tightening her posture for combat. I turned to Sasaki.

"Help her out, and then join us as quickly as possible."

"As you command, Master," the quiet Assassin said, drawing his sword from the scabbard slung over his back, joining by the side of the Lancer. Glancing over my shoulder one last time, I saw the young Servant sprinting forward towards Carmilla.

The sounds of combat echoed behind us, along with grunts and shouts. Neither Ritsuka nor I looked back though. In a few more minutes, we were approaching what appeared to be the end of the main hallway we had been traversing, causing us to slow down. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I tensed

"Well, well, long time no see," a familiar-sounding voice echoed in the dimly lit hallway. In front of a pair of thick, wooden doors was a man in robes. His black hair was slicked back, and his hands were covered in reddish veins, and in his right hand he clutched a tome of some kind. The sinister appearance of the Servant before us was somewhat ruined by the way his eyes were pointing off in different directions, but it didn't lessen the fact that he was a Servant, and his face looked somewhat familiar.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Jeanene's turquoise eyes narrowing. "Gilles," She said sternly. The one standing before us looked nothing like the general who was leading his countrymen outside the castle. Her former comrade merely released a crazed-sounding chuckle before speaking.

"Who knew that you'd defeat Fafnir, and show yourselves here in Orléans," he said, shaking his head before smiling. "To be honest, I'm impressed. However! However!" Gilles, or rather, the version of the man after his fall suddenly stopped smiling, staring menacingly with a snarl. "Oh, my saint! And your comrades! Why do you stand in my way? You come into my world destroying everything, and now you're even trying to kill Jeanne d'Arc!"

"I had a question about that," Jeanne said, and I could tell that she was trying her best to keep calm. "I had a question about that," she admitted in response. "Gilles de Rais, is she really me?" The Servant's mouth fell open at the Ruler's questions, a look of horror evident on his features.

"What? What-what-what unforgiveable blasphemy! Even the Saint would despair and rage to hear such a thing! That is, without a doubt, the true Jeanne d'Arc. It is the darkness hidden within her," Gilles said, almost piously. Jeanne's features darkened.

"I see," she said softly, before speaking louder. "Then, as the light, I must face her."

"Jeanne, I won't let anyone stop me—even you!" Gilles snarled before he brought his tome forward. We all braced for combat.

"Damn it, every minute he delays us is another minute Jeanne Alter has to summon reinforcements!" I snarled, trying to think of the best way to deal with this. Ritsuka was the one to beat me to it, however.

"Mash!"

"Understood, Master!" Mash called back as she ran forward, slamming her shield into the Caster, and knocking him off-balance before leaping backwards as a tentacle appeared out of nowhere, lashing out at the Demi-Servant.

Chulainn slammed his spear into the magical appendage, knocking it aside before it could harm Mash. Medea launched a bolt of magical energy, further distracting the enemy Caster.

"We got this! You take Mordred and Jeanne and go stop the Dragon Witch!" Ritsuka said, looking behind me as the other Servants, except Mordred and Jeanne, began to attack Gilles.

"Right!" I responded. I looked to Mordred, who nodded back, then to Jeanne. To my surprise, she had a hesitant look on her face as her turquoise eyes darted back and forth between the doors and the fallen version of her old comrade.

"Jeanne! What's wrong?" I said, my words snapping her out of whatever funk she was in. The Ruler shook her head fiercely, a red blush on her cheeks.

"I-I'm sorry. It's nothing," She responded apologetically, before her more normal expression of determination and sternness reappeared. "Let's go. Thank you both!" She shouted to Ritsuka, Mash, and the others.

"Kick his ass!" I added as the two female Servants and I ran past the now-preoccupied Caster, Jeanne bringing up the rear as Mordred kicked open the doors and we stepped through, Jeanne quickly closing them to prevent Gilles from trying to launch attacks from behind while the three of us dealt with the Dragon Witch.

The room was covered in scorch marks, and the charred bones of skeletons lay in piles to either side, no doubt the remains of the original owners. In the center of the room was a white circle with arcane markings. A Summoning Circle. In the middle were two things. The first was a golden chalice that I found hard to look away from. That must be the Holy Grail. However, that wasn't the most pressing of matters before us.

No, for that would be the glaring, spiteful version of the saint Jeanne d'Arc that stood before us, casually gripping her weapon, but ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. Her yellow eyes stared directly at me, ignoring Mordred and Jeanne. She took a few steps forward, placing herself between the Grail and us, a sneer on her lips.

"Welcome, little mouse," Jeanne Alter glared at me, "to your death. You and your friends will bother me no more."