Chapter 2

The imposing walls crumbled with a deafening roar, their debris scattered across the chaotic environment, mingling with the mutilated bodies lying in every direction. Pieces of human flesh were strewn about in a macabre scene of despair and destruction. Among the wreckage, a man in agony fought desperately for each breath, his body marked by deep wounds emanating excruciating pain.

Beside the man, whose anguish manifested in every inch of his battered body, lay a silver spear. Its bright light seemed dazzling, standing out amidst the surrounding chaos. However, the focus soon shifted to something even more disturbing. The mud, imbued with a life of its own, moved sinisterly as if it had acquired a malevolent consciousness.

Heavy footsteps echoed toward the wounded man, intensifying the already tense atmosphere. A dark, hoarse voice, filled with deep hatred, resounded in the chaotic surroundings, revealing the presence of a sinister being. The figure approached slowly, but the prone man could not see beyond the white hair that shadowed the face of the stranger, concealing their true appearance.

"You don't even recognize my voice? I'm truly disappointed," the voice echoed with disdain as the dark being pressed the red spear against the wounded man's neck.

The man's forehead furrowed, but the memory of that voice eluded him, leaving him engulfed in mortal fear. He knew death was dangerously close, an imminent threat. As he accepted his inevitable fate, Guillaume struggled against the urge to succumb to overwhelming fear. However, he had no choice in the face of that menacing being.

"Nothing to say, hm? What a pity... I had hoped to prolong our conversation. But it seems you're not in the mood. Goodbye," the being whispered, mercilessly plunging the red spear into Guillaume's neck, ending his life.

"Hello, my dear, did you miss me?" the being spoke with an affectionate expression as it caressed the silver spear. However, the weapon gleamed, rejecting the touch of the malevolent individual, as if aware of their intrinsic evil.

"Don't be afraid. Soon, you'll be reunited with your sister, and together, we will destroy this world," the being proclaimed, now serious, as its red eyes could be seen peering from behind the white hair. A viscous mud began to adhere to the spear, clinging to it like an anchor of darkness.

The spear, resisting with all its might, began to glow intensely, a desperate attempt to free itself. However, it was a futile effort as the mud clung to every corner.

Gradually, the spear ceased to be silver and became tinged with red, like a dark flame. The being held it lovingly in its hand, swinging it a few times to test its new form.

"I am the bone of my sword..." The being, surprised by the sudden emergence of a calm yet wrathful voice, spoke.

"...My body is made of steel, my blood is of fire..."

"...I know not of loss, nor recognize gain..."

"...And these hands shall touch nothing more..." The being sought the source of the voice, looking around for the hidden interlocutor but finding nothing. The environment around them began to morph, revealing a new reality.

And then, they saw him. Standing atop the rubble of the wall, a man with short white hair and red attire, wielding two small swords in his hands. It was Emiya Shirou, facing the being with determination.

"...Unlimited Blade Works!" Shirou's voice echoed, permeating the winds of the desert that now surrounded them. The landscape had transformed, revealing a sea of swords thrust into the ground, a symbol of Shirou's power and resolve.

Emiya Shirou knew he had to stop that being, as it represented an imminent threat to the world and those who inhabited this era. With his infinite blades, he was willing to face any challenge to protect humanity from the approaching darkness.

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Meanwhile, in the city of Chinon, a scene of chaos unfolds. Men, women, children, and the elderly run in despair, their voices echoing through the air filled with fear and terror. Blazing flames devour everything in their path, consuming walls, floors, and lifeless bodies. The anguished screams echo, permeating the environment as the victims' skin and flesh burn in a macabre spectacle. The grand castle, now in ruins, houses King Charles VII of France, prostrated on the ground, his face bathed in cold sweat. A flag impaled in his belly causes excruciating pain.

"Hello, I sincerely apologize for my 'visit,' Your Highness. It is truly delightful to witness your majestic presence, but I beg you, by God and His mercy, to forgive me for the insolence in the face of your magnificence." Jeanne, with a cold smile on her lips, her pale eyes shining with malicious amusement, pushes the flag even deeper into the king's belly, intensifying his agony. The flag pierces his internal organs, mercilessly impaling them.

"Jeanne! Why are you doing this? I have never caused you any harm! How can you inflict such suffering... on the people who placed their faith in you? Is this the sound you wish to hear? These desperate and frightened cries?" The king, gathering his last strength, tries to reason with Jeanne, despite the pain permeating every fiber of his being.

"Your words move me, Your Highness. But when I was captured, no one lifted a finger to help me. I was sent with a small escort, and I accepted it, as I never imagined I could be betrayed. I was captured, and I expected you to come and rescue me. However, you arrived too late for that. Something lingers in my mind. Who can guarantee that you didn't send me to my death?" Jeanne speaks, each word fueling her growing anger. She gazes into the king's face, who stares back with an expression of pity and fear, further fueling her fury. In an abrupt gesture, she punches the monarch in the face.

"Your Excellency, do not worry, I am back now and will bring freedom to France! I hold no grudge against anyone."

"Jeanne! You made a pact with the devil! God would not have resurrected you just to commit these vile acts! Heretic! I trusted you, everyone trusted you. Even though we couldn't save you, we deeply regret it. Your memory lives in our hearts and in the hearts of our sons and daughters. But you returned as a witch! How could you betray God, the one who granted you strength to fight?" The king shouts, indignant. He regrets letting her go with a small group, never imagining there would be an unimaginable loss within that team.

"What do you mean? I don't understand, Your Excellency. Me, a heretic? Are you joking, right? I believe you're joking. You couldn't save me! Don't lie, traitor! You had men for such a task, you could have done something, but you didn't!" Jeanne, furious, grabs the king's face with one of her hands, her fingers digging deep into the soft flesh of his cheek.

"I gave my life to God! I gave everything for Him! Look where I am now, what have I achieved?! Nothing! Just a sea of ignorant people who remember my exploits but did not lend a hand when I needed it! Ah, I achieved something else. Only a painful and slow death, burned at the stake. And Your Highness expects me to be grateful to you? Spare me your beautiful words, Your Excellency. But if God is on your side, He will save you from your fate, right? Do you believe that?" Jeanne brings her face close to the king's, her pale golden eyes diving deep into the fearful eyes of the monarch.

-Y-Yes. The H-Heavenly F-Father will save me!" The king stammers, terrified, but his faith in the face of his destiny does not waver.

"Then, Your Majesty, if you truly believe, He will come!" Jeanne tightens her grip on the flag in her hand. Flames burst forth from the flag, engulfing the king's body, who, amidst screams of agony, sees his flesh consumed by the voracious fire.

"Hahahaha! Why do you weep? Your God is coming! Look! He is already approaching! Can't you see? There is no need for tears. Is your faith so fragile? Your salvation is already guaranteed. Hahahahah." The king's screams make Jeanne's laughter grow, while he groans in pain. She looks up at the sky, the nonexistent ceiling of the castle. An increasingly sinister smile spreads across her lips as she awaits the arrival of God!

"Wonderful! Behold His glory, my precious Jeanne, bringing salvation to these sinners! These impure souls! Accept salvation, sinful creatures!" Gilles exclaims, extending his arms. His eyes seem about to burst from their sockets. The screams of the king and the populace echo like music to Gilles' ears. He feels as if they are singing a song in tribute to his beloved Jeanne.

"It is time to depart, our mission here is complete. With His immense mercy, God has already saved this city, hehehehe." Jeanne laughs and moves forward, feeling indescribable satisfaction. She brings two fingers to her mouth and whistles.

"Yes, my dear Jeanne. They have already attained their salvation, a glorious salvation. They are brimming with happiness, my dear. Do you hear the cries of joy? Now, the other cities should also feel this same exultation! Salvation is on its way for all of you!" Gilles speaks, following behind Jeanne, observing her back. Suddenly, a gigantic shadow covers the sky as massive wings beat forcefully, causing a powerful wind. The figure descends where Jeanne and Gilles are. It is a gigantic dragon!

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Mash and her master walked through the green field, engrossed in a conversation with Dr. Roman. As they moved forward, Mash took a photo of the enigmatic circle forming in the sky.

"I've sent it to you, doctor," Mash said, eagerly awaiting a response. She waited expectantly as Dr. Roman carefully examined the received photo.

"This is strange... There is no record in history that mentions a circle in the sky. Perhaps this is one of the reasons why we cannot glimpse the future," commented the doctor, who closely observed Fujimaru and Mash's actions in Chaldea.

"I apologize, doctor, but we have a small problem here. At least, it seems so," interrupted Fujimaru, preventing Dr. Roman from delving further into his explanations.

"Doctor, we are facing a brigade of French soldiers, or at least that's what their attire indicates," stated Mash, firmly gripping her shield. She positioned herself in front of her senpai, ready to face any eventuality.

"Let's try to establish communication with them," the doctor suggested, hoping to obtain information about what was happening directly from the mouths of the French soldiers.

"Enemy! Attack!" shouted one of the soldiers, clearly frightened and fearful of an imminent attack. The group of soldiers quickly wielded their swords, preparing for battle.

"It seems they are not willing to dialogue," observed Fujimaru, staying behind Mash as they both prepared for the imminent battle. With impressive skill, Mash easily dispatched the entire brigade.

However, the soldiers, frightened, hastily retreated to where they had come from.

"Are you okay, Mash?" Fujimaru asked, concerned, noticing her labored breathing as if she were out of breath.

"I'm fine, Master. Thank you for worrying," Mash replied, revealing a discreet smile forming on her face.

"Mash, Fujimaru, silently follow the soldiers. But this time, let's try to talk before jumping into battle. And don't forget to speak in French," Dr. Roman instructed, hoping that this way they could unravel the mystery unfolding before them.

"Alright! Let's move forward, Master," Mash affirmed, determined.

"Understood. And remember, Mash, speak in French," Fujimaru added beside her, as Mash nodded, ready to face the upcoming challenges.

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