Dracula gave a melancholy strum of his guitar and sighed.
"No? Not here? Tsk, such a pity... but alas, the show must go on. So many valiant heroes gathered here—surely they deserve to bask in our melody."
For reasons unknown, the moment his fingers touched the guitar strings, everything froze. Even the rampaging Berserker, the Changjiang Rider, came to a standstill, gazing blankly upwards at the trio.
Dracula nodded toward Nero and Elizabeth.
"Let the curtain rise. Hit 'em with the special effects."
The two women exchanged a glance, then nodded in sync.
Nero stepped forward and began her incantation:
"Behold my brilliance! Let the roar of thunder applaud my name! Let the pride of emperors bloom like a field of golden flowers! Now begins—Aestus Domus Aurea [The Glorious Golden Theater!]"
Though she had activated her Noble Phantasm, a pseudo-Reality Marble of her own creation, she refrained from drawing the crowd into it. Instead, she skillfully manipulated its visuals—petals of roses and shimmering golden light danced across the air, turning them into dazzling stage effects, a true test of her finesse.
Next, Elizabeth followed suit, declaring:
"Time for the hottest pop hit in the Servant world—Báthory Erzsébet!"
Behind her, the infamous fortress prison—the one she ruled after coming of age, Castle Csejte—began to rise. But like Nero, Elizabeth showed restraint, only materializing a few sound-enhanced walls, decked out with speakers for the show.
Dracula took one look at the spotlights, the rain of petals, and the walls-turned-speakers, then gave a satisfied nod.
"Lighting—check!
FX—check!
Sound system—check!"
He struck a dramatic chord on the guitar.
"NOW, my leading ladies! Let our dream performance begin!"
Below the shipping container, all the Servants simply stood there—still dazed. Then, as if bewitched, they started... applauding.
Elizabeth opened her mouth wide, and a visible sonic wave blasted forth.
Saber's palms were already slick with cold sweat.
Iskandar's lips twitched uncontrollably.
Lancer, Diarmuid, visibly flinched as his beauty mark trembled.
Berserk, Lancelot started scratching frantically at the concrete beneath his feet.
Then Nero joined in with a high soprano, belting out her solo.
Irisviel clutched at her ears in distress.
Kiritsugu dropped his cigarette on his suit jacket—but didn't even notice.
Keyneth spat out a second mouthful of blood.
Waver collapsed onto Iskandar's chariot.
Finally, Dracula lifted his hand. Slowly. Deliberately. As if caught in bullet time. As if each moment were the last. His fingers hovered above the guitar strings—
"WAIT JUST A MINUTE!!"
A radiant savior descended.
Jeanne d'Arc, in full Spirit Form, clad in gleaming white armor and carrying a commanding presence that rivaled even Saber, stood atop the container, hoisting her flag high.
Meanwhile, in the dark, damp sewers…
A crazed scream echoed through the shadows.
"YOOOOO!! Two holy maidens?! Which one's MY holy maiden?! My brain is TREMBLING!!"
—Bluebeard, somewhere below.
Back on the stage, Jeanne moved like a whirlwind.
With a casual flick of her flag, she swept Elizabeth off her feet. Then, with a swift knife-hand strike, she floored the Dragon Girl.
Turning, her sharp eyes landed on the Roman tyrant.
"W-what are you looking at?! I-I'm not afraid of you or anything!" Nero stammered, slipping into a martial stance with unconvincing bravado.
Jeanne didn't answer. She simply dashed forward, fists raised like a boxer, and with a clean, solid punch to the gut—
"Ugh!"
Nero let out a low moan and collapsed.
Finally, Jeanne turned her gaze to Dracula.
"Hmph. Jeanne." Dracula sneered, his voice laced with defiance. "You think I'm weak? You think I'll bow to violence? Hah! Even if you crush my body, I shall sing out the essence of my soul! This is my hot soul!!"
He howled, raising his guitar high—
But then, a girl in a black gothic dress and twin silver ponytails flew in with a dropkick, knocking the guitar clean out of his hands.
Kagarino Kirie had known from the start: for someone with Dracula's tank-like physique, brute force wouldn't work. The only way to stop him—was the guitar.
"NOOO!! MY GUITAR!!"
Dracula transformed into a swarm of bats, screeching as he flew off in pursuit of his precious instrument.
Kirie and Jeanne exchanged a high five.
"Nice work!"
"You too!"
And thus, the two girls—together—prevented Dracula from claiming victory on the very first day of the Holy Grail War.
---
Half an hour earlier.
Jeanne descended the staircase of Dracula's castle in her pajamas, rubbing her temples with a faint flush of pink across her cheeks.
"Ugh… I can't believe I actually dreamt about that time on the stake… What an uncomfortable dream," she muttered, recalling the vision.
But what embarrassed her more was the ending—just as the flames meant to consume her licked at her skin, they suddenly transformed into some sort of tentacled creature, coiling around her body.
"No! Stop thinking about it!" she shook her head fiercely, muttering under her breath, "Lord, please grant me strength..."
After calming herself, Jeanne entered the castle hall and found Kagarino Kirie and Mordred already seated inside.
Mordred clutched her chest in horror, mumbling, "I never knew Father's holy lance could turn into something like that… Terrifying…"
Kirie, meanwhile, fixed Jeanne with a solemn gaze.
"Jeanne. You're here."
"Yes." Jeanne nodded and took a seat opposite her.
"There's something very serious I need to tell you," Kirie said gravely. "If this matter isn't handled properly… the Holy Grail War might collapse entirely."
…
Flashback over.
Jeanne and Kirie exchanged a knowing glance—two battle-worn comrades silently clasping hands in understanding.
Back on the battlefield, after the end of Dracula and his band's "healing performance," the Servants slowly began to regain consciousness.
Ironically, the one to recover fastest was the most berserk of them all—the Berserker-class Black Knight. Perhaps due to his extreme madness, he returned to clarity first. And the moment his gaze fell on Saber—
"..."
"..."
The two locked eyes for several seconds… then, Berserker roared, seized a lamppost from the roadside, and charged!
"...ARTHUR!!"
With a furious cry, he brought the magically-enhanced pole down upon Saber.
CLANG!
Wounded and weakened in her left arm, Saber struggled to block the strike with her holy sword, Caliburn. But Berserker showed no mercy, pressing the attack with unrelenting fury.
At that moment, the ground began to tremble with heavy footsteps.
Thud. Thud.
A new warrior entered the fray—a knight clad head-to-toe in red and white armor, crowned with a horned helmet.
Both Saber and Berserker paused, turning toward this figure.
The knight approached Saber, examining her carefully—especially focusing on her A-ranked chest—before exhaling in apparent relief. Then, she drew her sword and pointed it at Saber.
"Prepare to die, King Arthur!!"