A singular France, a singular June 3, 1431.
Due to certain events... or perhaps encounters... a being had fallen early into the abyss of evil. The dark sorcerer, relying on a Holy Grail obtained from a mysterious figure, successfully summoned his own god.
A pitch-black woman named Jeanne, shrouded in an ominous aura, consumed by violent emotions, an entity that knew only slaughter!
Gilles laughed maniacally, kneeling before the woman, beseeching her favor.
For Jeanne, everything could be sacrificed, everything could be slaughtered. The deaths of others meant nothing to Gilles... comparable, perhaps, to the ants crawling on the ground.
He had already offered the Holy Grail in his possession to his god, Jeanne. Now, with his assistance, she had created a summoning circle, initiating yet another Servant summoning ritual!
"... Here I declare.
"Your body is beneath me, entrusting my fate to your sword. By the summons of the Holy Grail, those who heed this will and reason, answer me! I swear here, I am the one who spreads evil in this world. If you would blind yourself with chaos and serve me, you are the one imprisoned in a cage of madness, and I am the master holding its chains... bound by the three great words, from the Wheel of Restraint! Guardian of the Scales... "
Light erupted from the summoning circle, and under the power of the Holy Grail, Servants began to materialize.
"Ohhh!" Gilles let out an excited, almost animalistic cry, perfectly matching his dark attire.
One man and four women... five distinct Servants appeared on the scene. All were tainted by the trait of madness, their ability to think rationally impaired. Facing these Servants, the dark Jeanne's lips curled into a wicked, cruel smile.
"At last, my kin, you have arrived. I am your Master. Do you understand why you were summoned here? Destruction and slaughter... that is the command I give you.
"If there is a vibrant city, destroy it utterly. If there is a thriving village, ravage it without mercy. No matter how evil, no matter how cruel, the divine will grant forgiveness.
"Even if we ultimately face divine punishment, it matters not. For that is merely proof of the divine's existence and its means of love."
The maddened Servants received their orders and departed. Then, the dark Jeanne turned to Gilles, the noble swordsman who once followed Jeanne, now a dark sorcerer.
"... Next, Gilles. Bring that man to me."
Her tone was laced with murderous intent.
"Yes, as you command." Gilles grinned, clearly delighted by the decision.
The dark Jeanne asked, "You haven't touched him, have you?"
"Of course not. But have you decided how to deal with him?"
The dark Jeanne remained silent, prompting Gilles to speak again. "Oh my, do you need my opinion?" His half-open eyes resembled those of a toad, utterly devoid of humanity.
"!! Are you suggesting I'm troubled by this?!" The dark Jeanne's words dripped with killing intent. "Don't speak nonsense, or I'll kill you, Gilles! Do you think about how to use a fork when you eat? It's the same thing... I don't even need to think about how to deal with him!"
The bishop who had condemned Jeanne and ordered her burned was brought forth. Clutching a cross, he looked around in terror, trembling as he stammered, "…W-What!? Where… where am I? Who are you…?"
No one answered him. He shouted desperately, seeking any response.
"Answer me! Why won't you answer me?! You there... aaahhh!"
His words faltered as he saw the figure before him, a familiar face appearing in his vision.
"Ah, isn't this Pierre? Bishop Pierre Cauchon! I've been longing to see you again!" The dark Jeanne's expression was deranged, like that of a madwoman. "I, Jeanne, haven't forgotten your face for a single day!"
"Impossible." As if desperately denying reality, Pierre Cauchon shook his head frantically. "Impossible, impossible, impossible, impossible…"
He screamed, but the figure before him did not vanish. Instead, she continued to stare at him, as if mocking a clown.
"You… you… you… you're Jeanne?! Impossible! Absolutely impossible! You should have died three days ago! I killed you! You should have fallen into…"
The dark Jeanne merely gazed at him. "Fallen into hell… perhaps, Bishop."
"This must… be a dream. A nightmare. What else could it be?!"
Gilles appeared, smiling slyly at Pierre Cauchon. "Oh my, starting to escape reality, are we? That won't do. We need to wake you up."
A brutal strike landed on Pierre Cauchon, eliciting a piercing scream.
The dark Jeanne watched, her face alight with pleasure.
"What will you do now, Bishop? The Jeanne you condemned as a heretic stands before you. Won't you clutch your cross and pray to your god?
"No need to curse, mock, trample, or ravage me? The evil Jeanne stands right here!
"Won't you roar at me like a brave lion?! Come on, come on, come on!"
Pierre Cauchon trembled, whispering, "Spare…"
The dark Jeanne sneered. "Spare?"
"Spare me! Please, spare my life!" Pierre Cauchon begged repeatedly, hoping to save himself. "I'll do anything. Please, just spare me…"
"Ha, hahahahaha! Gilles, did you hear that? Gilles!" The dark Jeanne laughed wildly. "He says, 'Spare me, spare me!' The bishop who tied me up, mocked me, and burned me now grovels so pitifully!
"The bishop who killed me like an insect, preaching with a gaze full of love, now begs for my mercy. Oh, what sorrow... it brings tears to my eyes. Because this cannot save anyone.
"Such paper-thin faith cannot reach the Lord. Such feather-light conviction cannot take root in the earth. To forget to seek divine aid and instead beg a condemned witch for mercy... what a disgrace among believers.
"Do you understand, Bishop? You yourself are proving you're the heretic."
"And so, I feel such profound sorrow... sorrow that makes me laugh until I'm mad!
"Tell me, Bishop, recall well. What is the punishment for heretics? You should know."
"No… no, no, no!! Spare… spare me…"
"What a pity. Salvation's tickets are sold out, and this era has no indulgences. Very well, let's start from your feet. If I was burned by holy flames, then your body shall be consumed by the fires of hell!"
Raging flames erupted, completely incinerating Pierre Cauchon, reducing him to pure ash. Watching the blaze, the dark Jeanne smiled, her deranged laughter echoing.
Gilles asked, "What shall we do with the other clerics?"
"Interrogating them one by one is too troublesome. Feed them to the dogs. My lovely minions, as your Master, I, Jeanne, permit this!
"Devour their souls, tear their flesh, drink their blood, for we are demons made manifest in this world!
"My command is singular: purge this nation... purge this mistake called France!
"Ravage and pillage to your heart's content, starting with the nostalgic Orléans! Turn fertile, vibrant lands to desolation. Spare no man, woman, or child, no matter their faith... kill them all equally!
"This is the sole command of your Master!
"As the arbiter of this world, I pass judgment: humans who cannot prove the Lord's love have no value, are undeniably steeped in sin. Good or evil, all humans are equal... thus, kill them all, leave not a single one!"
Gilles let out a groan-like exclamation of awe. "What immense power… is this the unblemished truth?!
"This is the saint who saves the nation! This is the saint who followed the divine and forgave the world!
"My light… has returned… Jeanne, you are truly resurrected! As your marshal, I must rise again! First, as proof… our army needs a banner! Jeanne, what shall we use as its emblem? A demon? Or…"
The answer was obvious.
The evil dragon!
The symphony of slaughter was beginning.
…
Chaldea, Medical Center.
A woman, dressed in ornate clothing that seemed out of place in modern times, approached Romani. She asked, "Hey, haven't you forgotten to introduce me? Neither Ritsuka nor that adopted son of the McRemitz family knows about me yet, do they?"
"Ah, I forgot!" Romani exclaimed, tapping his head. "I've been so busy, you know, with everything going on. Today's finally a bit lighter, but with all the arrangements for departure, I pushed your introduction aside."
"I'm the chief technician, and you forgot to introduce the chief technician?!" the woman said loudly, then smiled. "But that McRemitz adopted son is quite intriguing. If his experiences are as you described, he's truly one of a kind in this world!"
Romani muttered, "Indeed, one of a kind. He went to ancient Greece, then to another world, fought in a Holy Grail War, and returned here... like he went out to level up and came back to deal with trouble."
"Not a bad analogy," the woman said. "Like going on a quest to grind levels and returning strong enough to handle problems. But to think he collaborated with gods in ancient times... does someone of that caliber even need to level up?!" She pondered for a moment. "My guess is, it was Lev's own meddling. He was already a tough opponent, and now he's even tougher."
"You're saying Morpheus was already strong before going to ancient Greece and didn't gain much there?"
The woman, clearly a Servant, shrugged. "I don't know."
Romani rolled his eyes, about to retort, when she continued, "But maybe. I read his report. It's not detailed, but the major events are there. He connected with the gods in ancient Greece, deliberately befriended Heracles, and fought in the war between the gods and the gigantes.
"During that time, I saw no mention of him training or anyone taking him as a disciple to teach him divine knowledge.
"If anything, he only had contact with Hecate, exchanging some information, but it was just that... information, not knowledge."
Romani reminded her, "Don't forget, Hecate gave him a ring, said to be a divine construct, definitely a top-tier Noble Phantasm."
The woman smirked. "Have you ever seen him use it?"
Romani fell silent. Morpheus had never used a ring in battle. Yesterday, he mentioned needing his blood to create Solomon's ring.
"The weapon he uses most... or rather, the only one... is a sword, supposedly a gift from Ares. But when he uses that seemingly ordinary staff, he displays power no less than that of Sword of Ares. So, the question is: how much of a gap is there between using a god-given Noble Phantasm and a mystic code he crafted himself?"
The woman grinned confidently. "If we can confirm that, we can roughly determine how strong he was before he went to ancient Greece!"
"Your reasoning?"
"Because the staff and his attire are one, a mystic code he created before going to ancient Greece!"
"Fair enough," Romani admitted, acknowledging her logic. But out of habit, he added, "He says it's magic, not magecraft, remember that!"
"Magic? Ha…" The woman laughed, waved, and left, clearly heading back to her technical department.
"Phew… what a hassle. Always coming and going in a rush. Da Vinci really is…" Romani muttered, turning back to the instruments displaying patient statuses.
The only patients now were those still frozen, but it wasn't time to thaw them yet. The facilities needed further repairs, and every precaution had to be taken.
"The future of humanity… it's in your hands…" he murmured, diving back into his work.
***
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