Crack, crack, crack!
Spiderweb-like cracks spread rapidly outward. The graceful figure merely waved her hand, and the violent air current instantly tore apart all the surrounding dust.
Whether it was the corrosive fog created by the Assassin of Black—Jack the Ripper—through her Noble Phantasm's effect, or the dust and debris stirred up by the sheer force of impact, all of it was forcefully blown ten meters away.
Seeing this, Ruler Jeanne's eyelid twitched involuntarily.
"That ridiculous muscle strength... this goddess, with those bright eyes and delicate features—she looks every bit the pampered ruler... how can she have that much power? Hiss... so this is the Age of Gods, huh?"
Just how powerful must her original divine body have been, that even after being downgraded into a Heroic Spirit—and summoned as a Rider, a class not even known for raw strength—she could still stomp the ground with such might?
"Rider of Black!"
The instant she saw that silver-white silhouette, Archer of Red—Atalanta—felt every hair on her body stand on end, bristling like a startled wild beast.
This divine Heroic Spirit, who had effortlessly defeated Achilles, exuded such brutal power that it reminded Atalanta of her fellow Argonaut—the mighty demigod Heracles.
The Master of the Assassin of Red—the priest—had been correct in his assessment. Rider of Black had indeed been hiding in the shadows all along. And in her hand now—was that the Master of the Black Assassin?
Should she retreat?
Atalanta asked herself. Though she had somewhat anticipated this outcome thanks to Amakusa Shirou Tokisada's earlier warning—and she knew that one wrong move could mean her elimination—she couldn't bring herself to accept retreat.
The girl was right there. Atalanta couldn't just turn tail and flee in shame... she truly wanted to save that child.
If she didn't, she'd regret it—feel guilty—for the rest of her life.
Drawing her bowstring to full tension, she created some distance. Logic told her that retreating with all her might was the optimal move, yet her emotions drove her otherwise. Her gaze couldn't help but drift toward the silver-haired girl frozen on the rooftop.
Tap...
"Jeanne, this woman is the Master of Assassin—Jack the Ripper. She possesses no magical energy whatsoever. If it weren't for the mana fluctuations she released when using a Command Spell, I might not have located her so quickly."
With a casual flick of her arm, Selene tossed the Eastern woman—Reika Rikudou—down before Jeanne.
"Ouch... the Command Spell... why didn't it work?!"
Her exposed skin scraped against the rough ground as Reika curled up, crying softly in pain.
Even with one arm partially consumed by that ominous purple-red corruption, Reika Rikudou was undeniably a woman of mature Eastern allure—tempting like a ripe peach.
Her curvaceous figure was clad in a low-cut green dress; long brown-green hair framed her charming face; her bare collarbones and full chest peeked through; her short skirt revealed hints of smooth white thighs, and her shapely legs were sheathed in black over-knee boots...
All these features formed a 'special' kind of allure—poisonous to men—but unfortunately, not one of those present could be moved by it. None of them were truly human anymore, and all had endured things far crueler.
Except...
"Mama—!!"
Jack leapt down from the rooftop, landing beside her Master. She clung to Reika's arms, looking up frantically, sobbing and choking, "Mama... Mama..."
Selene, expressionless, was about to step forward—but suddenly felt her armored skirt being tugged. Turning, she saw Jeanne shaking her head pleadingly.
"Your Majesty, grant them a brief moment of reunion. They are pitiful... tragic... and yes, hateful—but still human in their own way." Jeanne's voice echoed softly through telepathy.
"...Fine." After a brief silence, Selene nodded, agreeing to the request.
And so, under the silent watch of all three parties, a strange tableau formed.
Selene and Jeanne stood nearby, their gazes cold and distant. Atalanta hesitated on the rooftop, torn between advancing or retreating. And in the center, the 'mother and daughter' clung to each other in a bittersweet embrace.
"Little Jack... I'm sorry. It's Mama's fault—I'm too weak... I can't help you at all..."
Forcing her eyes open, Reika Rikudou spoke in a voice full of tenderness and remorse, gently stroking Jack's head as she patted her small back.
"Mama... you're hurt." Jack's green eyes shimmered with tears as she choked on her words.
"It's alright... only, little Jack... Mama might not be able to stay with you much longer... cough, cough..."
Before their eyes, Reika grew visibly weaker.
"No! Mama, don't say that! Jack will take you away right now!"
Jack rose to her feet, trying to help Reika up—but the height difference made it impossible. Whether through panic or clumsiness, her sudden effort made Reika cough up a mouthful of blood.
"No, no! Mama, what's wrong?! Mama..." Seeing Reika's dimming consciousness, Jack panicked completely. Even when she herself faced death, she had never felt such terror.
In desperation, she tried infusing Reika's body with her own mana—a meaningless act of instinctive hope.
"It's useless," Selene said coldly. "She has reached the end of her life. She's an ordinary human with no magic circuits. Under My Honkai Energy's corrosion, she cannot endure."
When Selene located Reika's position, she had been in the middle of using a Command Spell. Assuming the worst, Selene had acted immediately—injecting a surge of Honkai-like mana into the two remaining seals on Reika's right hand, severing her link to her Servant.
But such power—destructive and invasive by nature—was lethal to a normal human without magic circuits or resistance. In just a few breaths, the purple-red corruption spread from her palm to half her arm. Given her fragile body, she would die long before it reached her brain or heart.
"H-how... how could this be..." Jack's voice trembled. She stared at the creeping violet corruption spreading along Reika's arm, then fell to her knees in despair.
"It's alright..." Reika's voice was faint now. Summoning all her remaining strength, she lifted a trembling hand to caress Jack's cheek.
"It feels... like a dream... the most wonderful time of my life... Little Jack... I'm sorry... for being such a burden..."
Her voice faded. There was no grand tragedy, no heaven-and-earth lament—only the quiet fall of her hand.
"Enough. Farewell time is over."
Selene's eyes gleamed as she confirmed the complete disappearance of Reika's life force. Hum—!
Her right hand formed a claw as purple-red energy flared to life. Step by step, she advanced toward the Assassin of Black—Jack the Ripper—who knelt over her Master's body.
Jack had killed too many—especially innocent civilians outside the Holy Grail War. The Black Faction, Yggdmillennia, had already resolved to eliminate her. Ruler Jeanne had approved the decision.
No matter how pitiful her origins or tragic her existence, in the eyes of nearly every participant of the Romanian Grail War, the Assassin of Black—Jack the Ripper—was already synonymous with death.
Jeanne stepped forward from behind Selene, looking at the "mother and daughter" pair and shaking her head with a soft sigh. "Jack the Ripper... such a small child, yet summoned as a Heroic Spirit—and with such a cruel name."
"Wait!"
Atalanta dropped down in front of Selene, spreading her arms wide. "Rider of Black—Your Divine Majesty! You are a god, are you not? Please... show mercy!"
"I, Atalanta, beg you—not to kill her! Even if you must imprison her until the Holy Grail War ends—that would be enough!" she pleaded, her voice trembling with urgency.
"Oh? You wish to save her?" Selene paused, a glint of interest in her crimson eyes. "But she doesn't seem to share your sentiment."
"What?!"
Crack!
Still lying atop Reika Rikudou's lifeless body, Jack's small head twisted at an unnatural ninety-degree angle, glowing with blood-red hatred as she glared at Selene. Her trembling voice cracked as she demanded, "Why... why?!"
"Why?" Selene's twin crimson eyes burned even brighter than Jack's. Her tone was calm—but each word carried an icy chill. "To purge rebellion. That is all."
"Re...bellion..." Jack's voice broke into a scream. "Ahhh—!"
In that moment, all light left her eyes. Despair and collapse replaced fear.
Splurt!
Jack's small body suddenly burst apart, and a dense black fog erupted outward, expanding instantly from her position.
The fog swallowed Selene, Jeanne, and Atalanta in an instant.
In the blink of an eye, Selene's surroundings changed completely. She now stood at the intersection of a narrow alley.
Thick, acidic mist saturated with mana filled the air. Jeanne and Atalanta's presences had vanished from Selene's perception.
"The physical world... they should still be beside me. But within this Reality Marble..." Selene murmured, her gaze sweeping around.
Tattered newspapers drifted through the cold wind. Decay and ruin filled every corner. Industrial smog blanketed the city, dimming every light. Walls, streets, and people—all were gray and shrouded in haze.
The streets were lit by kerosene lamps, yet the thick fog rendered the light feeble and uncertain.
"The Darkened Misty Metropolis that clouds perception... nineteenth-century London. What a wretched place," Selene muttered, extending her hand. Pale gray 'snowflakes' drifted down, landing on her palm.
Breathing in the air felt like inhaling acid. The smell of industrial chemicals and smoke was overwhelming—a lungful of the periodic table, she thought dryly. Though unaffected by toxins, the sensation was unpleasant nonetheless.
"Rider! Why won't you leave us alone—me and Mama?! Why?! You're interfering with us... we just want to be together! You're the bad one!"
"Bad one?"
Letting the 'snow' fall from her hand, Selene turned to face the child standing a few meters away—a little girl in tattered clothes, streaks of blood on her cheeks. She looked even younger than the Assassin form she had shown before.
"You could say that," Selene replied evenly. "I am indeed a terrible sinner. But from another point of view—from those ordinary humans you've murdered—I'm the avenger, the good one."
Selene understood Jack's origin and the truth of her existence. When Jack said "we," she wasn't referring to herself and Reika. She meant herself—plural.
That 'self' was not an individual, but the collective wail of tens of thousands of unwanted infants abandoned in nineteenth-century London—a curse given form.
"Perspective changes everything," Selene said quietly. "From my standpoint, you and your kind are tragedies born from the world's shadow—reflections of its truth. The world is no fairy tale. London is not unique. At every moment, somewhere in this world, the same pain repeats."
As she spoke, purple-red mana flared beneath Selene's feet. A surge of Honkai energy exploded outward, shredding the illusions of spectral children conjured by Jack's Noble Phantasm.
The little girl flinched, stepping back in fear before the overwhelming aura. "R-Rider, you..."
"This illusion only works on those who are kind—or burdened by conscience. But for me? I've seen such scenes far too often. They unfold before my eyes every moment of my reign."
To Jack's pleading gaze, Selene remained unmoved.
The desire to live was not wrong. Survival was instinct. Nearly all beings resisted death.
But Selene, who had become a Herrscher, had long since transcended sentiment. To devour worlds, to strengthen herself, to seize an empire—how many had she killed, directly or indirectly? If she grieved for each one, she'd never move forward. She'd spend eternity in prayer.
It wasn't about good or evil—it was about necessity. If Selene deemed someone an obstacle, then that person would die. No matter how they begged or feared, she would kill them all the same.
At most, when in a good mood, she might grant mercy out of pity or admiration—allowing them to die peacefully.
"Watch closely. This is my mercy. I won't tear out your Spiritual Core... I'll simply purify you—erase you from the legend of Jack the Ripper."
With those words, Selene raised both hands. A blinding radiance instantly flooded the street.
'Good person'... that title is long gone for me. Scheming, manipulation, seizing all for my own benefit... there's no going back now...
"Erode."
...
Elsewhere—
"Don't leave us..."
"It's so cold..."
"Stay with us..."
...
"Ahhh—!"
Surrounded by countless children, Atalanta clutched her head in agony, screaming.
Her own past made this torture unbearable—abandoned by her parents and only surviving thanks to another's kindness, she had dedicated her life to protecting children. Her dearest wish for the Holy Grail was a world where every child grows up surrounded by love.
And now, these abandoned spirits forming the Heroic Spirit Jack the Ripper were the very embodiment of her deepest sorrow—the nightmare she most dreaded to face.
Then, without warning, the entire fog-shrouded city trembled violently, as though the world itself had shuddered.
The next instant, space shattered. The misty London vanished, replaced by a world engulfed in flames. Deafening explosions, screams, and cries of slaughter echoed from all directions.
Gasping, Atalanta dropped to one knee, panting. "Where... where is this?" The spectral children had all vanished.
"If I'm not mistaken, this should be within Her Majesty Rider's Noble Phantasm space," a gentle female voice answered.
"Ruler—Saint Jeanne." Atalanta turned to see Jeanne, her armor dismissed, clad in a simple dark-blue robe, golden light of sanctity radiating faintly from her form.
Jeanne shook her head. "Please don't call me 'Saint'. I don't deserve that title—I couldn't save those children."
Helping the dazed Archer of Red to her feet, Jeanne looked toward the unfolding visions within the new illusion, her expression heavy. "So this... is the era Her Majesty Rider lived through."
"Rider's world... this..." Atalanta's voice faltered as she lifted her head.
Before them stretched a city consumed by fire and blood. Corpses piled high like mountains, rivers of crimson flooding the streets. Headless bodies lay everywhere.
Formations of pitch-black soldiers marched past them, their presence exuding brutal killing intent. Spears and rifles formed dense walls of death, filling every inch of sight.
But what horrified Jeanne and Atalanta most was that each soldier's waist was adorned with several freshly severed heads—dripping, grotesque, and lifeless.
The vision shifted again—to a vast, luxurious manor. In the sunlight, children played joyfully under the watchful eyes of servants and parents, laughter echoing through the air.
Then—purple light flashed.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Dozens of massive black-armored giants stormed into the estate, slaughtering everyone in sight.
"By decree of Her Majesty! Minister Honest has rebelled! None shall be spared—men, women, or children! Exterminate the entire clan!!"
Clang!
Slash!
"No!" Atalanta screamed as she saw the children—barely reaching the giants' knees—decapitated without mercy.
"Archer of Red, calm yourself." Jeanne's voice cut through the horror as the scene dissolved. She turned toward the distant golden glow shimmering at the edge of the battlefield. "We must hurry. Her Majesty Rider is likely about to finish purifying the Assassin of Black."
...
"You still haven't given up?"
That overwhelming divine pressure shattered the last remnants of Jack's condensed fog.
"Jack doesn't want to die... Jack wants to be with Mama..."
As her misty Reality Marble was crushed beneath Selene's war-born domain, the little girl's body trembled in disbelief, retreating helplessly, her face pale with horror.
Around Selene stood countless children—boys and girls alike. The oldest looked to be eleven or twelve, the youngest barely three or four.
Selene's expression did not waver. "You should understand by now. Your swelling hatred and the despair of the victims twisted you—turning you into the legend of Jack the Ripper."
"You are the vengeful spirits absorbed into that legend. Strictly speaking, all of you are Jack the Ripper."
Her right hand began to glow with golden light. "Imperial Privilege—Spell Acquisition: Purification Curse for Evil Spirits."
Suddenly—whoosh!—an arrow shot toward her. Selene didn't even bother to move. With two fingers of her left hand, she caught and shattered it effortlessly.
Maintaining the golden spell in her right hand, Selene didn't need to guess who fired it. She genuinely liked children, but this was not the time for lecturing.
Atalanta leapt in front of the children, bow drawn and aimed at Selene. "Rider of Black! What are you doing?! They're still—"
"Annoying." Simulation—Gravity.
Hum!
Atalanta, already frayed and unstable, was lifted violently into the air and hurled away like a cannonball.
In that same instant, Selene's prepared Purification Spell struck the small silver-haired Jack directly.
Jack's body turned entirely golden. She tried to open her mouth to speak, but no words came. Instead, she stood silently—peacefully.
Moments later, all the surrounding children dissolved into golden motes, merging into her body before dispersing completely. The last traces of light faded from Selene's palm.
With the mana sustaining it gone, the foggy Reality Marble collapsed. Moonlight once again shone over the shattered plaza.
"Now then—it's your turn, Archer of Red."
"You... you killed the children? You—!" Atalanta, flung aside moments ago, struggled to her feet. Her pupils contracted, her mind close to breaking.
"Rider, your attack—doesn't this violate fairness?" Jeanne asked hesitantly.
"Relax," Selene replied calmly. "I'm just teaching her a lesson."
Boom!
With explosive force, Selene kicked off the ground. A gust like a storm roared as her foot slammed into Atalanta's abdomen.
"Ugh—!"
Unable to react in time, Atalanta was sent flying. Pain twisted her face as her eyes widened, nearly vomiting from the blow.
She rolled several times before crashing into the far wall of the plaza, collapsing to the ground in spasms, coughing violently.
"Have you come to your senses yet?"
"Cough... cough... Rider, even if you are a god... cough don't you have any... heroic spirit?! Those children—they didn't want to die!" Atalanta shouted, supporting herself against the wall.
"Heh... are you brain-damaged? Or has living among beasts rotted your mind? My Purification Spell saved them!" Selene said flatly, grabbing Atalanta by the throat with simulated gravity.
"After a high-grade purification, those abandoned souls can never be summoned again. Even under identical conditions, only a different 'Jack the Ripper' could appear."
"I freed them from that cursed name—let them rest, undisturbed. Tell me—was that wrong?"
"..."
Stunned and speechless after Selene's sharp rebuke, Atalanta blinked in confusion. Her mind slowly cleared.
Indeed... that was the logical outcome.
Her emotions had clouded her reason. After taking a beating from the Rider of Black, her thoughts steadied again.
Selene was right. This was the optimal solution for dealing with the Assassin of Black—Jack the Ripper. Whether slain or erased after the Holy Grail War, Jack remained a mass of vengeful spirits. Now, through purification, the children could finally rest.
Reviving them all? That wasn't salvation. It was impossible.
"Good. You're done raving." Selene tossed Atalanta aside and gave her a disbelieving look. "And tell Me—do I look like some kind of hero to you?"
"I..." Atalanta faltered.
Jeanne murmured softly, "You certainly don't... more like a tyrant from the Age of Gods."
"I am an Empress. Heroes? Before an Empress, they are merely tools," Selene declared coldly. "I can raise thousands of heroes at my whim—or discard them the moment their worth is spent."
In Selene's gaze, Atalanta saw only one thing—contempt. The word idiot practically glowed in her eyes.
Embarrassed, Atalanta lowered her head. "I'm sorry, Rider of Black. Regardless, thank you... for saving those children."
"But, Divine Majesty, gratitude aside—I will defeat you in the end. I have a wish I must see granted!"
As her final words faded, Atalanta's form flickered and vanished.
"Another Command Spell transfer," Selene muttered. "Expected. The Red Faction's already lost two Riders. If they lost Archer too, even Amakusa Shirou Tokisada couldn't keep his composure."
Lifting her gaze, a faint smile curved Selene's lips. "Jeanne, it seems our leisure has ended. The true battle begins."
Following her eyes, Jeanne looked skyward—where a massive fortress-like palace floated among the clouds, slowly but steadily advancing toward Trifas.