"Alright, we'll rest here for the night."
"We should be able to reach our destination by tomorrow."
As the sun dipped below the horizon, the eight team members finally decided to set up camp at the edge of a quiet forest. The twilight lingered in the sky, casting a golden hue over the leaves and the gently swaying trees in the breeze.
Technically, the distance from Limoges to Orléans was only about two hundred kilometers. At Strike Freedom's subsonic cruising speed, the journey should've taken just a few hours.
However, Reuel's initial plan had crumbled the moment they encountered a dragon. That unexpected battle dragged them deeper into a brutal local conflict.
Many cities had been reduced to rubble by the war. Along the route, dragons and monsters summoned by the Dragon Witch rampaged unchecked, spreading terror across the French countryside.
But Artoria Pendragon—the King of Knights—couldn't just ignore such cruelty, even if it was happening on enemy territory.
Every time they witnessed injustice, Artoria would intervene without hesitation. And to Reuel, that choice was a small price to pay for upholding their principles.
In other words: if there's a dragon, they stop. Period.
"I'm here to help set up camp."
Perhaps feeling like they hadn't contributed much during the battle, Gudako and Mash quickly took the initiative to handle logistics. Cheerful as always, Gudako brought along various supplies from the ship.
It didn't take long before a simple campsite was assembled among the thick shrubs and trees.
"Too bad we're in the middle of nowhere… If only there were a lake or port nearby, we could've just stayed on the ship," Richelieu muttered as she glanced around.
There was no sea or lake here. Only the Loire River flowed calmly toward Orléans, no wider than five or six meters—shallow and nearly unnavigable.
Especially for ship girls like them. Battleships, carriers, even cruisers would run aground the moment they manifested in their true forms here.
"..."
"Such incredible skill."
Outside the campfire circle, Artoria sat cross-legged in silence, her back turned to the others. Her hands remained resting on her sacred sword, as if ready to draw it at a moment's notice.
With eyes closed, she tried to attune herself to the environment, detecting even the faintest disturbance.
"I don't need rest. My duty is to protect all of you."
Her posture was stiff—almost like a stone sentinel.
Unlike the ship girls, who were more relaxed in their interactions, Artoria kept her distance. Ever since her summoning, she had placed herself firmly as a Heroic Spirit—nothing more, nothing less.
"Alright, allow me to make one thing clear… This isn't a typical Holy Grail War."
Reuel chose his words carefully, aware of how delicate the subject was.
"We're not here to claim the Holy Grail. In fact, we may need to destroy it."
"?!"
Artoria's expression instantly tensed. She slowly turned her head, her body stiff like it had been nailed in place.
"I understand… But what do you mean by that?"
Reuel's statement had shaken her long-held beliefs.
First, this Holy Grail War—taking place during the Hundred Years' War—had been twisted. The Grail was now under the control of a dark force, used to summon Jeanne Alter—the blackened, distorted version of the holy maiden.
So corrupted was it that the black mud produced by the Grail seemed like a manifestation of pure hatred.
Second, Heroic Spirits couldn't actually make true wishes upon the Holy Grail. The Grail War in Fuyuki had been nothing but a massive conspiracy by mages to achieve the Third Magic—the path to soul materialization.
Reuel sighed. He knew all too well how much hope Artoria had placed in the Grail.
As the King of Britain, she had fought to unite the north and south. But that kingdom had fallen, and civil war was inevitable. That chaos haunted her steps to the very end of her life.
Before her death, Artoria made a contract with Alaya, hoping to participate in the Holy Grail War and use the Grail to return to the day of the king's selection—the moment when everything began to fall apart.
But… that wish was nothing more than a hollow dream. From the beginning, the chance to change her fate had never truly existed.
"..."
"I don't believe you."
The King of Knights was even more stubborn than Reuel had imagined.
But that was exactly why she was the King of Knights—Artoria Pendragon.
"In that case, I might have to use a Command Spell to force you to cut the Holy Grail."
Reuel raised his hand, clearly displaying the Command Spell etched onto the back of it. The faint red glow pulsed gently, like a subtle but very real threat.
"???"
Artoria's expression immediately hardened. Her eyes widened—but not out of mere surprise. It was the return of memories. Unrelenting. Violent.
She was hit by PTSD on the spot.
Reuel's words triggered something deep—an unforgettable event from the past. The Fourth Holy Grail War. Back then, her cold, calculating Master, Emiya Kiritsugu, had mercilessly ordered her to cut down the Grail. That command hadn't just scarred her soul—it had shaken the very foundation of her belief as a King.
And now, history felt like it was repeating itself.
What the hell is this? she thought. This can't be happening again...
"Don't you think this summoning is different from the usual Holy Grail War?" Reuel's voice broke the silence, trying to ease the rising tension.
His tone was softer, but still composed. He knew exactly what wound he'd touched—and had no intention of digging deeper.
"I've augmented your summoning with power from another world. There are no enemy Masters. No seven Servants killing each other. Our goal isn't to claim the Holy Grail…"
He took a slow breath.
"Our goal is to correct the singularity."
Reuel then continued his explanation—about Chaldea, about his role as an 'outsider' from another world, and how the situation they were in wasn't part of a traditional Holy Grail War. There was no battle system, no fight for an illusory prize called a wish. There was only a massive threat disrupting the foundation of time and reality itself.
Still, Artoria said nothing. As Reuel had expected, the explanation wasn't instantly accepted.
To the King of Knights, anything involving the Holy Grail was an unhealed wound. That object was a symbol of false hope... and absolute destruction.
"....."
"....."
"..." Artoria Pendragon stood frozen in thought.
She stood in silence, lost in her own mind. Not because she was confused, but because she was waging an inner war—between logic and trauma, between desire and reality.
"No wonder I felt something was off since the moment of my summoning," she finally said, voice low but firm. Her gaze pierced through the forest fog, as if trying to see something far beyond this place.
"Master... did you summon me through... unconventional means?"
The King of Britain frowned. Her eyes were sharp—not angry, but curious.
"Uh-huh," Reuel nodded slightly. "I used a holy relic of yours to summon you."
His tone sounded casual, but he knew full well this was no small matter.
"Though... it came from another world."
He pulled something from beneath his cloak—a broken sword. Its cracks were old, but the aura it emitted was still powerful. This was an alternate version of Caliburn—a replica from another world, once belonging to King Da Mao.
Artoria glanced at it briefly. No expression. No surprise.
"Fake."
One word. Cold. Flat. Brutal.
"....."
"....."
"Then... how did you answer the summoning?" Gudako and Mash asked almost at the same time. Their doubt could no longer be contained.
From the beginning, Reuel's summoning method had felt... off. Now they had every reason to question it.
"I did sense it," Artoria finally replied. Her voice was quiet, almost like a whisper—but clear and full of conviction.
"A calling. From humanity. From mankind. I don't know how... but I knew it didn't come from that relic."
She turned slowly.
"I answered it because I felt a different kind of power. A power that... was urgent. Begging."
Reuel raised an eyebrow slightly, trying to piece things together.
"So you... responded because of some other power? Don't tell me… I summoned you with the power of a Rubik's Cube?"
His voice wavered between joking and genuinely confused. Even he wasn't sure if that was supposed to be a punchline.
Artoria just furrowed her brow. She didn't laugh. She didn't answer.
Reuel fell silent.
For a moment, everything felt too complex to explain with simple words.
The world of Naruserve was, in truth, no ordinary world. It was the collective manifestation of human imagination—a reality born from the sublimation of millions of thoughts, desires, and inner conflicts that together formed a shared mental space. The Mental Rubik's Cube was not so different. It emerged from the sheer intensity of intersecting ideas within the collective consciousness, forming a complex psionic structure that transcended the bounds of a single dimension.
So naturally, when these two entities intersected, a chemical reaction occurred... on a psionic level.
Yet one question continued to nag at Reuel: why was the Mind Cube feeding off his own energy as its primary fuel source?
He pondered. Did this mean the Mind Cube required an immense external power supply because of the drastically different inter-reality power systems? And as a result, it was instinctively drawing psionic energy from him—energy that was, at its root, derived from the oldest source of all... the psionics of the Emperor of Mankind himself.
Most likely, yes.
In the world of Warhammer 40K, psionics wasn't just any form of magic. It flowed from the Immaterium—the Warp dimension that served as the source of supernatural power. But the Emperor's psionics weren't simply a product of the Warp. His power was born from a mass ritualistic suicide of thousands of ancient psionic shamans. Their souls merged into a single, overwhelming entity that reincarnated as the super-psionic human known as the Emperor.
One soul, forged from the accumulated spiritual power of mankind across millennia.
If the Mind Cube acted as a bridge between realities, then it made perfect sense that it would have to harmonize the wildly incompatible energy frequencies of multiple dimensions. And in doing so, it instinctively tapped into Reuel's psionic strength as a stable and highly efficient power source.
Reuel snapped back from his thoughts. He turned to Artoria, who was still staring at him with an expression full of doubt.
In a heavy voice, he finally said, "Either way... unfortunately, Artoria, your wish won't be granted by this Holy Grail."
There was a note of honesty and sadness in his voice. Reuel knew—if Artoria did somehow reach the Holy Grail, the massive shift in history it would cause could spark yet another singularity. And as agents from outside this reality, the three of them couldn't allow history to be distorted beyond repair.
"You're not here because of the Grail," he continued. "Your current existence isn't powered by any conventional summoning system, but by the energy of the Rubik's Cube and my psionic power. That's why you can even perceive this world... a world that should've been beyond your reach."
Reuel gently patted the Burger King's shoulder, trying to convey sincerity through a simple gesture. He began to explain more—about the hidden truth behind the Fuyuki Grail, the four Wars officially documented in Chaldea's timeline, and the growing entanglement between dimensions.
Letting go was never easy, especially for a King.
"This..." Reuel looked straight into Artoria's eyes. "...is a truth far greater than you ever imagined."
Artoria remained silent. Her face was blank, but her eyes betrayed the turmoil she couldn't hide. Reuel's words had shaken something inside her—a new understanding that clashed with everything she used to believe.
All this time, she had believed the Holy Grail was the only hope of correcting past mistakes. That through its miracle, she could alter fate, redeem her sins, and erase the scars of history. But now, the Grail was nothing more than a tiny pawn in a cosmic game far beyond her comprehension.
For a knight, letting go of hope… was like losing her sword.
"..."
Artoria drew a long breath. She didn't want to believe it so easily. Her instincts as a warrior demanded proof, not just words. But she was wise enough to acknowledge that this world no longer followed the rules she once knew.
Could it be... that I'm nothing more than a tool in some interdimensional mage's game?
The Burger King slowly sat down on the ground, letting herself drift into thought. Her left hand rose to her head, gripping her ahoge—a strange little habit she had when frustrated. She was now trapped in an internal conflict far more complicated than mere battles of sword and magic.
And for the first time since her summoning...
Artoria Pendragon doubted the purpose of her own existence.
Suddenly, the sound of rustling came from the dark forest.
"?!"
The ship girls reacted instantly. They shot to their feet, automatic weapons and cannons snapping into place, ready to fire at a moment's notice. All attention focused on a single point between the trees.
"Cough... cough..."
A girl emerged from behind the bushes. She wore tight, dark armor, had long braided blonde hair, sharp blue eyes, and a longsword strapped to her hip. In her hand, she held a military flag shaped like a spear.
She looked exhausted. Her breathing was labored, her face showing signs of a long, grueling journey.
"Haah... finally... I managed to catch up with you..." she said, dragging her steps forward and stabbing the flag into the ground.
Then she kicked the flagpole a few times—whether out of frustration or just a weird habit, no one could tell.
"Huh?" Reuel tilted his head, confused.
"Joan of Arc... Ruler?!" he muttered.
According to the main story progression, Joan of Arc (Ruler version) was supposed to appear as a central character in the Hundred Years' War Against the Evil Dragon singularity, where she would accompany the main group to fight her Alter version. But now, the sequence of events was scrambled: Artoria had been summoned first, Reuel was piloting Strike Freedom and speedrunning the dungeon... and Joan wasn't even supposed to show up yet.
And yet, here she was. Was this a breach of the scenario?
"Who are you? What is your purpose? And what do you want from us?" Dafeng asked sharply. The three questions fired off with no pause—an interrogation straight out of a battleship manual.
"I am Joan of Arc," the girl replied firmly. "My class is Ruler, arbitrator of the Holy Grail War."
She looked at each person before her, then continued, "It seems... there's another Joan of Arc in this world. One who's turned into a dragon witch and is trying to destroy France."
"At first, I planned to defeat her... but along the way, I heard rumors about you. Not only did you take down that dragon, but you also defeated multiple Servants sent by that sorceress."
Her breath came in gasps. She spoke between pants.
"So... I want to join your party. But that damn robot—that stupid robot—ran too fast! I couldn't catch up!"
Silence fell.
"...."
Reuel finally spoke. "I had a feeling... back when we took off, I kept seeing some village girl chasing after us from below, waving and yelling. That was you?"
"I thought it was just a farmer admiring the robot," Gudako said innocently.
"You're the village girl!!" Joan snapped, finally losing it.
"Oh, you're welcome. Thanks for the compliment," Reuel replied calmly, giving a small clap.
Now the question was: what if they just "kidnapped" this Ruler version of Joan of Arc? That would save them the trouble of summoning her later.
With the tension fading, introductions began one by one.
"Hi, I'm Fujimaru Ritsuka. Master from Chaldea," Gudako said.
"Oh? So you're a Master too?" Joan Ruler nodded slowly.
Mash and Gudako welcomed her warmly, followed by Richelieu stepping forward.
"I'm Richelieu. First of the Richelieu-class battleships."
"C-Cardinal Richelieu?!" Joan Ruler looked visibly shocked.
Then, another girl stepped forward. Her face was... way too similar.
"I'm also Jeanne d'Arc. My Noble Phantasm is a 533mm magnetic torpedo launcher, five rounds. Pleased to meet you."
The shipgirl Jeanne greeted her Servant counterpart.
Joan of Arc Ruler froze.
"W-What? Another Jeanne d'Arc?!"
She stared at the ship girl from head to toe. Blonde hair, an elegant military uniform, a sacred aura. If the two stood side by side, even she'd admit she might lose in terms of aesthetic.
"...Broken."
"Who am I, really? Why are there so many versions of me? Am I just... a replacement?!"