Orléans Castle Peak
Clad in pitch-black armor and a tattered cloak billowing in the night wind, Black Jeanne stood on the castle's observation deck, her cold gaze fixed on the city slowly being consumed by flames and rubble.
In her hand, she tightly gripped a flag spear bearing the emblem of a black dragon—symbol of the Dragon Witch that had become her new identity.
Smoke rose in the distance. Explosions and faint screams echoed from the heart of the city.
Black monsters, wyverns, and other savage beasts—summoned by the Holy Grail—rampaged through the city mercilessly. They burned, tore, and shredded everything in their path.
"Humans who failed to prove God's love… are unworthy of life," said Black Jeanne in a flat yet piercing voice.
"Good or evil, they're all the same—fragile and treacherous."
"Destroy this land. The land that once praised me… then burned me alive."
With a crooked smile and eyes filled with madness, she raised the black dragon flag high, giving the order for her subordinates to continue razing the city.
"Ah… behold the so-called 'saint' who was said to save her nation, follow God's will, and forgive the world!" shouted Gilles de Rais, standing beside her.
His face was bluish pale, his eyes filled with blind adoration, and his robe hung loosely like that of a deranged sorcerer. He was Caster Gilles de Rais, once the Grand Marshal of France—now just a shadow of his former self, a fanatic who resurrected Joan of Arc in this darker form.
It was he who first made the wish upon the Holy Grail, bringing Joan back from the dead and creating this alter ego to exact revenge on the homeland that had betrayed her.
Black Jeanne turned to him.
"Gil, do you have information on the King of Knights of England who appeared in France on the 16th… and the strange mechanical creature transporting him?"
She knew Reuel had arrived in Orléans aboard the Strike Freedom Gundam. But that didn't mean she would rush into battle. The power they held was enough to defeat Fafnir and the Impaler—this wasn't an ordinary opponent.
"According to the guards' reports," replied Gilles seriously, "that team includes two Masters, two Heroic Spirits, and four individuals likely to be mages."
"One of the Heroic Spirits… is the King of Knights of England. Many saw him swinging a holy sword."
"As for the four mages, they possess extremely powerful projection magic and are capable of summoning familiars to attack from a distance."
Gilles, with his magical background, classified the fighter aircraft from the carrier as familiars. Meanwhile, the battleship's cannon fire he interpreted as high-level fire projection spells.
Black Jeanne lowered her head in thought.
"I see… The mages are no issue. They're just regular humans—weak."
"But the King of Knights… he's far more troublesome. No wonder the Servants I sent couldn't handle him."
She straightened her posture.
"In that case… we must summon teammates of equal caliber."
Gilles froze.
"You mean…?"
"Summon the other Knights of the Round Table."
Without wasting time, they strode swiftly toward the castle's main hall.
In the center of the hall stood a golden Holy Grail, placed atop a black stone pedestal. Thick magical light radiated from within, rippling like living fluid.
As a Ruler-class Servant resurrected by the Greater Holy Grail, Black Jeanne didn't need a relic to summon allies. She had a direct connection to the world's primary magical source.
As long as heroic souls could respond to her call, they would come.
"Wah—!"
With a stomp, she thrust her flag spear into the ground. A massive summoning circle formed beneath her, its complex pattern glowing with deep violet and blood red hues.
Grasping the Holy Grail with one hand, she began reciting the summoning incantation:
"My body I offer to your command. My fate binds to your blade…" "Answer the call of the Holy Grail, and obey my will." "O guardian of the scales and justice… Come forth—Warden of the Balance!"
BOOM!
A wave of magic swept across the hall. A pillar of light shot up from the center of the circle.
Black Jeanne didn't want a crowd of Servants like before. She only wanted one. But one strong enough. A Saber. One who could face King Arthur as an equal.
Even better… one with the Madness Enhancement attribute to shake the battlefield.
The smoke cleared.
A knight appeared—wielding a massive greatsword with a red hilt, clad in red-and-white armor. A full metal helmet concealed their face. From that helmet protruded two long horns, giving the appearance of a wild beast encased in steel.
An aura of power and destruction radiated from him.
Black Jeanne narrowed her eyes.
"Who are you…?"
She couldn't see his True Name. No information surfaced in her mind. As if the helmet concealed everything—even the origin of his soul.
But one thing was clear: he was a Saber. And he was strong.
The knight gripped his sword, then roared in a deep, wrathful voice:
"You wish to bring down King Arthur?" "Leave it to me… I'm the knight who killed him with my own hands!"
The Next Day
"Black Jeanne! If you're not a coward and don't mind getting your ass kicked, come out right now!!!"
The defiant shout echoed as a group of nine arrived at the ruined city of Orléans.
White Jeanne now had a better understanding of this world. Both sides—she and Reuel—shared a common enemy. After a brief discussion, they agreed to work together to defeat the Dragon Witch: Black Jeanne.
The city had become nothing more than rubble. Not a single human could be seen within a hundred-kilometer radius. Except for the Dragon Witch's towering castle at the center, all other structures were completely destroyed—a clear testament to Black Jeanne's all-consuming vengeance.
"I can feel it… she's nearby," White Jeanne whispered, trailing behind Reuel.
As a Ruler-class, she had the ability to sense the presence of Servants within a certain distance, and to discern their True Names.
Upon learning that the final boss they would face was Black Jeanne, all the ship girls immediately changed into combat uniforms. The mood grew tense. They began warming up physically, while recon aircraft soared into the skies, scanning for signs of enemy presence.
"This one's gonna be tough…" one of them muttered.
—ROOOAR!
A dragon's cry suddenly pierced the skies above the castle.
Black Jeanne appeared, riding a wyvern with two legs. Clad in gleaming black armor, silver hair flowing, and golden eyes glaring, she descended from the sky like a dark queen.
At her side stood her remaining Servants: Gilles de Rais, Phantom of the Opera, Lancelot, and Charles-Henri Sanson.
Reuel recognized most of them. They were part of the original "mutt squad" recruited by Black Jeanne. Not particularly threatening, he thought.
The two sides now stood dozens of meters apart, forming battle formations.
A massive clash was imminent.
"...?"
Reuel narrowed his eyes, staring at one particular Servant.
"Wait a second… is that you... Mordred?"
The masked Servant standing beside Black Jeanne turned with a confused expression.
"You know me?" Mordred asked.
He removed his helmet, revealing a handsome face with tied-back blond hair and bright blue eyes.
"My name is Mordred, the one and only rightful heir of King Arthur Pendragon."
"…"
Artoria froze in place. Her face tensed.
What the hell?! Why is this rebellious brat here too?!
Even if this was an artificial singularity, there was no reason for this one to show up!
"Hey, is this one of those parent-child drama moments? Why not duel it out? Loser calls the winner 'Dad'," Reuel quipped, patting Artoria on the shoulder.
"'Parent-child bureau'? But aren't they both women? Shouldn't it be mother and child?" Dafeng asked innocently.
Several ship girls looked visibly confused.
"Hmm, true. But their faces look similar, and they're close in age. Wouldn't it make more sense if they were sisters?" Richelieu chimed in.
"Commander, why did you say they were father and child?!" Formidable asked, eyeing Artoria and Mordred from head to toe in bewilderment.
"Hhh… That's just how the Naruserve world works. Don't think too hard about it," Reuel muttered. He was too tired to explain why, in this universe, so many historical figures reincarnated as beautiful women wielding mystic weapons.
Just as he suspected, the moment he set foot in this world, the original plot had already gone completely off the rails.
Including the fact that Black Jeanne had managed to recruit Mordred.
"…"
Artoria stared at her "child," now standing on the enemy side. She hesitated to speak.
But Mordred showed no signs of politeness whatsoever. When their eyes met, thick tension filled the air. The "child" raised his holy sword, eyes burning with rage.
"'Call me Dad if you lose'? Bullshit! Like hell I'm losing to you!!" Artoria shouted, her blood boiling.
"I was born to kill King Arthur and become a king greater than King Arthur!!" Mordred roared in return.
Shua!
Mordred's massive sword gleamed blindingly, unleashing brutal energy.
"Noble Phantasm: Rebellion Against My Sexy Father!!!"
Boom!!
A red light burst forth from his sword, exploding across the area and hitting everyone within range.
"Dammit! This Noble Phantasm of mine's a damn traitor sword!" Mordred cursed in frustration.
"I'm not your father! Why the hell are you hitting me?!" Reuel snapped, having also been caught in the blast.
Without further comment, Reuel jumped back and fired off a quick counter.
He raised his hand and activated a Command Spell as the Master.
"Artoria! Hit her with the curry stick!!" he shouted.
"EX...calibur!!!"
With the blessing of a Command Spell, Artoria raised her sacred sword high and faced the traitorous child—Mordred—with her ultimate Noble Phantasm: the Sword of Promised Victory.
A golden light erupted from the blade as it was swung down from above, sweeping across the battlefield in one thunderous motion.
Everything within several kilometers was annihilated without a trace.
The flames spiraled upward and exploded into a massive cross in the sky—a sight that was both magnificent and terrifying.
Some of Black Jeanne's followers who had accompanied her didn't even have time to scream; their bodies were instantly consumed by the roaring flames containing pure energy from the Noble Phantasm.
Only Mordred remained standing, gritting her teeth as she resisted the onslaught of Excalibur's might.
Now, the two stood hundreds of meters apart, each gripping a long sword, as if challenging a storm itself.
On one side, the red light of Clarent surged like an unstoppable energy cannon. On the other, the golden light of Excalibur shone like a divine staff of judgment.
The shipgirls watching the clash of Noble Phantasms held their breath.
"Battles in this world... are so insanely cool and intense," commented Formidable.
She sat casually on Strike Freedom's shoulder, gazing at the battle in awe, as if reminiscing about her old world at Minato Port, Azur Lane.
When shipgirls fought against Sirens, it was usually just carrier airstrikes or naval artillery fire. No imagination. No variation.
Competitions in the world of Azur Lane were just about who had the bigger caliber, who could shoot more bullets.
But the battles in this Naruserve world... they were far more compelling, some of the shipgirls thought.
The Noble Phantasms here were unique. Not a single one was the same.
The weak couldn't penetrate defenses, but the strong could endure super-heavy artillery, even carpet bombings from carriers.
Each one was different—some fired light, some changed form, some were deadly spears, and even the Jeanne d'Arc beside them could destroy herself as a form of attack.
It was all far more... entertaining, compared to lobbing shells from over a dozen kilometers away.
"But it looks like the King of Knights is still stronger than that Mordred," said Richelieu, observing the fight closely.
"That's because Excalibur's curry stab is an anti-city Noble Phantasm," Reuel explained, also watching. "While Mordred's Clarent curry stab is an anti-army Noble Phantasm. Of course, the Promised Sword of Victory wins hands down."
He paused, then added, "But Clarent does have a special trait—it's specifically designed to injure the burger king. Crafted to kill her."
His expression grew more serious.
"I need to give her a buff," Reuel muttered quietly.
He closed his eyes and began channeling the immense psionic energy of the Emperor of Mankind. His pupils changed, glowing like miniature suns.
Activating a Command Spell felt like opening a special conduit of energy briefly linking Master and Servant.
With his own power, Reuel could enhance the heroic spirit of Artoria—alongside O, his mysterious partner.
Unlike the way Gudao or Gudako used Command Spells, Reuel's strength was more akin to that of an ancient god.
Explosion. BOOM.
A wave of magic and psionic energy engulfed Artoria's body. But instead of being exhausted after unleashing a Noble Phantasm, she looked even more energized than before.
Even after firing Excalibur multiple times, there were no signs of fatigue.
"The Master's magical power... is strange... It doesn't feel like ordinary magecraft... But it's incredibly powerful..." Artoria murmured slowly.
She raised her sword once more and swung with all her might.
"Take this! This is the Sword of Promised Victory—EXCALIBUUUUUR!!!" shouted the Burger King.
This time, Excalibur, empowered by the Command Spell, exploded with truly terrifying force.
A golden light swept over the city like a full moon descending from the sky.
The surrounding ruins were obliterated without a trace. Even Orléans Castle was swallowed by that light—vanishing from the mortal world.
"Gill!! The Great Holy Grail!!!" Black Jeanne screamed hysterically.
Her eyes widened as she saw Artoria's strike land directly on the location of the Holy Grail.
She could only watch as the castle was torn to shreds by the unmatched power of a heroic spirit.
Inevitably, the Holy Grail hidden within was destroyed along with it.
A massive explosion shook the sky and the earth. Magical energy scattered in all directions.
Slice the Holy Grail one more time. The burger king (Artoria) was truly a professional.
"Oh oh oh oh—"
Mordred could no longer withstand the golden beam of light from Excalibur—her father's "curry skewer," city-level edition—and was ultimately swallowed by the blinding radiance that scorched the sky.
The solo duel between father and child had ended. Unfortunately for Mordred, she lost badly in that game.
"GO TO HELL!!!" roared Black Jeanne, her voice burning with fury.
She mounted a black flying dragon and dove straight toward Reuel and the Gundam, which stood like a silver tower on the battlefield.
"Now it's eight against one," said Reuel calmly. "Are you sure you still want to proceed, Miss Judge?"
His tone was light, almost joking. But his gaze locked on like a sniper scope.
Black Jeanne's courage was undeniable. But that didn't make her any less irrational.
However, Artoria leapt forward without delay, intercepting Black Jeanne's charge with her sword raised high.
"I won't let you lay a finger on my Master!" declared the Burger King.
"Spare me your nonsense!" snapped Black Jeanne, her rage boiling over. "Do you think your Master is strong enough to stand against me?"
Her breath seethed like fire, and dark magic began to swirl violently around her.
Her intent was clear: capture the Master first, then take down the Servant afterward.
"Ugh, does turning black lower your IQ?" Reuel quipped flatly, his sarcasm dry—like a bored professor making a casual jab.
He glanced briefly at the white Jeanne d'Arc, then at Black Jeanne, and simply shook his head.
Feeling the momentum was in her favor, Black Jeanne shouted the name of her Noble Phantasm:
"ROAR! MY RAGE!!!"
However, before that fury could even fully manifest—fate took a different turn.
Black Jeanne was defeated.
She couldn't last even one minute.
Swarmed by four shipgirls, two Heroic Spirits, and one Gundam, she was swallowed in a deadly storm of coordinated strikes.
In the end, Richelieu and Da Feng incapacitated her and dragged her—battered and beaten—before Reuel.
"Damn it..." Black Jeanne muttered, her breath heavy and uneven.
Her eyes were wild, her pupils trembling.
"I thought those were... spirits..." she whispered shakily.
She stared at her attackers in stunned confusion—and bitter frustration.
"What the hell happened? Wasn't the King of Knights supposed to be the strongest? Why are these people fighting better than Servants?"
Desperate, she tilted her head back and screamed:
"Gu... just kill me already!"
"After all, I'm just a fake witch... a creation of the Holy Grail."
In her defeated state, Black Jeanne attempted to strangle herself—unsuccessfully, of course—and struggled to speak between gasps and injuries.
"Is this... punishment because Knight Gil got captured by goblins in the forest that time...?"
But there was no mercy in sight. No redemption. Only sharp stares and the silence of true heroes.
"We didn't come here to film some saintly, pale-skinned holy woman drama."
Reuel's voice was flat, but his eyes gleamed with interest as he looked at the slumped form of Black Jeanne.
Even though this blackened Jeanne was the boss of the singularity, Reuel knew—she wasn't the root of the problem.
The one who had resurrected her... was Caster Gilles de Rais, through the power of the Holy Grail.
Before departure, Dr. Roman had given two crucial instructions: destroy the Holy Grail and repair the timeline.
Now, with Caster Gilles de Rais and the Greater Holy Grail blasted into the sky by the "Curry Stick Excalibur," the task of repairing the Singularity was complete.
"So, what do you want to do now?!" Jeanne Alter shouted.
The Black Joan stared at Reuel intensely, her eyes demanding an answer.
"Would you like to join us?" Reuel asked, his tone serious. "After all, you were summoned by a wish. You have no place on the Throne of Heroes."
He added, "Once you disappear… you might be gone for good."
"Where I'm from, we're forming a Heroic Spirit Corps. If you join now, you'll get veteran status from the start."
That was Reuel's official invitation to Jeanne Alter—to join the Imperium of Man.
"Ha?! Did you hit your head on a rock?!" Jeanne Alter snapped in disbelief. "You're not even a mage! How could I ever accept someone like you as my Master?!"
She glared at him. "And my power came from the Holy Grail. With the Grail destroyed, of course I'll vanish."
From the outside, Jeanne Alter's body began to fade gradually. The Holy Grail that had fueled her magical energy was no more. Without it, the Heroic Spirit's existence was slowly unraveling.
"Give me your hand," Reuel said suddenly.
He wanted to test his theory—replacing Jeanne Alter's magical energy with his own psionic power.
Reuel reached out and began pouring high-level psionic energy into Jeanne Alter's body. A brilliant light blazed from his eyes—like twin miniature suns—as the power of the Emperor of Mankind surged forth.
Jeanne Alter's energy, once fueled by the Grail, began forcefully converting into pure psionic energy. A power system entirely alien to this world—yet equally effective.
The process of her body fading began to slow.
"…You?!" Jeanne Alter gasped, eyes wide in shock at what had just happened.
"Heh, forget it. Doesn't matter if you don't want to join," Reuel replied casually, as if nothing had happened. "After all, the real Joan of Arc is here. She's probably way stronger than you, right?"
He pulled away with a mock-regretful shrug.
"From now on, you'll be leading a heroic army. We're going to save the world together," he added flatly.
"Huh?" The white Jeanne d'Arc looked confused.
"Ha?! Who the hell do you think is better than who, huh?! You're gonna regret this, Reuel!!!" Jeanne Alter exploded with rage.
Reuel looked at her calmly. "Listen closely. Wherever you go—hell, or even a cursed dimension—I'll follow you. Be ready for your resurrection."
Without hesitation, Jeanne Alter pulled out the contract and slapped it square in Reuel's face.
"..."
The people nearby could only look at each other. Even Reuel couldn't help but nod in admiration.
"Just as I thought... She's the best woman in Chaldea. Arrogant and sweet like a middle school brat," he murmured softly, almost like a private compliment.
A few minutes later…
A holographic interface flickered to life in the air, glowing with Chaldea's signature blue light.
"Hello?!"
"What's going on over there?! Has the mission been completed?!"
"I can see from Chaldeas that the Singularity has been neutralized. How did you pull it off?!"
Dr. Roman looked utterly baffled. According to his calculations, the team should still be deep inside the underground ruins.
"The King of Knights cut the Grail," Reuel replied casually.
"King of Knights? Where the hell did the King of Knights come from? You can still summon English Servants?!"
Roman looked increasingly confused. But he quickly shook it off, deciding not to think too hard about it.
"Forget it. What matters is that the Singularity was dealt with."
He added, "When are you coming back? I've got a spirit transfer channel ready if you need to return right away."
"No need. I'll open the path myself when the time comes," Reuel said, thinking carefully.
He had already recruited several Heroic Spirits to strengthen his version of the Imperium of Man. If he activated the transfer now, they would all leave this world immediately.
With the system's cooldown period only a few days away, Reuel chose to wait for the right moment.
"Alright. Thanks for your help. I'll be waiting for your glorious return to Chaldea," Roman said.
"All your needs are already prepared. Hopefully, we'll be able to work together again in the future."