Kingdom of France, outskirts of Lyon.
About three kilometers from the city, Martha, disguised as a holy knight, rendezvoused with the maddened Lancer and Assassin.
"You're too slow!"
The Lancer, shrouded in madness, had lost his vaunted elegance. He fixed the knight... who had a dragon yet chose to walk... with a cold stare. His reason screamed that something was amiss, but the madness overtook his mind, clouding his ability to discern the hidden details.
"It seems Rider hasn't completed her task either, aside from you."
"Is it the saint's compassion at work? You're not some kind of cleric, are you?"
The Mad Assassin... a woman whose every feature was strikingly voluptuous... eyed the knight, fully clad in concealing armor, with suspicion, as if trying to pierce through to her true identity.
Gulp...
Martha, unnerved by the stare, swallowed hard, unsure how to respond.
But at that moment, the white dragon by her side could no longer contain its disdain and lunged forward.
I may dislike her, but who are you two to speak to my companion like that?
Roar...
The white dragon spread its wings, charging at the maddened Assassin. A white light flashed from its mouth, unleashing a Burst Stream of Destruction directly at the Lancer attempting to intervene.
Boom!!!
The small white orb, perhaps basketball-sized, shot from the dragon's maw.
But its power was immense.
Though its size had changed, the strength within this form was undiminished. A casual strike, yet the violent shockwave from the explosion reached Lyon, three kilometers away.
As for the targeted Mad Lancer and Assassin? Alaric had controlled his power well, sparing their lives.
Roar...
The white dragon, having flaunted its might, returned smugly to Martha's side.
"So… so powerful!"
Martha stood frozen, staring at the crater resembling a meteor strike.
She had thought this white dragon was merely special and cute... but seeing its terrifying power so vividly displayed, she shed all underestimation.
"Ten times... no, a hundred times."
"His power is at least a hundred times that of Tarascue."
The saint who once tamed a French wyvern silently gauged the gap between it and Alaric.
Her curiosity about the golden-haired knight with the distinctive ahoge, standing beside such a mighty dragon, grew even stronger.
What kind of person was this female knight?
…
The explosion's light faded, and the dust settled.
The two injured heroic spirits, nourished by mana, quickly healed their wounds and struggled to their feet.
Such was the advantage of being a heroic spirit.
Unlike mortal beings with fatal weaknesses, they could recover from non-lethal damage using their Master's mana.
And Jeanne Alter… she held a Holy Grail capable of providing infinite mana.
With the aid of that False Grail, the two spirits swiftly restored themselves to peak condition.
Step.
Both advanced simultaneously, exuding an intense aura of oppression.
"Tch, still want to fight?"
Martha gritted her teeth, hiding her right fist behind her... ready to strike if needed.
But...
Step.
Another synchronized sound.
This time, it wasn't a step forward. The Mad Lancer knelt on one knee, and the Mad Assassin bowed deeply.
"Submission!"
Martha turned, her gaze uncertain, to the white dragon beside her.
Alaric didn't even spare them a glance.
Might makes right, the victor reigns supreme... such was the eternal law of dragons.
Though these two spirits were human in essence, their association with the concept of Dragon imbued them with draconic instincts.
Vlad III, the Impaler.
Carmilla, the Bloody Countess.
Both had fallen into monstrosity through the taint of "sinful" blood, dubbed "dragons" by later generations.
This, perhaps, was humanity's true definition of a dragon.
What is a dragon?
Dragon means monster, dragon means fear, dragon means catastrophe!
…
Martha stared, dazed, at the scene unfolding before her.
As a saint, she struggled to comprehend it.
"Was it really my fists, not my faith, that tamed Tarascue?"
She pondered but had no time to seek the truth.
"Enemies approaching."
"At incredible speed!"
A cyan-green light shot from Lyon's direction, closing in almost instantly.
... Then, a greatsword was raised.
A poised strike, aimed at the three enemy Servants, delivered without fear by a hero who had once battled dragons.
"Not good!"
Martha, skilled in physical combat, saw the enemy's robust frame and sensed trouble.
She'd assumed a speed-type opponent, not a charging juggernaut. Despite their numerical advantage, meeting this full-force blow head-on was unwise.
Yes, that's it... dodge this prepared strike, then counterattack.
In the ever-shifting battlefield, Martha relied on her experience to make the best choice.
But...
"Wait, hold on."
"Where are you going?"
Seeing the three figures... Alaric, Vlad, and Carmilla... charge forward as if to clash head-on, Martha slapped her forehead.
... She'd forgotten her teammates weren't the thinking type!
---
Every 200 power stones 1 bonus chapter will be uploaded faster.
And if you want to read 30 chapters early, you can visit: Patre on . com / KangTL (REMOVE SPACE)