The war's outcome was written before it even began.
... Such is the nature of most wars in this world.
Artoria, a fellow Servant, taught Jeanne Alter a harsh lesson about what true warfare looks like:
"Schemes, strategies; intelligence, decisive strikes."
To win a war, any means necessary could be employed.
Despicable? Perhaps.
But the future of the entire city... no, the entire kingdom... rested on Artoria's shoulders. To show even a shred of mercy to the enemy would be irresponsible to the people who supported her.
She might pity her foes... but only after victory was secured!
"Martha, no holding back... full assault!"
"Siegfried, you and George handle that dragon!"
A flawless battle strategy.
Dividing the battlefield while accounting for compatibility against the enemy. Maximizing their advantages to secure victory at the lowest cost!
This was Artoria's "art of war."
Born in a resource-scarce island nation, where supplies were always in short supply, she had to consider not only victory in war but also post-war reconstruction.
Such thoughts were the domain of true kings.
"Tarasque, I'm counting on you!"
Martha summoned her "dragon."
This spiked, turtle-like dragon transformed into an impregnable fortress, standing between the undead army and Lyon... eliminating the final concern.
"A perfect path to victory?"
From the sky, Alaric observed the battlefield.
No exaggeration... Artoria had accounted for every possibility. Jeanne Alter's attack patterns were completely locked down, and now it was just a matter of "strangling" Her bit by bit.
She had woven an airtight net, waiting for the clueless Jeanne Alter to stumble into it.
But...
"Heh, Big Sister Airhead... if this is all you've got, you're underestimating my Jeanne Alter."
Watching Jeanne Alter, battered by Martha and Artoria's combined assault, forced into passive defense and retreating step by step, Alaric sensed it... the Original Sin within the witch was swelling uncontrollably.
"Betrayal..."
Jeanne Alter gritted her teeth.
After taking a few of Martha's fists to her chestplate, she finally realized what she had been subjected to.
Betrayal!
Another betrayal!
A shameful, unforgivable betrayal!
"AAAAAHHH... !!!"
"You damned traitors!!!"
"All of you... go to hell!!!"
The witch born from betrayal unleashed the Original Sin within her.
"This is the roar of my soul, forged in hatred."
"Turn these shameful traitors, and this filthy world, to ashes!!!"
"Roar, my wrath!!!"
...
Jeanne Alter was enraged.
Well, this was within Artoria's expectations.
The enemy was a Servant, after all, and a rare one at that... a Counter Hero summoned as an Avenger, inverted from a saint.
Her mind might not be sharp, but her power was undeniably formidable.
"Careful, Martha!"
"Don't worry, I've got this!"
Artoria and Martha braced themselves with utmost caution for Jeanne Alter's attack.
... But they still underestimated her strength.
"Burn, burn, burn... "
"Incinerate everything in this world!!!"
Jeanne Alter waved her dragon flag, her anguished laughter mingling with raging flames that instantly engulfed the entire battlefield.
Was it a coincidence?
Artoria had meticulously prepared a feast of "betrayal" for Jeanne Alter, yet inadvertently triggered the Wrath of her Original Sin. Born from betrayal, the witch's Spirit Origin reacted instantly to this new betrayal... painful memories flooded her mind.
Lyon?
No, this was Rouen!
In the town square, hands and feet bound to the stake, judged as a "heretic" for her final trial.
Lord, why have You forsaken me?
Lord, what have I done wrong?
Lord, tell me why?
So that's it... there is no Lord... we can never be redeemed.
That day, the saint who saved her people perished in crimson flames.
... Yet, as depicted in the Bible, three days after her death, she returned to the world as a witch.
"Go to hell, all of you!!!"
...
The flames burned.
Black flames, fueled by everything good in the world, vowed to destroy it all.
"Trouble!"
Artoria and Martha successfully deflected the flames rushing toward them.
But those flames, centered on Jeanne Alter's body, spread across the entire battlefield, including Lyon.
Roar...
Affected by the flames' chain reaction, Siegfried and Saint George, battling Fafnir, were suddenly thrown into a desperate struggle.
Empowered by the witch's strength, Fafnir's power surged... it not only overpowered the two dragon-slayers in moments but also found time to unleash a volcanic breath toward the distant city.
The witch's flames, the dragon's breath.
Two terrifying forces merged, surging toward the city that held the last hope of this land.
"Damn it!"
Artoria, sensing the enemy's intent, cursed inwardly.
If this attack reached the city, even if they won the war, it would be meaningless.
But she and the other Servants were trapped by Jeanne Alter's flames, unable to return in time to defend.
What now?
Artoria and Martha exchanged a glance... both saw unprecedented anxiety in the other's eyes.
Despite their utmost caution and near-certain victory, they had underestimated this witch and her vengeful heart.
"Tarasque... I'm sorry..."
In the crisis, Martha had no time to think, directing her dragon-turtle to shield the city, trying to protect it with its life.
But it wasn't enough, far from it.
A massive gap remained in the city's defenses, about to be struck by the combined flames and dragon breath.
Was this the end? Would the hope that Artoria and the other Servants had fought to preserve be destroyed?
"No... "
"It's not time to despair yet... "
Suddenly, a resolute voice rang out.
Accompanying it was a pure white flag, embroidered with golden fleurs-de-lis.
A holy banner and a blonde maiden stood atop the city walls... at that moment, every Frenchman in Lyon felt a fleeting trance.
Could it be her?
Yes, who else could appear at such a time?
"My apologies, everyone, I arrived late... hopefully not too late."
"My banner, protect my people once more!"
"My Lord is here!!!"
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