Welcome to the Holy Maiden's Dream, Fleeting as a Bubble (Part 4)
Jeanne d'Arc had shut down.
This was only natural. Anyone who, without any warning, was confronted with the declaration, "You're hopelessly in love with a scumbag," would inevitably spiral into confusion and existential questioning, left sitting frozen on a park bench like a malfunctioning machine.
—Especially when said scumbag happened to be a seemingly harmless young boy.
Not far away, the childlike version of the Moon Spirit King summoned a construction crew to clean up the devastated streets. When his gaze fell upon the pitiful girl curled up on the bench, looking like a lost stray, his expression softened with sympathy.
"What's wrong?" A fragrant breeze brushed past as the crimson-clad little girl draped herself over his shoulder, tenderly caressing his cheek. "Feeling sorry for her?"
"Yeah." Sakatsuki nodded honestly. "Even if it's the truth, she probably can't accept it."
Draco's hand stilled for a moment before she fidgeted awkwardly and murmured, "Sorry... I acted impulsively."
"No." Sakatsuki quickly shook his head. Turning around, he pulled the little red dragon into his arms, savoring the warmth of her body as a gentle smile touched his eyes. "How could I blame you? Hearing your vow from your own lips made me happy."
Before Draco could respond, he leaned in and pressed a fervent kiss to her delicate lips. Draco narrowed her eyes, basking in the unrestrained affection radiating from the young man. The resentment and jealousy from earlier dissipated like mist, and she began to respond, ravaging him with the hunger of a starved predator.
She was a dragon, after all—the very embodiment of greed. How could she ever be satisfied with mere fleeting pleasures?
She had simply grown accustomed to restraint.
Meanwhile, on the park bench, Jeanne d'Arc cast a fleeting glance in their direction before flinching and looking away again.
I'm already this miserable... and you two are flaunting your love right in front of me?!
Fine... I'll cry! Just you watch!
As the thought crossed her mind, she let out an involuntary sniffle. When her fingers brushed her eyes, she was startled to find them damp. Hugging her knees tightly, she buried her face in them, sinking deeper into self-pity.
But what could she even do? She couldn't fight them, and she had nowhere to run.
The only people she truly knew in this city were this infuriating couple...
Once again, the question of who she really was surfaced in her mind. Jeanne d'Arc pouted, shaking her head violently as if trying to dispel the nightmarish visions haunting her.
War. Betrayal. Sacrifice...
Birth. Slaughter. Vengeance...
And after that? What came next?
Lost in her thoughts, something cold and damp suddenly pressed against her cheek.
"Eek—?!" She jolted upright, snatching the offending object. Upon closer inspection, it was a can of soda, its red-and-black label gleaming under the light.
"Take it." Draco hid her reddened hand behind her back, biting her lower lip as she struggled to put on an apologetic expression. "About earlier... I'm sorry."
There was no response. Jeanne d'Arc warily took several steps back, her body tensed, clearly not magnanimous enough to forgive this unreasonable little red dragon.
The standoff continued until Sakatsuki broke the silence: "Alright, alright. Draco acted impulsively before, but that was the truth... If you're angry, direct it at me."
"Angry? I want to run you through with my sword." Jeanne shot him a cold glare but still popped open the soda can and took a sip. The sweet fizz on her tongue soothed her turbulent emotions slightly.
"Continue," she commanded Sakatsuki. "Consider this your apology—do your job properly as a guide and keep introducing me to people I've supposedly met before. That is, if this actually helps restore my memories rather than listening to your nonsense."
"The pleasure is mine." Sakatsuki exhaled discreetly, offering a polished smile. "My fair lady."
Just a little further. Surely this child could step out of the shadow of that saint's image—to like certain things, to love certain people... For her, a life of her own was just beginning.
This was Sakatsuki's hidden thought, one even Draco hadn't yet grasped. If she knew, Draco would surely wear an envious expression, muttering something like "You really do favor her, don't you?" before demanding extra compensation at night.
Harboring these secret thoughts, Sakatsuki led the way. But the moment they reached their destination, his good mood—along with his plans—was shattered by the brutal reality before him.
The King of Knights, wielding her holy spear in her "understanding of the human heart" form, and her unruly, lion-maned, rebellious child.
The demonic laughter of the Sage King of Uruk, flanked by the two Sumerian goddesses who ruled heaven and earth.
The Demon God King seated pensively on his throne, surrounded by countless writhing tentacles and trembling eyeballs of the Demon God Pillars.
And the French saint holding her fleur-de-lis banner, whose initial joy at seeing the newcomers quickly froze into stunned silence.
In the Temple of Time, Sakatsuki was met with this bizarre, almost sinister gathering.
"Why..." Sakatsuki trembled, voice shaking. "Why are you all here?"
"The question is meaningless," the Demon God King rumbled. "This is our dwelling. Even as voluntary prisoners, you promised us freedom."
Behind him, the Demon God Pillars danced in ecstatic agreement, expressing their wholehearted support.
"Britain operates on a five-day workweek. Our busy schedule concluded an hour ago." The King of Knights tucked a stray lock behind her ear, exuding breathtaking charm. "I merely brought my heir to visit fellow monarchs while the knights rushed noisily to Avalon's tavern."
"Speaking of which," Artoria said with a knowing smirk, "how long has it been since you last reported to the Round Table, my prince?"
Behind her father, Mordred made a displeased face—especially when recalling how lonely the king had looked in private—and dearly wished to unleash a "Clarent Blood Arthur" upon Sakatsuki.
"As for us, we were dragged here by this half-naked guy who said there'd be a good show to watch." Ishtar-Rin twirled her index finger while glancing at the holy maiden behind Sakatsuki, her face lighting up with keen interest. "I was planning to wreak havoc in Uruk tonight, but it seems we've stumbled upon something even more entertaining. Heh, hehehe..."
Is this how you use your Clairvoyance?! Ancient King of Tax Evasion!
Sakatsuki's expression stiffened as he glared fiercely at the King of Heroes from Uruk's lineage. But Gilgamesh merely lifted his chin arrogantly, his demeanor clearly conveying: "You can barely handle your own mess, yet you still have the gall to challenge me, mongrel chef?!"
Left with no choice, Sakatsuki exchanged a pleading glance with Ereshkigal, hoping for her assistance... Ereshkigal's expression softened momentarily, but just as she was about to speak up in his defense, Ishtar pulled her aside. Whatever was whispered made dangerous light flash in Ereshkigal's eyes.
Damn it, are they plotting to kill me so they can imprison me in the Underworld?
A chill ran down Sakatsuki's spine, but worse was yet to come. After the kings had finished speaking, the saintly maiden—who had somehow changed into pristine chainmail and now held her holy banner—stepped forward. In a long-unheard icy tone, she demanded:
"Sakatsuki, who is she?"
"I should be asking that first." The Jeanne d'Arc behind Sakatsuki also stepped forward, a flash of violet-black flames revealing her own obsidian chainmail and billowing cloak as she gripped her banner, hostility dripping from her voice.
Ding-dong.
As if hearing a notification chime, the onlookers instantly adopted expressions of dark anticipation, uniformly stepping back to minimize their presence and clear the stage for the two saintly maidens who shared the same face.
Watching Servants of identical essence but opposing aspects tear into each other is one of the Throne of Heroes' greatest pleasures.
Come, grab some popcorn!
Even the Demon God King lowered his head slightly, pretending to glance over casually while the massive eyeballs behind him crackled with energy, their blatant stares nearly scorching the temple walls.
As the crowd of golden-haired, beautiful Servants dispersed, the contrasting features of the two Jeannes became increasingly pronounced. First were their cloaks—the black Jeanne behind Sakatsuki had burn-like marks along the hem, while the white Jeanne's robes remained immaculately clean.
Next were their armors. The black Jeanne's armor curved inward aggressively, its jagged edges radiating hostility, whereas the white Jeanne's armor featured smooth, gentle arcs emphasizing protection over warfare.
Even the chains symbolizing the "Saint's Suffering" were barely visible on the white Jeanne, but the black Jeanne was bound extensively—the chains knotted behind her back and trailing down to her waist, as if the slightest tug would force the maiden to her knees in humiliated submission.
Paired with her unnaturally pale skin and deranged demeanor, several Servants' expressions shifted as they realized which moment of the French Saint's life this black Jeanne represented.
Bound by chains, abandoned by her nation, consumed by the flames of the stake.
The Saint's end—still recounted through the ages.
The one who reacted fastest should have been her white counterpart, yet after a brief silence, the white Jeanne only looked puzzled:
"Why would you appear... No, I should ask, who exactly are you?"
"Me? I am Jeanne d'Arc—at least that's what this guy called Sakatsuki says." The black-clad Jeanne responded with a hostile sneer. "You dare take my form yet don't even know who I am?"
The white-clad Jeanne shook her head slightly: "In that case, there's one thing I want to ask you."
"What could you possibly want to ask at this point—"
"A simple question. Do you... remember your family?"
"...Huh?"
"I said it's a simple question." The white Jeanne's expression grew serious. "No matter how vivid my battlefield memories are, most of my recollections are those of a country girl. Even my darker self couldn't possibly forget those peaceful days of pastoral life."
"No, perhaps it's precisely because I couldn't forget that I felt such despair, lament and rage toward betrayal and hatred."
"I..." The black Jeanne's eyes widened slightly as fragmented memories flashed through her mind, causing excruciating pain.
Though she still couldn't recall everything, one thing was certain—it wasn't a pleasant past.
"You... have no memories, do you?" Seeing the expression on her counterpart's face, the white Jeanne nodded in understanding.
"Jeanne, that's enough." Sakatsuki shielded the black Jeanne behind him as he had done before, sighing softly. "At least not now."
"Step aside, Sakatsuki." The white Jeanne advanced, refusing to yield. "From the moment we met, everything has been solely between her and me—At the end of my death, I was indeed betrayed and mocked, but I never hated my homeland. I couldn't possibly hate it, because I loved that country deeply."
"If that's the case, then where did you come from? The saint Jeanne d'Arc felt no resentment until her final moment, so why were you born in this form! Could it be that you're merely a fictional phantom conjured from the imaginations of countless people who read about the saint's story..."
"Jeanne!" Sakatsuki sharply interrupted the white saint's thoughts. "That's enough—no more Revelations!"
"No."
Mad laughter erupted—the sound of someone broken and self-abandoning, filled with undisguised hatred and cruelty.
"It's too late." The black Jeanne slowly drew the demonic sword at her waist. "I remember everything now."
Who would have thought she could be so weak as to flee from her past? Memories of being burned at the stake as a witch, of being born from a dear friend's madness in that Singularity of the evil dragon, only to be banished by that holy radiance—unworthy even of returning to the Throne of Heroes, vanishing pitifully...
"So what does this make me?" The black Jeanne—no, she should be called Jeanne Alter now—looked at her hands, her voice heartbreakingly hollow. "A remnant of remnants? Another shadow cast by a phantom's projection? How pathetic it makes me want to laugh..."
"That's not true, Jeanne." Sakatsuki stepped toward her slowly. "Your existence here means the world still remembers you. Even if your essence is just a wish granted by the Holy Grail, here you can—"
"Don't come any closer!"
Before Sakatsuki could finish speaking, Jeanne d'Arc Alter abruptly swung her sword, its blade reflecting fragmented shards of light.
Darkness spread as the accumulated crimson anguish and pain manifested into tangible form through clusters of condensed violet-black flames.
A demonic dragon spread its iron-scaled wings, catching the last glimmers of twilight as it roared skyward, its throat brimming with venomous fire that ravaged all existence.
"This is the roar of my soul tempered by hatred. Scream, La Grondement Du Haine!!"
As the Noble Phantasm's true name was invoked, endless draconic flames surged forth like a deluge!
"Avalon!" The King of Knights stepped forward, calmly raising her arm.
"Luminosité Eternelle!" The white saint pursed her lips and raised her fleur-de-lis banner.
Behind these two EX-rank defenses, the Avenger's inferno was held at bay. When the Noble Phantasm's aftermath dissipated, the black-clad Jeanne—Jeanne d'Arc Alter the Avenger—had vanished from the Temple of Time.
"Not my problem." Gilgamesh shrugged under Sakatsuki's furious gaze. "Given their mutual attraction, they'll inevitably collide again—at least here, we've got your back."
"Nonsense! I, the Moon-Cell King, need your help?"
The light of the Third Magic shimmered as the intimate moment with the little red dragon ended. Now standing tall was Sakatsuki in his prime—handsome features radiating noble bearing as he made his grand entrance!
"Just wait. I'll slash the Uruk lineage's resource allocation by eight points. Let's see if your Golden Rule can save you from Siduri's wrath, Goldie." He shook his fist at Gilgamesh before turning toward the exit. "Let's go, Draco. We're retrieving Dark Jeanne."
"Denied. I've no interest in third-wheeling." Draco instantly refused, having transformed into her wild, long-legged beauty form. Blowing Sakatsuki a kiss, she sauntered toward the wary saint and holy king. "Perfect timing for our ladies' tea party..."
"Sigh. Be careful not to demolish the Demon God King's temple." With this resigned reminder, Sakatsuki embarked alone on his search.
"Now then, dear Dark Jeanne, where might you be? Come out for some therapeutic chatting..."