A golden light suddenly flashed, erasing all other colors from the world.
In the next instant, a terrifying explosion of magical power erupted. The torrent of energy gathered by Richard converged into a single strike.
The wave of magic struck Fafnir head-on.
"ROOOOOOOAAARRR—!!"
Amid that brilliance, only Fafnir's silhouette remained visible.
The dragon let out a roar filled with pain and despair as its figure was swallowed by the golden light.
The sound echoed through the ruins and gradually faded beneath the roar of the explosion itself.
Only after several seconds did the torrent of energy begin to weaken.
Little by little, the world returned to the state it had been in before Richard had swung his sword.
When the brilliance finally disappeared, Fafnir was still there.
But black smoke was escaping from almost its entire body.
Its scales were cracked in countless places, some of them completely destroyed.
The creature tried to move a few times, but failed.
In the end, its colossal body lost support, and with a heavy crash, Fafnir collapsed to the ground.
"Fuuu..."
A deep breath escaped its throat.
Its enormous claws still tried to support its body for a few moments.
But it was useless; all its strength had already left it.
It no longer had the energy to stand.
Fafnir was now in its final moments.
Surrounding it were Siegfried, Saint George, and Richard Lionheart.
The battle had ended surprisingly quickly.
But thinking about it, perhaps this was exactly the expected outcome.
Although Fafnir was a notorious evil dragon, Siegfried had already defeated it once in life.
Saint George was another hero whose legend was closely tied to dragon extermination.
Richard possessed enough strength to face monsters of that level without hesitation.
With a group composed of warriors of that caliber, the outcome of the fight could hardly have been different.
What would have truly been surprising would be if Fafnir had managed to escape that hunt.
And with that, the extermination campaign of Fafnir and the wyverns spread across Lyon was over.
---xXx---
Gilles held his most precious possession with both hands: the Book of Prelati's Spell.
The pages of the book turned on their own as an absurd amount of magical energy was channeled into the ritual before him.
"Jeanne d'Arc... Jeanne d'Arc..." he murmured, pressing the book against his chest for a moment. His wide, feverish eyes were red, unable to see anything beyond the image of the saint dominating his thoughts.
In front of him, a gigantic purple magic circle expanded across the ground, spreading strange symbols in all directions. At its center were Lancelot and Atalanta, both enveloped in the growing glow of the ritual.
Gilles silently observed the two Servants.
He had no intention of sending them into the next battle.
No matter how many Heroic Spirits he had at his side, after everything he had witnessed, he fully understood the difference in power between them and that man.
Sending Lancelot and Atalanta would only be a waste.
It would be like giving himself hope, only to have it crushed moments later.
Gilles knew the value of hope very well—after all, wasn't that what made despair so beautiful?
A disturbed smile slowly appeared on his face.
Nothing was more fascinating than watching someone believe they would be saved, only to realize in the next instant that all that hope was a lie.
That was when terror blossomed in its purest form, and when the human soul revealed its true shape.
That was why he did not intend to fight in a conventional way.
If he could not win through force, then he would bet everything on a single move.
All of his magical power was being poured into that circle.
The pages of the spellbook turned faster and faster as the purple light grew stronger.
Lancelot and Atalanta gradually disappeared within the glow.
Their forms were dissolved and converted into magical energy that fed the ritual.
Gilles did not look away even for an instant.
His body trembled from exhaustion as the absurd amount of mana drained everything he had.
Even so, he did not stop, even if it meant destroying his own body and killing himself.
Everything would be acceptable as long as he could tear Jeanne d'Arc from that man's hands.
As long as he could see her again—or at least what he himself had created to replace Jeanne d'Arc.
"Wait for me..." his voice came out almost as a whisper. "Jeanne d'Arc... Jeanne d'Arc..."
The light of the magic circle slowly began to fade as the accumulated magical power reached its final stage.
With his wide eyes still fixed on the ritual before him, Gilles slowly closed his eyelids.
The former marshal's last words echoed softly through the silent battlefield.
"Jeanne d'Arc... Jeanne d'Arc..."
---xXx---
Since Arthur had left, Jeanne Alter had stopped causing trouble.
She simply sat there all day with an irritated expression on her face.
"Tsk... what a despicable man!" she muttered, clicking her tongue.
Just thinking about how Arthur had mocked her that day only made her more irritated.
"As soon as I get out of here, I'll catch you too, throw you in a cage, and keep you there for humans... no, for wyverns to admire!" she complained, clenching her fists.
While feeding those thoughts, Arthur entered that place once again.
"Hey, Lady Dark. It's been a while, hasn't it?"
Upon hearing his voice, even knowing it was pointless, Jeanne Alter immediately raised her banner, and flames filled with her fury rushed toward Arthur.
The result was exactly the same as always.
Absolutely nothing happened.
Faced with that now-familiar scene, Jeanne Alter put her banner away, sat back down, and looked away with a cold huff.
Arthur simply approached and sat beside her again as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
To be honest, her attitude mattered little to him.
"Seeing you like this now, I think when I finally release you, you'll probably just keep chasing me until you manage to kill me."
Jeanne Alter shot him a sharp look.
"No. I'll capture you alive and humiliate you the same way you humiliated me."
Arthur laughed.
"That doesn't sound so bad," he replied.
A vein popped on Jeanne Alter's forehead immediately.
For a moment, she thought he was provoking her again.
But surprisingly, Arthur simply leaned back on his hands and looked up at the ceiling.
"To be honest, I really value freedom."
He stayed silent for a few seconds before continuing.
"When I first saw you, I wanted to capture you and bring you to my side immediately. Do you know why?"
Jeanne Alter did not answer.
Arthur did not expect one.
"Because you reminded me of someone chained up," he said.
"Chained up?" Her eyes narrowed.
"Yes." Arthur turned his gaze back to her. "You talk about destroying France. You declare your desire for revenge and your hatred toward those who betrayed you and burned you at the stake."
"But I never saw you talk about what comes after that," he continued.
Jeanne Alter remained silent.
"Let's say you succeed in your goal."
Arthur went on calmly.
"Let's say everyone dies. France disappears from the face of the earth. Every city burns and everyone you hate turns to ash."
He tilted his head slightly toward her.
"What comes after that?" he asked.
Jeanne Alter opened her mouth to answer, but no words came out.
Arthur continued before she could recover.
"You want revenge, but revenge is not a destination—it's just a direction."
His crimson eyes stayed fixed on her.
"A direction that always points backward," he finished.
Jeanne Alter's expression hardened.
"You understand nothing, you worthless trash," she immediately snapped.
"On the contrary, Jeanne, I understand very well the flames of revenge burning inside you," Arthur replied with a shrug. "More than you can imagine. I know how to recognize someone living for a single thing."
His tone remained strangely calm.
"I lived a significant part of my life only to achieve revenge, and when I finally got it, I realized it was meaningless."
Jeanne Alter's hands slowly clenched as she listened.
"So tell me, Lady Dark," Arthur pointed at her. "If tomorrow all that hatred disappeared and there was nothing and no one left to hate, what would be left for you?"
Silence filled the place.
Jeanne Alter wanted to answer immediately.
She wanted to call him an idiot and say it didn't matter.
But she realized she had no answer.
And that irritated her more than any provocation Arthur had ever made.
(End of Chapter)
A/N: A bit of speech jutsu to bring Jeanne Alter to our side.
A/N: A few more chapters and this arc will end.