"Not bad—"
Watching the particles of light gradually flying towards the sky, Ian felt a few more measures of appreciation for the culprit of all this, Jeanne [Alter].
"You proved yourself."
"My Witch, you truly have potential."
"Yes."
Looking at the scene swept by the firestorm, Jeanne [Alter] no longer doubted her life as she did at the beginning.
"I know I am that kind of witch; thank you for giving me this opportunity."
"I..."
"Will never forget it."
Saying such words, the impurity revealed in Jeanne [Alter]'s eyes showed she had absolutely no intention of avoiding it anymore.
"Then, according to the agreement, can I get something more from you?"
"For example—"
"That feeling I dream of."
As Jeanne [Alter] said this, flame patterns appeared on her body once again.
If the version of her that should have existed in this time was the Dragon Witch;
Then the current her probably needed to be called the Witch of Slaanesh.
Ian could feel that Jeanne [Alter]'s heart was expecting something.
"Then come with me—"
Returning to the dragon's back once again, Ian extended his finger towards Jeanne [Alter].
Without a single word, the young girl began to suck on it selflessly.
Although she possessed the ability to summon Servants, Jeanne [Alter] was essentially still a Servant summoned by the Singularity.
This kind of intimate contact with Ian was naturally also a magical energy replenishment for her super-spec attack just now.
However—
Ian soon perceived Jeanne [Alter]'s dissatisfaction.
After liberating her desires, she obviously had more needs regarding men.
"You said your loyalty belongs to me, right?"
Ian held the young girl's cheek, asking thus.
"Yes..."
Jeanne [Alter] gently exhaled a mouthful of hot breath.
She had become infatuated with this feeling of being completely under control.
"I am your most loyal Witch."
"I accept this loyalty of yours—"
"Come, swear to me right now."
"With your abyss."
The man spread his hands towards Jeanne [Alter]; the smile at the corner of his mouth was hint enough.
"Yes, I understand."
Sometimes, the one who understands the commandments best is perhaps not the nun, but the witch who flouts the rules.
Precisely because she knows where the restraints exist, she can step accurately into the minefield with every stride.
"Like this, right—"
Jeanne [Alter] sat upon him.
Cupping her cheeks, she exhaled hot breath mouthful after mouthful.
It would be hard for anyone to imagine that trying this for the first time, her insides had already soared into the clouds.
"I see."
Jeanne [Alter]'s eyes rolled back involuntarily.
"In this case, there really is no way to resist."
"It is only natural that I would uncontrollably sit upon it, is it not?"
Driving her body instinctively, Jeanne [Alter] raised her head, enjoying that gift from the man to her heart's content.
Only—
Ian soon discovered that the young girl's will was far from satisfied.
She was longing for things that could make her even more indulgent.
"Should I say, as expected of the other side that shouldn't exist of that Holy Maiden? To actually desire [Pain] so much—"
"Then, let me let you touch upon this danger a little."
Ian's hands went all the way up along Jeanne [Alter]'s waist until they reached her neck.
Apply force.
Close.
Breathing was restricted.
The young girl instinctively resisted the hands strangling her neck, but found she couldn't do it at all.
Her thinking became sluggish as the intake of air decreased.
But Jeanne [Alter] discovered that such a self could actually reach a higher peak of desire once again.
That stimulation of being on the verge of death, hanging by a thread.
All sensations were infinitely amplified because of this, and that thrusting, already piercing to the bone, reached directly into the depths of her mind.
Even dying like this wouldn't matter—
No.
Ending the connection with the world in extreme pleasure would absolutely not count as death.
Jeanne [Alter] found herself actually generating such thoughts.
However—
What she didn't know was. Tasting asphyxiation like this, in the man's eyes, she looked completely broken.
Eyes listless, saliva drooling from the corner of her mouth.
The only thing still reacting was the Witch's abyss that was instinctively drawing magical energy.
Still too early—
Ian loosened his hands.
Under the young girl's gaze as she gradually recovered, he patted her head, appearing exceptionally gentle.
"Do you like it?"
"This unique sensation—it is a gift carefully prepared for you."
"..."
"Give me one more time—"
Jeanne [Alter]'s lips moved; that trembling voice, having experienced extreme pain, constantly issued from within.
But, just as the man judged, it was still too early for the current Jeanne [Alter] to come into contact with that kind of thing.
"Time is up."
"If you want more, then become even more irreplaceable—"
"For the current you, be a good Witch first."
The Dragon Witch ultimately fell asleep on the dragon's back.
With her long hair scattered, her body would twitch occasionally, looking just like she had blacked out.
For now—
Let her rest a while.
Looking at the wall of light that had been torn open by a large section, Ian tacitly allowed her sweet dream.
The man leaped down, walking in front of the giant dragons.
"Follow up."
He said without turning his head, as if treating the giant dragons as his subordinates.
However—
Not a single dragon fell behind.
Finally approaching Orleans, Ian looked at the city outline gradually becoming clear, yet felt somewhat uneasy.
It was too quiet.
As if they had come to the wrong place.
The mist that began to shroud the area at some unknown time pushed this weirdness to the limit.
"Father—"
Mordred's voice came.
The young girl, having barely recovered and changed back into her armor, approached step by step, yet dared not be as unrestrained as before.
It must be said, perhaps this was indeed her attitude towards Artoria—yearning, yet restrained and unable to be frank.
"What's wrong?"
Ian held Mordred's hand.
Perhaps he only had that kind of carnal need for her, and even the address was merely a means to increase the pleasure of intercourse, but necessary care would not be absent.
"I feel an ominous aura."
"Ominous aura?"
"Mn—"
Mordred warily sized up the fog-filled city of Orleans.
"That Knight of the Lake who once overturned Britain seems to be right nearby."
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