Morning.
"Ah!"
In the guest chambers of the Fortress of Millennia, Jeanne d'Arc suddenly bolted upright, wide awake.
The terrifying imagery from her dream resurfaced vividly in her mind, her eyes widening in shock and disbelief.
Ordinarily, Servants had no need for sleep or sustenance. However, in this Romanian Holy Grail War, Jeanne had been summoned as a Pseudo-Servant—and as such, she possessed a physical body. Unlike normal Servants, she couldn't dematerialize, and thus required both sleep and food.
Indeed, Jeanne retained the enhanced physique of a Heroic Spirit, so she wouldn't die from hunger. Yet her human body still reacted painfully to it, leaving her uncomfortable if she didn't eat.
Incidentally, while Jeanne herself was participating in the Holy Grail War, the girl whose body she inhabited could still see everything unfolding through her perspective, as though watching a film.
Moreover, even if Jeanne were to fulfill her mission—or perish during the conflict—the girl she possessed, Laeticia, would remain unharmed. The Greater Grail would simply restore her to her original form from backup data.
Laeticia's body, soul, and consciousness would all be perfectly reconstructed, even forcibly relocated to a safe location if needed. Any injuries sustained in the interim would instantly regenerate.
So, no matter how many fatal blows the Ruler took, the French girl Laeticia would emerge unscathed. Well... except for her finances. The money spent on this trip? That was gone for good.
"Why do I keep having these dreams..."
Jeanne hadn't slept well at all that night. Her slumber had been shallow, repeatedly shattered by nightmares—her sleep quality, abysmal.
The dreams themselves were bizarre and disjointed: a frail boy crying out for help; a small, pitiful spirit girl erased by a god's cruelty; Trifas engulfed in flames as Servants fought for the Greater Grail; a priest trying to save all humanity, and a magus willing to destroy everything to reach the Root...
And then, the final image—two paintings. One, peaceful and serene. The other... dark and terrifying.
A war, indistinct but overwhelming—one that dwarfed even the Hundred Years' War she had lived through. No... a conflict far beyond anything in human history.
The blue planet burned. Life wailed. Blood flowed endlessly. Fire consumed the world. The civilizations mankind had built over millennia—cities, nations, institutions—all crumbled beneath merciless destruction.
The stars dimmed, the sun withered, and the heavens turned black.
"Was that... a revelation from the Lord? A prophecy? I can't make sense of it... Two paintings, two worlds... What does it mean?"
Jeanne sat up in bed, the chill of damp sheets clinging to her back. She reached behind her, startled to find it soaked through with sweat.
"This Holy Grail War is... strange," she murmured. "Why was I summoned by the Greater Grail itself? Why was I called not as a Servant, but through a Pseudo-Servant vessel? Was it chance—or a safeguard?"
All traces of sleep were gone. Drawing aside the embroidered curtains, Jeanne gazed at the dawn's first light spilling over the horizon, her eyes narrowing.
"There's something wrong about this Grail War. The Red Faction... why did they attack me? Are they hiding something? Something they fear I might uncover as Ruler?"
"The problem likely lies with the Red side..."
Jeanne had once been human, after all—still capable of feeling and judgment. Though she strove for fairness, the Red Faction's hostility toward her had begun to sway her thoughts subtly toward the Black.
Compared to the chaotic Reds, the Black Faction seemed... normal. Gods, kings, dragon-slayers, wise men, golem masters, artificial lifeforms—all proper Heroic Spirits with defined roles.
Even if one of them—Selene—was powerful enough to feel almost unfair, Jeanne's first impression of her had simply been that of an arrogant, cold ruler. But, when judged impartially, even that fell within the realm of what was normal for a god-empress.
As for the rest of the Black Faction's Masters, they were, by comparison, far more ordinary. Their temperaments and methods were common among magi—driven by personal ambition, the pursuit of power, or the desire to reach the Root.
Among them, Darnic, the head of the Yggdmillennia clan, stood out as particularly courteous. Even though Jeanne had repeatedly made it clear that she would not lend the Black side any aid, he continued to treat her with unfailing politeness and respect.
He had even gone so far as to offer her comfortable lodgings within the Fortress of Millennia.
"That's the Black Master, Caules, isn't it? His relationship with Berserker—Frankenstein—doesn't seem like Master and Servant at all. It's more like... two people truly in love."
Looking out the window into the castle courtyard, Jeanne watched as Caules and Berserker of Black spent the early morning together, deepening their bond. The sight of their innocent affection eased some of the heaviness in her heart.
"At this point... all the problems really do seem to come from the Red side."
Knock, knock~!
"Lady Ruler, your breakfast is ready."
The monotone voice of a homunculus maid came from beyond the door. A moment later, the door opened, and several maids entered, pushing a serving cart and wash basin. Upon spotting Jeanne, they immediately bowed with mechanical grace.
"Pardon the intrusion, Lady Ruler. Please allow us—"
"Ah, no, no, that won't be necessary. I can manage myself," Jeanne quickly waved her hands, flustered by their excessive courtesy—even toward a Servant.
"As you wish, Lady Ruler. Please enjoy your meal."
The maids bowed once more and left swiftly, their movements crisp and practiced.
"Phew..." Jeanne exhaled softly, gazing at the steaming basin and the folded white towel on the cart. "...Such treatment is difficult to accept. How could I possibly repay this kindness...?"
Before joining the war, Jeanne had lived as an ordinary country girl in France. Even after leading armies, her life had been one of hardship—service and battle, not luxury. Being waited upon like this was rare and uncomfortable.
After washing her face and rinsing her mouth, Jeanne looked at the cart's lower tier, filled with exquisite dishes.
"I should eat first. I'll need my strength to investigate. No matter what, I have to find the truth behind all this."
...
Knock, knock! Another series of knocks echoed through the room.
Creak~
"Lady Ruler, the clan head requests your presence in the main hall."
"Understood. Lead the way."
Having finished her meal, Jeanne changed back into her Servant armor and followed the homunculus maid through the corridors toward the central hall of the Fortress of Millennia.
Along the way, the sight of patrolling homunculi and the towering warriors summoned by that divine Servant caught her attention.
"These giant soldiers... they're the same as the golden-armored one that faced Lancer of Red—Karna. So they must be manifestations of Black Rider's army-type Noble Phantasm. This many... that's an overwhelming ability."
After her quiet admiration, her gaze shifted to the homunculi patrolling the halls—blank-faced, lifeless, their movements eerily mechanical. "Homunculi... products of the Black Masters' alchemy. Such remarkable craftsmanship."
"May you one day find peace."
Jeanne had no right to judge the Black Faction's actions, nor the authority to stop them. All she could do was offer silent prayer for these artificial beings.
The homunculi were the Yggdmillennia clan's property—tools born as sacrifices for victory in the Holy Grail War.
The only unfortunate thing was how beautifully crafted they were. Their human-like forms and delicate features stirred unwanted sympathy in those who saw them.
To put it bluntly—if they had been faceless, misshapen, or grotesque—if they hadn't resembled humans at all—would anyone truly be so eager to "save" them?
"And that one... why was that homunculus naked when captured by Black Rider's golden-armored soldiers?"
Under the influence of her A-rank skill, Revelation, Jeanne began to piece together the reason.
Revelation—a skill equal in power to Intuition.
Intuition was a sixth sense in battle, but Revelation applied to all matters related to achieving one's objective—such as knowing the right path to take while traveling. Because its insights appeared baseless, however, Jeanne could never quite explain them to others.
"Could that homunculus be... special?" Jeanne murmured. "Did he awaken self-awareness—and rebel against his master's control?"
"Ruler, Lady Saint—did you rest well last night?"
That calm, familiar voice broke through her thoughts. Instantly, every homunculus in the corridor—whether maid or soldier—fell to one knee at the sight of Selene.
Jeanne sighed softly. Even now, she couldn't get used to Selene's overwhelming aura. Divine or not, her presence carried too much of the oppressive grandeur of a sovereign—an absolute ruler.
"Rider, Your Majesty, please don't call me that," Jeanne said gently. "Just Jeanne will do. Thank you for your concern. I rested well."
Clad in ornate regalia, Selene gave a faint smile. Jeanne, for her part, made no effort to pry into the Yggdmillennia clan's use of homunculi. That was their private matter.
She was kind, but not foolish. Intervening would destroy her neutrality as Ruler; if the Black Faction turned against her, she would lose her place in this war entirely.
"That's good to hear," Selene said softly. "Then come with me, Jeanne. I have an interesting piece of information to share."
"The priest—Amakusa Shirou Tokisada of the Holy Church—seems to command multiple Servants."
With that, the two women entered the grand, gilded hall.
...
"Your Majesty, I happen to have new intelligence to report," Darnic said, looking up from the Complete Book of the World. "The traitor, Assassin, has been sighted in Trifas."
Selene took the newspaper from him. The front page headline read, 'The Infamous Killer, Jack the Ripper, Returns!'
"Traitor?" Jeanne asked. "The Assassin of Black has betrayed your side?"
"Yes," Darnic replied bluntly. "It's embarrassing to admit, but Assassin did betray us—and even killed her own Master."
"Her current location is within Trifas, the Red Faction's territory. Since it's daytime, she's likely to remain inactive for now."
Darnic's tone was casual; the information wasn't worth concealing. With Selene on his side, he no longer cared much for placating the Ruler.
"Your Majesty, please look here."
He projected an image from the Complete Book of the World. "This is the aftermath of Assassin's latest attack."
Jeanne's brows furrowed. "She... killed innocent civilians?"
"Of course," Selene replied. "After losing her mana supply from her Master, she needed an alternative source. She's replenishing herself by devouring human hearts."
Selene folded her arms. "According to this report, Trifas is gripped by fear. Not just magi—tourists and locals have been murdered, their bodies dismembered, hearts torn out. All horrifyingly brutal."
"For humans, the heart is the equivalent of a Servant's core—the source of life. For Assassin, eating hearts restores her mana."
With a flick of her hand, Selene took control of the projection. The image shifted to reveal a silver-haired girl with emerald eyes and a scarred face. Her expression was bright, almost childlike—but her lips were smeared with blood as she happily chewed on a human heart.
"Jeanne," Selene asked idly, "if you were sent to purify this evil spirit—Assassin, Jack the Ripper—would you show mercy?"
"Don't underestimate me, Rider," Jeanne replied coldly, lowering the paper. "I may be a saint, but I was born in war. My hands are not clean—they are stained with blood, too."
Selene smiled faintly. "So they are."
Indeed, Jeanne's sainthood had been forged in battle. She had once commanded armies herself—and no commander in history had ever done so without bloodshed.
"Then it's settled," Selene said. "We depart for Trifas. My task: to eliminate the traitor. Yours: to purify the spirit."
A glimmer of amusement flashed in her eyes. "If luck is with us, we may even encounter a few Red Servants along the way."