Normally, any properly trained magus Master would never allow their Servant to provoke the Ruler. After all, the Ruler class possessed far too many privileges over other Servants.
Just the fact that a Ruler could issue compulsory Command Spells to every Servant participating in the Holy Grail War was deterrent enough.
Because if the Ruler ordered all Servants to commit suicide, Masters would have no choice but to expend their own Command Spells to counteract it—otherwise, they'd effectively be disqualified from the War.
But Command Spells were limited—only three per Master. Using one unnecessarily meant losing a vital trump card.
And that was assuming the Master reacted in time, and their Servant was strong enough to resist the command for a short while. Not every Servant had the kind of Magic Resistance Artoria possessed—few could withstand multiple precise suicide commands.
Most Servants, like Cú Chulainn, would simply die instantly to a single order from their Master—and some, even faster.
So picking a fight with the Ruler was a losing proposition. Absolutely not worth it—unless you were someone like Amakusa Shirou Tokisada, harboring hidden motives.
Jeanne, however, was far too stubborn and upright—so rigidly principled that she refused to use what she deemed "dishonorable" methods.
If another, more iron-fisted Heroic Spirit had been chosen as Ruler, things would have gone very differently. Take Lancer Karna's attack on the Ruler, for example—under any other adjudicator, the outcome would've been severe.
Jeanne's handling of that situation had been terribly flawed.
In any world—no matter the competition—no one likes referees who take sides, blow biased whistles, or favor their own team. Yet even if we curse them, we can't deny that such referees still maintain authority.
Even if they're condemned afterward, lose their careers, or are scorned by all—during the game, the referee's authority is absolute. That's an iron rule.
The Holy Grail War, in a sense, was a tournament—and the Ruler, its referee. Any act of aggression toward the referee must be punished. Severely. Even expulsion wouldn't be out of the question.
If someone came right up to your doorstep and spat in your face, and you did nothing—then what good are you as a referee? No one would take you seriously after that. Everyone would think they could step on you.
That line must never be crossed.
Knowing Selene's temperament and worldview—if she were the Ruler—such provocation wouldn't have gone unanswered. You think I have a good temper? I'd beat you to death!
One suicide Command Spell—Karna would have paid dearly for it.
Even if his Master had reacted fast enough to use their initial Grail-granted Command Spell to cancel the order, the resulting clash of opposing commands would cause a brief paralysis—leaving the Servant helpless for a few seconds.
In that opening, whether it was Selene herself in her Heroic Spirit form or even Jeanne, as long as she struck decisively, she could've gravely injured or even crippled him.
But because of Jeanne's naive sense of fairness, her status as the neutral Ruler had completely lost its weight. The Red Faction's Servants never once took her authority seriously, and from that moment, one problem after another arose.
Watching Jeanne swing her white-lily flag and hurl Jack the Ripper through the air, Selene murmured quietly to herself:
"So stubbornly kind... almost adorably foolish. She truly lives up to her title—Saint Jeanne."
Selene respected that purity, yes—but she didn't agree with it. Nor did she wish to become such a person.
'I disagree with your view, but I defend your right to speak.'
Such near-selfless goodness was Jeanne's choice—and her right. Selene would never mock it. But the consequences... Jeanne would have to bear them herself.
"My kindness," Selene muttered, "has limits. It always comes with terms—and a price to be repaid."
Pulling aside the curtain slightly, Selene narrowed her crimson eyes. "Jeanne refuses to use her Ruler-class Command Spell authority... which makes transferring the seals a bit troublesome."
Tch. "If only I could use Spatial Lockdown... but alas."
Unfortunately, Selene had been summoned as a Rider-class Servant. Spatial Lockdown—clearly a Caster's domain—was outside her reach in this form.
"To eliminate the problem from the source... Reika Rikudou—you should be nearby, shouldn't you... tch, she's just an ordinary human without any magical energy. Detecting her is really a pain..."
...
The Master of the Assassin of Black, Jack the Ripper—Reika Rikudou—was not originally from the world of magecraft. She was an outsider who stumbled into it halfway through life.
She had no idea that Assassin's signature skill, Presence Concealment, was nearly useless against a Ruler-class Servant—especially one wielding the authority to sense all others.
With Jeanne having fully activated her Ruler-class privileges, Jack's petite form had nowhere to hide.
"Left!"
Clang!
"Front!"
Clang!
"Behind!"
Clang!
...
Steel clashed against steel again and again—the ringing of Jack's twin daggers colliding with Jeanne's flagpole sparked brilliant bursts of light through the acid mist.
Under Jeanne's precise and unrelenting pressure, the Assassin of Black's movements grew increasingly desperate.
"Why?! How can you see through every one of our attacks?!" the silver-haired girl gasped in disbelief.
No matter which angle she struck from, Jeanne countered effortlessly—as if she had eyes in the back of her head.
"Because I am the Ruler."
Jeanne's voice was calm, expression unchanging. Power surged through her arms, her grip tightening on her holy banner. With a twist of her body, she deflected both daggers, pivoted sharply, and delivered a roundhouse kick.
Bang! The small figure was sent flying, crashing into a house wall with a thunderous crack as tiles shattered and dust rained down.
Cough!
Sliding down the cracked surface, Jack spat out blood. Every bone in her tiny frame screamed in pain. Only by rolling aside in desperation did she avoid being impaled as the holy flag smashed down where she'd stood.
Springing backward with acrobatic speed, Jack retreated several meters, landing atop a low rooftop. But her breaths came ragged now—her mana reserves were nearly empty.
She needed to replenish—fast.
Casting off her cloak, she reached into her pouch, retrieving two preserved magus hearts. Without hesitation, she bit into them, tearing and chewing with crimson-stained teeth. Before Jeanne's eyes, her wounds closed, her cuts knitting together.
Jeanne's face twisted in revulsion. Even in the bloodiest wars of her past life, she had never witnessed someone devouring human hearts alive. And from their freshness, these hearts had been taken only recently.
"Assassin of Black, Jack the Ripper... you've gone too far!!"
"Doesn't matter!" The silver-haired girl looked up, her green eyes glowing coldly as she sneered, her small voice chillingly detached. "To obtain the Holy Grail—to be with Mother again—we'll do anything!"
Jack, you're hurt... maybe we should withdraw for now...
Reika's voice echoed faintly in her mind through their Master-Servant link.
Jack nodded slightly, ready to retreat—but then Jeanne's cold voice rang out.
"'Mother'? Who is she? Your new Master after betraying Yggdmillennia? Why attack innocent civilians? Was it her command? If so—she shall be punished as well! Assassin of Black—"
"Don't you dare talk about Mother that way!!"
The silver-haired girl snapped, halting midstep. Reversing her twin daggers, she assumed a stance, her mana flaring wildly.
"Hell starts here—!"
"She's chanting her Noble Phantasm!" Jeanne's expression turned grim as she heard the faint invocation beneath Jack's breath.
Jack lacked any Noble Phantasm capable of masking her identity—Jeanne knew everything about her: true name, parameters, class, skills, and Noble Phantasm specifications.
"Jeanne, use this chance to pressure her Master into recalling her with a Command Spell."
"Understood," Jeanne replied through the telepathic link, aware that Selene was searching for Jack's new Master nearby.
Jack's Noble Phantasm—Holy Mother of Dismemberment—was ranked D to B. It cursed the enemy under specific conditions, attacking with four D-rank blades. Each of the following—nighttime, female target, and fog—boosted its power. With all three fulfilled, the attack's potency peaked.
At this moment, Jeanne fit every condition perfectly. Even with her EX-rank Magic Resistance, she had no reason to be careless.
"We are the fire, the rain, the power..."
"Let the slaughter begin."
Suddenly, black and crimson mana particles erupted from Jack's small frame, spreading like the choking smog of nineteenth-century London. Her eyes and twin blades glowed a sinister red through the haze.
"Maria the Ripper—Holy Mother of Dismemberment!!!"
Her petite body became a blur of darkness, darting through the fog like a phantom.
Clang—!
Expressionless, her eyes soft with pity, Jeanne abruptly swung her banner upward in a sharp motion—sending Jack flying once again.
The Assassin flipped midair, landing shakily on her feet. Her pale, childlike face showed a rare trace of panic.
"Why?! Why is it like this again?! Our attacks... how can you be completely unharmed?!"
"Not unharmed," Jeanne corrected evenly. "Though you didn't strike me physically, your curse-type Noble Phantasm did hit. My resistance to curses is simply too high."
Wiping a drop of blood from the corner of her lips, Jeanne advanced, her gaze firm on the trembling girl whose body was already beginning to flicker faintly.
"Your mana's almost gone, isn't it, Assassin of Black?"
Bathed in the soft golden glow of sanctity, Jeanne looked every bit the divine Saint she was. And before her, Jack the Ripper—her mana depleted from her Noble Phantasm's activation—had collapsed to the ground, weak and terrified.
"A-are you... going to kill us?"
"There is no doubt about—hm?!"
Whoosh—!
A sudden, sharp warning flared within Jeanne's revelation. The next moment, several arrows hissed through the fog.
"Archer of Red—Atalanta!"
Clang, clang, clang! Sparks flew as Jeanne deflected the first few arrows—but then two more shot forth, far faster, wrapped in a swirl of bluish-green mana.
Whoosh!
Boom! Boom!
Twin explosions thundered across the plaza, the shockwaves throwing Jeanne backward.
"Archer of Red," she called out, voice calm but firm, "give me your reason."
Before her stood a figure cloaked in emerald light—Atalanta—landing gracefully between Jeanne and Jack.
Jeanne sighed inwardly. Do all you Red Faction Servants enjoy attacking referees this much? Am I being too lenient in my rulings?
"Ruler! You call yourself a saint—yet you'd kill a child?! How hypocritical can you be?!" Atalanta snarled through gritted teeth, bow drawn taut.
Despite her allies' warnings, she had rushed here alone, unwilling to stand by and watch a child be slain. Even if it cost her life, she had to intervene.
"Archer of Red," Jeanne said firmly, "stand aside. She's no longer human—she's a vengeful spirit that threatens innocent lives. You can feel her aura yourself. She must be purified—not only for the people's sake, but for Assassin's own."
"Vengeful spirit..." Atalanta faltered. She couldn't deny it—the stench of blood, hatred, and resentment emanating from the silver-haired girl was undeniable.
From the Aerial Garden's familiar projection, such things had been invisible. Only up close could she feel the truth: the child's pure eyes and frail body were only a mask.
"But... Ruler, aren't you a saint? Can't you save—"
"I cannot." Jeanne shook her head, firm and resolute.
Before either could continue, a glowing magic circle appeared beneath Jack's body.
"A Command Spell transfer?!" Jeanne muttered.
But just as Jack was about to be transported away—
Rumble—!
The transfer spell abruptly collapsed. The ground beneath Jeanne and Atalanta trembled violently.
In the distance, a two-story building was blasted apart, debris and smoke rising high into the sky.
"That's..."
"That's where Mother is!"
The Command Spell's teleportation had failed, the link between Master and Servant cut off—but the magical energy from the spent Command Spell had nowhere to go. It poured instead directly into Jack's body.
Leaping onto a rooftop, Jack stared toward the explosion's source. Her eyes burned with fury and despair.
"Our connection... with Mother... it's gone. Mother, she..."
"She's not dead—yet."
BOOM!
Half of the small crossroad plaza sank under the shockwave as a silver-white figure landed. Tremendous power rippled through the ground, cracks spiderwebbing outward in concentric waves. The resulting gust tore through the air like a hurricane, uprooting trees and toppling streetlights.
Crack, crack, crack!
The earth shattered beneath her feet, forming a massive crater five meters wide.
"Hmph... quite troublesome. If not for the Command Spell's mana signature, I might not have found her position so quickly—such a powerless human."
"Mama—!!"