"To fulfill my duty, I led an army… Hah, haha, hahaha!"
In the town square of La Charité, Servant-like figures descended. Above, countless wyverns swarmed—far more than at the fortress.
"What's this?" Gilgamesh demanded.
"Thank goodness!" Romani's voice crackled. "You made it, King! Servants—five of them! What do we do!?"
"Mash, protect Rikka!" Olga Marie ordered. "Don't let your guard down for a second!"
"Yes…!" Mash replied.
Silence fell.
The white Saint and the black Saint faced each other.
Like mirror images, yet utterly opposed.
The white bore an unyielding light.
The black burned with unquenchable hatred.
A flag adorned with a dragon.
A flag exalting God.
Two sides of the same coin.
"Hah—hahahahaha!" the black Saint laughed. "What a farce! Someone splash water on me! This is too much—I'll die laughing!"
"…"
"It's just too funny!" she continued, cackling. "What are you? A rat? A worm? An insect? Hahahaha! So puny it's hilarious!"
Her mocking laughter echoed, unmistakably Jeanne's voice.
But—
"Hah, hahahahahahaha!"
Gilgamesh's booming laugh drowned out her scorn.
"What's that, Servant?" the black Saint snapped. "Shut up. Your grating laughter is annoying."
Unfazed, Gilgamesh kept laughing. "How can I not laugh, fool? This is priceless! This is the Dragon Witch? All I see is a child led by a gaggle of followers! Hold on—get lost! I'll die! Die of laughter! Hahahaha!"
"Gil, stop!" Rikka cried.
"Calm down!" Mash urged.
Gilgamesh's sudden outburst seemed triggered by the sheer absurdity of the scene. A Ruler's sense of humor was inscrutable.
"So it's you," the black Saint said. "Gilles mentioned a gaudy golden pest racing on an iron steed."
"What, you've got a chaperone?" Gilgamesh retorted. "Where's your father? No chest to cry to after this embarrassment?"
A chuckle escaped the iron-clad Servant beside her.
"Hmph," Gilgamesh smirked.
"What's so funny?!" the black Saint roared.
"Sorry," Jeanne said. "He's just so… amused."
"My apologies," Gilgamesh said. "I spoke out of turn. Forgive me."
"Tch—whatever," the black Saint said. "I meant to lure you here anyway."
"Lure us?" Mash asked.
"Who are you?" Jeanne demanded. "The Dragon Witch…"
"Huh?" the black Saint scoffed. "Still asking that? I'm Jeanne d'Arc. The Saint of the Flag—"
"You're no Saint!" Jeanne interrupted. "No more than I am!"
(Master, prepare to summon. Mash, defend.)
(Gil…!)
(Your task is to survive. Focus on that. Marie—)
"I know," Olga Marie replied. "If we had more data on those Servants…"
(Good. Let the flag-bearer buy time.)
"I'm no Saint," the black Jeanne declared, raising her dark flag high. "I'm Jeanne d'Arc, but I don't believe in miracles."
"I'm a witch—the Dragon Witch! With wy Margarets, dragons, and Servants, I'll turn France to ashes!"
"The Dragon Witch…!" Jeanne gasped.
"Are you Jeanne or not!?" Rikka demanded. "Which is it!?"
"Oh, the Master, are you?" the black Jeanne sneered. "This leftover Saint, a Demi-Servant, and that gaudy golden eyesore—"
"Answer me!" Rikka shouted.
"Ugh, you're painfully naive," she said. "Pointing and shouting is for schoolyards."
"You never went to school," Gilgamesh quipped.
"—So annoying! Bothersome and loud!" she raged. "What's with that 'Gilgil-Machine'? Matching wyverns for speed? What nonsense! Are you insane!?"
"Don't yell," Gilgamesh said. "Pointing and shouting is for schoolyards, right?"
"If you wish to speak with me, beg. Bow your head. Or I'll have you beheaded for insolence."
His taunts continued, her face twisting with fury.
He's getting the hang of this, Rikka thought. Time to prepare.
"Sorry," Gilgamesh said. "An illiterate girl playing at vengeance? I failed to read the room."
He counted the wyverns in the sky.
"Are those markings homemade?" he mocked. "Must've slaved over them at your desk. Honestly, they're nothing. Not fit to rival a savior's flag—just a pitiful gang's banner. Nothing's more painful than a tasteless amateur's passion."
(Wow… brutal taunts… He's grinning with delight…)
(Senpai, that Jeanne's shoulders are shaking…)
(She's furious—beyond furious!)
"Keep talking…" the black Jeanne growled. "You dare mock me—a mere Servant—!"
"What are you, then?" Gilgamesh sneered. "A clown? From peasant to Saint to jester? Or—"
He looked down at her.
"Did you flee salvation for this? Finally realized destroying is easier than saving? Hahaha! Well done! You're a step above the white one! Want some candy? Oh, right—you're no stranger to luxury! A wretched girl! Calling yourself a lizard witch—!"
Snap.
Something broke.
"Fine—I've changed my mind!"
She raised her flag high.
"I'll burn that irritating mouth—and this town—to ashes!"
"No!" Jeanne cried. "There are still people here—!"
"Burn it all!" the black Jeanne roared. "Devour everything! Slaughter every life! Destroy all that's worthy!"
Her command rang out—but it was too late.
"—!?"
The wyverns waiting in the sky were shot down—all of them—before they could act.
"Gil—!" Rikka gasped.
"Fool," he said. "Why do you think I traded useless words?"
He'd been buying time, locking onto every wyvern.
Her honest, disciplined nature gave him those precious seconds.
Selecting dragon-slaying treasures with ease, he fired them in a single, precise volley.
Unlike at the fortress, he chose speed over gore, picking treasures that sheared their targets to avoid a bloody mess.
I won't let them kill the townsfolk.
I won't let France fall.
The people here… they're human too.
"There," Gilgamesh said. "The fodder's gone. Send out your generals, or I'll take your head."
"Golden bastard—!"
The witch swung her flag down in rage. The real battle was beginning.
"Berserk Lancer! Berserk Assassin! Berserk Rider! Berserk Saber!" she commanded.
"Kill them—tear them apart!"
The enemy surged with killing intent.
The Servant battle began.
"Country girl, Mash—protect the Master," Gilgamesh ordered. "You're shields. Do your duty."
"Yes!" Mash said.
"Understood!" Jeanne added.
"Marie's efforts, wasted," Gilgamesh said. "A fine self-destruction."
He drew a silver halberd from his golden ripples.
"Come, lesser Heroic Spirits," he declared. "Face the Class Gorgeous Servant—the King of Heroes, Gilgamesh!"
He steeled himself.
"Witness the grandeur of an inspired king!"
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