The trio parked the truck in a secluded hollow, shielding it from the sight of anyone above. After the tumultuous journey through the drifts, the six men in the back were half-dead from motion sickness and the cold.
Jeanne didn't offer them any sympathy. She delivered two sharp slaps to one of the Patrols to wake him. The man's eyes were unfocused, and he seemed to struggle to hear her—whether from the rattling of the truck or the force of her strikes was unclear.
"I'm asking you once," Jeanne roared, grabbing him by the ear. The stench of death around this place was so thick it fueled her growing rage. "Is this the mine you spoke of?"
The man looked around, a glimmer of recognition—and hope—crossing his face. "Yes! This is it, I remember clearly. This is the district. I can lead you in—"
Jeanne didn't let him finish. She knocked him out, gagged him, and threw him back into the cage. Lead us in? She knew the first thing he'd do was scream for help.
The next step was infiltration. Surprisingly, the blizzard worked in their favor. The guards had completely abandoned their posts at the main gate, huddling in a sheltered nook to drink and boast. Two guards with crossbows sat nearby, so drunk they could barely hold their heads up. Jeanne and Talulah closed the distance in a blur, knocking them senseless before they even realized they weren't alone.
Talulah picked up their discarded crossbows—standard-issue Ursus military models. They were worn and scuffed, but functional. She handed them to Alina.
"One more time," Jeanne said, her voice dropping to a serious tone. "I'll head up to sabotage the heavy crossbows. You two find where the villagers are being held. We'll regroup once I've cleared the heavy ordinance."
"Jeanne, is that... thing tied on tight?" Talulah asked, looking at Alina.
Before departing, Jeanne had ensured the Shroud of Saintly Burial was securely wrapped around Alina's torso. It wasn't a full suit of armor yet, but it covered her vitals and could deflect most Arts and bolts.
"It's secure," Alina said, her voice steady despite her visible nerves. "I even managed to tuck enough fabric up to make a makeshift hood."
"Good. Let's move. And stay alive—that's an order."
As they parted, Talulah ignited her flames to melt the lock on the iron gate. As the two slipped inside, Jeanne's appearance began to shift. Her white vestments bled into charcoal-black armor and a tattered cape. The "Saint" was gone; the "Dragon Witch" had arrived.
Under the cover of the lightless zones, her black armor became the ultimate camouflage. She moved through the shadows like a bat, silent and predatory.
I have to say, the security here is a joke, Jeanne thought. If this were my army back home, I'd be slapping the skin off any officer who allowed such slackness.
But she was grateful for their incompetence. She leaped, her powerful legs propelling her onto the five-meter-high perimeter wall. Ahead stood the two heavy crossbows.
Before she could disable the machines, she had to deal with the guards. These weren't mere thugs; they were the "elites" of the town's mob boss. Jeanne crept forward, her sword piercing the heart of the first man. She covered his mouth, lowering his body silently to the snow.
She had neutralized three when a patrol finally spotted the discrepancy. "Intruder!"
The guards scrambled. Crossbowmen rushed to the heavy engines while the melee fighters formed a protective circle. It was exactly what Jeanne wanted.
Mana surged within her. A horrific, black-violet inferno erupted from her form, surging toward the heavy crossbows. The impact triggered a violent explosion. The men at the center were vaporized instantly; those on the periphery were consumed by flames fueled not by oil, but by pure hatred.
This was the Fires of Vengeance, fueled by the collective resentment of the countless souls who had suffered and died in this pit. If Jeanne were to release her Noble Phantasm now, the sheer weight of that malice might turn the entire ravine to ash.
The explosion alerted the entire camp. Thugs and soldiers poured out of the barracks, staring in horror at the pillar of black fire where their strongest defenses had been.
In the center of the glow, they saw her: a girl in black armor, her cape unfurled like dragon wings, holding a tattered battle standard.
"Archers, fire! The rest of you, follow me and kill that flag-bearer!" a leader screamed.
A volley of bolts hissed through the air toward Jeanne, but they were reduced to ash by the heat before they could even touch her cloak.
From a distance, Talulah and Alina stared in awe.
"Is that... Jeanne?" Talulah whispered. "How did she change like that? And that fire... it's not like mine. She isn't even Infected, so where is the staff? Where is the Arts unit?"
They didn't have time to ponder the mystery. Jeanne had successfully drawn every eye in the camp toward the wall. This was their window. They turned and ran toward the slave pens, determined to finish their task before Jeanne's distraction ran out.