Why did I do it? Why don't you take a guess, Talulah?"
"Don't answer a question with another question!"
"Alright, alright, I'm just teasing."
With the battle over, Jeanne had returned to her usual self. Yet, Talulah couldn't stop thinking about the black-clad girl who had wielded those hellish flames. Are they really the same person?
"Talulah, do you think these villagers will truly follow us?" Jeanne asked, her tone shifting to one of genuine concern. These people were homeless; their villages were gone. Many had contracted Oripathy in the mines and were now wandering the threshold of death.
Talulah's dream was to save such people, so she couldn't just let them drift into the wilderness. Someone had to lead them to a new home.
"Probably not everyone," Talulah replied. "I'd be happy if half of them stayed. The non-infected will likely move on, and the elderly... they might choose to return to the ruins of their homes."
Jeanne nodded. "You have to realize, the Patrols are behind this mine. It was the Captain's personal piggy bank. Now that it's gone, that guy is going to lose his mind."
Talulah understood. If the news broke that the villagers had revolted and killed the guards, the Patrols would have an excuse to raze every nearby village in "retaliation."
"If the story is that three Infected attacked the mine and the villagers escaped in the chaos, they have a better chance of survival. It's a gamble against the Empire's cruelty, but we have to try."
"Then you better give them an ending that satisfies them," Talulah warned. "Otherwise, their hatred might turn toward you."
"Of course. Why else do you think I went through the trouble of tying them to those stakes? Come on, give me a hand."
Jeanne grabbed the six Patrol members—including the infected collaborator—who were now struggling frantically. Their mouths were gagged, leaving them to wait in silent terror for their judgment. Jeanne chose not to drive the truck to the plaza; she didn't trust her shaky driving skills in a crowd and couldn't forgive herself if she caused an accident.
When they returned to the plaza, the villagers were waiting in a heavy, expectant silence. Seeing the final six perpetrators being tied to the stakes, the villagers' eyes turned blood-red with rage.
"Everyone, quiet!" Jeanne stood before them. As she spoke, her clothes bled into black armor once more. Her gold hair turned a snowy white, and her eyes shifted into the slit pupils of a golden dragon.
Her aura transformed completely. The holy Saint was replaced by a vessel of pure resentment. Jeanne could feel the villagers' hatred reaching toward the sky. If left unchecked, this rage would eventually turn them into monsters who would lash out at the innocent.
Jeanne looked at the 100 stakes. The guards tied there were now wide awake, staring at her in sheer terror. She gave a contemptuous smirk, drew her sword, and raised the Dragon Witch's banner.
"Enjoy it! This is the debt for your sins, the manifestation of the hatred and agony you created!" she cried, her voice echoing through the ravine.
"Gather all evil here!" "The time for vengeance has come!" "This is the roar of souls tormented by hate!" "Roar, O My Fury! (La Grondement Du Haine!)"
The negative emotions of the survivors were channeled by Jeanne's Noble Phantasm, connecting to the spirits of those who had died in the pits. A pillar of black fire erupted. As long as the resentment remained, the fire would not die. Under Jeanne's control, the oppressors were forced to experience the weight of their own atrocities.
"Cheer! Cheer for our hatred!"
In the crackling of the black flames, the villagers didn't just hear the screams of their enemies. They saw visions within the fire—the souls of their murdered parents, children, spouses, and friends. Only those who lost infants saw nothing, for those little angels knew nothing of hate.
They felt the thrill of a mad revenge. The screams were their catharsis. But as the flames burned lower, a hollow emptiness began to set in. No matter how much the guards wailed, the things they had lost were never coming back.
Is this revenge? they wondered. Why, after the initial rush, does my heart still bleed?
As the last of the malice was consumed, Jeanne reverted to her Saintly form. She raised her white banner.
"Everyone," she said softly. "We have returned your fire to those who harmed you. But as you feel now, the fire of revenge does not bring fulfillment. The endless void after the excitement is the dead end of hatred."
The villagers lowered their heads. They understood now. Absolute revenge leads only to a twisted, bottomless abyss.
"I hope that in the future, you can set this hatred aside and walk forward with your own will. I am not asking you to forgive them—I am asking you not to let them keep you from moving. I believe you all have a bright future!"
She looked at the fading flames. "We will stay in this camp until the fires die out. If you are still lost when the last spark fades, then follow us. we will build a new home for the Infected, and the non-infected are welcome as well."
She raised the white flag with the golden lily, letting it flutter in the wind.
"And I, in my name, swear upon the name of Jeanne d'Arc: I shall become the shield that protects you, blocking all the malice of this snowfield!"
At that moment, the searchlight stand behind her, warped by the heat, tilted. The beam centered perfectly on Jeanne, bathing her in a brilliant white light. To the villagers, she looked like a Saint descended from the heavens.
The crowd stood stunned by the near-miracle. Then, they raised their arms and cheered, a roar of hope answering her oath.
(Inner Monologue: "Wait, why am I the one on stage? Wasn't I supposed to get Talulah to do the speech? Crap... the atmosphere was just so perfect, I couldn't help myself!")