"Where did all of Andoain's followers run off to?" Fiammetta asked as she stepped back into the quiet square, looking around the nearly deserted grounds of the Requiem Chapel. "I turn around for one minute and the whole crowd vanishes without a trace."
"They've taken their leave," Mostima replied, turning back to face her. "Strictly speaking, people like them aren't supposed to be walking freely inside Laterano anyway. Now that the funeral has concluded, slipping away was the wisest choice."
She glanced over at Fafnir, who was behaving surprisingly well beside the three of them. The young dragon Jeanne had brought along had certainly captured their curiosity.
"Where are they heading?" Fiammetta pressed, still somewhat uneasy about the group's departure. She had been too preoccupied a moment ago to notice them slipping out.
"Back to Iberia," Lemuen answered quietly, though her eyes betrayed a faint touch of concern for their future. "They said that since Andoain fought for that land, they intend to hold out there until the catastrophe passes..."
Yet conviction alone was rarely enough to survive the storm brewing along the southern coast. Lemuen doubted many of them would ever live to see Laterano again.
The group stood chatting in the courtyard, passing the time while they waited for Jeanne to step out. Though she was taking longer than expected, no one felt any rush.
Before long, however, they noticed something unusual—white doves were gathering in the air above. While the Requiem Chapel kept its fair share of white feathered birds, the sheer volume filling the sky was rapidly becoming absurd.
Everyone present took note of the strange sight, though no one could quite explain it. Was someone pulling a grand prank, or was this the work of a peculiar Arts talent?
Still, because they were merely doves fluttered against the clouds, no one felt any sense of threat. What real harm could a flock of birds bring?
At first, the white doves flew in a chaotic, scattered swarm. But within minutes, their chaotic movements aligned into a singular, graceful rhythm. Gathering tightly together, the flock began to circle in a wide, sweeping ring directly above the sanctuary.
A short distance away, both Pope Yvangelista and Saint Carmen paused, visibly startled by the spectacle. While trained beasts were not unheard of, a display of this scale and precision was exceptionally rare. Why were so many wild birds suddenly orbiting the chapel as if drawn by a silent pull?
The two elders exchanged a subtle glance. The Pope knew all too well that only one person remained inside the building. Was Jeanne responsible for this manifestation? But how was such a thing even possible?
Inside the quiet sanctuary, Jeanne remained completely oblivious to the gathering flock outside. She was enveloped in a profound, tranquil silence, her mind locked in deep deliberation over the choice ahead.
Her heart remained tangled in hesitation. She still couldn't say for certain whether holding back was the right call, or whether she should move immediately to crush the rising tide before it could spread.
She understood that the Pope's strategy rested entirely on his faith in her. If he didn't trust her to handle the outcome, he would be doing everything in his power to nip the oceanic threat in the bud right now, rather than letting it fester and evolve into unpredictable horrors.
The weight of that trust pressed heavily upon her chest. Because the stakes involved the fate of the entire world, a single miscalculation could prove fatal. She simply couldn't afford to act rashly, yet she struggled to find the absolute resolve needed to choose.
Resolving the crisis at its onset was the safest path, but the old Pope's words carried undeniable weight as well. If an opportunity like this could truly unite the fractured nations of Terra and spark a lasting change across the land, was it worth taking the gamble?
Steeling her heart, Jeanne reached a quiet decision. If events spiraled completely out of control, she still possessed a final Noble Phantasm—a ultimate recourse capable of rewriting the outcome, even if she wasn't entirely certain what personal cost that final sacrifice would exact upon her.
Prepared to pay the ultimate price if necessary, Jeanne resolved to take the risk. If this trial could push the world toward a slightly brighter future, even by a fraction, she was willing to gamble everything on that sliver of hope.
Yet just as she steeled her resolve, preparing to carry the dark burden alone, she felt a gentle touch settle upon her shoulder.
Jeanne opened her eyes and glanced around, but the chapel was completely empty. There was no one in sight. Who could have touched her in this deserted room?
Before she could process the strange sensation, startled cries erupted from the crowd outside.
The swirling flock of white doves had aligned themselves into a flawless, seamless circle, soaring tail-to-beak around the roof of the chapel. They formed a radiant ring in the sky, maintaining a geometric circle that seemed almost impossible for living creatures to hold.
The ring formed a striking boundary in the sky. Standing beyond its perimeter, the onlookers tilted their heads back, staring up at the white birds encircling the quiet sanctuary—a hall where a single soul sat alone at the center of the world.
"This feeling..." Saint Carmen murmured, standing in the courtyard with a look of quiet shock. "It feels as though a gentle hand guided us all to step outside..."
He hadn't intended to step out into the open courtyard earlier—his long-standing habit was to converse in discreet, shadowed corners. Yet without realizing it, he had walked out into the middle of the square alongside the crowd, gazing up at the sky.
It was a unsettling realization: an unseen presence had subtly guided his mind, compelling him to act without a single trace of resistance.
A cold sweat broke out across Carmen's back. If that hidden force had willed him to end his own life rather than step out into the courtyard, would he have even realized it in time to stop it? The mere thought sent a chill down his spine.
Yet beside him, Pope Yvangelista showed no sign of alarm. The old man simply stroked his white beard, gazing up at the miraculous sight with quiet, enchanted wonder.
"Ease your mind and enjoy a wonder you may never behold again in your lifetime," the Pope said gently, turning to his companion. "What has transpired has transpired; lingering on dread serves no purpose. If the force you fear truly wished us harm, we would have no power to resist it anyway, would we?"
The Pope turned back to the sky, letting his gaze rest on the miraculous ring—a spectacle that defied logic, yet unfolded before their very eyes.
"So this... this is why you place such absolute faith in that girl?" Carmen asked, turning to look at the old Pope before shifting his gaze toward the chapel doors.
Within his own chest, a profound, indescribable peace began to settle, washing away the lingering anxiety and dread like a gentle breeze. Around him, the crowd stood in quiet awe, simply watching the white birds soar beneath the clouds.
Ancient scriptures spoke of white doves as messengers sent from the heavens above. And when those messengers circled a sacred ground, it signaled the descent of a divine miracle, shielded from the worldly gaze by their very wings.
This miracle carried no grand, earth-shattering fury. The fluttering birds were the only sign of its presence—a rare, tranquil wonder touching the world below.
Inside the chapel, Jeanne felt a sudden, gentle warmth wrap around her shoulders, soothing her frayed nerves and lifting the heavy weight from her chest.
"Walk the path your heart chooses. Victory and miracles shall follow in your wake forevermore."
The voice echoed softly in her mind—clear, serene, and infinitely reassuring. In an instant, the crushing pressure that had suffocated her spirit vanished into thin air.
Once more, Jeanne felt a gentle, comforting pat on her shoulder. The soothing warmth slowly dissolved from her heart, and high above, the circle of white doves broke formation, scattering quietly into the vast blue sky.
Her mind cleared, her doubts laid to rest, Jeanne stood up and strode toward the chapel doors. Her eyes were no longer clouded by uncertainty.