Jeanne d'Arc, the esteemed Saint of France known as the Holy Maiden, was summoned back to her homeland as a Heroic Spirit of the Ruler class—an exceptional occurrence coming a mere three days after her execution at the stake.
As a Heroic Spirit, the circumstances of her summoning and the reason for her presence were etched into her consciousness.
Knowledge was bestowed upon her regarding the distortion of history by an unknown force, leading to the catastrophic Incineration of Human Order.
Recognizing the dire peril facing France through this imparted wisdom, she raised her banner once more, determined to save her nation a second time.
Yet, the reach of her salvation was tragically limited. Firstly, there existed another version of herself within France—an Altered state of being.
She had been summoned incompletely, a counter-reaction meant to stop her other self who sought to reduce France to ash. Because of this instability, the majority of her authority and privileges as a Ruler remained sealed.
Furthermore, the enemies assaulting France were no ordinary foes. Wyverns—monstrous beasts that should have long vanished in the Age of Man—swarmed the skies, descending upon the populace with indiscriminate cruelty.
Worst of all, the very people she sought to protect looked upon her with hatred. Identifying her with the vengeful 'other self' who had brought this ruin, they spat curses and resentment at her.
Even so, she did not falter. She saved the people. Again, and again, and again—she rescued them without a moment's rest.
But even a Servant has limits when facing an endless tide. Looking up at the sky black with wyverns, she used her flag as a crutch, forcing her broken and trembling body to stand once more.
She could not afford to fall here. To protect France, to safeguard the people of this era and the lives of those in the future yet to come, she could not stop. She had to press forward.
With iron resolve, she rose and swung her banner at the approaching wyverns.
Despite her indomitable will, however, the sheer, overwhelming numbers were more than she could withstand.
Boom!
"—Cough...!"
Struck by a wyvern's tail, Jeanne was sent hurtling through the air until she collided violently with a stone outcropping.
Spewing blood from the massive internal shock, she collapsed to the earth, pinned down by the weight of gravity and her own exhaustion.
She attempted to pick herself up, but her strength failed her, and she slumped back into the dirt. Her limbs refused to obey her commands.
Accepting her physical paralysis, Jeanne lifted her head to look forward. A wyvern had landed before her, closing the distance with predatory intent.
Ah. So this is where it ends.
Watching the wyvern unhinge its maw right before her eyes, preparing to swallow her whole, Jeanne sensed her final moment had arrived.
As the beast lunged toward her, she closed her eyes, bracing for the inevitable agony.
.
.
.
"...?"
Seconds passed, yet no pain arrived. Bewildered, Jeanne slowly opened her eyes. And there, she saw him.
A black-clad knight stood before her, halting the wyvern's snapping maw with a single hand. As she stared at his silhouette, a voice reached her ears.
"—Encountering the enemy the very moment I am summoned? Truly, fate has a strange sense of timing... No matter. The situation is clear enough."
Squelch!
With the sharp sound of rending flesh, the wyvern's head fell to the ground. Before she could process the sight, the black knight turned around.
She finally saw his face. His skin was as pale as a corpse, contrasted by faded blonde hair and golden eyes that pierced through her.
His presence was that of a noble wolf—aloof and majestic. Jeanne's eyes widened in surprise as he began to speak.
"...Servant, Berserker. My True Name is Elius. I have answered the call of the Incineration of Human Order and manifested before a Holy Maiden in distress."
He offered a faint smile. "A pleasure to meet you, Saint of Orleans."
Jeanne gazed at him in silence, her breath catching at his words.
***
Good grief. What a mess.
The first thing I saw upon manifestation was a wyvern lunging with an open maw at a blonde girl who looked suspiciously like Artoria.
I stepped between them immediately, intercepting the beast. The wyvern latched its jaws onto my arm and bit down with all its might.
Crunch! Grate!
The beast chewed frantically, but its fangs could not so much as graze my skin.
[Armor of the White Dragon (Armor of Vortigern)]
There was no way a mere wyvern could pierce my hide, which possessed the defensive density of a dragon's own scales.
As I held the beast at bay, a sharp pang of a headache made me wince. The knowledge bestowed by the Counter Force was flooding into my mind.
After sifting through the mental download, the gravity of the situation became clear. History was being distorted, and the foundations of humanity were being incinerated—an unprecedented disaster of catastrophic proportions.
The Counter Force had dispatched Servants to rectify this calamity. However, sensing that its key Servant, the Ruler Jeanne d'Arc, was on the verge of annihilation, it had pulled an extra lever.
It summoned one more Servant—me—to prevent that collapse. How charmingly exhausting.
If I was summoned to France, it meant that he... no, that bastard must have been summoned as well.
I shook off the thought as I remembered the maiden behind me. Right, there was a Saint waiting for an introduction.
I cleanly severed the neck of the wyvern still gnawing on my arm, ignored its falling carcass, and turned around.
When I looked at her face, my eyes widened. Jeanne's features were strikingly similar to Artoria's.
...Maybe this manifestation won't be so bad after all.
The resemblance was so uncanny she could have passed for Artoria's elder sister. Finding myself in a slightly better mood, I locked eyes with the Saint and spoke.
"...Servant, Berserker. My True Name is Elius. I have answered the call of the Incineration of Human Order and manifested before a Holy Maiden in distress."
"A pleasure to meet you, Saint of Orleans. Let us reclaim this Singularity together."
***
"—Krrrrr...!?"
A madman, following the orders of the Dragon Witch to slaughter the masses, suddenly jerked his head upward as he sensed a familiar presence.
His enemy—his eternal rival—had been summoned to this place. Feeling it instinctively, the Berserker let out a primal roar that tore through the air toward the heavens.
"Krrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr—!!!!"
Abandoning his post, the mad knight lunged forward. The commands of the Dragon Witch were forgotten. Nothing else mattered now.
He would find him. He would slaughter anything and anyone that stood in his way. And when he found that man, he would repay every ounce of insult and humiliation he had suffered in life with the finality of death.
That was his reason for existing; his duty and his holy mission. Butchering a French soldier who dared cross his path in an instant, the madman screamed his enemy's name.
"—Eliussssssssssssssssssssssssssssss!!!!!!!!!"
The visor of the black knight's helmet glowed with a murderous, crimson light more intense than ever before.