The codex of rlyeh in Kanjuro's hand seemed to possess a life of its own; the pages flipped frantically, and those blasphemous words and patterns flowed with a dark, viscous magical power that felt substantial. The blood and fire of London below, the pervasive fear and despair, became the perfect sacrifice and fuel, continuously pouring into the book.
He chanted incantations composed of non-human language, each syllable twisting the surrounding air and establishing a terrifying connection with an ancient existence in the distant deep sea.
"——I?! I?! Cthulhu fhtagn! Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn! (Hail! Hail! Hail Cthulhu! In his house at R'lyeh, dead Cthulhu waits dreaming!)"
The moment the incantation was completed, the River Thames in central London churned violently as if boiling! The river water turned pitch black as ink, and an indescribable, massive shadow rose rapidly from the depths of the riverbed!
"BOOM—!!!"
Accompanied by a deafening roar and a soaring pillar of water, a gargantuan creature burst from the water! It had a rough humanoid outline but was covered in a slimy body seemingly composed of muck and octopus tentacles; massive wings (perhaps membranes) spread out behind it, casting a shadow that blanketed several city blocks, while its head was a terrifying mass of constantly writhing and waving tentacles!
The avatar of Cthulhu, or rather a projection of its power, descended here!
The mere aura of madness radiating from its existence caused countless citizens who had not yet died in the Noble Phantasm massacre to suffer instant mental breakdowns; some stood dazed, drooling and giggling, while others let out inhuman screams and began frantically self-mutilating. Physical destruction and mental pollution ravaged this ancient city simultaneously.
Kirei Kotomine's face turned pale, and he retreated uncontrollably until his back hit the cold railing of the tower. Although he was an Executor and had witnessed much evil, this pure, incomprehensible horror from the depths of the universe completely exceeded his scope of cognition, awakening the most primitive tremors in the depths of his soul. What Kanjuro wanted him to see was precisely this absolute power and despair summoned by his own hand!
And Kanjuro, after completing all this, slowly turned around. His gaze bypassed the massive, sanity-draining monster and fell upon Claudia, who was trembling all over and nearly unable to stand.
He walked toward her with composed steps, as if the ground beneath him were not a purgatory of blood and corpses, but his own garden. He reached out, ignoring the fear and chaos in her eyes, and once again pulled her cold, delicate body into his embrace. His movements were still gentle, yet they carried a hair-raising intimacy.
He whispered in her ear, his voice as soft as a lover's murmur, but the content was like a poison needle piercing the heart:
"Look, this is the 'firework' I lit for you." He pointed toward the rampaging Cthulhu avatar and the burning city. "Now, looking at all this, do you still think... my previous kindness toward you was heartfelt? Do you still believe that the gentle Kanjuro truly exists?"
Claudia was imprisoned in his arms, forced to look at the hell on earth before her. She opened her mouth but could not make a sound; the immense fear, the collapse of her faith, and her complex, unspeakable emotions for the man before her (Was it hate? Fear? Or a lingering, deformed attachment?) intertwined, causing her to eventually just lower her head in pain and complexity, tears falling silently. She could not answer.
Jeanne, meanwhile, watched all this with an expressionless face, her gaze as calm as a frozen lake. When Kanjuro's gaze glanced toward her, she even said in an almost praising, nonchalant tone:
"A lot of people died." She paused and added, "It's good that they died; it's very quiet, much more elegant than the revelry their ancestors held beneath the stake."
She looked up to meet Kanjuro's inquiring gaze, her lips curling into a cold arc:
"Kanjuro, do you think that seeing this sight will make me feel even a shred of shame or pity for these people because I remember my own past experiences? No, I only feel that fate sometimes indeed possesses a certain fair cycle of reincarnation."
"Hahaha!" Kanjuro laughed loudly upon hearing this, filled with pleasure. "Jeanne, you really are just as I imagined—you enjoy and excel at being a cold 'observer,' watching to see what perverse extremes my human nature experiments can reach. We truly are of the same kind..."
His laughter stopped abruptly, his sharp gaze sweeping toward the dark night sky in the direction of the Clock Tower.
"However, the play has been watched long enough; it's time for the rats to come out of their holes. Soon... 'guests' will be arriving!"
Before his voice had even faded, the sounds of breaking air rang out one after another!
Eleven figures radiating various glows of magical power appeared from the distant darkness like meteors, streaking across the sky above the chaotic city at extreme speeds, finally landing steadily on the surrounding eaves or statues atop the main tower of the Clock Tower, forming a loose encirclement. Their attire varied—some ancient and elegant, others modern and capable—but without exception, they all radiated powerful magical fluctuations. Their gazes were sharp as eagles, filled with rage, vigilance, and killing intent, all locked onto Kanjuro!
They were the eleven most powerful and influential people in the current Clock Tower (Magician's Association Headquarters)—the eleven remaining Lords after Lord El-Melloi (Kayneth) had fallen in Fuyuki City!
The leader, an old man with white hair and beard holding a magnificent jewel scepter, shouted sternly with a voice containing the wrath of thunder:
"Evil existence! Blaspheming mystery, slaughtering mortals, and summoning forbidden things! Who exactly are you?! How dare you commit such an act of world-ending destruction at the foot of the Clock Tower!"
Facing this luxurious lineup that would suffocate any Magician, Kanjuro merely clapped his hands easily, his tone carrying undisguised provocation:
"Yo, you finally decided to crawl out of your ivory tower? After Kayneth died, only eleven of the twelve Lords of the Clock Tower remain. What a... fragmented lineup."
As if remembering something, he tilted his head toward Jeanne, who had been standing quietly aside, and spoke in the casual tone of someone ordering a housemaid:
"Jeanne, I'll leave these noisy flies to you. As a Heroic Spirit, the grand Dragon Witch (as you might be called now), you surely can't fail to deal with a few Magician small fry, can you?"
Jeanne's ice-blue eyes swept over the eleven Lords, and a flash of cold killing intent crossed her eyes, especially when she felt from them the same aura—belonging to the Church and Magician families—as those who had persecuted her hundreds of years ago.
"I naturally remember. Hundreds of years ago, the ones who slandered me as a witch and sent me to the stake were precisely the descendants of you 'Church' and 'Noble' members who claim to be noble and in control of power, or... your spiritual successors, were they not?"
"Today, consider this a long-overdue... reckoning."
As her words fell, dark red hellfire rose from beneath her feet like unfolding fallen wings, intertwining with the deep-sea horror brought by the Cthulhu avatar and the darkness of Kanjuro's eternal night treasury to form a hellish tableau.
The ultimate defense of the Clock Tower and the fallen Saint under Kanjuro's command faced off atop the burning London, a confrontation on the verge of erupting!
Jeanne's words were like a cold key, opening the door to hundreds of years of humiliation and rage. The holy banner (or sword) in her hand, burning with the flames of revenge, pointed at the eleven Lords, as dark red hellfire galloped around her, as if to set the night sky ablaze.
"Arrogance!" The white-haired old Lord who had spoken earlier—a disciple of the Wizard Marshall, the Lord of the Mineral Department (Kischur)—shouted angrily, striking his jewel scepter on the ground as brilliant magical light instantly erupted. "Form the array! In the name of the Clock Tower, purify this blasphemous witch and heretic!"
What kind of figures were the eleven Lords? They were the pinnacle of modern Magicians. Though startled, they did not panic, instantly displaying amazing coordination. Complex magical circles lit up beneath their feet, connecting to each other to construct a massive composite magical ritual. The air wailed as immense magical power was forcibly extracted and condensed, turning into destructive beams capable of tearing through steel and decomposing matter, ancient runic chains containing curses, and massive ice spikes and firestorms simulating natural phenomena, all sweeping toward Jeanne from all directions! This combined strike was enough to level a small mountain!
Facing this overwhelming attack, there was not a shred of ripple in Jeanne's ice-blue eyes. She didn't even dodge; she simply slammed her banner down!
"La Grondement Du Haine! (Roar, O My Fury!)"
Dark red hellfire soared into the sky, not as a holy protection, but as a flaming barrier filled with resentment and curses. The magical beams capable of piercing city walls shot into the fire wall and were neutralized and swallowed by the infinite resentment and hatred contained within, like mud entering the sea. The moment the runic chains touched the flames, they were eroded by filth, their spiritual light dimming as they snapped inch by inch. The storm of ice and fire was even reverse-swallowed and assimilated by that deeper, more desperate dark red fire!
Jeanne's figure moved. She was like a red flash in the dark night, her speed exceeding visual capture as she charged directly into the Lords' formation! Her holy banner (or sword) swung, no longer a holy relic guiding victory, but a lethal weapon spreading death and revenge. Every swing carried a shriek that tore the air and hellfire that burned the soul.
A Lord from the Lore Department (Brishisan) attempted to withstand it with powerful defensive magic, layers upon layers of magical barriers instantly taking shape before him. However, Jeanne's banner simply and directly pierced through!
"CRACK—BOOM!"
The barrier shattered like glass, the banner pierced through his chest, and hellfire instantly consumed him. Before he could even let out a scream, he was turned to ash. A Lord has fallen!
"Be careful! Her flames can erode the essence of magical energy!" another female Lord (of the Botanical Department?) shrieked a warning, waving her staff. Countless thorny vines burst from the ground (shattering the tower floor) and wrapped around Jeanne's ankles. Jeanne didn't even look; the Karmic Fire spread beneath her feet, and the magic-filled vines instantly withered, burned, and turned to ash. With a backhand swing of her sword, dark red sword energy swept out, forcing the other Lords to retreat in disarray.
The battle erupted completely, turning the top of the Clock Tower into the most brutal battlefield. Jeanne, fighting one against ten (one person already incapacitated), did not fall into a disadvantage at all! Her martial arts, having been reshaped by the Throne of Heroes and blessed by the concept of the "Dragon Witch," had long surpassed the mundane. Coupled with that nearly conceptual Retaliatory Karmic Fire, she possessed extreme restraint and destructive power against sorcery. The powerful sorceries that the Lords relied on for fame were often greatly diminished in effect before her, and every attack she made carried a fatal threat.
Their proud Mystic Codes and meticulously researched Secret Arts seemed so pale and powerless in the face of absolute strength and elemental counter-attributes. Jeanne was like a tiger entering a flock of sheep; every swing of her banner was accompanied by the serious injury or demise of a Lord. The smell of blood and char permeated the air, mixing with the scorching heat of the Karmic Fire.
Kanjuro leisurely held Claudia, who was still in a state of mental shock, and sat on a Throne condensed from Shadow Soldiers, watching the slaughter with great interest. A delighted smile hung on his lips, as if he were enjoying a magnificent play.
"Mm... Not bad, not bad, Jeanne. Your flames are even more beautiful than I imagined." He praised softly, but then a mischievous glint flashed in his eyes. "However, the same routine always feels a bit monotonous."
Just as Jeanne's banner was about to pierce another Lord attempting to cast Spatial Transfer Sorcery, a sudden change occurred!
The space around that Lord suddenly became viscous and murky, as if plunged into deep-sea sludge. Not only space, but even the magical energy circulation, blood flow, and even his thoughts became sluggish and stiff! He discovered in horror that he couldn't even utter the simplest syllable; his Magic Circuits seemed frozen, and he could only watch helplessly as the burning banner tip slowly and firmly stabbed toward his glabella.
Kanjuro had acted! He didn't use a Noble Phantasm, merely raising his hand and mobilizing a trace of the Deep-Sea Curse Power leaking from the codex of rlyeh, originating from Rlyeh, thereby twisting the rules of the local area.
"Ugh..." The Lord let out a desperate whimper.
"Kanjuro!" Jeanne abruptly retracted her banner, turning sharply. Genuine fury ignited in her ice-blue eyes for the first time as she stared directly at the man sitting on the Throne. "Stop it!"
Kanjuro tilted his head, wearing an innocent yet malicious smile. "Oh? I was helping you, Jeanne. Look, he almost got away."
"I don't need it!" Jeanne's voice was sharp and decisive, filled with undeniable resolution. "This is my battle! It is my reckoning with the Clock Tower... with those who inherited that arrogance and hypocrisy!"
She took a deep breath, planting her banner on the ground. Dark red Karmic Fire swirled at her feet. Her voice was not loud, yet it clearly reached everyone's ears, carrying the grief and coldness accumulated over hundreds of years:
"Do you know... that in my life, I was not a weak woman without the power to resist? I bore the Power Bestowed by the Lord (which can be understood as a certain Root Power), led armies, and could also fight with a sword."
Her gaze seemed to pierce through time and space, returning to that day of humiliation.
"In the square of Rouen, right beside that Execution Stake... hidden there were your Magicians of the Clock Tower! They feared my power, feared the 'irrationality' I represented, and used despicable sorcery to bind my body and seal away my strength! They made me suffer the burning flames like an ordinary Village Girl, listening to the cheers and curses of the incited and blinded populace!"
"They judged me a Witch, not because I used evil magic, but because I was beyond their control and shook their authority! This Execution by Fire was never a sacred judgment; it was a carefully planned murder!"
Her voice suddenly rose, and the Karmic Fire roared in response: "This grievance must be settled by my own hands! Even if you are no longer the people from back then, you have inherited their positions, their knowledge, and their... arrogance! Today, I shall make you personally experience the true power held by the 'Witch' your ancestors forcibly pinned to the Execution Stake!"
Jeanne stared intently at Kanjuro, stating word by word: "Do not interfere, Kanjuro. Otherwise, I wouldn't mind listing you as an enemy after I've settled the score with them."
Kanjuro met her gaze, and the smile on his face gradually faded, replaced by a complex expression mixed with surprise, amusement, and a hint of appreciation. He saw the untarnished resolve in Jeanne's eyes, a persistence born from the deepest pain.
After a moment of silence, he suddenly chuckled and spread his hands. "Alright, alright. Since this is the 'Private Grievance' you insist upon..." He leaned back lazily on the Throne and made a 'go ahead' gesture. "Then, continue your performance, Dragon Witch. Let me see how much of this 'Inheritance' your centuries of accumulated wrath can burn down."
As expected, he ceased his actions, focusing his gaze more intently on the battlefield, like the most discerning spectator anticipating the climax of the drama.
Having received Kanjuro's promise (or rather, his tacit approval), Jeanne no longer held back or had any reservations. She poured all her fury, all her hatred, and all the pain of betrayal and unjust murder into the banner in her hands!
The dark red Karmic Fire seemed to gain life, transforming into a roaring Giant Dragon that rampaged across the top of the Clock Tower as she charged! The remaining Lords fought with all their might, unleashing their ultimate Secret Arts, summoning Familiars, deploying Reality Marbles, and even utilizing Forbidden Mystic Codes inherited over thousands of years.
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