"Answer my words. My will creates your body, and your sword creates my destiny."
The voice echoed throughout the hall as the young woman dressed in black stood before the magic circle. Her appearance was almost identical to that of Jeanne d'Arc. Yet anyone who observed her for more than a few seconds would realize that there was something profoundly wrong with her. The saint's serenity had been replaced by a cruel smile, and her compassion had vanished, giving way to a hatred that seemed capable of setting the entire world ablaze.
"If you heed the Grail's call and obey my will and reason, then answer me. I swear that I shall defeat all evil in the world. But let your eyes be clouded by the mist of turmoil and chaos."
The Holy Grail's light began to spread throughout the chamber.
"You are trapped within a cage of madness, and I am the summoner who holds your chains—Seventh Heaven clad in the great words of power! Come forth from the circle of confinement, Guardian of the Balance!"
The explosion of light that followed illuminated the entire area.
Nearby, Gilles watched the scene with shining eyes.
Under the power of the Holy Grail, golden light spread like dust.
When the light finally faded, five figures stood before her.
Jeanne Alter observed them all and smiled.
"Thank you for coming, my fellow Servants. I am your Master."
"You know why you were summoned, don't you?"
She spread her arms wide.
"Destruction and slaughter—those are your orders. If a city is celebrating spring, destroy it. If a village is celebrating spring, devastate it."
"No matter how wicked or cruel you may be, God will forgive all of your transgressions."
"If He chooses to punish you, that is acceptable in its own way. For it is merely a means of proving God's existence and His love."
Then she turned toward Gilles.
"Now then, Gilles. Please bring him here."
"As you wish."
Gilles nodded and departed for a few moments.
Not long afterward, Gilles returned, forcefully dragging a man in clerical robes into the hall. The man's face was filled with confusion and fear.
He was Pierre Cauchon, the bishop responsible for Jeanne d'Arc's condemnation.
"I hope you haven't done anything to him, Gilles," Jeanne said while looking at Pierre with disgust.
"No, of course not. Have you already thought about what I'd like to do to him?"
Gilles' words caused Jeanne to fall silent for a moment.
"Oh my God, do you need some suggestions from me?"
"Oh, have you noticed my suffering through your infinite concern for me? Don't be ridiculous. If you keep up this nonsense, I'll kill you, Gilles. When you're eating, do you think about how you use a fork?"
She answered mockingly.
"It's the same thing. What I'll do to him is so trivial that it doesn't deserve any thought."
"What's going on? Where am I, and who are you people? Answer me! Are you deaf? You there—"
Pierre roared.
His gaze met Jeanne Alter's face.
The rest of his words died in his throat.
"Eep!"
Jeanne Alter's smile widened.
"Oh, Pierre! Bishop Pierre Cauchon! How I've missed you! There wasn't a single day when your face didn't come to Jeanne d'Arc's mind!"
Pierre paled as he heard her words.
"It can't be. It can't be, it can't be, it can't be, it can't be! Y-You're... Jeanne d'Arc?! Impossible! This can't be possible! I thought you died three days ago! I thought I killed you! I thought..."
Jeanne Alter tilted her head slightly in confusion.
"'That you would be in Hell?' Perhaps I am, Your Grace."
She completed his sentence.
"This is a dream. A nightmare. What else could it be but a nightmare?"
Pierre began trembling as he tried to deny reality.
Gilles sighed theatrically.
"Oh dear, he's started fleeing from reality. This cannot continue. We need to pull him out of this situation, Jeanne."
Pierre took several steps backward as he saw Gilles' expression.
"Aiiee! EE-Eeeee!"
Jeanne Alter slowly approached him.
"What will you do, Your Grace? Jeanne d'Arc, whom you accused of heresy, stands before you. Shouldn't you clutch your crucifix and offer a prayer to God? Shouldn't you mock me? Despise me? Insult me? Trample me? And tell everyone that the wicked Jeanne d'Arc is here? Shouldn't you roar like the brave lion you are?! Come on, do it! Do it! Do it!"
Pierre fell to his knees.
"S-Spare me. Please, spare me. I'll do anything. Spare me, I beg you!"
Jeanne Alter stood still for a second at the pitiful plea before bursting into laughter.
"Hahaha! Did you hear that, Gilles? 'Spare me, spare me,' he says! This bishop who bound me, mocked me, and burned me alive! As if it were nothing! The bishop who told me with kind eyes that I would be killed! Now he's begging for his life!"
She pressed a hand against her chest as she continued laughing.
"Oh... The sadness makes me want to cry. After all, this won't save anything. Your faith, as fragile as paper, will never reach the Heavenly Father. A belief as light as a feather will bloom nowhere. Someone who abandons God and clings to life by begging a witch cannot be called a believer."
Jeanne leaned close to him with a mocking smile.
"Do you understand, Your Grace? You have just testified that you are now one of the heretics. That is why I'm so sad. I think I'll laugh until madness consumes me."
Her eyes narrowed with morbid delight.
Pierre began trembling violently as he realized where this conversation was heading.
"N-No, no, no! Spare me... Please, spare me!"
He pleaded desperately.
Jeanne Alter smiled even wider.
"Now, think carefully, Your Grace. You know what sentence awaits heretics, don't you?"
"No! No!"
"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid my mercy has already run out for today. Besides, indulgences are no longer for sale in this era."
She raised her hand, and black flames began to emerge around the bishop's body.
"Now then... Shall we begin with your feet?"
"AAAAAAHHHH!"
Pierre screamed in terror.
"If I was burned alive by holy flames..."
Black fire immediately engulfed Pierre's legs.
The flames clung to his flesh like a living plague, consuming it slowly and inflicting the greatest pain possible. His skin darkened, cracked, and began to char before everyone's eyes, exposing the burned muscles beneath the supernatural heat.
The smell of human flesh being roasted and reduced to charcoal spread heavily through the hall, nauseating and thick, while thin spirals of black smoke rose from his body.
"...Then your body shall be scorched by the flames of Hell."
Jeanne finished.
Despite the destruction spreading through his legs, Pierre remained conscious, feeling every moment of his flesh being consumed by infernal fire.
"AAAAAIIIIEEEEE—!!"
An agonized scream escaped his throat.
He tried to crawl.
He tried to flee.
He even tore at his own clothes in a desperate attempt to extinguish the flames.
Nothing worked.
The black fire continued advancing slowly, consuming flesh, muscle, and bone without showing any sign of weakening. His screams gradually became weaker, devolving into hoarse, unrecognizable groans.
Until, at last, they ceased entirely.
When the fire disappeared, nothing remained.
Jeanne stared at the empty space for several moments.
"Not even ashes remain, I see. I apologize for taking up your time, Gilles."
She turned toward Gilles with a false expression of regret.
"What are you talking about? That was a meaningful punishment. Now, what should we do with the rest of the clergy?"
Gilles immediately asked another question.
"Good question. Questioning all of them would be too much trouble. Simply feed them to the clergy."
Then she stepped onto the castle balcony and gazed upon Orléans.
Beyond the city, the vast lands of France stretched all the way to the horizon.
Countless black dragons crossed the skies and circled the fortress.
Jeanne Alter observed it all with narrowed eyes and a satisfied smile.
"Rejoice, my ignoble servants! The surviving clergy are yours!"
She raised her black banner with a mad smile on her face.
"I, your Master, Jeanne d'Arc, grant you all forgiveness. Devour their souls. Feast upon their flesh. Savor their blood."
Her insane smile widened further.
"After all, our manifestation is no different from that demon, Dracula."
She pointed toward France.
"I have only one order. Exterminate this country, this mistake called France."
"Invade it, trample it, reap it. Let us begin with our beloved Orléans."
"We shall transform its fertile lands into a barren wasteland."
"Age, gender, and religious beliefs do not matter. Be certain to kill them all equally."
"That is the only order I give you as your Master. For that purpose, I have granted each of you the attributes of a Berserker. You may be saints or heroes, but now you shall dance with shattered souls."
She turned toward the Servants, her gaze settling first on d'Eon.
"Berserk Saber."
Then Atalanta.
"Berserk Archer."
Vlad III.
"Berserk Lancer."
Martha.
"Berserk Rider."
Carmilla.
"Berserk Assassin."
Finally, Gilles.
"Berserk Caster."
"And the one I summoned in place of Berserker, as well as myself."
Jeanne raised her banner.
"I shall deliver judgment as the Ruler of this world."
"Humanity has no value, for it has failed to prove its love for our Lord. They are guilty in the most horrible way."
"Humanity is equally guilty, sinners and saints alike. Therefore, we shall kill them all. I will not tolerate a single one escaping!"
She pointed toward France once more.
Gilles fell to his knees, his eyes shining with admiration.
"Oh... Oh! Such determination! Such truth, beyond any doubt! Such is the saint of salvation! The saint who believes in our Lord and saves our people! You have returned... My light has returned... You have truly been reborn, Jeanne!"
"Then I too shall rise again as your general! First, we need a symbol... Our army requires a banner! Jeanne, what shall we use as our emblem? A demon, perhaps? Or maybe—"
Jeanne merely continued smiling as she looked toward the dragons crossing the sky.
"In that case, let us use a dragon. Whether by coincidence or providence, this summoning has given me strong ties to dragons. In the name of dragons, symbols of catastrophe, we shall reduce this world to ashes."
"Oh, I have one more order."
She smiled.
"Laugh. As though you are enjoying yourselves 'from the bottom of your hearts.'"
She immediately burst into laughter, consumed by madness.
"Heheheh."
"Hahahahaha!"
"AHAHAHAHAHAHA!!"
"Wonderful! This is wonderful, Gilles! I have never enjoyed myself this much in my entire life!"
She spread her arms toward the heavens, still laughing.
Gilles looked upon her with absolute devotion.
"Yes, yes, I suppose it is. This is how it should be. You were placed upon a pedestal, turned into a symbol, exploited and discarded by the people. That is why you are righteous. There is no one who can judge what lies within your heart!"
Atop the castle of Orléans, Jeanne Alter continued laughing while dragons crossed the skies and her Servants departed to spread destruction.
She had descended into this world not as a saint of salvation.
But as the flames of vengeance that would consume everything.
The Witch of Vengeance.
She, Jeanne d'Arc, would destroy the country she had once saved.
(End of Chapter)
A/N: To be honest, I wrote this at the last minute. It wasn't originally my plan to write this prologue for the First Singularity. But while looking through the game again, I thought it would be smarter to provide some context instead of simply throwing them directly into the Singularity.
JALTER FOREVER AGAIN!!!!💘⚡⚡