**Dawn over the ruins of Orleans.**
The sky began to stain a pale red as the first rays of sun pierced the perpetually ashen clouds covering the region. The field, once destroyed by fire and war, was now in an expectant silence. A silence that precedes the storm.
In the improvised camp, five figures prepared in silence, with firm gazes, heavy hearts, and a single goal: to end the Singularity and free France from the shadow of the Dragon Witch.
Leonel adjusted his armor while observing the horizon. His expression was hard, focused. He raised his gaze towards the fortress in the distance, that abomination of black iron and fire, where Jeanne Alter awaited them. Beside him, the imposing, semi-divine figure of Tezcatlipoca glowed faintly with golden energy, giving him tactical information in a calm but severe voice.
"The central structure is guarded by at least three types of lesser dragons," said Tezcatlipoca in his deep tone. "But their movements have changed. They are forming a mobile defense line. Intelligent... but futile. That witch already knows we are surrounding her."
Mash raised her shield, more determined than ever.
"We are ready to clear the path, Senpai. No matter how many enemies there are... we will not let Jeanne Alter continue with this suffering."
Kiyohime, in a strange silence for her, stayed a few steps from Leonel, her spear in hand. Her gaze was fixed on the horizon, her lips pressed together. She had promised to protect him, and she would do so until the end. Nothing could pull her away from his side.
"If they dare to touch you, I will burn this world with my fire," she murmured, barely audible.
Jeanne stood tall, wrapped in a mix of determination and sadness. This was not just a crusade against the witch, but also a confrontation with a part of herself. She gripped her standard and raised her voice, calm but firm.
"We fight not only for France. We fight for all who have fallen. For Marie... for the innocent. Today... we will reclaim the light!"
Nero, with her imperial energy and brilliant smile, positioned herself at the head of the offensive squad. Her crimson dress fluttered in the wind as she raised her golden sword.
"Let us advance with grandeur! With the art and passion of the empire! Today will be a symphony of victory!"
A few meters from them, Mozart concentrated deeply over a set of floating magical sheet music. He murmured among arcane chords, channeling his mana to coordinate the support effects that would strengthen everyone during the combat.
"A climax worthy of a tragic opera... but the ending will be heroic. Allegro con fuoco, my dear comrades," he said, letting his music begin to vibrate in the air like a blessing.
On the nearby hills, Georgios rode his steed, his spear on his shoulder and a rosary hanging from his neck. He rode with the peace of a man who has made peace with his destiny, prepared to contain the lesser dragons, protect the people, and keep the front open.
"Lord... give me strength, not to win, but to endure for those who must advance."
And finally, within the morning mist, Siegfried walked alone. His armor shone as if he were a living statue of legend. His destiny was calling: to face Fafnir, the incarnation of the dragon he once killed... and who now, revived by the Grail, must fall once more.
"I will not run from my legend. Today... I finish what began centuries ago."
The pieces were set. The hearts were decided. The final battle for the Orleans Singularity would begin.
**[Eastern Front – Duel of Legend: Siegfried vs Fafnir]**
Flames rose on the horizon, black as despair, when the ground began to tremble under the weight of something unnatural. Leonel's plan had begun, and the fronts were mobilizing, but in an isolated point on the battlefield, history was repeating its eternal cycle.
Siegfried walked in silence, sword in hand. His gaze was fixed, his expression severe, but within him... a storm of emotions. This was not just another fight. It was the settling of a debt with his past.
And then, the roar.
A roar containing no words, only pure instinct, hatred, and rancor. The mountain itself seemed to crack as Fafnir emerged, its wings black as night tearing the sky, its body covered in indestructible scales that seemed to absorb light. Its eyes were two living fires, two embers of madness.
The dragon did not hesitate. It lunged at Siegfried with a deafening roar and brutal speed for something of its size.
BOOM!
The earth exploded under the charge.
Siegfried barely had time to raise his sword to block the first claw that fell like a divine hammer. The impact sent shockwaves around them, knocking down trees and raising a wall of dust.
"I was waiting for you..." Siegfried whispered calmly as his holy blade glowed.
From the rear, on a promontory kilometers away, Leonel watched the scene through a floating magical circle. Beside him, Tezcatlipoca analyzed the enemy's magical energy with surgical precision.
"There he is," murmured the Mexica god. "The scales on the left chest are weakened. Part of his core energy is concentrated there due to excess corruption. If he can hit it with enough force, it will open an opportunity."
Leonel nodded and activated his magical communicator.
"Siegfried, weak point detected. Left chest scales. Aim there when you see an opening. He is not thinking, only attacking by instinct. Use that to your advantage."
Siegfried's voice came through the communicator, serene as always:
"Understood. Thank you... Commander."
The battle continued. Fafnir unleashed an infernal flare that covered the entire field. The sky turned red, the air trembled with each bellow, but Siegfried stood firm, advancing step by step through the fire.
"I will not let this world suffer for your existence," he said in a grave voice. "Once again, you shall fall by my sword!"
With impossible speed, Siegfried spun, cutting one of the dragon's wings with a superficial wound. Fafnir roared in fury, retreating a few meters... just enough.
Leonel shouted through the communicator:
"Now! Left! The chest!"
Siegfried's sword became covered in light. Balmung, his sacred treasure, glowed with supernatural intensity.
"Fafnir! This is your end!"
CLANG!
The blade pierced the weak scale. A jet of dark blood shot out. Fafnir shrieked for the first time, not in fury... but in pain.
Both warriors looked at each other. One with human eyes. The other with those of a beast corrupted by the Grail's power.
The battle was not over yet, but the first crack had been made.
And that was enough for history to begin to change.
**[Northern Front – Lady Against Herself: Elizabeth vs The Bloody Countess]**
On a hill tinged with red mist, where the ruins of an ancient church remained as scars of the past, a figure waited.
The mist parted as if obeying her presence, revealing the crimson dress soaked in a blood that seemed never to dry. Her smile was cruel, her gaze empty. The Bloody Countess, a twisted reflection of Elizabeth's soul, waited with open arms.
"Oh, how ironic," she said in a mocking tone as the echo of her voice distorted the air. "We come from the same mold, you and I. But look at you... pink? Pop? Catchy songs? What a pathetic joke."
Elizabeth Báthory took a step forward, her spear vibrating slightly in her hand. Her expression was firm, much more so than in other battles.
"You are not me," she said with a tone that cut the air like a sharp blade. "You are what they say I am. But not what I choose to be."
The Countess laughed, long and sharp, as if the idea amused her deeply.
"Choose? You think you can rewrite what the world has already carved in stone? You are blood, death, and cruelty. You're just delaying embracing it. You know it."
From the distance, in his floating magical circle, Leonel watched attentively. Beside him, Tezcatlipoca examined the spiritual information of both entities.
"You must warn her," said the god. "That thing is a manifestation of mental corruption. It has no real body: all its power is channeled into the necklace it wears. Breaking it will destabilize its form."
Leonel, already connected to Elizabeth via the magical link, transmitted the message:
"Elizabeth, listen. The enemy concentrates its spiritual core in the necklace. If you destroy it, its form will collapse. Use your range. Don't get drawn into its rhythm."
Elizabeth's voice sounded through the channel with renewed resolve:
"Understood... thank you, Leonel. I will show who I really am."
The Countess snapped her fingers, summoning a rain of black thorns that descended like whips from the sky. But Elizabeth was already in motion, her spear vibrating with pink energy, emitting sound waves that disintegrated the thorns on contact.
"I don't want to be your reflection! I don't want to be your echo! I am me!" she shouted, as she leaped and spun her spear as if choreographing a dance of fire and will.
The Countess, surprised, took a step back.
"So you want to write your history with pop notes and off-key screams? You think the audience will accept that?"
Elizabeth smiled with a spark of tenderness and fury.
"I'd rather sing off-key with my truth... than sing perfectly with your lie."
And then, in a swift spin, her spear pierced through the mist, straight towards the Countess's necklace. The impact was brutal. A distorted scream tore through the air as the amulet shattered into fragments.
The Bloody Countess dissolved into a mix of dark vapor and red light, her corrupted form returning to oblivion.
Elizabeth fell to her knees, exhausted but smiling. For the first time in a long while, she felt light. As if she had broken invisible chains.
From the distance, Leonel closed his eyes and whispered:
"One battle less... a stronger truth."
**[Fortress of Heresy – Throne Room]**
The echo of boots resonated in the stone hallways, still stained with the vestiges of a dark consecration. With no dragons guarding the halls—thanks to Georgios's maneuver, who had drawn them away in a glorious holy ride—the advance was almost silent, but charged with a tension felt in the throat.
Mash advanced with her shield at the front, protecting Leonel at the center of the formation. Kiyohime walked with agile steps, but her eyes danced between contained madness and the calm of battle. Nero, with her sword ready and an imperial smile, seemed to enjoy the drama of the stage. And Jeanne d'Arc... marched with the firmness of faith, her standard waving like a flame that knows no fear.
Finally, the doors to the throne room opened on their own, pushed by a dark will.
On the black throne, carved with inverted crosses and blasphemous symbols, sat a figure with a twisted smile: Jeanne Alter, her dark standard leaning against the throne, watching with disdain.
"Oh... how touching," she said in a venomous tone. "The saint has come to save the world with her entourage of pets. Such a tiring cliché."
Jeanne looked up serenely, not rising to the provocation.
"I did not come to save the world. I came to correct this aberration."
"Aberration?" Jeanne Alter rose slowly, descending the throne steps. "Do you mean me? The part of you that finally accepted the hatred? The truth you denied even as you burned at the stake?"
Nero raised an eyebrow, murmuring into Leonel's ear:
"How dramatic. I like it... but not more than me."
Leonel smiled slightly but did not take his eyes off the scene.
Jeanne d'Arc stepped forward, gripping the standard in her hands.
"You are strong, yes. You are made of pain... of fury. But you are not part of me."
Jeanne Alter stopped her step. For a second, the mockery on her face faltered.
"I am not part of you? And how would you know? Do you think God would tell you the truth?"
"Because you..." Jeanne closed her eyes for a moment, remembering something deep, "you don't remember the name of the girl who held my hand when I fell at Compiègne. You don't remember the prayer I recited before being handed over. You don't know what I knew in my last seconds of life."
Jeanne Alter's laughter died in her throat. A silence fell like a slab of stone.
Mash narrowed her eyes, tense.
"What does that mean?"
Leonel responded softly, as one who reveals a terrible truth:
"Jeanne Alter is not a shadow of Jeanne. Not completely. She was created with the Holy Grail, but without a soul. She is composed only of negative emotions, built upon the idea of vengeance... not upon real memories."
"She is a hollow specter," added Tezcatlipoca, his voice resonating mentally. "A farce. And like all lies... it can be broken."
Jeanne Alter took a step back, her face distorted by a rage she could no longer hide.
"Silence! I don't need your memories! I don't need your past!! I am fire, rage, and destruction!! And I will burn EVERYTHING!!"
With a scream, she summoned her dark standard, and black flames began to writhe around the hall.
Jeanne raised her standard in response, and the light of pure faith clashed with the corrupted darkness.
"And I..." she said with steely calm, "will be the shield of the innocent. Your tyranny ends here, embodied falsehood!"
The final battle within the castle of blasphemy... had begun.
"—Battle formation!" ordered Leonel, from an elevated position behind his Servants, with his grimoire open and the summoning symbol glowing beneath his feet. "Jeanne, you face her directly. Mash, full support with defense. Nero, Kiyohime, clear the lateral threats. We cannot let the dragons interfere!"
"As Rome commands!" shouted Nero, brandishing her sword with imperial grace as she charged against a group of wyverns descending on the right flank.
"Fufufu~ Fire purifies! And you shall be purified too, my dear Master!" laughed Kiyohime, her breath setting the enemy rear ablaze as she swept through Jeanne Alter's magical minions with fury.
Mash advanced with her shield raised, projecting a defensive field just in time to block a rain of dark flames that Alter sent without warning.
"Senpai, the magical intensity is enormous! Her mana is overflowing the field!"
"I know," murmured Leonel, activating the spiritual link. "Tezcatlipoca!"
Beside him, a mystical figure appeared, wrapped in black clouds and turquoise radiance: Tezcatlipoca, the warrior god, his mirror hanging from his chest like a dark sun.
"Her mana lines are linked to multiple focal points. She is not fighting alone," said the deity in a deep voice. "There are dark Servants hidden behind the flames... their presence is fragmented, like echoes forcibly summoned."
"Understood. So it's a war of attrition. Jeanne needs time to break through her emotional defense," said Leonel as he analyzed the illusory map projected by Tezcatlipoca. "Nero, Kiyohime, prioritize clearing. We will not allow ambushes."
"Leave it to me! Ah, the scene, the passion, the battle! My Roman heart burns!" shouted Nero, cutting down a winged creature with a bright slash.
Kiyohime responded with a lethal dance, her naginata wreathed in flames, spinning like a wheel of punishment.
At the center of the field, the climax was brewing.
Jeanne and Jeanne Alter crossed standard and spear in an explosion of holy light and burning darkness. The true one held her gaze, her lips in a silent prayer. The false one roared with rage, as if wanting to tear out her soul with every blow.
Leonel clenched his teeth. This was not a simple fight between Servants. It was a judgment. One that would define the soul of a nation... and the heart of a heroine.
The air burned before the profaned throne where Jeanne Alter stood with her standard held high, surrounded by black flames and a demonic presence that deformed the sky. At her feet, Gilles de Rais laughed madly, his empty eyes reflecting pure twisted devotion. Behind, dark dragons roared, ready to pounce on the invaders.
The team was already in formation: Jeanne advanced with determination, Mash at her side, shield held high. Nero and Kiyohime positioned themselves on the flanks, ready to intercept any secondary threats. Leonel, standing just a few meters behind the front line, kept a hand on his grimoire while his Persona, Tezcatlipoca, loomed imposingly beside him, like a deity overseeing a living chess game.
"'Alter Jeanne shows signs of emotional fluctuation. Her spiritual pulse rises every time she sees her 'original self.' That can be used,'" whispered Tezcatlipoca, his voice resonating like an echo contained in metal.
"Jeanne, when you advance, do not try to reason with her," warned Leonel in a firm voice, his eyes fixed on the Avenger. "But speak her name. Her reaction will give you an opening."
The saint nodded, pressing her lips together.
"Mash, as soon as her mana condenses in the air, raise the shield. Tezcatlipoca has already detected the pattern: her dark burst comes right after her scream."
"Ready, Senpai!" Mash stayed close to Jeanne, her eyes attentive to the aura.
As soon as Jeanne Alter raised her standard and shrieked a cry of hatred at her reflection, a dark wave formed like a torrent. Leonel extended his hand:
"Now, Mash!"
The girl activated her shield in sync with the prediction, blocking the attack cold. The magical pressure made the ground tremble, but no one fell.
"Dragons flanking from the left," announced Tezcatlipoca. "Two of them respond to floating anchor marks. Kiyohime, cut them. They are located three meters above Alter Jeanne's head."
"That fake witch has no right to use your face, Jeanne-sama! I will burn her tricks with my fire of love!" shouted Kiyohime as she propelled herself forward with a roar of flames.
"Nero, provoke her. Her concentration breaks under emotional pressure," added Leonel, not ceasing to analyze the magical flows. "She is the opposite of you: if she loses control, she loses the battle."
"Then it's time to act! A fraud like you doesn't even deserve the dustiest curtain in the great Roman theater!" bellowed Nero as she charged with her sword wreathed in crimson light.
Every instruction, every second, every decision from Leonel and Tezcatlipoca was reflected in the coordinated actions of the group. They did not fight alone: they fought like a symphony directed from the very heart of the combat. A strategist and his god, reading the field as if they had already lived this battle a thousand times.
And while chaos burned around them, Leonel did not lose his calm. Because as Tezcatlipoca whispered the secrets of war into his ear, he already saw victory among the shadows.
The black flames of the heretical throne crackled with an unhealthy life, marking the heart of Orleans as if hell had chosen its throne among ruins and hatred. Jeanne Alter, majestic in her blasphemy, raised her blackened standard with the same authority with which a saint once guided her people. Her eyes shone with pure rage, and her voice tore through the air like a whip of resentment.
"Hypocrite! False martyr! Your existence is my prison!" screamed the Avenger in a voice trembling with fury. "Today I will burn the image the world worships!"
Jeanne, facing her, resisted the trembling in her hands, her eyes moist from the weight of seeing such a twisted image of herself. But her faith did not waver.
"You are not my shadow... nor my reflection. You are someone lost. But that does not mean I will let you destroy this world with your rage."
Leonel, just a few steps behind, analyzed the field with surgical precision. Beside him, Tezcatlipoca floated in silence, his eyes glowing with golden patterns that scanned both magic and soul alike.
"Imminent attack. High level of malignant energy concentrated in her standard. Technically, she should not be able to sustain that much power for so long without paying a physical price," murmured the Maya god. "I recommend forcing her to release it sooner. Her control weakens afterward."
"Jeanne, prepare for an area impact," Leonel warned. "Provoke her. Make her discharge now."
The maiden nodded. She took two steps forward, raising her standard firmly.
"Jeanne... if you hate so much what I was, then fight me. Not with the world. With me."
Jeanne Alter's scream was visceral, and instantly the air condensed. A ring of dark fire rose from the ground, advancing like a magical storm.
"MASH, SHIELD!!" exclaimed Leonel.
The girl blocked the attack just in time. The impact was so brutal that the shield was pushed back a few centimeters, but it held.
"Reinforcements in directions three and five! Dragons in low flight, magical escort formations!" alerted Tezcatlipoca, in his impassive tone. "Nero, Kiyohime: time for offensive interruption."
"I have been waiting for this moment! I will show you the imperial art of organized chaos!" shouted Nero, lunging towards the flanks with her gleaming sword.
In the center of the field, the duel between the two Jeannes continued, more ferocious. Standard against standard. Sacred fire against cursed fire. Each clash created waves of spiritual pressure that made the stone tremble under their feet.
"Her attacks follow an emotional pattern," observed Leonel, his tone more tense. "When she remembers her execution, her magic flares uncontrollably. Jeanne, attack right after her words. Her defense falls for half a second."
"Understood!" responded the saint.
And indeed, when Alter shouted "God abandoned me!", Jeanne charged without hesitation, standard forward, cutting through her shadowy shield and tearing her clothing at the shoulder.
The Avenger screamed, retreating.
"Don't look at me with compassion! DON'T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT!"
"It's not compassion... it's sadness," murmured Jeanne. "Because I know what it is to burn... and yet still believe."
"Leonel!" shouted Mash. "Her aura is changing! She's going to use her Noble Phantasm!"
"Confirmed! Massive accumulation of black mana! Inverted cross form! Everyone, retreat from the impact zone!" ordered Leonel.
"No!" exclaimed Jeanne, stopping. "If I don't face this, I will never make her awaken."
"Then stay at the center," said Leonel, his voice like a sword. "Tezcatlipoca and I will cover your blind spot. Trust."
Tezcatlipoca extended a hand. A mirror of obsidian rose behind Jeanne, absorbing part of the dark energy.
The inverted cross exploded.
And yet, Jeanne remained firm, the standard still upright, her faith intact.
When the smoke cleared, Jeanne Alter was panting, kneeling, her aura trembling.
"Why... are you still standing?"
"Because even in the darkness... I believe."
Silence.
And then, slowly, Jeanne Alter lowered her standard. Not in surrender, but in exhaustion.
"This is not over... But for today..."
She fell unconscious.
Leonel closed his eyes, relieved. Tezcatlipoca smiled faintly.
"Strategy accomplished."
"You... shouldn't have shouldered so much pain. Not in that way," he murmured.
Jeanne Alter looked up. For a moment, her face—still full of resentment—softened. Her lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to say something... but the words didn't come. Only a sigh, barely a whisper.
"I... just wanted it to hurt..."
And then, her body began to glow. The prana motes rose softly, dancing in the air like ashes floating towards the sky. She did not scream. She did not resist. She simply faded away... like a memory that should never have existed.
Mash lowered her shield. Nero and Kiyohime sheathed their weapons. Leonel, his eyes fixed on the last spark of her disappearance, murmured in a low voice:
"She wasn't just an enemy. She was someone... screaming."
Tezcatlipoca nodded gravely.
"The reflection of a very human wound."
The moment of silence was broken by a thick, wet sound: the slow, mocking applause of Gilles de Rais (Caster), emerging from the shadows near the throne, his smile deformed by madness.
"Brilliant! Truly brilliant! The drama, the tragedy, the pain... All worthy of a divine masterpiece!"
Jeanne turned, her expression hardened.
"You... it was you."
"Oh, yes!" shouted Gilles, spreading his arms. "Who else but I could return to France its saintly martyr... turned avenger? She was not a mistake, Jeanne. She was the perfect incarnation of what you SHOULD have been!"
His laugh echoed like broken bells.
"Do you think the world deserved you? Do you think that same people, for whom you gave your life, deserved your forgiveness? HA! They burned you! They betrayed you! They buried you! And yet, you... bless them with prayers. Stupid!"
Mash stepped forward, shield held high.
"It makes no sense! No human would create someone like that without a terrible reason behind it!"
Gilles pointed with his staff.
"The reason is simple, little girl: I could not accept her forgiveness. So I recreated her. I molded her with every fragment of my guilt and my hatred, until she rose with a standard of fire. That Jeanne was my cry for redemption. My desire for her to hate too... like I did."
Jeanne closed her eyes, pained.
"You cannot recreate someone with your sins and expect redemption. Only pain."
Leonel, having observed in silence, took a step forward.
"Gilles, you did not create a goddess. You only dragged a shadow into your hell. She was never Jeanne... but she wasn't just a monster either. She was the product of your despair. And that... is the most tragic part of all this."
Gilles de Rais's voice broke into a laugh that held no joy, only accumulated despair and hatred. His eyes shone with a mystical fever, and his hands, covered in dried blood and magical ink, rose towards the cloudy sky of Orleans.
"But the Grail... the Grail understands me! It gives me what you denied me! Power! Redemption through punishment! Punishment for the world that betrayed her!"
From within his robes, Gilles extracted the Holy Grail. It was not golden and glorious, but dark, as if its surface contained a deformed starry sky. The chalice began to vibrate, trembling with a sinister energy, as if something monstrous were pounding from within.
"AND NOW! LET THE HEAVENS TEAR BEFORE THE THRONE OF HELL!"
Without warning, Gilles plunged the Grail into his own chest. The pain must have been indescribable, but his scream was one of ecstasy. The Grail's aura enveloped his body and distorted it, while the earth trembled. A gigantic magical circle appeared beneath his feet, made of runes and forbidden symbols: the seal of the 72nd demon of the Ars Goetia.
The air grew heavy, toxic. The sky blackened as if night itself had fallen in broad daylight. A colossal figure emerged from Gilles's body, fusing with him as his flesh twisted and reformed. Infernal wings, multiple eyes, horns made of obsidian... an abomination that had no definite form and yet all at once.
A Demon Pillar.
A pure incarnation of chaos and sin.
Mash instinctively stepped back. Nero gripped her sword, feeling something akin to fear for the first time. Kiyohime began to breathe heavily, her draconic instinct warning her of absolute danger.
Leonel took a step forward, his glasses gleaming as Tezcatlipoca manifested beside him in a spectral image, with black smoke and sacred feathers surrounding him.
"...That is not a simple Servant. It is a partial manifestation of an infernal god." Tezcatlipoca's voice vibrated with gravity. "Name: Andras, the Angel of Discord. Pillar number 63 of the Ars Goetia. Commander of legions. Bearer of war and chaos."
Leonel narrowed his eyes, his mind processing information at full speed.
"Threat level: extreme. High-rank demonic magic, possession of multiple shifting abilities, superior resistance. But..."
"Does it have a weakness?" asked Jeanne, tightening her grip on her standard.
Silence. Leonel swallowed.
"No... none immediately. Its spiritual structure is in constant flux. Any weak point it might have... disappears the next second."
"Then we will crush it all at once!" shouted Nero, pointing with her sword.
"It's not that simple," interrupted Tezcatlipoca. "Every attack strengthens its adaptive defense. But if you can break its concentration, its connection to the Grail will become unstable."
"Concentration?" repeated Mash. "How do we break it?"
Leonel looked directly at the latent core in the beast's chest: a visible remnant of the Grail, like a jewel trapped between black ribs.
"Gilles. There is still something of him inside there. If we can make him react... make him doubt... the demon will lose control."
Jeanne nodded, her gaze firm.
"Then we will fight not only with weapons... but with faith."
The Demon Pillar roared, making the heavens tremble, and the new battle began.
The field of Orleans became a living hell.
The monstrous figure of Andras, fused with what remained of Gilles de Rais and fueled by the Holy Grail, emerged as a colossal shadow covering the sky. Wings black as the abyss, flaming eyes that spun all over its body, multiple mouths screaming in different ancient tongues at once. The air vibrated with its presence, and the earth cracked with each of its steps.
"Careful! It's charging a magical discharge!" shouted Leonel from the side of the field, his eyes fixed on his data tablet projected with magical energy. "Anti-fortress level impact in five seconds!"
"Mash!" ordered Jeanne. "Protect Nero and Kiyohime!"
"Understood!"
Mash ran with her shield raised, invoking her Noble Phantasm "Lord Camelot," creating a temporary barrier that absorbed the onslaught of dark energy. Still, the tremor was so strong it sent everyone to the ground.
"It's using abilities from multiple classes!" said Tezcatlipoca gravely. "Berserker, Caster... even Avenger abilities. There's no way to fully predict its movements."
"But we can limit it. If we deal enough damage to key points, perhaps we can separate it from the Grail..." added Leonel, writing frantically while analyzing its form. "Romani, Da Vinci! Do you have anything?!"
Romani Archaman's voice crackled from the communicator, full of tension:
"We're tracking it! The Grail is stabilizing its manifestation, but it's not fully fused! If you can reduce its magical energy enough, we can use an inverse pulse to force a separation!"
"But it's not going to be easy!" added Da Vinci, in her sharp, quick voice. "That thing is regenerating with every magical hit. You need physical attacks combined with well-timed Noble Phantasms. And avoid its screams! They contain curses that can nullify Command Spells!"
Nero Claudius leaped to the front with her red sword shining.
"Then we will hit it as many times as necessary! Rome does not yield to demons!"
"Darling! Watch me! I won't let another witch steal the spotlight from you!" shouted Kiyohime, in her berserker form, wreathed in flames.
Both charged at Andras. Their attacks left visible wounds, but they closed shortly after, as if the Grail itself were weaving its demonic flesh.
Jeanne rose above the field with her standard, channeling divine power. Her voice rose above the chaos:
"Lord, give us strength! Luminosité Eternelle!"
Her Noble Phantasm fell like a pillar of holy light that tore through part of the demon's central mass. Andras screamed with multiple throats, shaking the entire field, but remained standing.
"Impact confirmed! Temporary decrease in core energy!" shouted Leonel. "Keep it up!"
Mash and Nero formed a defensive/offensive tandem, while Kiyohime went all out, blasting draconic fire directly into its eyes. For a few moments, it seemed they were cornering it.
But then, Andras beat its wings and released a dark wave that swept across the field.
"WATCH OUT!!!" shouted Tezcatlipoca.
Everyone was sent flying. Jeanne barely managed to stay on her feet.
"This... isn't going to be an easy victory," she said between gasps.
"No," responded Leonel with tense calm. "This isn't a quick victory... it's a test of faith. But we will defeat it."
"How do you know?" asked Mash, recovering.
Leonel looked at the sky, which was slowly beginning to clear.
"Because we are not alone. Chaldea is with us. Tezcatlipoca is with me. And you are the ones who can change history."
And with that phrase, the signal for attack rose again. The battle would continue, between light and darkness, between faith and chaos.
A holy war against a formless demon, where every blow, every tactic, and every sacrifice counted.
The sky of Orleans was dyed crimson red. The demonic screams of Andras resonated like bells of the final judgment. The battle dragged on like a nightmare with no end. Each blow from Jeanne, Nero, Kiyohime, and Mash opened cracks in the demon's colossal body, but none were deep enough. The wounds closed as if time had no meaning for that spawn.
Mash was breathing with difficulty. Her shield was cracked.
"Jeanne... I don't know how much longer I can hold out..."
"We endure for France," said Jeanne, her face covered in blood and ash. "Even if my body falls, my spirit will burn as a torch of hope."
Kiyohime panted, surrounded by smoke and dying flames. Nero had cuts on her arms, but her eyes still shone with imperial pride. Yet, they all knew what the silence between attacks meant: the enemy was now evaluating them. Adapting. Waiting for its moment.
And then, it was Leonel who saw it.
"There you are...!" he murmured before his magical console, his fingers trembling from exhaustion. Tezcatlipoca watched him from his ethereal projection, eyes shining like black stars. "Tez... those lines... are they mana routes?"
"Exactly what I thought. Those marks that appear after impacts aren't simple wounds... they are feeding channels. The Grail generates them to keep it together. But if we interrupt that network..."
Leonel gritted his teeth.
"We could force the Grail to reject it. Cut the magical nerves holding it together!"
Tezcatlipoca smiled ferociously.
"We'll have to strike five nodes simultaneously. It's like breaking a magical heart in sync. If one fails, everything regenerates."
Leonel activated the communicator.
"Jeanne, Nero, Kiyohime, Mash! Listen to me! On its back and shoulders are marks like roots! We need you to hit those five zones at the same time! It's the only real weakness it has!"
Romani confirmed from Chaldea with an urgent voice:
"Yes! We confirm Leonel's theory! We're ready to send a containment pulse once the wounds are exposed!"
"Five marks, five Servants!" shouted Leonel. "You can do it!"
The five zones now glowed faintly, now that they knew what to look for. Each pulsed with a corrupt green energy.
"Let's go! Let's do it!" shouted Jeanne, raising her standard.
"Rome burns bright tonight!" declared Nero.
"Nothing stops me if it's for you, my love!" roared Kiyohime, fire emerging from her arms.
"Lord Camelot!!" exclaimed Mash, covering a flank as Jeanne charged again.
Each moved in perfect synchrony. Coordinated by Leonel's orders, Tezcatlipoca's tactical routes, and the remote support from Chaldea, they attacked the five nodes simultaneously.
The demon screamed.
But this time, it wasn't a scream of fury... but of pain.
Its body contorted. The Grail, embedded in its chest, began to vibrate irregularly.
"Now, Romani!" shouted Leonel.
"Initiating magical containment pulse! Da Vinci, activate it!"
The roar of the Demon Pillar ceased like a storm finally dying. Its body faded into broken shadows, evaporated by the purified air of an Orleans that could finally breathe in peace.
And there, amidst the smoldering remains, was the Holy Grail, shining like a new moon, suspended in its own golden light.
Mash stepped forward with slow, reverent steps. She caressed the chalice with a mix of awe and respect.
"We did it..." she murmured, as the sacred artifact rose slightly on its own.
Immediately, a magical seal activated on her shield. A circle of light surrounded her, and with a soft flash, the Grail was absorbed into her defensive core.
At that moment, the world began to tremble.
Romani exclaimed from the communicator:
"It's working! The Singularity is beginning to close! Time is correcting itself!"
But that joy was quickly tinged by the glow of particles floating in the air. Jeanne and Kiyohime began to fade into magical motes, returning to the Throne of Heroes.
"Ah...? No... NO!" Kiyohime screamed, looking at her hands slowly disintegrating into light. She ran towards Leonel, hugging him desperately. "I don't want to go! I found you! You're my Anchin, I knew it since I saw you! Don't take me away from you, not again...!"
Leonel swallowed, moved by the pain in her voice. He took her hands, even as they began to dissipate between his fingers.
"Kiyohime... I... I promise I will summon you. No matter when or how, I will bring you back to my side."
"Do you swear?" she sobbed, with a trembling smile. "Pinkie promise?"
Leonel nodded and raised his pinkie. Kiyohime linked hers gently, and a tear of fire ran down her cheek just as her form finished dissipating.
"Then... I will be waiting... my love..."
And with a final flash, she disappeared.
Jeanne watched the scene with a calm smile, though she too was beginning to fade.
"It was an honor to walk with you. To protect France... to save souls... to fight for justice... and for the future." Her standard waved with dignity, though its edges were already light. "Thank you for not leaving me alone. Thank you for fighting with me."
She turned towards Leonel, Mash, and the others.
"If ever you need my strength... do not hesitate to summon me. I love this world... and I will protect those who believe in it."
"Jeanne..." murmured Mash, with tears in her eyes.
"We will meet again," said Jeanne, with a radiant smile. And then, simply... she was gone, like a prayer answered.
The wind blew softly. The sunlight touched Orleans once more.
The Singularity... was over.