Type-Moon: My Destiny Guide

This is a vengeful spirit.

This was the crisis that Mr. Shuoyue had emphasized to her countless times.

They are beyond redemption.

They must be removed.

Liu Daolingxia knew this perfectly well, and she spoke softly:

"sure."

This was an absolutely wrong decision, but the woman's face showed no sign of wavering. The instant she received permission, she felt a lightness behind her as the vengeful spirit transformed into a jet-black substance and entered Lingxia's body, where it was absorbed by the black magician's circuitry.

The card wailed and cracked; even a family renowned for its dark magic could not allow an untreated vengeful spirit to merge with the most important circuit.

But as a mother, Lingxia cannot abandon any part of 'Little Jack'; her love will accept all the good and evil in that girl.

To Lingxia, Jack was like her own daughter. Therefore, for the sake of her child, the mother was willing to become a vengeful ghost.

Resentment clashed with the spirits of ordinary people, and blood trickled from Lingxia's eyes, but she did not stop. Looking around, the children seemed to be drawn to her and walked towards her. Facing them, the woman smiled and opened her arms:

Come, my children.

Is the world crazy, or is she crazy?

One dark shadow after another crashed into her body, and the cracks in the card grew deeper and deeper, but Lingxia was completely unaware. Even as blood flowed from her seven orifices, she still stumbled forward.

"Where are you, little Jack..."

Chapter 508 Holy King, Holy Maiden, Huntress

"Is this... England?"

Joan of Arc was also caught up in the girls' nightmares. Now, she was walking down a street filled with the stench of decaying matter.

This is the city where Jack the Ripper was born. The almost freezing, smog, the gloomy, dark nights—the revelation provided the answer not long ago.

Unbeknownst to her, Joan of Arc had lost her armor and was no longer carrying the holy banner she always kept with her. However, she felt no unease about this and continued walking forward openly and honestly.

She had a general idea of ​​what was going on with these phantoms. As for how to escape from here—no, how to defeat them—she was equally confident.

The moment she came into contact with the illusion, her long-buried memories were awakened. Joan of Arc had confirmed that Jack the Ripper was the enemy who had repeatedly harassed them, so she had to defeat him.

"Only by defeating it can we move forward."

The look in Joan of Arc's eyes after she made up her mind conveyed a powerful will. It was a will as sharp as a blade and as strong as steel.

Like magnets drawn to each other, a girl with the same will, spirit, appearance, and temperament met Joan of Arc once more—

"You are...King Arthur!"

Having discovered another target, Jeanne immediately assumed a defensive posture, staring at Artoria, who was surveying her surroundings with a look of disappointment. Hearing someone else's voice, the ahoge (cowlick) also came to its senses, turned around, and spotted Jeanne.

"It's you. You want to fight me when we're both unarmed?"

Upon hearing this, Joan of Arc realized that Artoria in front of her had also removed her armor and was only wearing a fitted suit. Her stunningly beautiful, androgynous face made it difficult to determine her gender.

Compared to Joan of Arc, who was dressed in coarse linen and looked like a country girl, Artoria, dressed in casual clothes, was far superior in demeanor and manner.

Damn it, I have this feeling of what will happen if I lose. She seems so high and mighty...

Lost in her own dejection, Joan of Arc didn't notice the gaze on the ahoge (cowlick). Artoria, now dressed in her World War III attire, stared intently at the mountains on Joan's chest, then glanced down at her own flat chest, her eyes suddenly filled with a sense of utter despair.

Damn it, why isn't my growth at all? I remember the saintess of Orleans was only nineteen years old...

If it weren't for the fact that she had escaped the curse of being flat in her freed form, Artoria would have been so defeated that she would have been squatting in a corner drawing circles.

In the subtle atmosphere where they both felt they had 'lost to each other,' Jeanne d'Arc and Artoria silently envied each other for a while before resuming their conversation, their tone less hostile.

“I mean no harm, Joan of Arc. At least for now, we should work together.”

"But at least you should tell me why Shuoyue is with you, and what exactly happened?"

“This is an environment formed by the vengeful spirit of Jack the Ripper.” Ignoring the question about the new moon, Artoria said, “We need to purify the children’s vengeful spirits, and then…”

“Save/eliminate her.”

The two blonde girls made different decisions, exchanged a glance, and then chuckled softly because of the inexplicably harmonious atmosphere.

"Alright, let's fight when we meet the real Jack the Ripper."

“Yes, before that, at least we must cleanse the wronged souls. You will be in charge of the purification, Saintess of Orleans. You can entrust your back to me with complete peace of mind.”

"Well, I believe you."

They reached an agreement in a few words, and Jeanne and Artoria stopped in their tracks. Before they knew it, countless children had emerged, staring at them with desperate eyes in alleys, streets, and doorways.

—But the saintess and the saint king looked back without fear, with a murderous gaze that a hero would never cast upon his victim.

The children took a step back in surprise. Their features were all different, yet there was a certain unity among them. All the children looked dirty, their eyes revealing a dark glint.

"What's wrong? You who have acquired the name Jack the Ripper, and who aren't anyone else, are you still going to run away?"

Why aren't you afraid?

“Fear? Why should I see you as terrifying beings? You are all just pathetic victims.” Artoria replied softly.

This is undoubtedly hell on earth. They are all embodying this fact in their own ways. No matter how cold-blooded a person is, once pushed into this hell, they would probably feel confusion, fear, and trembling. This is the inner world of Jack the Ripper, the origin of her existence. It is the dark miniature world she reveals to the world, a place that embodies all the ugliness of human nature.

"My Lady Saint."

"Your Majesty the Holy King."

"Please save us, these poor, very poor children. Save us, help us, reach out to us. Please, please, please—"

The children who rushed toward King Arthur and the Saint of Orleans all pleaded with them with eager expressions.

If it were a saintly woman, she would surely intervene; if it were a holy king, he would surely offer relief. No, even someone of lesser status, but an ordinary person with a conscience, should have some kind of realization, right?

Despite this, the two people standing in the center remained unmoved—not only that, neither Artoria nor Jeanne showed any wavering, sympathy, or pity on their faces.

The saint solemnly declared:

"That's something I can't do. I can save lost children, and I can purify souls that still cling to the world through prayer. But I just can't save Jack the Ripper."

The Holy King continued:

"You have all been incorporated into the legend of 'Her.' Jack the Ripper, that serial killer, is neither anyone nor anyone. Can you still accurately identify the people you have killed? You don't even know their names or faces; you killed simply to find your mother, didn't you?"

Jack the Ripper killed at least five prostitutes.

Jack the Ripper ripped out all the entrails.

Jack the Ripper sent letters to the news agency.

Jack the Ripper was a doctor.

Jack the Ripper was a member of the royal family.

Jack the Ripper was an ordinary person, someone you could find anywhere.

It's all a lie, but it's also all true. With all the rumors and speculations intertwined, figuring out his or her true colors is an unimaginably absurd problem.

The Holy Grail must have been trying to summon Jack the Ripper in all his various forms.

“That’s right, you’ve already been absorbed by Jack the Ripper, so I can only defeat you, not save you.”

The saint declared this, and the holy king nodded. It was precisely because she understood this that she cooperated with Joan of Arc to help Little Jack completely eliminate his resentment before Avalon became ineffective.

After exchanging a glance with Artoria, Jeanne closed her eyes, clasped her hands together, and began to pray.

"The Lord's grace is infinitely profound, and His mercy is eternal..."

I summon back the crippled and the aged.

"No! That's not how it is, why, why..." The vengeful spirits, sensing the danger, began to stir, but before they could, Artoria suddenly spoke:

"So, do you each have a name?"

These words were like a victorious sword falling from the sky, and the children's breath caught in their throats. It was a taboo subject; those who had been aborted in the womb had no names.

They formed the group known as 'Jack the Ripper,' and this group is the reason why young Jack cannot grow up.

"You live in a deserted wilderness, unaware of the path to survival."

They entrust themselves to me, learn from me, and follow me.

The saint's prayers continued, and somewhere in the darkness, the priest's voice echoed hers, but then a scream came from somewhere else—

"Stop...stop it!!"

The arrow pierced the air, and Artoria, with lightning reflexes, grabbed Jeanne, pulling her aside to dodge the attack. Meanwhile, on a nearby rooftop, Atalanta aimed her bow, arrow nocked. Her right hand was stained with a murky black mass, clearly indicating she was possessed by an evil spirit.

"What are you going to do, Red Team?" Artoria asked.

"What are you trying to do?!" Atalanta landed and stood in front of the children.

"They are children, still children! These children are not even evil, they are just victims! They are pitiful souls crushed by the irrationality of the world!"

Her beast ears trembled, her pupils trembled, her arms trembled; Atalanta's condition clearly demonstrated her mental hysteria.

"If that's the case, why did you kill them?!"

Chapter 509 Granting Mercy to This Soul

Joan of Arc was unarmed, and Artoria was not carrying a sword. This was a world of illusions, and no matter how fierce the battle, it would be impossible to determine a winner. The arrows shot would also be ineffective.

The arrow embodies Atalanta's will, which is a simple desire for revenge: "If you kill these children, I will kill you."

It wasn't that she was bewitched by Jack, nor was she coerced into standing on the opposite side. Heroes all have scars that they will never allow others to touch. For Atalanta, this dashing huntress, her only weakness was children. Whenever a child reached out to her for help, Atalanta would respond to them regardless of whether it was justice or evil.

Even though they were beings beyond redemption, Atalanta would probably do everything in her power to save them. No matter the despair she experienced, she was unwilling to give up.

This is not without reason, for Atalanta answered the call and descended to earth so that all the babies in the world could be saved and a world where they could all be loved and happy.

As is well known, when Atalanta was born, she was abandoned by her father in the deep mountains because she said, "I don't want a girl." Artemis, the moon goddess, took pity on her and sent a female bear to raise her to adulthood, thus creating the most famous and beautiful female hunter in Greek mythology.

...To this day, Atalanta still retains a memory.

She still remembers the scene of being abandoned very clearly.

She frantically shook her arms and legs, searching for her parents—but she couldn't find her mother, and her father had abandoned her.

She remembers how much she longed for help, how much she longed for someone to hold her hand.