Type-Moon: My Destiny Guide

Her wish was not fulfilled; she could only cry incessantly, reaching out her hands for help, as she continued to fall, fall, fall into the terrifying ocean—

The psychological trauma of being abandoned was never healed throughout his life.

Even after growing into a beautiful young woman and becoming a renowned hunter, she remained perpetually lonely. She had friends and companions who embarked on numerous adventures aboard the Argo. But throughout her life, she never found anyone worthy of her love, nor did she have any inclination to seek them out.

Even though she eventually reunited with her father, he was only happy because she could be used as material for marriage. In the end, her father never loved his daughter from beginning to end.

—All I wanted was to receive love.

He simply wanted to experience unconditional love that didn't stem from lust, fame, or the desire for power.

If your life is already like this, and you can't get anything else, then at least leave this tenderness to your future children.

Atalanta was willing to sacrifice herself for this goal.

In the instant Atalanta was swallowed by Jack's mist, she saw hell.

Foggy London, Whitechapel—for certain people, it was undoubtedly hell. Survival was difficult enough, let alone living a life of dignity.

In a world where even a nine-year-old girl has to sell herself to survive, what dignity is left? The air is constantly filled with the stench of leather factories and meat processing plants, and rats and cockroaches strut around the streets with their heads held high.

There are no strong people there. Everyone there is a miserable weakling, a pitiful victim, and at the same time, a cruel perpetrator.

Yes, this is hell. Children, there are little children, so many little children, their eyes are like they're dead, they've long understood that there is no love in this world.

"I will save you! I will save you! I was once like you, fallen into hell, but I was still saved! I hope you can feel that joy and happiness!"

It was this tragic wish for redemption that led Atalanta to stand in front of Joan of Arc and Artoria.

Faced with Atalanta, who had fallen into a state of mental derangement, Joan of Arc abandoned her prayers, straightened up, and spoke:

"You should understand that the only thing these children can do while they're alive is to increase their number of companions. True salvation lies in returning their souls to their rightful place."

Even in moments of rest, we do not forget to sing, we do not forget to pray, we do not forget ourselves.

"Shut up! What kind of salvation is this!" Atalanta, her face almost contorted with tears, shot an arrow at the two holy maidens. Joan of Arc dodged it, while Artoria gripped the arrow, her eyes sharpening. But Atalanta ignored her; Joan of Arc, who had extended her hand to destroy the child, was her primary target of hatred.

"Holy Maiden, why did you wave the flag on the battlefield instead of drawing your sword? Was it to avoid killing? To keep your hands clean of blood—"

Is that what you're thinking, Red?

When confronted with the pitiful Atalanta, Joan of Arc responded in a cold voice, pointing out the fatal error in her words.

"Because I didn't use a sword, my hands aren't stained with blood? How is that possible?"

Memories played uncontrollably in her mind. The girl standing on a pile of enemy corpses waved her arms, and the fully armed marshal drew his sword and shouted. The sound of horses' hooves thundered across the battlefield. The cavalrymen ruthlessly swung their weapons, cutting the enemies in front of them in half and trampling the fallen defeated into mud, until the splattered blood completely stained the girl's beautiful face and the flag behind her.

"I participated in that war. I decided to fight, and from that moment on, my hands were stained with blood." Breaking free from her memories, Joan of Arc declared without hesitation, "Do not underestimate me. I will not hesitate for a moment to destroy them."

With my lightness, I can shed all burdens.

Upon hearing this, Atalanta's expression instantly turned ferocious, and she roared as if tearing something apart:

"Then you're not a saint at all!"

"That's right, I never considered myself a saint."

Compared to Atalanta's loud shouts, Joan of Arc's voice remained calm, yet the will contained within that calmness made both Artoria and Atalanta involuntarily widen their eyes.

"This is their world of memories... merely phantoms born from lingering longing. Do you want those children to suffer forever in this chaotic world? Please step aside!"

Rest in my hands, for your sins are anointed with oil and branded with my mark.

A solemn chanting sound came from the distant horizon. Under Joan of Arc's invisible and heavy oppression, Atalanta's eyes showed struggle. Her arms trembled, but even so, the huntress stubbornly stood in front of the children.

“I… refuse! If I abandon these children, who will love them?! Your God?!”

This one sentence, this one sentence alone—made Joan of Arc slightly avert her gaze.

An omnipotent God exists only in people's hearts. Even if such an omniscient and omnipotent being truly existed, he would not absolve humanity of the sins it has committed.

There are no truly heinous criminals here, only a "system," an inescapable shadow, or festering sore, in the process of human creation and development. They cannot blame anyone, nor can they save anyone; saving this situation is impossible because such behavior is not even recognized by the city.

There is only one way to achieve liberation—

[Eternal life is bestowed by death]

"Who is it? Who is speaking in my ear? Shut up, shut up!"

Joan of Arc's silence drove Atalanta further into madness. She clutched her head in agony, letting the black aura on her arms burn her face. At this moment, she had lost her natural beauty, and all that remained was the desperate struggle of a caged beast.

Forgiveness begins now.

Footsteps and chanting rang out in quick succession. When the three looked in the direction of the sound, an English gentleman in an overcoat emerged from the shadows. Under the restraint of his walking stick, a blurry outline turned to ashes and disappeared in the golden light.

"Hmm?" A question arose upon seeing the three people facing off. The young gentleman paused slightly, seemingly wanting to pretend nothing was wrong and leave this place of trouble. However, under Artoria's death stare, he still smiled wryly and bowed with his hand on his chest.

Good evening, ladies. Today hasn't been a particularly pleasant day, has it?

Artoria gave a soft hum, and Jeanne fell into an eerie silence. Atalanta didn't look at him, but stared intently at the golden ball of light floating in Shuoyue's hand, a suffocating feeling enveloping her.

"What...did you just do?"

With both Joan of Arc and Artoria standing against her, Atalanta at least hoped that the new moon would firmly give her the answer she wanted to hear.

If he were to extend a helping hand, Atalanta would surely reciprocate; if he were to utter words of comfort, she would be grateful for that warmth for the rest of her life.

So please, please help me, don't abandon me like my father did—

Under the pleading gaze, Shuoyue lowered her eyes and took out a card from her pocket. The card shimmered with a faint light, which then dimmed after a moment.

With a 'click', the sound seemed to come from the heavens above, yet it plunged Atalanta into the deepest depths of the underworld.

"The time has come." Amidst the swirling card fragments, the young gentleman said, "Let's end this."

"What, no—" Realizing something was wrong, Atalanta raised the Sky Bow, but her arm trembled uncontrollably, and she could not aim the arrow at the young man no matter what she did. She could only bite her lip until it bled, tears streaming down her face, and stare helplessly as Shuoyue closed her eyes, her deep voice resonating with the atmosphere.

"I swear by my own flesh—" that mercy may be granted to this soul.

The platinum-gold spiritual energy instantly broke through the atmosphere, shooting straight into the sky like a pillar of light, like a sharp iron needle piercing through the shell of the miserable world and reaching heaven.

It billowed the gentleman's coat, expanding at an incredible speed, past Atalanta who reached out to hold him back, and obliterated all the children behind her. Before their impending annihilation, the children showed no resentment; they simply stood hand in hand, accepting everything with blank stares.

That empty gaze pierced Artoria and Jeanne, leaving an indelible wound in Atalanta's heart, from which blood flowed freely.

In another corner of the illusion, a woman was holding a small child. The blood that had flowed from the backlash had dried. In her agony and delirium, she heard the cards of the Black Magician within her body crumble away bit by bit, crying out as they turned into dust and vanished.

The lingering evil thoughts from the illusion swarmed towards the dying mother, yet even so, she still held her unconscious daughter tightly in her arms, even though her consciousness was about to fade and her face was as pale as a ghost, she refused to let go no matter what.

"I will never abandon you again, little Jack..."

Golden light shone forth, echoing the purifying power from afar. The distant utopia protected the ill-fated mother and child, saving them from their final calamity until dawn broke and the fog of despair was dispelled by the streets of Romania.

As the fog dissipated, in a deserted place, the heroes finally saw each other's faces clearly.

"You killed them."

Like a wounded beast, Atalanta staggered to her feet, casting a desperate glance at the new moon.

Shuoyue was momentarily stunned by the unfamiliar address, but still nodded calmly.

"Yes, it was indeed I who killed them—if you consider them as something alive."

He is the enemy, an existence that is absolutely incompatible with me—

But why is my heart aching so much?!

Atalanta slowly rose to her feet, straining to infuse her mind with murderous intent, and cried out in a trembling voice:

"Really? So you're one of those who abandon them too? Those children just wanted to live, and you're one of those who trample on them?!"

“No matter what I say, you won’t accept it, will you?” The young gentleman sighed, and Atalanta almost ground her teeth to powder at the sight of that completely unrepentant attitude.

"Those children can be saved!"

"There's no way to save them. These things are evil spirits, so no matter how much they crave warmth, those who give them warmth will be destroyed by their own hands."

"Shut up!"

The arrow left the bowstring and shot toward the young man in front of him, but Shuoyue did not move. She just stared at Atalanta's tearful eyes, letting the arrow pierce her shoulder.

"New moon...!"

"Are you OK!"

Artoria and Jeanne reacted immediately, but the moment they spoke, Atalanta turned her anger on them, unleashing a torrent of arrows.

"They can be saved...they can be saved...! Even if my power isn't enough, I should be able to save them with the power of the Holy Grail!"

"The Holy Grail..." Joan of Arc widened her eyes slightly as she held off the flag.

Can the Holy Grail truly fulfill such a vague and painful wish as to save all suffering children?

"The Holy Grail." Another voice came from Shuoyue's mouth. He murmured softly, finally snapping out of his inexplicable emotions, pulling the arrow from his shoulder and breaking it off, then stretching his arm toward the dawn in the sky.

"Come forth, scorching the dawn horizon that burns across the seas!"

Under the miracle of magic, the brilliant dawn took form, and the long, slender greatsword spread out like the wings of a demon, wantonly scorching the surrounding atmosphere as it roared down.

"Ugh!" Atalanta sensed the danger and had to stop moving, retreating out of the divine sword's attack range. The cool breeze of dawn slightly dispelled the madness in her eyes. She gave Shuoyue a deep look and quickly withdrew from his vigilance range.

"I will never forgive you, Shuoyue! I will never forgive your actions! Just you wait! I, Atalanta, will shoot you all down without exception!"

The huntress's figure disappeared into the darkness before dawn. Shuoyue stared for a long time before turning around to look at Liudao Lingxia, who was lying on the ground, barely breathing, and Jack the Ripper sleeping in her arms.

...No, thanks to the mother's efforts, her child has escaped his tragic fate.

Artoria knelt before him, activating the power of Avalon, while Joan of Arc stood not far away, casting a complex gaze at him.

Against the light, the new moon touched its forehead with its hand and sighed softly:

"Indeed, there are limits to human capabilities..."

Chapter 510 Joan of Arc's Great Destruction, Ahoge Awakens

With Atalanta gone, Joan of Arc was the only 'outsider' left here, and surprisingly, Shuoyue fell silent in the face of this saint.

Unfortunately, even with careful consideration, no one expected Joan of Arc and Atalanta to interfere at this moment, leaving no suitable solution.

Such matters should be considered within the illusion, but Rokudou Reika's Black Magician Card is connected to the New Moon, and it will sound an alarm if it is broken. It was precisely because he understood that Rokudou Reika, as an ordinary person, could not stay in the illusion for too long that he directly activated the baptismal chant, destroying the illusion.

His hasty actions not only missed the opportune moment to persuade Atalanta, but also left him no room for maneuver, forcing him to confront Joan of Arc's doubts head-on.

As someone who switched sides to the Black faction, yet still mingled with the enemies of the Red faction, this undeniable fact was enough to make Joan of Arc suspicious.

Although I was thinking of having at least one person monitor one side of the camp to prevent any accidents, it now seems I have to withdraw early...