Walking in the Question and Answer System of Heroic Spirits

As her body slowly began to disappear, Xiao Mo closed her eyes as if falling asleep.

In her dream, she returned to Camlann Hills, the place where her memories ended.

This time, however, she wasn't experiencing it from her own perspective; instead, she saw what happened after her death.

[He was pierced by the Holy Lance, and our king was also severely wounded, before being taken away by a silver-haired knight.]

Little Mordred followed behind, watching the knight continuously encourage his king and search for a place to rest.

She remembered his name was Bedivere.

Although he was one of the earliest Knights of the Round Table to follow his father, he wasn't very strong and was responsible for taking care of his father's daily life, so he was never very noticeable.

[Watching Bedivere place our king under the tree, and at our king's request, return the Holy Sword, but failing twice, finally, at our king's repeated insistence, return the Holy Sword to the Lady of the Lake.]

This also signifies the end of the Arthurian legend.

"—Sorry, Bedivere. I'll probably sleep a little longer this time—"

Looking at the king's face, devoid of regret, Xiao Mo couldn't help but cry.

This might be a dream, but she believed her father was worthy of such an end.

Outside, Xiao Mo's figure vanished, leaving only a half-smoked cigarette that slowly rolled to the side of Lion's Roar's cigarette, burning completely.

Artoria: "Lord Bedivere—how I miss him."

Mordred: "That is, the end for Father."

Lancelot: "..."

Shakespeare: "Oh, this final scene is truly artistic."

Shakespeare: "Write it down, write it down! A final, desperate counterattack, even if it only wounds the enemy, is a victory for them! What a wonderful story!"

Empress: "You're next. Don't mess it up too."

Shakespeare: "Oh, you never know."

[After traversing a long and narrow corridor, Joan of Arc finally arrived at her destination: the chapel where the Holy Grail was kept.]

This is a vast, bowl-shaped space with no visible edges, and the Greater Grail floats in the center.

[Joan of Arc: "Red's Caster, come out now!"]

"Oh! Since you've called for me like that, of course I should show myself!"

Shakespeare dispelled his spiritual form and said, "Our work, infused with sincerity, focus, innocence, and all sorts of other elements, will be completed here!"

"Shakespeare?"

The moment Shakespeare appeared, Joan of Arc used her "true name detection" to ascertain his identity.

[Shakespeare: "Greetings, mad country girl! Oh dear, my apologies, I've been too casual. Yes, I am the Red Caster. How are you, disappointed?"]

"Jenny Darke, there are many things in this world that your philosophy cannot comprehend!"

Bluebeard: "Insolence! How dare you address the Holy Maiden by her given name!"

Even he had never called the saintess by her real name, how dare this guy—

Shakespeare: "Names are meant to be called, and your saintess didn't even care, did she?"

Although she was very impatient with the other party's theatrical tone, Joan of Arc patiently said, "Although I think it's probably useless—why don't you want to surrender?"

[Shakespeare: "Oh, surrender—that's difficult. Because you haven't met any of my conditions for surrendering!"]

Joan of Arc: "Conditions?"

Shakespeare took out a quill and began to write in the air.

[“The first condition is an emotional issue. As the saying goes, ‘Look at these dogs and pigs who won’t eat the rest,’ we are officers on the Red Team, and we are confident in our playboy skills to compete for a top-two spot on the Red Team—we don’t want to become mindless monsters!”]

[“The second condition concerns the entertainment aspect. 'In a magical and unrestrained turn, the poet's eyes can see from the sky to the ground, and from the ground to the sky.' Our eyes are now incredibly sharp! We are creators who have gained inspiration. In other words, this moment, this instant, is extremely pleasant!”]

"The third condition concerns combat strength. Our combat strength is far, far beyond your imagination, utterly hopeless. No matter how hard you try to catch up, you won't succeed. No, it should be said that no matter how hard you chase, you'll always fall short of your efforts! Like Achilles and the tortoise. And since you haven't caught up, you will die here."

Joan of Arc stared at Shakespeare and said in a deep voice, "Then what is it that brings me death?"

[Shakespeare raised his arms and shouted dramatically, "Of course, only our Noble Phantasm, 'The performance has begun, let us give this place a thunderous roar!' Now, please allow me to explain."]

"Sorry, I'm not interested in your story!"

Joan of Arc had completely lost her patience and charged at Shakespeare.

Joan of Arc isn't stupid; she wouldn't just stand there waiting for Shakespeare to unleash his Noble Phantasm.

"Alright, our treasure is revealed! Take your seats! No smoking! No photography! And no booing! The world is in our hands, our stage! The performance has begun, let's give this place a thunderous cheer!"

Unfortunately, Joan of Arc was a step too slow. Just as her holy banner was about to pierce Shakespeare, his Noble Phantasm had already been activated.

The next moment, the scenery shifted, and a nostalgic scent of grass brushed against Joan of Arc's nostrils.

Joan of Arc discovered that she had returned to her hometown, the village of Domrémy, and that her armor and banners had vanished.

Rin Tohsaka: "Is that the same move we used against Frankenstein?"

Tokiomi Tohsaka: "No, the prelude to its activation is different. What happened before was probably magic, but this, as he said, is a Noble Phantasm."

Weber: "Is it a hallucination?"

Shakespeare: "No, this is not an illusion, but a story."

Feng Xi: "It's just that actors sometimes rebel."

Shakespeare: "Stop talking, last night's story is truly the darkest chapter in my life."

Joan of Arc: "Did you already witness his Noble Phantasm last night?"

Feng Xi: "Yes, it is an extremely vile treasure, which is very fitting for its inhuman master."

Shakespeare: "Oh, may I take that as a compliment?"

"Is this...an illusion?"

Joan of Arc thought to herself that Shakespeare was utterly tasteless, and quickly looked around, immediately spotting Shakespeare's figure.

But the next moment, the other person vanished.

"It's useless. Whether it's someone who harms me or a character in the story, this story won't end. That's the kind of Noble Phantasm it is, and even if you're a Ruler, it doesn't matter."

Joan of Arc: "If it's an illusion, I can break it with my anti-magic power."

[Shakespeare: "This is not an illusion, it is a 'story.' You are the protagonist, Joan of Arc, Jeanne d'Arke. Reflect on your life and experience a story that could never have happened."]

"So, are you prepared?"

Shakespeare's Noble Phantasm is an ability that transcends the realm of magic, possessing a coercive force equivalent to a Reality Marble.

Once you step onto the stage, you must play the role until the very end; there is no escape.

This isn't magic; it's a powerful weapon to destroy the heart.

Rin Tohsaka: "A Noble Phantasm with such bizarre abilities."

Weber: "You call it a story, but you're really just making the victims relive their darkest past!"

Ilya: "That's awful."

Shakespeare: "Of course it's not that simple. I've carefully crafted the story; it's not a clichéd story that makes people reminisce about the past."

Shakespeare: "My story has some very interesting developments."

Joan of Arc: "...My life is utterly insignificant compared to many heroes. To have my life's drama played out would be utterly boring."

At this point, Joan of Arc was not yet fully aware of the terrifying and wicked nature of Shakespeare's Noble Phantasm.

"Jenny, do you really have to go no matter what?"

A nostalgic voice rang out, instantly sending a shiver down Joan of Arc's spine.

That was her mother.

[After parting ways with him at the age of seventeen to join Charles VII in battle, he never saw him again until his death.]

Despite having come to my senses, the moment I heard that voice, feelings of guilt and longing overwhelmed me.

Joan of Arc: "Shakespeare, you!"

Shakespeare: "Calm down, calm down. If you get angry now, how will the rest of the story be?"

Joan of Arc: 'Gurgle—'

"Yes, I have to go."

The words came out naturally; he was repeating the conversation he had with his mother when he left the village.

"I cannot ignore the Lord's sighs, for this may be our final farewell—please protect me, for as long as you and the Virgin Mary are willing to protect me, I will not be defeated."

"I will pray for you, hoping your path will be filled with light."

The conversation should have ended here, and then we should have embarked on our journey, but—

"But you didn't come back."

[Joan of Arc's mother shook her head, her expression one of unbearable sorrow, as if unable to bear it.]

Why were you burned at the stake, and then mocked for a full eighteen years?