Thanks for the invitation. I'm in Type-Moon, inheriting the legacy of Zi-O.

Raising his executioner's blade, the man revealed a cruel smile. "You agree, don't you? As executioners, on this planet, perhaps only you and I have the destiny to kill the same person twice."

—Instantly, the atmosphere plummeted to freezing point.

Respecting one's seniors is actually the mark of a scumbag like Xiao Ming (Xiao Zun is the one who truly respects his seniors).

"...It seems you're not satisfied with 'life,' and you're still eager to 'execute' Maria." For the first time, Amadeus's usually expressionless face showed dissatisfaction and even resentment. "Charles Henry Sanson, it seems you really have gone mad."

Unexpectedly, the man called Sanson showed no displeasure. Instead, he helplessly waved the blade in his hand and said, "...It is unpleasant to have a man as tasteless as you comment on our relationship. Amadeus, you assert that living beings, that humans are filthy, but I am different from you. I believe that humans are sacred and noble."

The man on the other side smirked. "Charles-Henri Sanson, the fourth generation of the Sanson family, who have been executing people from all walks of life in Paris for generations. During the tumultuous era of the French Revolution, he executed people from all social classes."

After the guillotine, an execution tool he conceived out of humanitarian considerations, was unveiled, the number of executions carried out by him actually increased.

Charles-Henry Sanson was not an assassin, but an executioner. "If someone with blood on his hands says humanity is noble, then what is he—a judge who ends noble lives?"

He didn't say these words, because he wasn't sure and there was no need to.

"It is precisely because I consider life to be utterly noble and sacred that executioners hold life in high esteem. You and I are irreconcilable enemies." As if seeing through what Zhuo was about to say, Sangsong helplessly shrugged, expressing his regret.

Staring at Amadeus's face, Sanson's own face showed jealousy. He raised his knife and pointed it directly at Amadeus, angrily saying, "You scum who can't love at all. You who can't understand her nobility have no right to follow her."

—On the other side, the berserker clad in deep purple heavy armor had already engaged in battle with Mash and the others.

"A――――urrrr!" Even though the berserker had lost his mind, his attacks were still like a storm. Even without any pattern, they were swift and fierce.

Precise and elegant.

This was tough on Mashu, who could only passively defend herself by holding up her shield under attack.

"Ugh..." Seeing the massive impact of the pillar swung down by the berserker, Mash's expression changed drastically. "What a heavy blow! Master... please get away from here...! This berserker is more straightforward... and more terrifying than any Servant I've ever seen before!"

On the other side, Mary seemed to sense something and looked up. Groups of bipedal dragons flying in the air cast dark shadows on the ground.

"Look up! The sky is full of wyverns!"

"...I'm going to support the French army! You can have that Servant!" Seeing the French army exhausted from the wyvern's attack, Joan of Arc still gripped the banner and charged forward.

"...Yare yare daze." Watching the one-man Servant leave, Zhuoye had no choice but to take out the Time Driver. "Although I don't like fighting, could you please die?"

The bright silver halo had just faded. The tan ring lit up again.

The Zi-O Ghost Armor—is revealed here.

He loosened his wrists and charged at the relentlessly pursuing berserker.

Meanwhile, Mary's side was also ready for battle.

“My blade of execution is a pure thing.” With the guillotine raised, Sanson slowly swept it over the faces of the Chaldeans one by one, then lingered on Mary’s face for a long time.

"It wouldn't be worth using on you who resist death... but upon reflection, this country is already a veritable execution ground. Let me sever your heads with one blow!"

"Arrrrrrrrrr!" Gripping the black cylinder in his hand, the berserker charged again, colliding with the bright silver blade in the turbid hand that was attacking him.

He had to admit that as soon as Zhuo engaged the berserker in close combat, he began to regret his actions.

No matter the swordsmanship or the skill, nothing works against this berserker.

His crimson gaze swept over the turbid face, and then his attacks became even more ruthless.

Although Zhuo was passively defending himself, he was also fully aware of the situation.

His master was Galahad, who, theoretically, was not only a member of the Knights of the Round Table but also the son of the berserker before him.

Lancelot was the berserker's real name. He was one of the Knights of the Round Table and a hero hailed as the greatest knight.

Although he served King Arthur, he parted ways with the king because he fell in love with Guinevere.

The Wuqiu Martial Arts, once considered unparalleled in a certain era, is a martial art that, due to the complete unity of mind, technique, and body, can unleash its full power even under exceptionally strong mental constraints.

The berserker in front of him was even at an A+ level, so suppressing him, a newbie who hadn't been training for very long, was no problem at all.

But Zhuo was also constantly learning. By parrying his moves, he incorporated them into his own swordsmanship, continuously learning.

Although the attacks hitting him were heavy, Zhuo managed to withstand them thanks to the amplification provided by the Ghost Armor.

Finally, the constant learning and being beaten paid off, and Zhuo was able to block some of the berserker's attacks.

"...Arrrrrrrrrrr!" he screamed wildly, probably realizing that the turbid blade bore some of his own shadow.

Meanwhile, Sanson's attack on Mashu also failed, and he clicked his tongue in annoyance. Sanson then distanced himself.

"...Tch, what's with that Servant...? There's a limit to how strong you can be...?"

On the other side, Mashu was also panting heavily. Her hands were trembling uncontrollably. "Ha...uh..."

Mary, on the other hand, looked somewhat saddened. "Sanson... how could this happen..."

On the other side, Amadeus was also struggling to deal with the flying wyverns. "Damn it, there are more wyverns now. Can't we just focus on dealing with that decapitation enthusiast?!"

Looking around, Mashu still couldn't find Jeanne d'Arc.

"...Where is Lady Joan of Arc!?" (She's looking at Omo from the French side.)

--Ahem, of course not.

Meanwhile, Joan of Arc finally resolved the French army's predicament.

"...Run!" Joan of Arc urged the surrounding soldiers.

"Wh...what?" The soldiers were stunned when they saw her familiar face.

"Stop asking! Run! Do you all want to die?!" Joan of Arc couldn't care less about anything else now. Over there, her companions were still being attacked by Servants. If she weren't currently a Servant, Joan of Arc, with her Spartan mindset, might have waved her flag and poked at them to let them go.

However, the brainless commander was completely ungrateful.

"No...don't run! That's the 'Dragon Witch'!" He raised his weapon, not at the wyvern, but at Joan of Arc, who had helped them. "Kill her! Avenge our homeland!"

(I was so angry when I saw this part.)

“Ugh…” Joan of Arc’s disappointment was clearly visible as she saw the French army’s reaction.

Wyverns with two legs flapped their wings and would suddenly swoop down to the ground, taking the lives of soldiers one after another.

Even the zombies in the jungle came out to join the fun.

"Aaaaaah!" Wielding her weapon, Jeanne d'Arc, after felling yet another monster, was utterly exhausted, even as a Servant. "Huff, huff, huff..."

Watching her relentlessly fighting figure, the soldiers finally murmured in surprise, "I...I mean, isn't that the 'Dragon Witch'? Then why is she fighting a dragon...?"

"How should I know? But this is for the best; they'd better die together. Those guys burned down my hometown... I hope they're all dead!" (You son of a bitch!)

Joan of Arc, on the other side, naturally heard these controversial remarks.

With a light and ethereal aura, a Greek huntress with green hair and animal ears appeared before her.

"Being called worthless by the very people you're supposed to protect, Your Majesty. The reason they can stand by and watch so leisurely is because you lured away those wyverns, isn't it?" She raised her bow, and a flash of emerald green light streaked across the sky.

The French commander on the opposite side fell to the ground.

“…None of your business!” Ignoring her words, Joan of Arc was still struggling to deal with the wyvern’s attacks.

"Heh. You're really stubborn. If you feel your fighting strength is insufficient, why not try asking the French army for help?" Drawing his bow again, the hunter aimed at the saintess in the midst of battle.

"Oh, by the way, I'm very sorry, but you are now the 'Dragon Witch'. The cruel burning at the stake sent the saintess to hell, and she was resurrected for the sake of reward."

“What a beautiful, fragile, and ridiculous script. You’re clearly still struggling to survive—but this time they really see you as an enemy!” The arrow on the bow gleamed coldly, but the hunter hesitated to fire.

"Then, poor Holy Maiden, may I tell you? What are your thoughts now?"

The arrow tip moved back and forth between Joan of Arc and the French army. "Do you want to die? Or do you want to kill them?"

"...Most people might feel resentful, or even despair. But unfortunately—I'm an optimist. They still have the strength to hate me, their enemy. They still have the strength to stand up."

"I think this is good too." (I think Zhen's is acceptable)

“…Are you crazy?” the hunter murmured.

"Who knows? Ever since I tried to rise up and save France, people have often said I'm crazy..."

“Is that so? Perhaps you’re right.” The hunter lowered her bow and closed her eyes. “Regardless of good or evil, black or white, perhaps we really have all gone mad…”

"Wyvern!" He spurred the dragon to launch an even more ferocious attack.

"Ugh..." Joan of Arc is in grave danger!

What is Joan of Arc's greatness?

Lady Joan of Arc is in grave crisis!

--Yeah, right.

At the critical moment, a male voice that sounded incredibly familiar to Joan of Arc broke through the wyvern's relentless attacks.

"Artillery! Fire!!" With black hair, a resolute face, and armor that was pure silver with hints of emerald green, he was Gilles Rae, Joan of Arc's comrade-in-arms before her execution.

His artillerymen ignited their weapons, and the booming cannon fire broke through the dragon's encirclement, finally allowing Lady Joan of Arc to escape danger.

"Huh...?" Jeanne turned around in surprise. Shouldn't Gilles be on the side of the "Dragon Witch"? Or rather, he didn't know about the Dragon Witch?

"Ugh...!" Clearly, the female hunter was also troubled by the sudden artillery barrage.

"Gil...!" Joan of Arc turned around, wanting to ask him why, but the man did not react and continued to command the artillery around him.

"Prioritize dealing with the surrounding dragons! Fire as many cannonballs as you have!"

Joan of Arc, of course, would not let this good opportunity pass by, and she raised her flag and charged toward the huntress not far away.

Without the protection of the wyverns, the huntress clicked her tongue in displeasure.

"Damn it...!" Before she could finish speaking, Joan of Arc was already in front of her, waving the flag down.

With no other option, the hunter, unable to dodge, had to use her bow to parry. The pressure from the bow handle caused her to sink slightly.

Even though she has lost most of her power, Joan of Arc's authority as the Judge still over her Servants remains.

"Wow—as expected of the Arbiter, even though he has been stripped of his power, he still possesses such arm strength..." The huntress looked at Sanson and Lancelot, who were also struggling beside her.

"Retreat! Lancelot! Sanson!" Instantly, the huntress dissipated her strength and used the impact of Joan of Arc's banner hitting the ground to create distance.

"Don't even think about it...!" Joan of Arc tried to give chase, but the huntress was incredibly fast and quickly created a great distance between them.

“…A…Arrrrrrr!” The berserker became even more frenzied after seeing Jeanne’s blonde hair and face. “A――――urrrrrr!” Wielding the iron pillar, Lancelot’s movements became increasingly frenzied.

(This is all Takeuchi's fault; why did he draw such a realistic ahoge face?)