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

"...It seems Joan of Arc touched a nerve with him." Sanson looked helpless; he couldn't really control this berserker.

"What should we do, Archer? Communicating with him won't be an easy task."

"...Let's retreat. There's no need for us to waste time with a Black Knight who's lost his mind. Besides—" Archer stood on a tree not far away, watching Jeanne's side, at the man in yellow armor who was letting her have his way. "That man is a bit troublesome. Let's stay as far away as possible."

Silently watching the black knight's relentless attacks, the huntress's eyes flashed with a fierce light. "Lancelot, I'm counting on you to buy me some time. Until your last flicker of life is completely consumed...!"

"Arrrrrr...!" The Black Knight twisted and roared, like—no, he was now a ferocious beast that had lost its mind, but he still brought a huge sense of oppression.

With the pillar in his hand swinging continuously, Lancelot launched a relentless attack on Jeanne. Even though he had lost his mind, the berserker's attacks were still incredibly deadly, and it was difficult to find any openings.

"Ugh... Why are you attacking me...!" Joan of Arc could only passively defend herself, waving the flag in her hand.

After all, one was a knight whose martial arts were unparalleled in that era, while the other was a village girl who provided buffs on the battlefield; their martial prowess was simply incomparable.

Therefore—at this point, it is certainly necessary for our Zhuo to step in.

"Hmm—the injuries have almost healed." Clumsily moved his wrist, finally feeling a sense of relief as the pain subsided. He transformed his sword into a spear and aimed it at the charging black knight.

Remove the Zio dial from the driver and attach it to the gun in your hand.

Time Charge！5·4·3·2·1···Zero Time！”

"Ha—" A purple light of energy emanated from the muzzle of the gun in his hand.

"Sure Sure, Shoot!"

Energy projectiles poured out, obscuring the berserker's vision.

He plugged the dial back into the driver, and the silver blade of the gun-sword in his hand popped out. Zhuo once again charged forward.

The Black Knight, whose eyes were only on Joan of Arc, was furious and would not let go of anyone who stood in his way of following the king.

With the pillar in his hand swung around, the scarlet markings on it intensified, and Lancelot once again engaged in fierce combat with Zhuo in his Ghost form.

Even with last-minute cramming, Zhuo, who had learned Lancelot's martial arts, was still no match for Lancelot. Currently, Lancelot was basically suppressing Zhuo unilaterally.

—But that's how others see it.

So what is the real situation?

Zhuo withstood Lancelot's attacks, honing his martial arts skills amidst the relentless assault. He was currently immersed in the joy of learning, recognizing that opportunities to hone his swordsmanship were becoming increasingly rare as his enemies grew stronger. Therefore, Zhuo needed to continuously refine his physical strength and technique within the limited time available for combat.

"Ugh—" Feeling the increasing force of the attack on him, Zhuo also prepared to end this skill learning and duel.

The gleaming silver blade deflected the black iron pillar in the knight's hand. Both were momentarily stunned, their weapons thrown back into the air—

That's strange!

A purple phantom appeared on Zhuo's right hand, and then he grasped a long axe in his hand.

"Times have changed, sir!" Casting aside the sword and letting it disappear into the air, Zhuo pressed the button on the handle of the signal axe.

"Wait a minute—" "Ugh!" Zhuo, who subconsciously thought he had launched the attack, almost swung his axe.

Zhuo shook his head helplessly as he placed the axe on the ground and summoned the gun form again.

“Wait a minute—” “…” Zhuo kept pulling the trigger, but the purple energy bullets could only obstruct the Black Knight and could not cause any damage.

"Um... what is Mr. Nianzhuo doing?" Ritsuka glanced at the stunned crowd around her and quietly moved closer to Mash.

"...I...I don't quite understand either, but maybe that weapon can only be used later." Mashu watched as Zhuo stood the axe beside him and then kept shooting at Lancelot. "Anyway, just wait a bit, um, just wait a bit."

"We can go now!" "Niiiiice~" Without hesitation, Zhuo sheathed his gun, raised his signal axe, and charged forward.

"Arrrrrrrrr!" Lancelot also raised the pillar in his hand and rushed towards the oncoming turbidity.

But—it doesn't matter!

"Full throttle!" The axe swept across, dodging Lancelot's attack, and struck his abdomen. A flash of purple light pierced through the Black Knight's waist.

It's not over yet.

With a sonic boom, he turned around, raised his axe, and slashed at Lancelot's back, the purple phantom shooting straight out.

"It's over..." As he retrieved the signal axe, Zhuo also deactivated his transformation.

“...Arthur… Arthur!” The berserker raised his left hand with difficulty, as if trying to catch up with the figure of his “king” not far away.

“Arthur?...Do you mean your King Arthur?” Joan of Arc shook her head regretfully. “I’m sorry, I am Joan of Arc, not the King Arthur you are looking for.”

Mashu, on the other hand, understood his obsession and showed a forlorn expression. "Ah... I see."

"What's wrong? What's wrong?" came Ritsuka, who knew nothing.

“I know why Lancelot is so obsessed with Jeanne d'Arc. It’s because she’s so much like King Arthur.” Seeing Jeanne’s surprised expression, Mashu waved her hand. “Not in appearance—but in soul.”

(Takeuchi's drawing was so lifelike, it caused our poor father-in-law a lot of trouble.)

"Your Majesty...ah...I...beg you..." The dying knight's hand remained outstretched towards Joan of Arc, not falling to his sides.

But he eventually fell. This unparalleled hero, yet filled with resentment, this berserker who swore allegiance yet harbored regret, departed.

The golden particles dissipated.

"..." Joan of Arc fell silent as she looked at the spot where Lancelot had vanished.

“Mr. Nianzhuo, and Miss Jeanne. Everyone, let’s go.” Mash raised her shield and started walking.

"Hmm!" A smile returned to Joan of Arc, who was about to take a step.

"Joan of Arc!" Behind her stood Gilles Rae, her friend, calling out the name that had recently passed away and was now taboo. "Please wait! You are the real Joan of Arc!"

The marshal waved his hand, wanting to rekindle the hope of France.

The stern-faced man smiled, the marshal smiled. Like children who had found candy, like believers who had rediscovered their faith and received divine guidance.

"Not the Dragon Witch... but a true saint!"

Joan of Arc pretended not to hear and started walking, though her steps were somewhat heavy.

"...Aren't you going to answer him...?" Mary asked Joan of Arc with concern.

"...If I answer him, it will put Gilles in a very bad situation. At this stage, we should not and do not need to ask them for help." Although she said this, how could Joan of Arc not also want to wave goodbye to the friend behind her who had always believed in her?

"More importantly, the hatred my former comrades-in-arms have for me is even more unbearable."

"But...do they really hate you?" Mary asked, puzzled.

"—Let's go." Joan of Arc remained silent for a long time this time, but finally she quickened her pace.

In Nianzhuo's eyes, the saintess's figure stretched very long.

It was filled with loneliness.

Three days to make your wishes come true — the words of a sage (those who know, know)

Watching the familiar blond figure walk further and further away in the distance, the marshal lowered his outstretched hand, his face returning to its expressionless state.

A soldier asked softly, "Marshal...that is..."

"...I don't know." After a long while, the marshal seemed to come back to his senses. Looking in the direction the saintess had left, the marshal murmured to himself.

"Although... I don't know, let's reopen the investigation into the 'Dragon Witch.'" Touching the sword at his waist, the marshal turned and left. "Was it really Joan of Arc who killed Charles VII, or a vile imposter? Or perhaps, are there two Joan of Arcs in this world?"

The two of them then went in opposite directions.

—Back to Chaldea—

After enduring numerous grueling battles, the group could finally relax for a while. They arrived at a building that appeared to have been abandoned recently.

"...This seems to be an abandoned fortress. Let's rest here for a while." After briefly surveying the surroundings, Mash determined that this was a safe place.

"How badly is Siegfried injured?" Joan of Arc asked, still concerned, as she looked at Siegfried, who was being carried by Zhuo on one shoulder.

Mary shrugged in frustration. "My Noble Phantasm can provide some healing, but it doesn't seem to work on his injuries."

"Cough cough..." Siegfried struggled to his feet and waved his hand to indicate that he didn't need any more help. "This seems to be a curse." He touched the huge wound on his chest, and upon closer inspection, he could see wisps of black smoke constantly rising from it.

"By the way... why are you in that city?" Jeanne asked him, puzzled. Logically, since Jeanne Alter controlled most of the territory, he should also be a Servant on Jeanne Alter's side.

"It seems I was summoned relatively early." Siegfried used his greatsword to support himself as he began to recount his eventful life (or so he said), recounting the various events he had experienced.

"Just when I was wandering around without a Master... I happened to see the city being attacked."

"Then why don't you go and help?" came Mary's question.

“Yes. Although I am no longer the person I was in life, as long as I have this Barmonk, I will always find a way to cope.” He touched the blue gem on the hilt, which seemed to be shining just as brightly. Then Siegfried’s expression darkened again. “But I am powerless to resist the siege launched by multiple Servants… However, one of them hid me in the castle. I cannot heal my wounds, nor can I seek help. I can only wait quietly like this.”

"Could it be that the woman who controls the dragon who helped you?" Mash recalled Martha's information and thought it was possible.

“Dragon…? No, that’s a turtle…no, it’s a dragon…dragon turtle…now that you mention it, I see. That creature could also be a dragon.” With a slight frown, Siegfried recalled the creature in his memory and finally agreed that it was a dragon.

(Tarask: Thank you, I was offended.)

(Armored Turtle: What are you saying? I got scolded too.)

“Oh, right,” Siegfried suddenly remembered something and pointed to Joan of Arc, “her temperament is somewhat similar to yours, the Arbiter.”

The answer is already self-evident.

The saintess, corrupted by madness, still retained a sliver of her rationality. In order to await the arrival of that distant hope, she laid the groundwork for the dragon slayer, and in the end, she generously sacrificed herself after offering up the intelligence.

She truly deserves the title of saint.

“…Saint Martha, ah.” Joan of Arc murmured, recalling the woman with the gentle smile.

“I see, it’s Saint Martha, who personally defeated the evil dragon Tarasque. I really wish I had a chance to thank her—” Before he could finish speaking, Siegfried noticed that everyone’s expressions had become subtle. “What’s wrong?”

"That saintess Martha—I personally made her leave the stage," Nian Zhuo said, his eyes glancing to the side as he revealed the truth.

“Is that so? No, never mind. She should have realized this long ago. However, I feel incredibly guilty that she risked her life to save me, who was completely useless.” After saying this, Siegfried’s expression turned ashamed again.

“Perhaps baptismal chanting can break the curse,” Jeanne d’Arc said, trying to change the subject by suggesting a way to break the curse on Siegfried, given the somber atmosphere around them. “However, it would require a Servant of a very high rank—”

“Joan of Arc should be able to do it!” Mary said, holding Joan of Arc’s hand with anticipation.

Indeed, Joan of Arc, as a highly renowned saint, should have been able to do it—

“No. I’ve tried, but my strength alone isn’t enough.” Joan of Arc shook her head helplessly, indicating that she had tried but couldn’t do it. “Siegfried is under many curses… it’s a miracle that he’s even alive. To break all the curses on him at the same time, we need a saint.”

"The Saint's... Servant?" Mash looked troubled; the current information was simply insufficient to locate the Saint's whereabouts.

However—it's time for our lovely Director Mary to deliver intelligence again.

Mashu's communication device beeped, and Mary's slightly proud voice came through it.