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

Kiyohime and Elizabeth turned to look at Ritsuka, who was sweating profusely. "Based on what he just said, you girls were with him, weren't you..."

Kiyohime suddenly opened her fan to cover half her face, her eyes curving into crescent moons. "Oh, oh~ You should have said so earlier! If I had known you were a friend, I wouldn't have attacked you~"

"Ahem, that's right." Elizabeth cleared her throat and changed to a friendly tone as well. "If we had known she was the manager's friend, we wouldn't have hit her, little deer." As she spoke, she touched the side of her stomach that Zhuo had punched earlier and grinned.

"Seriously, that really hurt..."

"Well... I lost to Lady Anchin as always... Waaah." Kiyohime's expression turned dejected, and she no longer had the mood to mock the dragon girl opposite her.

"Well... after all, the manager is really strong, although he didn't have the same despairing power I remember..." Elizabeth glanced slightly to the side, her dragon horns seemingly drooping with disappointment. "Indeed... quite skilled. Anyway, let's leave it at that for today..."

"Ah...it seems you've calmed down." Carrying her shield, Mash, usually rather timid, suddenly stepped forward with a hint of assertiveness. "So, I have some questions for you, is that alright? Is that alright?"

"...What's wrong? This time it's only because of the manager." Although she pouted unhappily, Elizabeth still decided to listen to Mashu's question.

"Do you want to deliver the final blow to the defeated snake... the slain snake?" Flames reignited in her hand. "Although I lost to Lady Anchin... I think I should be able to try again..."

(It would be interesting if the snake were automatically replaced with a dog in the above text.)

"...What do you mean by 'a snake that has lost its home'... Um, have you two seen any other Servants?" Mash's words carried a hint of anticipation.

“I have seen a few Servants who are mentally unstable, just like this guy,” Elizabeth said, pointing to Kiyohime beside her.

"Could you please not lump me in with them?" Kiyohime glanced at Elizabeth with a disdainful smile. "I'm a berserker who can perfectly understand other people's languages, you know."

"What is he anyway?" Elizabeth retorted sarcastically.

"Then what's your opinion?!" Kiyohime closed her fan and glared back sharply.

Meanwhile, Amadeus, who was crouching in the corner, shed tears again. "...Ah, I remember now, I often saw this kind of situation when I was alive. It's cats fighting, and it's so noisy that I can't stand it." As he spoke, he looked at Ritsuka and Mashu behind him.

"Just you wait and see. Soon they'll be standing head to head, making all sorts of 'gurgling' and 'cawing'!"

“It won’t make a sound!” Both of them looked at Amadeus at the same time. Elizabeth pointed at him and argued, “Besides, what makes that sound is a shamisen made of cat skin, right? A shamisen!”

"I've said it many times, don't confuse me with her!" Kiyohime also raised her fan, her gaze piercing Elizabeth like a knife.

"Hey hey!" Mashu clapped her hands, interrupting the two's argument for the third time. "So, you haven't seen any other Servants besides the 'Dragon Witch' and Carmilla's group, right?"

After receiving nods of agreement from the two, Mash's disappointment grew at a visible rate... "Master, it seems we've wasted our time again."

"What a pity... Did I ask the wrong person?" Ritsuka fiddled with her side ponytail with her slender white fingers, and didn't seem too disappointed.

"It's one thing for you to talk about Elizabeth like that. But to come up to me and say you've got the wrong person is just too arrogant, isn't it?" Kiyohime suddenly interrupted the conversation. Indeed, for a Heroic Spirit with the [tracking] trait, saying that she's got the wrong person is simply ironic.

"We're looking for a saint, or a Servant with saintly traits, only they can help." Ritsuka shrugged, indicating that she didn't distrust them, but that she had no other choice.

"Hmph~ You actually have the guts to talk back, not bad~ But you mentioned a saint?" Kiyohime seemed to suddenly recall some important information, "If it's a saint who is deeply rooted in the history of this country and whose story is widely known, I do know one."

Things suddenly took a turn for the better—

"Really!?" Mash's eyes lit up with hope again as she rushed to Kiyohime to confirm the information.

“Yes, I met him before I met Elizabeth.” Kiyohime rested her index finger on her chin, closed her eyes, and slowly recalled. “It was almost a fight, but he sheathed his sword after he realized I was a ‘real’ berserker. His real name is Giorgios, and he’s considered a saint here.”

“George!...Is that the saint known as Saint George?” Mary’s surprised voice came through the communicator. In the control room, Director Mary’s fingers were tapping rapidly on the control panel. “...Yes, he is indeed an impeccable choice. Do you know where he went?”

“It’s a great pity that he went west, in the opposite direction from me.” With a puzzled look in her eyes, Kiyohime also had no idea where he was.

"West... Jeanne and the others went west. Please contact them immediately!" Mashu took out her talker and used her magic to communicate with them, who were located in the west of the city.

—On the other side, west of the city—

"...Yes, no problem, we've sensed the Servant too. We're preparing to make contact now." Jeanne's expression finally improved as she put down the telepathic device.

"Halt! Who are you?" Standing before Joan of Arc and the others was none other than the saint they had been searching for—Georgeus.

In Christian paintings and sculptures, the archangel Michael is often depicted as a young man with long golden hair, wielding a red cross (or a red cross-shaped sword) and battling a dragon (the dragon being Satan). The red cross was originally a symbol of St. George, but from the Middle Ages onward, Michael gradually became synonymous with St. George, thus becoming the patron angel of England, while St. George was considered Michael's human incarnation.

But this saint is different now. He has long brown hair and wears bronze armor, with the white and red crossbow still on the left side of his armor.

Most striking are the dragon-head shoulder armor engraved on his right shoulder and the white longsword in his hand—Ascaroon.

At this moment, Giorgios stood in front of Joan of Arc and Mary, exuding an aura that suggested he might draw his sword at the slightest provocation.

"I am a Servant, class Rider, and my real name is Marie Antoinette." Marie introduced herself simply with a smile.

"...I see, you weren't berserk." With his expression returning to calm, Jorkgios lowered his sword.

“Yes, we are their enemies.” It was obvious who “they” referred to. Mary pushed Joan of Arc, who was standing next to her, forward.

"And this one is—."

"I see, it's that saintess." Upon seeing Joan of Arc, Georgios smiled, glanced at the surrounding crowd, and stopped Mary from speaking, "...Let's not mention her real name now."

Looking at the bustling crowd of people evacuating around him, Giorgios's face turned serious. "This city was once attacked by that evil dragon and witch. Although I managed to repel them, I won't be able to do it again next time."

"...Then are you willing to fight alongside us? We must lift the curse on the 'Dragon Slayer.' However, he is afflicted with multiple curses, and only you and I together can..."

Joan of Arc was the first to extend an olive branch, whether because Siegfried or because they needed Georgios to join their ranks.

“I see, I understand the situation.” Giorgios nodded. “...The people in the city have already begun to evacuate. Let’s set off together once they’ve all left.”

"Ah! Thank you so much!" Jeanne d'Arc was finally happy to have another Servant join her side.

—Suddenly, a disturbance broke out in the crowd again—

Looking up, a large number of bipedal wyverns cast dark shadows and began to swoop down to prey on the civilians.

“It’s an attack by wyverns. Their attacks have been getting increasingly fierce lately.” Jorcos raised his sword and beheaded one of them, then sighed impatiently.

“No…no…this feeling is! The Dragon Witch…!” Jeanne sensed the change in aura. The two-legged dragons seemed to be surrounding something until she felt that familiar aura appear.

"...What did you say!" Jordius also looked up, staring at the shadows in the sky.

"Retreat, Jordius! We have no chance of winning now!" she said, turning to the man and urging him to retreat, for the situation was extremely critical.

“…We cannot retreat.” Jordius looked at the retreating people around him and gripped the Ascalon in his hand tightly.

"Ah..." Joan of Arc also noticed the ordinary citizens around her who had nowhere to hide.

“Yes, the citizens haven’t all had time to evacuate. I promised the mayor here that I would protect them.” Raising his holy sword once more, Jorcos resolutely decided to fight again. “If I can’t even accomplish that—then I don’t even deserve the desire to become a saint.”

"But...!" Sensing the approaching presence, Joan of Arc couldn't help but feel anxious.

“…I understand, staying means certain death.” With a flash of the blade reaping the heads of the dragons, Joltius said with a guilty tone, “But even so—I cannot abandon them.”

"Lord Giorgios is really something, not only is he inflexible in mind and body, even his beard is stiff," Mary suddenly interjected, making a joking remark about Giorgios with an indulgent smile.

"What did you say?" The stubborn Georgios, caught up in the battle, couldn't understand Mary's joke at all.

"But this part of you is so cute, I'm really touched!" As if ignoring Giorgios's reaction, Mary continued with a smile.

"So—please let me take over the task of defending the city."

"Huh...?" Joan of Arc was completely taken aback by the unexpected turn of events in Mary's conversation and stood there dumbfounded.

“I am the Queen of France.” With her eyes closed, Marie Antoinette spoke softly, “Although the time that follows is the ‘future,’ to me, it is no different from my ‘past’ and ‘reality.’ Protecting the citizens is my important mission. And you bear the responsibility of driving the greater good forward.”

"Saint Giorgios, please join Joan of Arc in breaking the curse of the 'Dragon Slayer'! I swear in the name of Marie Antoinette that I will protect this city." With that, he turned and headed towards the city wall.

But Jendela stopped her.

"Wait...wait a minute! Wait, wait a minute! Marie!" Seeing her friend resolutely facing death, Joan of Arc could no longer remain calm. "Marie, let's fight together! Though one person can't win, two people can definitely—"

“No, I’m happy, but this won’t do. Joan of Arc…” Mary stroked her golden hair, her eyes softening with a gentle tenderness. “I must have been summoned for this moment. Not to hate the enemy, not to defeat the enemy, but to protect the lives of the people.”

"This time, to protect the people I care about! To safeguard the country I cherish! I will do the right thing in the right way!"

Love itself is not something external.

Mary and Joan of Arc stood facing each other, the reluctance on Joan's face contrasting sharply with the resolute expression on Mary's face.

With a gentle wave of her hand, Mary bid her final farewell to her friend, filled with apology and guilt.

"Joan of Arc, I would like to ask you to apologize to Amadeus for me. I still didn't get to hear him play the piano." Marie's face showed guilt and disappointment.

He was six years old then, and I was seven. We've been missing each other ever since.

“Mary…!” Joan of Arc stepped forward, still wanting to stop Mary’s idea. But her outstretched hand stopped in mid-air and fell limply to the ground.

"Lord Giorgios, shall we settle on this?" Mary ignored Joan of Arc's objections and looked at the composed Giorgios beside her.

"...If your mind is made up, then I solemnly entrust this important task to you." Now, Giorgios no longer doubted Mary, and only had trust and respect for the queen in his heart.

Joan of Arc slowly withdrew her hand, her eyes lowered in obvious disappointment. "...Mary..." she murmured the name of the friend she had just met, but it seemed like this would be the last time.

"Let's go, Joan of Arc." With an unprecedentedly warm smile on her face, Mary waved goodbye to Joan of Arc gently. "Although it was a short time, I felt honored to fight under your banner."

"Yes... I will wait for you." Although the chances of survival were extremely slim, Joan of Arc still believed that she would return.

She will return with French irises and victory.

"Yes, I'll catch up with you soon." Mary finally lowered her waving hand, watching their departing figures, a hint of melancholy tinged with her smile.

But there was no time for her to calm down; the sound of footsteps falling behind her told her that the enemy was approaching.

Turning her head, Mary saw the familiar servant in front of her and couldn't help but chuckle, "Sanson, you've come."

Indeed, standing before Mary was none other than the executioner who had once beheaded her—Sanson.

“Of course I’ll come…” The silver-haired man in front of him stroked the guillotine in his hand. “Execution requires qualifications. Whether it’s the one executing or the one being executed. No one but me has the qualifications to execute you, you should know that very well, Mary.”

Mary, on the other hand, hesitated briefly after hearing those words. "...Um...wait a moment, Sanson. I know you're an excellent executioner." Looking directly at the indifferent man before her, Mary noticed something was wrong with him.

“Although you are cold-blooded and inhuman, you would never despise a sinner. You wielded the guillotine with deep respect, so I truly trust you… But just because of that, do you conclude that only you are qualified to kill me? Isn’t that strange?”

Sanson shrugged, a smile playing on his lips. "Of course not, Mary. I was born into a family of executioners, and I've only ever studied execution-related matters. I will not compromise on this point; it's not just a matter of awareness, but more importantly, it's about the method of killing—my obsession with execution techniques."

His smile vanished as he gazed at Mary's snow-white neck.

“A good executioner will not make the sinner feel pain, but my goal is a step higher. That is—pleasure. To make the moment of execution feel true pleasure until death. I have been pursuing that kind of beheading, and then I have dedicated the pinnacle of my life's beheading to you.”

"..." Mary fell silent, not out of fear, but out of pity for the man's defect.

“So it’s all fate. I want to see you again, no matter what, and ask you something.” Sanson pointed to Mary, a gentle smile on his face. “Please tell me, Mary.”

"What are your thoughts on my beheading? Did you experience a climax at the moment of your death?" (Don't misunderstand the climax here; it refers to his pursuit of a pleasurable death, that is, to have the sinner beheaded with a smile and satisfaction.)

“…I understand, you genuinely want to express your respect to me, Sanson.” Mary looked directly into Sanson’s eyes with a gentle smile. “But I’m sorry…I really can’t do it, it’s just too difficult for me to say…”

A magical glow emanated from her hands as Mary looked solemnly at the man before her. "I've had enough of men with such strange interests. I'm very sorry. But I cannot accept your second kiss (decapitation)."

Sanson wasn't angry, not even furious. His face flushed like a child trying to impress his teacher. "Yes, I understand. But you'll definitely like it. Because my skills are even more refined than before. That's why I was summoned as a Servant…! It's all so you can experience the trance of dying again…!"

—On the other side, Mash and Siegfried were also rushing westward, especially Amadeus, who even used music to enhance his physical condition and force himself to be excited, as if he had taken stimulants.