In order to become a Heroic Spirit, I had no choice but to cause trouble in history.

The two stood up and walked out side by side.

"How is the situation in Sheba?"

"The current situation..."

Fujimaru Ritsuka watched the hem of her skirt disappear through the doorway, and fell silent.

"Senior, let's go to the control room too," Mash suggested.

"Okay, let's go." Fujimaru Ritsuka nodded.

He was still recalling everything he had seen in his dream.

Did such a thing really happen before Miss Lawrence's death...?

......

"Then, the three of you, please enter the basket." Dr. Roman and the remaining Chaldea employees looked at the three with solemn and respectful eyes.

Mash has undergone a sub-Servant transformation, wearing purplish-black leather armor, and her huge cross shield has temporarily become a spirit.

Lawrence was still wearing her dress; as a complete Servant, her physical body was essentially a piece of equipment.

Fujimaru Ritsuka, wearing a magical costume meticulously designed by Leonardo da Vinci and crafted by Lawrence over an entire night, took a deep breath.

“We’re off.” Fujimaru Ritsuka nodded to Dr. Roman, turned around, and resolutely stepped into the spirit transfer container.

Matthew and Lawrence also went into the other two baskets.

In a secluded corner unseen by everyone, a small white beast named Fou leaped into Mashu's basket as if by teleportation.

"Be careful," Roman instructed. "The most important thing in everything is to protect Fujimaru Ritsuka's safety. As the last Master of humanity, she is our only hope."

After the outer shell of the basket was put on, Roman nodded to the staff.

"So—the first spiritual transfer, the target of the transfer, France."

"start!"

......

Orleans, France.

Inside the castle, a tall man is praying.

The girl wearing black armor stood silently in place.

The girl had pure white hair, lifeless, and her skin was as pale as death, sickly yet beautiful.

"Ah, my holy virgin, you have finally answered my call!" the tall man roared excitedly and joyfully.

The black-clad girl stood motionless, devoid of memory and self, mechanically listening to the man's words.

"Oh dear? It's a doll without a self?"

He stroked the golden cup in his hand and said with delight, "That's fine too, then!"

“Great Holy Virgin, Joan of Arc (Jeanne d'Arc)! Cast aside your pity for these filthy people and become Joan of Arc who belongs only to me, who belongs only to me, Gilles de Rais!”

"Let your flames of anger burn throughout all of France!"

At that moment, the girl found her own meaning.

But is that truly the self?

------------

Chapter 228 Orleans - Prologue

Fragmented memories, a superior physical body, and... Gilles de Reyna's almost insane obsession.

A white-clad girl in black armor held up a large flag and laughed wildly.

Her class is Ruler, a false, reversed saintess. When her mind was still like that of a newborn child, her thoughts were instilled with a large amount of malice towards humanity.

The dark-skinned saintess held the Holy Grail.

"—This is hereby declared."

She is performing a Heroic Spirit summoning; as the Ruler and wielding the Holy Grail, she is capable of doing so.

"Your body is at my command, and my fate is in your sword."

“Respond to the call of the Holy Grail, if you are willing to follow this principle, and answer my call.”

"I hereby swear that I am the one who spreads all evil throughout the world."

“But you should serve me with your eyes clouded by confusion.”

“You are the one imprisoned in the cage of madness. I am the master who holds its chains.”

Incongruous words appeared amidst the usual summoning incantations, a thick layer of black mist shrouded the summoning circle, and mournful cries emanated from within it.

The magnificent hall was brightly lit, and Bluebeard, Caster's Servant, the creator of the Dark Saintess, Gilles de Rais, watched it all with a frenzied ecstasy.

"You are the seven days bound by the three great incantations, and you came from the Wheel of Restraint!"

The girl screamed.

"Guardian of the scales—!!!"

Six figures appeared from the summoning circle, along with Gilles de Rais standing to the side, making a total of seven heroic spirits.

......

The summoning ended, and the dark-skinned saintess, resembling Joan of Arc, spoke to Gilles de Rais, her tone filled with an unyielding resolve.

“Jill, bring him to me.”

Joan of Arc's pale face seemed to be covered in frost, and one could faintly hear the sound of her teeth clenching.

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Gilles de Rais bowed slightly, looking at Joan of Arc with respect and rapture, willingly being controlled by the creation he had made using the Holy Grail.

"You didn't harm him, did you, my servant?" Joan of Arc suddenly remembered something and asked again.

Gilles de Rais is a notorious dark wizard, so it's no surprise that he might do something.

Gilles de Rais smiled politely: "Of course not, my saint. Such intoxicating things must be done by you. As your subordinate, I will certainly bestow this pleasure upon you, my great one."

Joan of Arc looked at Gilles de Rais with a scrutinizing gaze.

Gilles de Rais showed no annoyance, but instead smiled and stared at Joan of Arc with his bulging, somewhat intimidating eyes: "Do you need my opinion? Ah, or are you worried that I'm bothered by this?"

“Don’t be foolish, Gilles. I’ll kill you.” Joan of Arc sighed and turned her back.

"It's like thinking about how to use a fork when eating—I don't even have to think about what to do with him."

......

An obese man was thrown onto the floor of the hall.

"Puuwah—Where, where is this? Who are you people?"

A group of Servants stood to one side, seemingly unable to do anything as if they were bound.

The fat man got up and stood there, his tone carrying a hint of command: "Answer me, you guys better answer me now, you over there—huh?"

The girl sitting in the seat looked at him with disgust and mockery.

The fat man recognized the girl.

Joan of Arc looked at the man, who was smiling, but his words were like icicles: "Ah, Pierre."

“Bishop Pierre Colón. I’ve been looking forward to seeing you again.”

“I, Joan of Arc, have never forgotten your filthy face.”

The girl looked down at the man named Pierre Colón with an expression that seemed to be directed at garbage or scum.

"Impossible, impossible!"

"You...you...you are actually Joan of Arc?!"

"This is absolutely impossible! How could this be?"

"You should have died three days ago, I clearly—"

"Tie me to a stake, burn me to death, leave no trace of my body, and send me to hell...right? Bishop." Joan of Arc descended the steps expressionlessly, stood beside Bishop Pierre, and spoke words devoid of warmth.

On May 30, 1431, in Rouen, France, Joan of Arc was condemned as a witch and an evil being, and was publicly burned at the stake by English soldiers in the square, her body turning to charcoal.

This is an undeniable fact: Joan of Arc is dead.

So now, standing here...

“This is a dream, isn’t it? What else could it be but a nightmare…” Bishop Pierre knelt on the ground, speaking in a daze.

Joan of Arc looked at Pierre kneeling on the ground and chuckled, "Oh dear, so you're already escaping reality?"

She drew her sword from her waist.

He stabbed Pierre hard in the shoulder.

“That won’t work with me, dear bishop. I need to bring you to your senses. God will have mercy on you, won’t he?”

"Aaaaaah—Aaaaaah—Ah!!!" Pierre Collon screamed, clutching his shoulder and making a sound like a pig being slaughtered.

"Shut up, you idiot!" Gilles de Rais punched the bishop in the face, and the bishop gritted his teeth and shut his mouth.

Joan of Arc looked at her enemy, who was sitting on the ground with blood streaming down his shoulder.

She chuckled: "Joan of Arc, whom you impeached as a heretic, is now standing right in front of you, isn't she?"

"Don't you plan to hold your cross tightly and pray to heaven?"

"Won't you insult, ridicule, beat, and humiliate me like before?"

"The incredibly, incredibly evil Joan of Arc is standing right here now."

"Scream at me like a wild dog! Hurry up!" The veins on Joan of Arc's forehead throbbed, her body trembled, she was furious to the extreme.

Bishop Pierre knelt on the ground, roaring and crying out, "Spare me! Spare my life!"

"I'd do anything, even kiss your toes right now, please, spare my life!"

Joan of Arc was somewhat stunned.