What if you are reborn as a demon after a funeral?.

"—Hmph, you think you can defeat me like this!?" Artoria frowned, let out a cold snort, and forcefully pushed Jeanne away.

The holy sword drew a beautiful yet deadly arc in the air, generating an incredibly powerful gust of wind.

"Hahaha!! Enough nonsense! Take this!" Jeanne d'Arc showed no fear, charging towards Artoria again with a roar of laughter, like a raging beast.

The two exchanged blows, their figures weaving between the containers, each clash causing the ground to tremble.

Both sides acted irrationally. The surrounding containers were easily torn and twisted by the powerful impact, and the sound of metal breaking echoed everywhere.

Some containers were even knocked directly into the air, tumbling through the air before crashing heavily to the ground, raising a cloud of dust.

As the blonde girl was forced back by a gunshot and still couldn't regain her footing, Joan of Arc grinned and charged at her without hesitation, intending to completely defeat her.

Before Artoria could dodge, the spear had already rushed in front of her and smashed into the sword she was blocking.

"Gulp—!" Her lips twisted in a grimace, and her legs, propelled by the impact, plowed through the ground for over ten meters. (Save)

Although I already knew that this guy's strength in wielding a weapon with one hand was comparable to mine when I wielded it with both hands.

If it weren't for the unusually abundant supply of magic, it would probably be due to Bsker's special enhancement, right? Although she didn't understand why Jeanne hadn't lost her mind... no, if she were truly a saint in history, she would probably have already lost her mind?

She vaguely guessed some of the truth, but before she could act, before she could even straighten the holy sword that had been tilting backward in her hand...

"—Come on, King Arthur!!! Ahahahaha!!!" Joan of Arc laughed wildly, raising her spear high, the tip pointing directly at Artoria's head, her eyes filled with the fervor of victory.

Just as she was about to expand her gains, a dark figure suddenly shot in from the side like a meteor.

Joan of Arc sensed the danger and quickly dodged to the side.

A golden short spear whistled past her body, almost grazing her, and with a "thud!" it plunged deep into the ground, sending up a spray of gravel and leaving a shocking crater.

"Who!" Joan of Arc's eyes widened in anger as she glared fiercely at the source of the shadowy figure.

A tall man slowly emerged from the darkness.

He was dressed in a dark green outfit, with a tall and straight posture, a cold and stern face, and handsome features. His long hair, which was casually sticking up, was swept back in one go, and there was a beauty mark at the corner of his eye.

"Let me get involved a little!" The man's voice was deep and powerful, echoing in the quiet harbor.

"And who are you? How dare you interfere in our battle!" Joan of Arc gripped her sword tightly, looking warily at the man before her. "State your name!"

"I would also like to give my name, but in this life-or-death situation, it would be unwise to exchange names with my opponent as usual... although such a constraint is indeed a bit of a downer."

The man shrugged, a hint of helplessness in his voice.

"Ha! Coward! My name is Joan of Arc! That guy is Artoria! That is King Arthur... What? We both dare to report it? Are you the only one who doesn't have the guts!"

Joan of Arc, without a second thought, immediately uttered a sarcastic remark.

Despite being called an idiot by Ash before, she still hid her real name to try and get information out of him.

After all, in the brutal battlefield of the Holy Grail War, true name is an extremely crucial element of strategy. Under normal circumstances, almost no Heroic Spirit will easily reveal their true name.

Despite this situation, the spearman still managed to gracefully twirl his spear, then proudly and frankly revealed his origins:

“Alright, since you have already introduced yourselves, I will follow the chivalrous custom and tell you my real name—I am Diarmuid Ua Duibhne, the chief warrior of the Irish Fiona Knights.”

"So this is the 'Radiant Appearance' of Diarmuid?" "Hmm... Never heard of him!"

Upon hearing each other's names, Artoria and Jeanne reacted in two completely opposite ways.

Diarmuid, who never cared about empty fame, couldn't help but feel somewhat dissatisfied upon hearing Joan of Arc's inexplicably sarcastic remarks:

"Legendary Saintess, even though times have changed, in this day and age, haven't you ever thought of learning more about heroic figures?!"

“Study? What’s the point! You’ll all just become my dead anyway!” Joan of Arc laughed arrogantly.

In reality, it's less that she doesn't study and more that she's completely illiterate... This means that the unknown heroic spirits seem to have rendered her previous schemes ineffective, but she doesn't care.

"What a unique character! Are you a berserk Heroic Spirit?" Diarmuid looked at Jeanne d'Arc, a hint of regret in his eyes. After all, the image of the legendary saintess was far removed from this person, which was truly disappointing.

"Hahaha! Actually... I'm not Joan of Arc! These heroes are all so foolish! How laughable! Hehehehehe!!"

Without any particular thoughts, Joan of Arc found the pity on everyone's faces amusing. In order to see even more interesting expressions, she didn't hesitate to reveal the truth and gave these upright people a mocking smile.

In fact... the situation was just as she had imagined. Her words directly showed her the ashen expressions and angry dissatisfaction of the two knights and heroes.

..............................

Joan of Arc's unrestrained mockery brought her immediate and gratifying consequences—almost simultaneously, she incurred the undisguised wrath of two knights.

"You...you've been lying to me from the very beginning! You heretic!!" Enraged by being fooled, Artoria's eyebrows furrowed as she demanded sharply, "Could it be...you were lying to me from the start!?"

"What nonsense are you talking about? Didn't that guy guess your real name from the start?" Joan of Arc said with a disdainful look, a mocking smile playing on her lips.

"This...it seems so. So you two are a completely incompatible pair after all?" Artoria frowned slightly, pondering to herself.

Normally, a Heroic Spirit summoning requires a certain compatibility between the summoner and the Heroic Spirit. However... considering the personality differences between herself and her Master, Kiritsugu Emiya, she couldn't help but wonder if this so-called compatibility was a necessary condition.

After all, as far as she knew, she had no catalyst to summon the Heroic Spirit when she was summoned. Based on the knowledge she gained when she was summoned, the Heroic Spirit summoned under such circumstances should have good compatibility with the summoner.

However, she could not accept any similarities between herself and Kiritsugu Emiya.

"It's not quite right to say it doesn't match. Although that guy is simple and naive, he's a good person at heart. Surprisingly, we can get along well. If the summoner were your Master, the kind of guy who likes to play tricks behind people's backs, I probably would have taken care of him long ago! Hehehe!"

Joan of Arc made no attempt to conceal her stance, slamming the banner violently to the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust. Then, she swung her sword sharply, its gleaming blade aimed directly at Artoria and Diarmuid.

"But now... since Ash isn't here either, I'll wipe you all out, including your Masters! Your deaths will pave the way for our victory!!"

"If you're so capable, then just...!" Artoria hadn't finished speaking.

A tremendous magical power was pulsating and radiating from Joan of Arc.

The next moment, the flag spear, like a black lightning bolt, carrying immense magical power, charged towards the two of them with overwhelming force.

Wherever it passed, the solid ground was torn open like fragile paper, leaving jagged cracks.

Diarmuid's eyes sharpened, and he thrust his red spear forward with a sudden burst of light from its tip, like a burning meteor, as it met Joan of Arc's flag spear.

Artoria was not to be outdone. She gripped the holy sword tightly with both hands, her magic surging wildly, and golden light enveloped the blade, making her look like a war god descended to earth.

--boom!!!

The two combined their strength and collided with Joan of Arc's attack, unleashing a deafening roar. A powerful energy surge rapidly spread outwards from the point of impact.

The surrounding containers, under the impact of this energy, were instantly torn to shreds like fragile toys, with metal debris raining down everywhere.

"You think you can stop me like this? How naive!" Joan of Arc roared, her magic power surging once more, her banner gleaming with an eerie black light, as if it would devour everything in its path.

Diarmuid and Artoria exchanged a glance, understanding each other without needing to say a word.

They attacked simultaneously. Diarmuid's spear moved like a nimble dragon, darting through the air with ease, each thrust carrying a sharp force; Artoria's holy sword was like a giant axe, each swing stirring up a gust of wind.

Under the combined attack of the two, Joan of Arc gradually found herself in a predicament.

Although her attacks were still as fierce as a storm, they were like hitting an impenetrable wall, unable to break through the two men's tight defenses.

In the midst of the fierce battle, Diarmuid, under Artoria's skillful cover, keenly spotted a fleeting opening and thrust his spear out with lightning speed, striking Joan of Arc's arm with perfect accuracy.

Joan of Arc was in pain, and her sword almost flew out of her hand. But instead of feeling any fear, she was instantly replaced by an even more raging rage.

"This is the roar of my soul, tormented by hatred! — Roar, my rage!!"

In this tense two-on-one situation, Jeanne d'Arc did not hesitate to unleash the power of her Noble Phantasm.

In an instant, wherever the sword pointed, raging flames erupted like a volcanic eruption. The entire port was completely illuminated by the blazing fire, as if it had become a sea of ​​scorching flames.

Wherever the flames passed, the air seemed to boil, emitting a constant "sizzling" sound, almost instantly burning the two of them, along with their Master Irisviel who appeared beside them, to death.

In a life-or-death situation, Artoria made a decisive decision and was forced to take action.

She raised the holy sword high in her hand, and the wind that had been swirling around the blade vanished instantly. The holy sword, shining with golden light, revealed its divine form amidst the sweeping gale.

The sword gleamed with golden light, as if celebrating the promised victory, illuminating the surrounding darkness.

Meanwhile, Artoria, the master of the Holy Sword, focused intently amidst the howling and raging winds, concentrating all her strength into her arms that gripped the sword hilt tightly.

At this moment, her gaze was firm and fervent, and the intense yet holy light made everyone present hold their breath, speechless with awe.

The young girl, now the Queen of Knights, also shouted out the true name of the miracle in her hand:

"Excalibr!!"

With this shout, light surged forth like a torrent, and the deafening roar seemed to echo across the entire sky.

A colossal pillar of light pierced the sky, descending from the heavens like a divine judgment. It mercilessly tore through the dark firmament, ripped apart the thick clouds, and with overwhelming force, separated the raging flames from the deep ocean behind them.

"I... I won't just disappear... How could I possibly disappear—Aaaaaah!!!"

The silver-haired girl roared hoarsely, her eyes wide with resentment as she crossed her arms with swords and spears, trying to gather the hellish flames in a final struggle.

The surging magic power surged wildly within her body, causing the flames to boil even more fiercely, even forming a powerful barrier that prevented the beam of light from penetrating.

At that moment, the blinding light almost blocked everyone's vision, and no one except the heroic spirits could discern the outcome.

All that could be seen was the scattered light intertwining with the raging flames, and all that could be heard was a deafening roar that seemed capable of crushing everything.

..............................

..............................

After the intense light and deafening roar, thick smoke instantly filled the entire harbor.

"This is the legendary sword of King Arthur..." Irisviel tilted her head slightly, her eyes filled with awe and pride, and murmured unconsciously.

"We won!" Diarmuid blurted out instinctively as the Holy Sword flashed with dazzling light, his tone filled with certainty and exhilaration.

As time slowly passed, the smoke gradually dissipated, and the scene of the port once again came into view.

Artoria stood tall and proud.

Joan of Arc knelt on one knee, her hair disheveled and falling beside her cheek, blood dripping slowly from the corner of her mouth down her chin, staining the ground red.

However, the flames of fanaticism and hatred in her eyes did not diminish in the slightest; they still burned as fiercely as ever.

"Ha, ha... As expected of King Arthur, that was indeed a powerful attack." Joan of Arc wiped the blood from the corner of her mouth. "But this alone is far from enough to defeat me!"

Artoria, slightly out of breath, stared intently at Jeanne and demanded, "Who exactly are you? Why have you become like this? Your weapon is indeed similar to Jeanne's, but your..."

"—The real Joan of Arc?" Joan of Arc sneered, her laughter filled with mockery: "The real Joan of Arc was killed long ago by you so-called heroes and nobles! I am merely an existence born to bear her resentment and unwillingness."

Diarmuid frowned, a hint of regret flashing in his eyes: "Even so, as a saintess, you should have your own pride, and your words and actions are truly contrary to the code of chivalry."

"The way of chivalry?" Joan of Arc laughed loudly, as if she had heard the most absurd joke in the world. "What use is the way of chivalry in this cruel world full of betrayal? Only absolute power is the fundamental rule over everything!"

As she spoke, she tried to stand up with all her might, but her body felt as if all her strength had been drained away, leaving her limp and powerless.

She could only cling tightly to the flagpole in her hand, barely supporting her swaying body, her face ashen as she muttered under her breath, "Damn it! Was it really too much to handle?"