Original Archive of Our Own Publishing Date: October 2, 2020

The air was filled with so many sounds. The sounds of steel slamming against steel. The sounds of battle cries and death wails. The sounds of cannon, neighs, and roars. Once again, the similarities between the sight I was witnessing and various scenes of the final battle in fantasy novels that I had read were crystal clear.

The hardest part, for both Ritsuka and I, was the fact that we had to stay back, unable to directly assist our Servants. Or rather, I was unable to do so in my normal method. Thank god that Ritsuka had his skill in temporary boosting the stats of not only his Servants, both permanent and temporary, but mine as well.

Kiyohime and Elisabeth seemed to have d'Eon under control. Apparently, even under the Madness Enhancement trait forced upon them by Jeanne Alter, d'Eon was surprisingly underpowered for a member of the vaunted Saber-class. That wasn't to say that the French Servant was therefore weak, however, as proven by the kick to Elisabeth's midriff that sent the young teen Servant skidding backwards.

Ritsuka was focused on keeping an eye on Georgios and Siegfried as they engaged Fafnir, while nearby Jeanne dueled with her fallen self, keeping the Dragon Witch distracted. As for my attention, I was mainly focused on the battle between Mordred and Vlad. Both sides seemed eager to finish what they had started in La Charité, and neither of them were holding back. I tightened my fist that carried the Command Seals, ready to use them though hoping that would not be the case. So far, that hope seemed to be validated.

My Saber slammed Clarent into the shaft of Vlad's lance, sending another shower of sparks into the air as she repeated the action from a different angle, only to achieve the same result. Suddenly, Berserker Lancer stepped backwards, reversing the grip of his weapon before suddenly slamming the butt of it into Mordred's protected stomach. The blow was still enough to send the English knight skidding backwards as her sabatons dug firmly into the dry earth.

Berserker Lancer slammed his weapon into he ground, and between the two Servants erupted a wave of earthen spikes, bearing down on Mordred. The Saber stayed still until the very last moment, jumping up just as the spikes that could have killed her began to pop out. She lands on the tips, taking a brief second to adjust her balance before she began running across them.

As she closed the gap, she jumped forward, a leg outstretched that connected with the Servant's chest, sending him tumbling backwards. Vlad recovered quickly, however, and delivered his own fierce lunge. It looked like this hit connected, but not in a lethal way, if the fact that there was only a small blood spray and a superficial cut between the armor plates on Mordred's right arm. Still, it was just enough to cause the Knight of Rebellion to break off.

Closing my eyes, I forced some of my Mana through the connection I had with Mordred, as I had learned to do during our week of preparation at Chaldea, and healed her light wound, earning the quickest of nods before she looked back at her opponent.

With a roar, Vlad charged forward, intent on living up to his title of Vlad the Impaler. With a grunt, Mordred caught the lance just below the head, surprising its wielder before she followed up with a pommel strike to his right temple, dazing the Servant.

"This is it!" Mordred cried defiantly as Vlad stumbled backwards, his free hand clutching the side of his head still in pain, apparently unable to concentrate. To be honest, I don't think many could recover from that so quickly, even with a helmet.

The Knight of Rebellion wasted no time taking advantage of the gap in her opponent's guard, pressing on the attack. To his credit, Berserker Lancer was able to weakly defend himself, at least at first. He blocked about a half-dozen blows or so, rather clumsily though, before a blow from Clarent lopped off his right hand. Before the vampire could even cry out at the injury, however, there was a sickening squelching sound that I was only able to hear due to my proximity to the duel.

"Is it over now?" Vlad said in a dazed tone, his hands gingerly touching the blade of Clarent, firmly lodged in his heart. "My dreams, my ambitions will once again be erased? Hmph," he scoffed in bitter amusement. "Who knew I'd deal with the 'Dragon Slayer' again? How ironic…" Berserker Lancer looked down; his legs gone. "I see, perhaps it will always be my destiny to fall no matter how hard I struggle. You, the Master over there," Vlad said, some blood dribbling out of the corner of his mouth as he pointed to me.

"You are a man who does not lose sight of himself amidst the battle. Next time summon me. Then, I will show you the true power of my lance. The lance that defended a nation…the weapons that defended my people…in your hands, they will shine—" with those final words, Vlad III faded into yet another cloud of golden dust. Two more such clouds soon joined his as Sanson and d'Eon were defeated.

With Jeanne still distracting her other self, I could see no signs of any other Servants, and all the while the hundreds of wyverns still alive were focused solely on the French army. Now all that was left between our foe and ourselves was Fafnir. Focusing on the massive draconic foe, I saw that

I turned to Mordred. "Go help Siegfried and Georgios!" Mordred's helmet retracted, her eyes gleaming excitedly as she turned to the massive black dragon.

"You got it!" She roared before dashing towards the two male Servants, or more specifically, Siegfried. While the Rider saint distracted Fafnir, I saw that the two Sabers were in a rapid discussion, though I was unable to hear their words over the sounds of combat. If I had to guess, though, it would be that the two former foes were coordinating a final attack, for the male Servant nodded in response before raising his sword in front of his face.

Next to him, Mordred's helmet retracted as she did a similar action, Clarent's blade becoming covered in chaotic red energy while calm but intense blue radiated off of Siegfried's. Her ponytail fluttered in the wind as both Noble Phantasms began to create waves of wind that shoot off in all directions.

"CLARENT—"

"BAL—"

"BLOOD ARTHUR!" Mordred roared, swing her sword down, the collected mass of energy shooting forward.

"—MUNG!" Siegfried shouted at the same time as he swung his own sword, blue energy coiling around that. It was a breathtaking sight, seeing the two Noble Phantasms intertwining with one another. Georgios leapt clear of Fafnir, who had sensed the danger as well. The dragon spread its wings and reared back it's head. Fafnir roared as an orange glow began to be emitted from the back of its throat, preparing to breath fire, but it was too late.

The two mighty Noble Phantasms slammed into the center of Fafnir's chest, and then the dragon was enveloped by a massive explosion as a massive wave of dust further obscured the results. I raised an arm in front of my face as I braced my body, hoping that my hat wouldn't come flying off even as I use my other hand to hold it down onto my scalp. The instant I felt my body stop being buffeted by waves of wind, I looked forward.

Fafnir was still standing, but barely. One of the leathery wings was completely gone, while the other one was shredded to the bone. Where the brunt of the energy had slammed against the dragon's thick, scaley hide, there was only burnt flesh. I watched in awe as Fafnir lurched forward suddenly before teetering, apparently fatally wounded by the combined efforts of Mordred and Siegfried.

Finally, with a whimper, Fafnir's head crashed onto the ground, causing the earth to shake as the dragon's eyelids closed one last time, it's bloodied body already dissolving into a cloud of purple shadows. The battlefield fell silent, at least for the moment, both sides struggling to process what had just happened. Hell, even I was. Finally, it was the fallen dragon's rider who spoke up, her tone filled with shock, rage, and hatred.

"Impossible!" Jeanne Alter roared, her body shaking as Jeanne instinctively stepped backwards. Her words managed to cause everyone to resume their actions, and the sound of battle filled the air once more. It was distant now for us, however, as the realization of our achievement finished sinking in for Ritsuka, Mash, myself, and Mordred.

"Fafnir's been defeated!" Mash exclaimed in awe, her eyes shining much like Mordred's were. I spurred my horse closer to the Saber, and then leaned over in my saddle to clap her shoulder proudly. The Knight of Rebellion turned towards me, beaming.

"Congrats, Mordred! You've just helped killing a dragon," I said with a soft chuckle. The wide smile on her face was rather heartwarming, filled with nothing but excitement and accomplishment, and her smile somehow widened even further.

"Confirming Fafnir's complete silence! Amazingly, a new Dragon Slayer has been born!" Doctor Roman reported giddy, and who could blame him? Looking towards the French army, I noticed that the wyverns, while still attacking, dying, and killing, they were far less coordinated, their movements jerky.

"Look! The wyverns are in a panic!" Mash said before I could comment.

"An army without a commander often becomes little more than a confused mob," I replied, my lips twitching upwards slightly. The slight smile quickly slips from my face as I look back just in time to see the fleeing form of the Dragon Witch. She was astride a wyvern she must have summoned while we were distracted.

"I'm off to settle the score with the Dragon Witch," Jeanne shouted over the sounds of battle. Farther away though it might now be, it still required for us to shout to hear one another. It seems that the lull caused by the death of their commander had worn off for the wyverns. Though their leader had fled, their mightiest had fallen, and their numbers heavily reduced, the remaining wyverns continued to dive and stroke out at the valiant French army.

"Master, we should leave as well. We can leave the Singularity Servants to finish up here, and take down the Dragon Witch," Mash suggested to Ritsuka and I. Not a bad idea, truth be told. Siegfried and Georgios would be better suited to deal with the wyverns due to their dragon-slaying lore, and Amadeus didn't seem ready to depart the field just yet.

"You guys ok with that?" I asked. Siegfried nodded solemnly.

"We can handle this. I would advise taking Kiyohime and Elisabeth with you, however. They are better suited to dealing with other Servants," the Saber responded. Ah, so he is politely asking us to not leave the three male Servants to deal with the two.

"Understood. It has been an honor to fight alongside you," I said, staring at the three. Ritsuka did something similar, but we had no time for anything more. I wheeled my horse around, and spurred its sides, sending the beast charging forward.

"Oi, wait up Master!" I almost laughed at Mordred's indignant response before the Saber easily narrowed the distance between us.

I felt bad for the horses bearing Ritsuka and I, but we had to push them as hard as possible without killing them. Every moment we're away from attacking Jeanne Alter, the harder this fight would undoubtedly be. Berserker Assassin was still around, and knowing our luck, there is probably a Servant or two that haven't shown themselves. Worse, I had a sinking suspicion that she had fled with the intent on summoning more Servants.

Within minutes we were approaching the front gate of the castle of Orléans. While I couldn't take the time to fully take in the devastation that had been wrought at the epicenter of this singularity, it was pretty damn hard to miss the burnt corpses and damaged masonry all around the battered walls.

More pressingly, however, was the small horde of skeletons amassed before the broken gate. Their bones were scorched almost black, marking them as undoubtedly reanimated members of the French soldiers and knights who had fallen trying to defend their king against the wrath of the Dragon Witch. Now, they served their murderer, and were in our way. Damn it!

We had not time to try to find another way in, and so we had to fight our way through. I growled angrily, reaching for my hilt of the sword at my side, preparing to draw the blade forth before my knight jumped ahead of our group.

"I'm sick and tired of those damn things getting in our way!" Mordred snarled, before activating her Mana Burst ability to increase her speed. In a blink of an eye, she had smashed her way into the front ranks of the legion of skeletons standing between us and the open gates of the castle.

Her helmet retracting, the Knight of Rebellion pointed Clarent straight up to the sky. "Crimson Lightning!" She shouted, and true to her words, bolts of red energy leapt from her blade before they slammed into the area surrounding her, kicking up both broken bones, rusty weapons, and more than a fair share of dust around her, temporary obscuring my Servant.

When the dust cleared, I saw that Mordred's attack had destroy the skeletons that had been blocking our path forward. I slowed my horse down near Mordred, nodding my head in approval. "Not bad," I observed before dismounting. Ritsuka did the same, and we gazed at the open but uninviting gates of Orléans. I felt a twinge of sadness as I once more felt the absence of Marie Antoinette. I could certainly use her seemingly boundless positive energy right about now.

"Looks like that was it for our welcoming committee," I joked half-heartedly, earning a nervous chuckle from Ritsuka. I then turned to the others. "This is it. We can't afford to stop for anything. Let's go." Then I plunged forward, Mordred and Jeanne by my side, and the others right on our heels.

We made rapid progress into the castle. The smell of ash and blood slammed into us almost immediately, and to my horror, I saw that the source of the latter was large amounts of gore and blood splatter against either side of the hallway. I felt queasy at the macabre sight, but didn't stop, even as the splatters continued to greet us with every step we took.

"Hurry up! If we're too slow, she'll summon another Servant!" Jeanne shouted over her shoulder. Looking over my own, I saw that Elisabeth was slowing down, looking at the walls on either side with an odd expression on her face. Upon being called out, the Lancer's face reddened in embarrassment.

"I-I know that!" Elisabeth stammered, moving forward once more, though still gazing intently at the blood-covered walls. "But you know, this castle's kind of nice…" Elisabeth said in a quieter, somewhat bashful tone that had Ritsuka and me exchange concerned glances. "It's kind of my style, you know?"

"You mean terrible?" I said incredulously.

"Indeed, all this blood," Kiyohime grunted in disgust. "They don't organize, they don't clean…how filthy," the Berserker tutted in further disapproval. "Only a bloodthirsty barbarian would prefer a place like this." Elisabeth didn't respond at first. When she did, she spoke in a quieter, almost hurt tone.

"Y-you're right! This is bad, isn't it!" That last part of her response did not so much sound as a question as it was as if she was trying to convince herself.

"I do admit, it would be far more preferable if there were more maiden blood then simple soldiers coating these walls." The voice came not from ahead, but behind, bringing us to a screeching halt, nevertheless. Well, at least we have found were Carmilla was. Another part of me was also glad that she hadn't tried to lunge out of nowhere and target Ritsuka or I. I still had shivers from Phantom's attempts back in Lyon. "I am afraid I can't let you go any further," the enhanced Assassin sneered menacingly.

"Why you! Why you, why you, why you!" Elisabeth shrieked, causing me to wince as the high-pitched noise reverberated in the enclosed hallway. She glared at Berserker Assassin, who was more than happy to return the gesture.

"This is…quiet irritating," Carmilla hissed. "This 'me'."

"Right back at you!" The young dragon-teen snarled. "How did you get to be a Servant?" Carmilla laughed at the source of her legend mockingly.

"Never thought you'd say that. From where I stand, it's far more maddening to see that've become a Servant as myself! I'm a revered countess, feared by all. The finished product, you might say, who devoured fear to become an Anti-Hero," Carmilla said, holding one hand to her chest while the other clutched her staff, her tone a mixture of boastfulness and condescending. "I'm not an unfinished product like you. You devoured the existence that is me. You simply refused to age, and feared being sealed away." Elisabeth said nothing, trembling with rage as the maddened Assassin tutted in reproach. "Of course you did. From your perspective, I'm just a sign of your sin. The guilt you brough upon yourself, the unassailable record of your murders!"

Those final words appeared to have hit the popstar-themed Lancer like a shot to the gut, for her anger seemed to drain out of her, replaced with a forlorn expression. "That's right," Elisabeth finally said. "You are who I really am, my final destination. The symbol of my sin, that no tears, regret, or sorrow will ever change. Denying you means looking away from the crimes I've committed." She looked straight at Carmilla, defiance present once more on her features. "But that doesn't mean I can't take responsibility! It may be ugly self-deception, but I'll say it anyway!" She took a deep breath. "I…I don't want to be like you!"

Berserker Assassin shook her head in disappointment. "How foolish, we're spirits of the past. The future's already been decided."

"I know that! But I'm saying it anyway! Go on, little Puppies! She is mine!" Elisabeth declared, tightening her posture for combat. I turned to Sasaki.

"Help her out, and then join us as quickly as possible."

"As you command, Master," the quiet Assassin said, drawing his sword from the scabbard slung over his back, joining by the side of the Lancer. Glancing over my shoulder one last time, I saw the young Servant sprinting forward towards Carmilla.

The sounds of combat echoed behind us, along with grunts and shouts. Neither Ritsuka nor I looked back though. In a few more minutes, we were approaching what appeared to be the end of the main hallway we had been traversing, causing us to slow down. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I tensed

"Well, well, long time no see," a familiar-sounding voice echoed in the dimly lit hallway. In front of a pair of thick, wooden doors was a man in robes. His black hair was slicked back, and his hands were covered in reddish veins, and in his right hand he clutched a tome of some kind. The sinister appearance of the Servant before us was somewhat ruined by the way his eyes were pointing off in different directions, but it didn't lessen the fact that he was a Servant, and his face looked somewhat familiar.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Jeanene's turquoise eyes narrowing. "Gilles," She said sternly. The one standing before us looked nothing like the general who was leading his countrymen outside the castle. Her former comrade merely released a crazed-sounding chuckle before speaking.

"Who knew that you'd defeat Fafnir, and show yourselves here in Orléans," he said, shaking his head before smiling. "To be honest, I'm impressed. However! However!" Gilles, or rather, the version of the man after his fall suddenly stopped smiling, staring menacingly with a snarl. "Oh, my saint! And your comrades! Why do you stand in my way? You come into my world destroying everything, and now you're even trying to kill Jeanne d'Arc!"

"I had a question about that," Jeanne said, and I could tell that she was trying her best to keep calm. "I had a question about that," she admitted in response. "Gilles de Rais, is she really me?" The Servant's mouth fell open at the Ruler's questions, a look of horror evident on his features.

"What? What-what-what unforgiveable blasphemy! Even the Saint would despair and rage to hear such a thing! That is, without a doubt, the true Jeanne d'Arc. It is the darkness hidden within her," Gilles said, almost piously. Jeanne's features darkened.

"I see," she said softly, before speaking louder. "Then, as the light, I must face her."

"Jeanne, I won't let anyone stop me—even you!" Gilles snarled before he brought his tome forward. We all braced for combat.

"Damn it, every minute he delays us is another minute Jeanne Alter has to summon reinforcements!" I snarled, trying to think of the best way to deal with this. Ritsuka was the one to beat me to it, however.

"Mash!"

"Understood, Master!" Mash called back as she ran forward, slamming her shield into the Caster, and knocking him off-balance before leaping backwards as a tentacle appeared out of nowhere, lashing out at the Demi-Servant.

Chulainn slammed his spear into the magical appendage, knocking it aside before it could harm Mash. Medea launched a bolt of magical energy, further distracting the enemy Caster.

"We got this! You take Mordred and Jeanne and go stop the Dragon Witch!" Ritsuka said, looking behind me as the other Servants, except Mordred and Jeanne, began to attack Gilles.

"Right!" I responded. I looked to Mordred, who nodded back, then to Jeanne. To my surprise, she had a hesitant look on her face as her turquoise eyes darted back and forth between the doors and the fallen version of her old comrade.

"Jeanne! What's wrong?" I said, my words snapping her out of whatever funk she was in. The Ruler shook her head fiercely, a red blush on her cheeks.

"I-I'm sorry. It's nothing," She responded apologetically, before her more normal expression of determination and sternness reappeared. "Let's go. Thank you both!" She shouted to Ritsuka, Mash, and the others.

"Kick his ass!" I added as the two female Servants and I ran past the now-preoccupied Caster, Jeanne bringing up the rear as Mordred kicked open the doors and we stepped through, Jeanne quickly closing them to prevent Gilles from trying to launch attacks from behind while the three of us dealt with the Dragon Witch.

The room was covered in scorch marks, and the charred bones of skeletons lay in piles to either side, no doubt the remains of the original owners. In the center of the room was a white circle with arcane markings. A Summoning Circle. In the middle were two things. The first was a golden chalice that I found hard to look away from. That must be the Holy Grail. However, that wasn't the most pressing of matters before us.

No, for that would be the glaring, spiteful version of the saint Jeanne d'Arc that stood before us, casually gripping her weapon, but ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. Her yellow eyes stared directly at me, ignoring Mordred and Jeanne. She took a few steps forward, placing herself between the Grail and us, a sneer on her lips.

"Welcome, little mouse," Jeanne Alter glared at me, "to your death. You and your friends will bother me no more."

Original A/N:And done! I will admit, I had a hard time writing the fight scene at the beginning, mainly because of having to limit whose fight was being focused on by Jacob, which naturally would be by this point Mordred, at least in my opinion. Also, I decided that I wanted to split the group up for the final battle at the end mainly because I wanted to focus next chapter on Mordred, Jeanne, and Jacob against Jeanne Alter, plus it kinda makes logical sense considering the rush they are forced to deal with by that point. Did you still enjoy it though? Favorite scenes/dialogues used? Also, only one more chapter left before we return to Chaldea! Who's excited to see how the final confrontation between Jacob, Mordred, and Jeanne versus Jeanne Alter, cause I know I am! Just as a heads-up, I have a strong feeling there is going to be some feels next chapter. Also, I will probably not be updating my SummerFes story until I finish the next chapter, which shouldn't take too long (hopefully).

For the questions of the day: Who do you think would be the best top 3 Servants that could be romantically paired with Alter?

With all that said, thank you for reading another chapter. Once again, a massive shoutout to all my loyal fans!