It was hard keeping quiet with my nervous energy coursing through my veins as we pushed deeper into the building, but somehow I managed to do so. The fact that we didn't encounter any further opposition after we defeated Gilles was certainly helpful to that end. However, it also made me a bit uneasy. Every corner could be hiding an ambush. It slowed us down, and it turned out to perhaps have been an unnecessary fear. Still, better to be slow but alive, then swift and dead or dying.

It took us probably thirty minutes or so to reach an ornate set of doors. A set of doors reminiscent of the throne room-like area in Orléans when Jeanne, Mordred, and I faced off against Jeanne Alter. It felt like further proof to the identity of our counterfeit.

To the right of me, Clarent once more materialized into Mordred's hands before she casually rested the monster of a sword against her right pauldron. To the left of me, Emiya held up a hand. "Quiet," the Archer whispered a bit harshly, his brow furrowed. "I hear voices."

I was about to ask him to elaborate on that discovery when someone on the other side of the door began shouting angrily.

"Oh, I'm sick of this! How?! How the hell did you end like this?!" It was familiar, alright. The same voice as Jeanne d'Arc, but with less warmth and more aggression. It had been several months since I heard it, but it was indeed the alternate version of my Ruler beyond those doors. What was it she was complaining about, though?

"Ahhhh, I'm so happy!" A voice said breathlessly, filled with ecstasy and intense passion. "To think…To think you would care about me this much!" I raised an eyebrow. The second voice was also feminine, though a bit deeper in pitch. It was also one I didn't recognize. It had to be the last Counterfeit Heroic Spirit…but what the hell was going on in there?

"Enough! Get off of me!" Jeanne Alter snarled angrily. I heard a dull smacking sound, and a disturbing cry of pleasure from the owner of the other voice, which caused Alter to merely growl angrily. I blinked slowly.

"Are we sure it's a good idea to go in?" I asked dryly. Mordred stared at me with an arched eyebrow.

"You're one of the folks here that was hyper insistent about meeting the Dragon Bitch again," Mordred started, and I coughed, looking away awkwardly. "Don't you dare back out now."

"Right, right. Sorry. Okay, let's do this." I stepped forward to the door, Mordred walking in step with me. On the other side of the door, I continued hearing both moans and cries of anger. I didn't know what the hell I was about to see, but I had a feeling it would only get worse. "Okay, on the count of three. Three, two, one!" I pushed with all my might against the thick wooden doors, and they swung open with a loud, creaking noise.

"Hold it right there," I ordered, stepping into the room with Mordred and the others around me. I cringed a bit on the inside, feeling every bit the two-bit cop that I had sounded like right then and there. Thankfully (at least for me), the sight I came across provided an excellent distraction.

"Just get away from…me…" Jeanne Alter's voice trailed off, as a familiar pair of yellow eyes began to slowly widen in a mixture of shock and horror, while her jaw hung open. The fallen Ruler both looked familiar and different at the same time. Alter no longer looked like a bleached Jeanne.

Instead of a sickly shade of blonde, her short hair was almost white. The fabric, a deep blue on her counterpart, looked charred and burnt. The armor that protected most of her torso and arms was an admittedly-beautiful shade of onyx, instead of the shining metal that protected Jeanne.

I couldn't see her banner at the moment as she hadn't manifested it, but I suspected that when I did finally get to see it, there would be a stylized dragon on it. She also had a sword strapped to her side, though she didn't seem to be in a position to draw it.

"Oh, oh," the taller, pretty-looking woman whose arms were tightly wrapped around the 5'2" tall French Servant sighed, her eyes closed. She, on the other hand, was someone I didn't recognize. She had white hair, a matching pale complexion. She wore a black, shoulderless dress of some sort, which also had a skirt that stopped at her mid-thigh. I also noticed the over-sized spear slung over the woman's back. "My love! My Sigurd! Please, please yell at me more!" She pleaded, almost moaning.

My eyebrow began twitching as violently as Alter's was. Out of all of the possible situations I'd imagined we'd walk into, this…

This sure as hell wasn't one of them!

For several long minutes, we all stared awkwardly at one another. None of us wanted to be the one to speak up first. However, it was also getting us nowhere. Sighing heavily, I pinched the bridge of my nose and shook my head before looking at our counterfeiter.

"Pretend we didn't see anything?

"I would appreciate it if you did!" Alter responded, struggling to move her arms. Planting them into the chest of her companion, the Dragon Witch didn't so much push as shoved her companion (Friend? Servant? Assailant?) away from her. The Lancer frowned, though it seemed to be more about the separation than the force Alter had used.

Freed from the embrace of her Servant, Alter turned around, resting one hand lazily on the hilt of her sword. Extending her right hand, her banner appeared. Sure enough, emblazoned on the blue-grey fabric was the same stylized dragon as it had borne back in Orléans.

"Hmph, I'll admit, I'm surprised you made it this far," she sneered. "I suppose you picked up the limited traces left behind by the counterfeits and they led you here."

"Well, actually, you left a ma—" I started to say, before noticing how Alter's Servant was now hugging her feet, panting in a disturbingly heavy way.

"Hahhh…Hahhh…"

"Um, at your feet…" Boudica said, sounding every bit uncomfortable as I felt. Alter shook violently, glaring at the taller women.

"Ta gueule!" She roared in her native French, managing to tear free her right leg. "Hiyah!" She grunted as she swung her sabaton-cladded foot into the prone Lancer. Said Servant went flying across the room, then skidded across the polished floor for a few more feet before finally coming to a stop, sprawled out on her back. My jaw hung open again.

"She flew quite some distance," Emiya observed. Even the stern, no-nonsense Archer seemed rather off-putted by this turn of events. Sasaki nodded.

"She really put everything into that kick."

"Now, where were we…?" Alter began to say, before we heard a low moan from the prone Servant as she started to crawl across the room, like some sort of zombified monster! The hell?! The eyes of the alternative version of Jeanne grew wide again, this time in terror, and she bit down on her lower lip in a surprisingly adorable manner. "Don't tell me…" she groaned. She slowly looked over her shoulder, and let out a shrill squeak of horror as the Servant threw herself back at Alter's feet.

Normally, I was all for the final boss in these situations to be distracted, fixated on anything or anyone other than my friends and I. For the first time ever, I was wishing that wasn't the case. I cleared my throat politely.

"Um, excuse me, ma'am?"

"Brynhildr."

"Excuse me?"

"My name," Brynhildr said in a tone that was so flat, I felt my cheeks flush. Okay, yeah, that kinda was a silly response. Still, at least I had a name, even if it was one that I didn't recognize. In an odd way, though, it was sort of refreshing to encounter some Servants I hadn't met before.

"Ah, okay. Miss Brynhildr," and now I sounded a bit like Mash, "I think you're making Jeanne Alter over there uncomfortable." The alter shot me an even flatter look, mouthing the words 'no fucking shit, Sherlock!' to me. Brynhildr, however giggled, thankfully pulling herself back up onto her feet. "Perhaps you should give her some space? I think that's why she's lashing out right now." Among other reasons, no doubt. The Lancer cocked her head to the side in curiosity and confusion.

"What do you mean? She's the only person I love. I accept her love with all my body. What's wrong with that?" Once more I couldn't help but stare at the apparently insane Lancer. I'd ask if she was suffering from Stockholm Syndrome, or something like that, except that Alter seemed to be lashing out more in self-defense, and not trying to be actively abusive towards her. Still, I wasn't able to speak, still processing something that made the interactions between Artemis and Orion seem sane!

Thankfully, Emiya was able to cover for me. He looked at Alter with his typical stern expression. "Well, you heard her, Jeanne Alter. So, was your kick an expression of love?" The fallen copy of Jeanne slammed her left heel into the ground angrily.

"Of course not! Not even close!" She roared in frustration. The hand that had been idly caressing the hilt of her sword went up, and she dragged the fingers through her short hair, visibly gritting her teeth. "Damn it, why is this happening to me?! All I did was make a simple wish: 'Among my followers, it would be nice to have a woman.' How the fucking hell did that get twisted into me getting a woman straight out of a horror movie calling me 'Big Sister' instead of Master?!"

"Love…it's love…everything is love…hahhhh!" Brynhildr interjected breathlessly. Alter gnashed her teeth angrily, her right hand squeezing the shaft of her banner tightly. For a moment, I feared that the French maiden was about to unleash a series of blows upon her eccentric follower, but at the last minute she restrained herself, not wishing to be abusive, thankfully.

"I told you! I AM NOT! LOOKING! FOR THAT KIND OF LOVE!" She instead roared, repeatedly slamming the butt of her banner into the tiles, breaking several under the force of her blows. Brynhildr shook, and I doubted it was from fear.

"Oh, such rejections! It hurts but yet it excites me! I see, love can be painful!"

"Yeah…not going to touch that with a twenty-foot pole," I said slowly, finally regaining the ability to speak. Alter sighed, her shoulders slumping down in resignation. Even though she was my enemy, I felt the sudden urge to give her a hug.

"Fine. Please just ignore this for now," she stated. I nodded.

"I'll do that," I promised, even though it might be difficult with the way Brynhildr's breathing sounded to me. Alter tilted her head at me ever so slightly in what I presumed was thanks, before resuming her earlier sneer, though it lacked a little of its earlier condescending feel to it.

"As I was trying to say, I figured one of you mice from Chaldea would eventually sniff me out. Still, you came far quicker than I had expected. Perhaps you are not a mouse pretending to be a lion, but a dog disguised as a human, hm, Jacob?" I ignored the not-so-subtle insult Alter threw at me, instead crossing my arms over my chest. So, she remembered my name, huh?

"Jeanne Alter, it's been a while since we last saw each other in Orléans. I can't say I'd expect to run into you again, considering how you were summoned and all. I trust there's a story there?"

"I'd have thought you'd be gone for good," Mordred added with her usual bluntness to her words.

Alter mimicked my actions, dismissing her banner before doing so. She stared at us with a wicked smirk, though I couldn't help but sense a level of burning anger emanating from the fallen Maid of Orléans. Something that she didn't quite have the last time I saw her. New class of Servant, no doubt.

"Ha! It doesn't matter how twisted my birth was. Once I existed as a concept, it's impossible to get rid of me."

"That is true," Emiya conceded, while Mordred let out a barely suppressed harumph. "Even if something born into this world gets destroyed and disappears, the fact that it was born will never be erased." Alter's smirk widened, and she mockingly applauded him.

"A brilliant deduction." Emiya ignored her, either having quickly realized that it was in her nature to taunt others or was unaffected by it. Knowing what little I did so far about the crimson-clad Archer, it could very well be both.

"However, that alone shouldn't be enough," he continued. "Giles de Rais wished for your existence and the Holy Grail made it happen. The Holy Grail was recovered, and Gilles de Rais was killed by Mordred and Jacob. There was almost zero possibility that you could be summoned again."

Alter threw her head out and let out a belt of laughter. Whereas Jeanne's was a warm, inviting sound, Alter's seemed to be filled with scorn. Rather than offend me, however, it made me feel…sad. I couldn't get over the fact that Gilles had deceived her, though it seems she knew that she had been the fake, and not Jeanne.

"Ahahahaha!" Jeanne Alter finished laughing, wiping a tear away from her eye. "Yes, you're right, you're absolutely right! The possibility of me being summoned again was infinitesimal." The amusement on her face died an ugly death, replaced with an angry look. "After all, nobody wanted me! The one hero who wished for me was dead! Except for him, I ruled by brute force, so no one wanted me brought back!" Her shoulders rose and fell a few times, before she relaxed, sneering at us. "So, I inverted the idea. The one woman who would never wish for me, the other half of me whom I hate and despise…I managed to flip that idiot's wish inside-out, and somehow that's how I was reborn."

Mordred growled at the insult to her (unacknowledged) friend, but I quickly covered for her. There was still a chance that we could defuse this situation without bloodshed, and now I was also starting to think of an idea. Crazy as all hell, but an idea nevertheless. "So you willed yourself back into existence."

"Yes. I accept that I am, without a doubt, a counterfeit. An abysmal possibility born out of her mercy. But the world is full of lies. The world approves of the existence of counterfeits. No one says a 'counterfeit must not surpass the original!'"

"Alter," Da Vinci said, sounding calm, and more than a little compassionate. I couldn't detect any trace of anger or disgust now at the fact that Jeanne Alter had shamelessly copied her own work. "You're dissatisfied as a counterfeit, and want to surpass the original. Is that what you're saying."

"That's right," Alter said with a proud nod of her head. "I won't repeat the same mistake made in Orléans. At the time, I was no more than a machine, made to reject her. I'm a counterfeit—So what?! Want me to hide in the shadows?" She barked out a sarcastic laugh. "Like I would even do that!"

That sounded like something I would hear from Mordred, truth be told. Not that I think either her or Alter would much appreciate any such comparison. Unaware of my musings, Alter continued speaking, her voice raising in indignation. "Even if I'm a counterfeit, there are no rules saying that I can't make a name for myself! I am Jeanne d'Arc. Many people imagined that a death like mine would warrant vengeance. I'm a witch who fell on account of that." Her brow furrowed, and she re-summoned her banner. "I am, beyond a shred of doubt, one aspect of Jeanne d'Arc! I am an Anti-Hero born from the dark abyss of murderous intent and hatred. I am now an Avenger-class Servant!"

I hummed, processing her diatribe. Honestly, it made sense. Granted, I knew little about the class she was now part of. Based both off of the name and her rant, I suspected that it had to do with channeling one's anger or hatred. So, perhaps like a saner Berserker?

Alter whipped around, harshly nudging Brynhildr. "Come on you pervert," she said flatly. Her final companion giggled.

"Right! I'm going to kill you now," she announced rather happily, twirling her spear off of her back and into her hands. "Prepare yourselves. This spear of mine will not overlook the fact that you're Big Sister's enemies." She paused, and then made an almost comical gesture of realization. "It's also good for giving her acupuncture!" Jeanne Alter gritted her teeth angrily, even as a haunted look appeared in her eyes.

"I'll never let you give me a massage again! Just deal with everyone but those two," the newly-minted Avenger snapped, sweeping her banner at Mordred and I. "Those two are mine."

"Alrighty!" Brynhildr moved a bit to the side, and the others in my own party followed, leaving Mordred and I facing off against Jeanne Alter. The other Servants began fighting, but I tuned out the noises. Even though her powers were unknown, Brynhildr had been summoned at reduced strength. One on one, it might be a bit closer, but the Nordic-sounding counterfeit was vastly outnumbered.

"So, where's the other 'me'?"

"She's helping my fellow Master," I responded before Mordred could deliver a more vulgar response. Alter sighed, rolling her eyes.

"A pity, then. I'd like to see the look on her face seeing what I've accomplished."

"Frankly, she'd probably be proud you didn't raze the entire world to the ground," Mordred snarked. Alter's face scrunched up in distaste as she scowled at the blonde knight.

"Ah, I forgot you had a mouth on you. I won't deny that a part of me has longed for a rematch against you. I've improved since the last time we crossed paths."

"As have I," Mordred retorted gruffly. Alter sneered.

"It would be pathetic if you were the same after all the progress you and your dog have accomplished," she said with a modicum of grudging respect. She reached down for the hilt of her sword once more. "That pervert's certainly fueled more of my anger. I hope you're ready to be the defeated one this time, pup."

"Bring it!" But before they could start fighting, I interrupted the feuding duo.

"Your Servants cared deeply for you," I said suddenly. Jeanne Alter looked at me in confusion.

"What?"

"Alexander, Hector, Siegfried, Gilles, Brynhildr. Each of them cared for you in their own way. Obviously, Gilles would have done so, but that's besides the point. Even those roles, silly though they may have sounded, were accepted without hesitation. They all wanted to make you happy. Can't you see that? Understand what they mean?"

"I don't know. I don't know, I don't know, I don't know!" Alter cried out in frustration. "I don't understand any of this!" Her voice dropped down a few octaves, and she looked at her feet in disgust. For once, it didn't seem to be directed at any of us. "I mean…there's nothing lovable about me! I have no charm! I'm a helplessly twisted little girl!" At that moment, I saw Mordred standing before me. Someone who had self-value issues. It took all my will to not step forward and give the Dragon Witch a hug. Sympathetic to her or not, she was still an enemy at present.

Unaware of the effect her words were having on me, Alter looked back up angrily. "All I have is power, so much so you want to throw up! But can you blame me?! That's all I have! I'm driven to seek revenge and it's all that I have!"

"That may be the case. But that's not necessarily the end of the possibilities. You could put that power to use for good, for example," I offered calmly. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Mordred looking at me like I had just offered to marry Morgan le Faye. Alter herself looked utterly lost.

"W-What are you tal—"

"Come with us back to Chaldea. I would welcome you."

The words had the affect of a bomb being dropped. Both Alter and Mordred looked at me like I had just announced that I was a serial killer. I could tell Mordred was mortified at the idea of her former nemesis joining the ranks of Chaldea's Servants. Jeanne Alter's lower jaw hung open limply, her eyes almost bulging out of their sockets.

"Master, the hell are you—" Mordred began to whisper harshly, before Alter's roar drowned out the rest of her sentence.

"Think about what you just said, you half-wit!" Alter said, her pale cheeks a bright red, though whether it was from anger or embarrassment, I couldn't quite say.

"Whether you deserve it or not, Jacob is an excellent Master!" Mordred snapped, leaping to my defense. I reached out and gently gripped her shoulder, temporarily calming down my beloved knight.

"I have. It's why I made it. So, what do you say?" I pressed, staring hopefully at the Dragon Witch. She didn't answer immediately, looking uneasy, and biting down on the corner of her lip. Then she scowled, before resuming the nervous expression. If I strained my ears, I couldn't help but wonder if I would hear her mind overheating. I hadn't expected my offer to cause this much uncertainty in her.

In fact, I frankly assumed she would throw my offer back into my face without a second's thought.

Finally, Jeanne Alter broke the silence. "…It's my loss."

"You admit defeat?" She nodded.

"I will admit my defeat, but with one exception. I admit to an inferiority complex over that damn Holy Maiden. I admit to a craving to be sought after. I admit to having smoldered hatred in my heart even now. And I admit that no matter how much success I achieve, how many lives I save—I'll always be an Avenger who is never satisfied. But even so, with all the sins this hopeless Avenger has committed, if you still wish for this strength, this flag of hatred, I will respond to your summons, last Master of the world."

I blinked, then relaxed a little. Huh, guess that maybe talking down an opponent actually can work. I couldn't believe it, but it seemed that was the ca—

"Now, let's begin our final battle to the death!"

…..Or maybe not. Mordred's helmet clicked into place, and she slid in front of me, bracing her armored body to protect me. She had a better reaction than me, truth be told.

In a state of utter disbelief, I stared at the Avenger Servant with wide eyes. Alter snickered at my gob smacked expression. "What? Why are you looking at me like that? We're going to fight."

"But why? I thought you surrendered?" I asked, partially in resignation, partially frustrated. Damn idiot, I thought to myself. I let Ritsuka's more naïve optimism rub off on me. Alter flashed another one of those smirks of hers again.

"No, I did no such thing. Don't tell me you thought I would just go off to Chaldea with you all?" I bit down on my tongue, feeling all the more stupid for my momentary lapse in judgement. I didn't regret offering her a place in Chaldea though.

"It's not the end of a mission without a fight to the death," Mordred said grimly, though I knew that she was also impatient for the fight to start. Last time, Alter had pushed a number of the wrong buttons for my knight. It seems she hadn't lost the ability to do so in her new class.

"Indeed. After all, you lot defeated my pawns. As the one who stands above all counterfeit Heroic Spirits, I will never back down from a fight. I will fight with all my strength. That's nonnegotiable. After all—" Alter pause for dramatic effect, as well as to draw her sword. Huh, another difference between her and Jeanne. Well, at least there wasn't Fafnir or a horde of wyverns to deal with his time. "—I'm an exceptionally wicked Heroic Spirit. You think I'd let someone who defied me as many times as you have, Master Jacob, get away so easily?"

I shook my head grimly. "No. Like you said, you are not like Jeanne. I would like for you to join us at Chaldea, though. However, as you're insisting on this course of action, I have but one last thing to say." I turned to look at Mordred, who adjusted her head to look back at me without taking her eyes completely off of Alter. "Mordred, get ready to fight and defeat her!"

"Understood, Master!" Alter nodded her head in approval, even as her body tensed up like Mordred's.

"Oui. Yes, that's it. That impudent expression! How many times did I want to make you kneel in Orléans? How many times did I want to trample you?! To hear you cry out to me for mercy!"

"I'll never let you harm him while I still stand! So shut up and fight!" Mordred snarled angrily. Before Alter could deliver some sort of snappy (or cliché) response, my beloved knight in shining armor shot forward, even as my other Servants and Da Vinci continued to fight Brynhildr.

The final battle of Pseudo-Singularity C had begun.

Original Endnotes: And done! Only one more chapter left! What did you guys think? I toned down some of the Alter and Brynhildr interactions, because while comical, made me a bit uncomfortable to write, because I'd run the risk of making Alter seem irredeemable somehow. Plus, it makes me think too much of Artemis and Orion in a way...for those who know exactly what I am referring to from the event, do y'all agree or disagree?

So how did I do with Jeanne Alter, and her interactions with Mordred and Jacob? For those of you who worry, I don't plan on making Alter a third wheel. She will have a major role to play, though. Naturally, the focus is still especially on Jacob, Mordred, and their relationship.

Now, for the question(s) of the chapter! What is one of your biggest pet peeves? Second question: of the Servants you own in FGO, what are your top five favorite birthday lines?

As always, thanks for reading, and feel free to comment down below! I hope you enjoyed it, thank you for all the support, and looking forward to reading your thoughts! Have a wonderful rest of the week, and see you in the next chapter!

Updated Endnotes 08/28/22: As always, the full, up-to-date variant of my story can be found on Archive of Our Own, with Chapter 206 having been posted today. Otherwise, have a great evening, and I'll see you all in the next chapter!