Chapter 111. Shining in the Darkness
In August 1997, London was engulfed in the flames of war and destruction. The city, once shining with grandeur and beauty, now descended into chaos. The streets became a battlefield where the ruthless tyranny of Voldemort and Arthur Pendragon Alter crushed the Muggle uprising.
Only ruins could be seen - charred skeletons of buildings, smoldering debris, and shattered glass. The bodies of innocent victims littered the streets, and the smells of smoke and death permeated the air. An apocalyptic scene unfolded before their eyes.
Jeanne d'Arc Alter, whose once passionate nature had cooled after evolution, patrolled the streets with stoic determination. Her gaze remained unwavering as she searched for any signs of those still in need of help. Her Master, Ritsuka Fujimaru, wisely left the city soon after the siege began.
In the distance, a formidable figure could be seen - Arthur Pendragon Alter mercilessly dealt with the last defenders of the fallen Muggle government. His blade flawlessly cut through flesh, bringing only death. Hercules the Berserker, a monstrous force summoned by one of the Death Eaters, joined him.
Jeanne calmly observed their brutality. Although the wild carnage reigned around her, she did not blindly rush into battle. Alter-Persona behaved surprisingly subtly, ready to strip her of her former humanity and take control in yet another battle.
"What happened to you, Arthur?" Jeanne barely sighed. "How could you fall so low?"
Suddenly, she was interrupted by a sharp shout:
"Hey, you tin can! It's over! Surrender now!"
A group of Muggle rebels approached her, wielding weapons in their hands. Fury mixed with desperation distorted their faces.
Jeanne, for the first time in a long while, felt a semblance of emotion - a mocking disdain. Flames immediately engulfed her wand, casting ominous glints.
"You pitiful fools," she hissed through clenched teeth. "How dare you challenge Jeanne d'Arc? Your protector?"
They fired several shots at her, but Jeanne saw the futility of their attempts to harm her - the bullets ricocheted off her, leaving no trace. Approaching their tank, she lightly tapped the hull, sending it crashing into the nearest wall. Turning to the rebels, she asked:
"Who wants to experience the thrill of flight?"
No one was eager to take her up on the offer, but the rebels futilely opened fire again. Jeanne didn't back down. She quickly located the commander of the group among them and whispered in his ear:
"Do not awaken my wrath while it slumbers."
To her moral satisfaction, anyone who wished to meet her dormant wrath quickly fell silent. Content with herself, Jeanne returned to her previous task, and soon her efforts bore fruit.
Jeanne d'Arc Alter, the embodiment of unwavering will, patrolled the city when a tiny figure sprang from the ruins and rained down a hail of deadly blades upon her.
It was Jack the Ripper, the infamous London killer, summoned by Bellatrix Lestrange almost two years ago. The clouded mind of the Death Eater saw Jack as a blessing and considered her to be her daughter, Delphi. Ever since, the little assassin thirsted for one thing - revenge.
"Jack! Will you not relent?" Jeanne coldly exclaimed, deflecting Jack's furious strikes with her wand.
Two years ago, on the eve of Christmas 1995, they had already clashed in a brutal battle at the Ministry of Magic. Back then, Jack, witnessing firsthand Jeanne's overwhelming power, turned to flee, consumed by primal terror. But something had changed in the little assassin...
Her tiny face contorted in a grimace of mad fury. Knives glinted with inhuman speed, each strike deadlier than the last. Jack attacked with the ferocity of a cornered beast, embodying sheer aggression.
"This time, it will be different, witch!" she hissed through clenched teeth, pouring all her hatred into each strike.
Jeanne extended her hand with her sword in front of her, deflecting blade after blade. Her face remained impassive, as if Jack was nothing more than an annoying irritation. However, deep in her heart, a spark of the former kindness of the Holy Virgin still flickered, preventing her from raising her hand against a child.
"Enough, Jack!" Jeanne suddenly shouted. "Do not force me to harm you!"
A hint of motherly compassion momentarily slipped into her voice, entirely out of place with the fierce image of Alter-Jeanne.
The blades clashed in a deadly dance as Jeanne d'Arc Alter and the young Jack the Ripper clashed amidst the ruins of London. They were embodiments of opposing forces, alien and uncompromising.
"Offspring of Bellatrix, you will pay for your audacity!" Jeanne growled, her previous compassion vanishing without a trace.
Jack simply laughed maniacally in response. Her insane mirth resonated through the devastated city, contrasting with the surrounding horror. Giant knives gleamed in the hands of the little assassin.
"I saw how you trembled at the sight of me in the Ministry!" Jack sneered, recalling their first encounter on Christmas Eve 1995.
"Lies!" Jeanne spat out a single word. "It was you who fled from me back then! Remember?"
Back then, the young assassin had witnessed Jeanne d'Arc's true power. A chilling terror briefly paralyzed her body, and she had to retreat in disgrace.
But this time, everything was different. Jack felt an overwhelming determination.
"Your fate is to become my victim, witch!" she declared, launching herself into the attack. Knives relentlessly sliced through the air.
Jeanne extended her sword in front of her, fury lending her strikes inhuman strength.
Sparks flew from the clash of blades. Alter and the London killer engaged in an unrestrained dance of death.
Jack moved with extraordinary speed, her small size granting her agility. But Jeanne met each of her attacks with a powerful counterstrike. The battle intensified, transitioning into a new, phenomenal phase.
Suddenly, the little assassin slipped through Jeanne's defense. Three massive knives gleamed with deadly intent, aiming for vital points...
Pain washed over Jeanne like scorching waves. Streams of crimson blood poured from her chest, abdomen, and thigh.
"You wretch!" Jeanne d'Arc Alter radiated fury, channeling all her strength into a ferocious sword strike.
Jack was sent flying, crashing into the ruins. A bloodied spike protruded from her torn shoulder. But triumph already sparkled in her eyes - she had inflicted the first wound on the formidable Jeanne d'Arc.
Both towering figures froze, breathing heavily, their gazes piercing each other with fanatical hatred. The battle had only just begun.
Pain pierced Jeanne d'Arc Alter's body as Jack the Ripper's blades tore through her flesh. Crimson streams of blood splattered the ground. Jeanne realized that this young assassin was far more dangerous than she had anticipated. The situation was becoming critical.
Amidst the ruins of devastated London, only one image surfaced in Jeanne's clouded mind - the faces of her friends, two young men and a girl, who had awakened within her strange, previously unknown emotions.
Harry and his friends had recently left the city, heading for safety. Jeanne clung to this thought like a lifeline. She would buy them time, they had to survive at any cost!
Suddenly, Jeanne felt a surge of unprecedented emotions. Memories flashed before her inner gaze: how several years ago, in 1994, she secretly wrote her name on the fateful note next to Harry's name and placed it back in the Goblet of Fire, wishing to participate in the Triwizard Tournament and be by the symbol of hope, to protect him and move towards her goal. How she invisibly followed him, enveloping him with angelic protection. Why had she acted that way? Jeanne couldn't even explain the pull she felt.
Something in the young wizard had awakened an unprecedented tenderness in her heart - a feeling she couldn't even name. The only thing that was clear was that she would do anything for his safety.
This thought sparked a flash of exultation and a strange, almost forgotten feeling - happiness. Her heart beat faster for the first time in years.
"I must survive... for my friends," Alter-Jeanne uttered through clenched teeth.
Gripping the hilt of her sword, she launched herself into a new attack on Jack the Ripper. But this time, her goal was simply to push the little assassin back and buy time for a retreat. Harry Potter and his friends were saved - that was the main thing. And she herself must continue her path at any cost.
Amidst the ruins of once magnificent London, a tragedy of epic proportions unfolded. Jeanne d'Arc Alter, wounded but unbroken, retreated across the debris-strewn ground. Her thoughts oscillated between life and death, hope and despair.
Suddenly, two formidable figures emerged from the veil of destruction: Arthur Pendragon Alter and the fierce Berserker Hercules. Their faces distorted with mad determination - they had caught the scent of such a dangerous enemy. Other silhouettes emerged from the darkness. Here came Semiramis and Passionlip, Oberon floated nearby, and Abigail Williams darted forward. And with them came other unfamiliar figures.
Jeanne could only silently tighten her grip on the sword hilt. In these decisive moments, her mind feverishly analyzed the situation with an almost inhuman coldness. Every step, every breath was meticulously calculated, like an elegant move in a game of deadly chess.
Inside her, a hurricane of emotions raged, but not a single muscle twitched on her face. Jeanne knew that the upcoming battle would be the culmination of madness and violence. Its outcome was predetermined - she was destined to fall in this ruthless chaos of war. But none of it mattered anymore...
Images of those she fought for and was ready to die for ignited in her consciousness. Ritsuka Fujimaru and his friends, their happiness, their safety - that's what mattered now. Jeanne felt a surge of a strange, almost forgotten joy at the thought that she had won priceless time for them at the cost of her own life.
Arthur and Hercules, leading a multitude of powerful Servants, charged at her with insane fury - embodiments of destructive power, craving to tear their prey apart. But Jeanne's soul had never known fear. It held only the determination to fight until her last breath, so that those she lived for could have a better life.
The blade of Jeanne flickered with ominous flames in anticipation of the final, merciless confrontation. The city around them was torn apart, engulfed in the center of an apocalyptic chaos. But neither destruction nor death could overshadow the inner radiance that illuminated Jeanne's soul in these final moments.
Jeanne d'Arc Alter stood amidst the ruins of once majestic London, surrounded by a dozen mighty Servants summoned by the Death Eaters. Her armor bore dents and scratches from the battle with Jack the Ripper, and blood seeped from deep wounds. However, despite the hopelessness of the situation, her eyes gleamed with excitement, and a sinister grin played on her lips.
Surveying her enemies, as an experienced commander assesses the enemy's forces before battle, Jeanne erupted into a chilling laughter that echoed through the ruins and the smoke-filled battlefield. This laughter, full of madness and despair, would make even the bravest warriors shudder. It seemed to be born from the darkest and most twisted depths of human imagination, an embodiment of pure evil.
In that moment, Jeanne transformed, becoming the bloodthirsty and merciless figure who, in the past, had exterminated two million Frenchmen, hungering for vengeance for her own death. Her face contorted into a terrifying grimace of madness, making her resemble the embodiment of evil itself, more horrifying than anything the onlookers had ever seen.
"Do you think I am outnumbered against you?" she sneered, grinning. Her voice, distorted by evident madness, sounded both confident and defiant. "No, it is you who are outnumbered against me!"
Passionlip responded with a smirk, snapping her gloves.
"Shall we put that to the test?" she challenged, preparing for battle.
Jeanne burst into laughter, her laughter echoing like thunder amidst the ruins. Although common sense told her that she had no chance of victory, she was not one to surrender without a fight. Even if she was destined to fall in this battle, she would fight with all her might until her last breath, true to her Warrior's heart. For that was the only way she could remain true to herself - unwavering, fearless Jeanne d'Arc Alter.
"Charge!" she shouted, gripping her sword with both hands and entering the final battle.