"Jeanne d'Arc is the embodiment of kindness and innocence, the perfect messenger chosen by God."
A Square in Rouen
Countless voices echoed in her ears—whispers, accusations, and cruel laughter. The sheer noise was overwhelming, but she refused to let it shake her. These words only brought her sadness, not pain.
Fear? She had abandoned that long ago. She had made her choice, and there was no turning back.
Dragged into the square, she could feel the burning hatred in the eyes of the crowd. Her chest tightened—not out of fear, but because her cross, her spiritual anchor, had been ripped away from her. They had claimed she didn't deserve it.
That was when she saw him—a man rushing forward, shoving past guards, tears streaming down his face. He pressed a rough wooden cross into her bound hands. It was crude, unpolished... and yet, it was the warmest cross she had ever held.
"Thank you." Her voice was soft, grateful.
She lowered her head. The man had collapsed to his knees, sobbing. Some in the crowd jeered, but many others wept for her.
The bitter wind carried the echoes of insults, but amidst them, there were also prayers—sincere and sorrowful. They were like the sun breaking through the cold.
Jeanne had been bound tightly. No one expected her to escape. No one would let her.
"So, this is it, then."
She heard the final charge against her. Then, the torch fell. Flames roared to life.
Ridiculous.
The fire crawled toward her feet. The crowd watched, as if expecting her to scream, to break, to beg for mercy.
They thought fire was the most terrifying thing in the world. The way it devoured flesh, reduced bones to ash.
But Jeanne knew better.
"The most terrifying thing... is the human heart."
She had been condemned, mocked, betrayed. All because people could not understand.
She wanted to cry out, to defend herself. But no one would listen. Instead, she saw visions of her past—her peaceful village, the faces of those she loved.
Perhaps, if she had never answered that call, she could have lived a different life.
A quiet life. A husband. Children. A future.
But she had killed that possibility the moment she picked up a sword.
She had chosen the battlefield over comfort.
And she had never looked back.
---
Elsewhere...
"Ugh... what happened?"
When Jeanne opened her eyes, she felt the warmth of the sun on her face. Confused, she touched her head and looked around.
It was... an unfamiliar place.
Suddenly, a flood of information surged into her mind. It was overwhelming. After an hour of holding her head in agony, she managed to sort through the chaos.
"Holy Grail War? Heroic Spirits? Arthur Pendragon?"
She muttered these strange words to herself.
Wait. There were other Heroic Spirits here?
"So... my mission is to stop a Heroic Spirit from disrupting the order?" She sat up and examined her outfit.
She let out a deep sigh. "Well, first things first. I need to find somewhere to stay."
---
Meanwhile, in Another Part of the City...
In the mind of a certain young man, a familiar mechanical voice suddenly rang out.
Ding! Other Heroic Spirits have been detected. Host, please eliminate the target. Reward: One Random Draw.
Arthur Pendragon—not King Arthur, but just Arthur, a slightly irritable and occasionally lazy participant in this chaotic war—blinked in confusion.
"Other Heroic Spirits? Why do I feel like this is about to become a huge headache?"
He rubbed his temples, already feeling the weight of a new problem settling on his shoulders.
But hey, it wasn't like there were many Heroic Spirits who could actually give him a hard time. Right?
Right...?
Little did he know, the one approaching was none other than Jeanne d'Arc—a name that had occupied his thoughts for quite some time now.
And just like that, things were about to get a whole lot more complicated.
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