Chapter 324: The Trap of the Jungle Witch
An endless prairie stretched out, where wild plants grew rampantly on both sides of a small path trampled by horses, with weeds growing as tall as a man. The azure sky and the emerald grasslands created a scene as beautiful as a painting.
The horse let out a spirited neigh and broke into a brisk gallop. The scent of trampled flowers clung to its hooves, drawing butterflies in pursuit. Everything seemed to blend in perfect harmony with nature, yet Shirou felt an ominous premonition stirring in his heart.
After the horse crossed a mountain valley and reached the border of Western Europe, the scenery shifted drastically. The green grass was stained with crimson blood.
The road was littered with armored corpses, one after another, telling the youth that this was the cruelest of battlefields. The only difference was that the soldiers were women rather than men.
Unlike the modern shooting games where people simply fall over after a few bursts of fire, this was an era of cold steel. When a stomach was pierced, intestines would slide out through the gashes.
With one swing of an axe, those cut in half had their large and small intestines and pancreases fully exposed. When a mace struck a skull, the head caved in, cracking open to leak white brain matter. The most common sword and spear wounds caused blood to pour out incessantly until the final moment of death, dyeing the earth into a red river.
Among these people, there were also those like Valkyries of the battlefield—invincible existences that swept through all opposition.
Further away, at the point where Charlemagne's Frankish Empire clashed with the Abbasid Empire, a large river served as the boundary line. Above it stood a wooden bridge wrapped in thick, long ropes to keep it as stable as possible.
In reality, people fought and died near this bridge every single day to maintain control over it.
"Shirou, you've finally come to see me." From within the woods backlit by the sun, a dark figure toying with a flower stepped out.
"Eh? Artoria?" Shirou gazed at the emerging silhouette. Seeing the girl with pure golden hair and a majestic aura, he felt as if he had returned to his past life—to that knightly blonde girl in armor who appeared in the moonlit shed.
"No, something seems off. Who are you?" Shirou asked in confusion.
"Prince, I am your most loyal knight, Roland," the golden-haired female knight said, offering the flower in her hand to Shirou.
"E-Eh!?" Shirou cried out in surprise.
According to what Gabriel had said, because she was Gabriel, she played the role of the Archangel Gabriel. Thus, Roland—the synonym for a Paladin—and Artoria—the King of Knights—shared many similarities.
"The Saint Graph is indeed that of Artoria, but there are differences." Shirou observed the blonde, blue-eyed woman, then took the Holy Sword from his horse and handed it to her.
"Roland, this is the Holy Sword that the Angel Gabriel entrusted me to deliver to you."
"Oh, thank you! Shirou, to celebrate this momentous day, let's have a passionate embrace!" The blonde woman casually accepted the Holy Sword, toyed with it for a moment, and hung it from her belt. She then looked at Shirou with a brilliant smile, spreading her arms wide in ecstasy, waiting for the youth to throw himself into her bosom.
"No, that won't be necessary," Shirou said, waving his hands and taking two steps back. Despite the familiar face, her demeanor and personality were completely different, making it very difficult for him to adapt.
"Heh, sweetheart, didn't you come to see me? Are you being shy now? How cute. If you won't come over, then I'll come to you." Roland laughed, leaning toward Shirou.
"Stop! Stop!" Shirou barked, halting the girl.
The blonde woman looked heartbroken. "Shirou, for your sake, I've traveled from Europe to Asia, and then rushed back from Asia to Europe, making two round trips. Do you still intend to test the sincerity of my heart?"
"Eh?"
The blonde woman suddenly grabbed Shirou's hand. Her predatory gaze fixed on the youth as she said, "You can't possibly tell me you haven't felt my feelings for you."
"No, calm down!" Shirou said, startled, trying to reason with her.
"Calm? You want me to be calm? How can I be calm in your presence? My feelings for you are as burning hot as an erupting volcano. If you still don't believe me, then reach into my chest with your own hands and pull out my heart." Roland said excitedly.
"No! No! There's no need to go that far!" Shirou shouted.
"Hmm..." Roland rested her chin in her hand, staring directly at Shirou.
"Um?" Shirou looked at her, puzzled.
"Hmm..." The other party looked back at Shirou very seriously.
"Well...?" The blonde girl then cupped Shirou's face with both hands, tilting it from side to side, and then spoke with total sincerity:
"Shirou! Your face... you really do look more handsome from the right side!"
"Please just give me back the normal Artoria!" Shirou sighed with a wry smile, turning his head away.
"Hey! You bastard! Get your hands off Prince Shirou right now!"
At that moment, as if in answer to Shirou's prayers, a silver-haired girl came galloping over.
"Jeanne..." Shirou said.
However, Roland stood up first, blocking the way and shouting, "Ferragus! You've come to interfere again!"
As the Abbasid warrior Ferragus, even though her true form was the silver-haired Jeanne d'Arc, she was a rebel who contradicted the Saint in every way—hating France and rejecting Christian doctrine. She truly was an enemy of Christendom.
"Wahahaha! Let's fight to the death, Roland!"
"Ferragus! Don't you dare disturb my private time with Shirou!"
"Hah? As if I'd ever let you stay alone with Shirou," the silver-haired girl shouted, her eyes glaring with rage.
"HAAAH!!!"
The Paladin Roland and the Abbasid warrior Ferragus—the strangely altered Artoria and Jeanne—clashed amidst flames and sword light. Explosions thundered and lightning shook the earth. For a time, the clearing became a disaster zone.
Just then, Shirou saw another figure on horseback slowly approaching. The silhouette on the horse felt very familiar.
As the horse drew closer, he realized it was Xuanzang.
The wounded Xuanzang brought nothing but bad news. The girl struggled to speak, losing consciousness after uttering a single sentence: "Sita was wounded and captured by Charlemagne... beware, the Witch..."
"Hey! Xuanzang!" Shirou caught the black-haired woman as she fell from the horse, picking her up and fleeing toward the mountains in the rear.
Behind them, red light and black smoke surged ominously. Dozens of ghostly, soulless spirits appeared. Only with the help of the others did Shirou manage to break away from them, running toward higher ground while floating through the air.
"Infidels... kill!" "Enemies of the Witch... punish!"
Black veils hid their faces as they galloped on horseback, the vibration of the horses palpable. Black scarves were tied around their arms, and sharp Saracen scimitars hung at their waists—blades that could take a life with a single stroke across the throat.
They were like ghosts, yet they were not; they were like assassins, yet they were not. As the famous "Black Veil Army" led by Astolfo under Charlemagne, they were originally supposed to guard the city where Charlemagne resided.
But now, their eyes were hollow and soulless, appearing to lack self-awareness. They were an assassination squad dispatched by the Witch, having pursued Xuanzang all this way.
Shirou could only carry Xuanzang and retreat step by step. Unfortunately, the scimitars gave him no opening.
Steel clashed against steel, and sparks flew from the meeting of blades. A severed section of a scimitar spun through the air before embedding itself in the ground.
It was Roland. The girl with Artoria's body stood up and stepped forward, shielding Shirou.
"Shirou, let me fight for you! No! I want to fight for you! Hahahaha!" Roland unsheathed her Holy Sword and stood laughing in front of the Black Veil Army.
"Roland, but they are your comrades, aren't they?"
"Their state is strange. I'll apologize later, but for now, Shirou, just focus on your own escape!" Roland shouted.
"I understand!" Shirou pulled Xuanzang onto a horse and vaulted up, preparing to flee.
At that moment, more of the Black Veil Army emerged, surrounding Shirou. A rotating pillar of fire streaked toward them, forcing the veiled women back.
"Jeanne! Thank you!" Shirou shouted gratefully.
"Shirou! Go! And I am Ferragus!" the silver-haired girl shouted, charging into the Black Veil Army.
"I know! Thank you!" Shirou kicked the horse's flanks and charged away into the distance.
"Hmph, so you came to help too," Roland glanced at her mortal enemy.
"Well, consider this a temporary truce!" Jeanne said fiercely.
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.
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Meanwhile, in Charlemagne's palace, the Jungle Witch sat in the courtyard, leisurely sipping wine. To her, Charlemagne was an irredeemable fanatic who wanted to forcibly twist the world into a single faith and change the thoughts of everyone on Earth.
When Shirou reached the outskirts of the castle:
"Shirou, you've finally arrived." The Jungle Witch appeared with a smile.
"Jungle Witch! What exactly is your goal!" Shirou asked with a frown.
The Witch laughed and waved her hand. "Don't be so agitated. Answer my question first: since you cut your connection with the God, what have you gained?"
As a truly independent individual for the first time, was he not relaxed? Would he not want to do something?
"The scissors aren't enough to cut your bond forever; it's only a matter of time." The Witch handed the scissors to Shirou and said, "I hope Shirou can stay here forever."
"What do you mean by that? Do you want me to do something?" Shirou held the scissors, asking in confusion.
"Fufufu, no rush, no rush. I look forward to your performance." The Jungle Witch gave a mysterious smile and vanished instantly.
"Wait! Don't run!" Shirou shouted.
But the Jungle Witch ignored him, simply smiling as she disappeared.
Shirou could only continue forward, entering Charlemagne's city. Perhaps because the Black Veil Army had been dispatched, the patrolling soldiers no longer possessed the vigor they had when he first escaped. They seemed to be in a hypnotic state of half-sleep and half-wakefulness.
Taking advantage of this, Shirou successfully slipped into the city's dungeon. Sure enough, he saw a red-haired girl with twin tails lying inside a cage.
"Sita! I'm here to save you!"
On the door was an inscription: One person at a time; a cage where none but the purely righteous may pass. It seemed to be enchanted with magecraft, which Shirou understood at a glance.
Nevertheless, Shirou entered, pulled Sita up, and placed her arm over his shoulder.
"Sorry... Shirou, I was defeated," the red-haired girl said weakly.
"It's okay! Just focus on healing for now," Shirou said softly to her.
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"Shirou, you actually understand, don't you? If you go to meet the White God according to the Counter Force's wishes, what kind of end awaits you?"
"I won't know until I try!" Shirou retorted.
"If you do that, there are only two possible futures. Either you are devoured and assimilated by the White Being, losing your own will, or you are deemed a redundant existence and destroyed. With your meager power, how could you possibly oppose such a titan?" the Jungle Witch said.
"So, just stay here. Everything happened because I, the Witch, framed you; it wasn't a case of you refusing to save others, so you have no reason to feel guilty."
"Humans aren't things that can change just because they want to. You are an avatar of the White God. Your life will be much, much longer than you imagine. Long after your family and your sister have grown wrinkled and died of old age, you will still be alive."
"Until everyone you know no longer exists. I believe you will eventually become just like the White God. Human thoughts change constantly; your thoughts at ten are worlds apart from your thoughts at twenty. You, a hundred years from now, will certainly be different from the you of today. I won't let the current you meet the God. Perhaps one day in the future your mind will change, and then I can send you out. But until then, you shall stay here forever."
"Hehehe!" The Jungle Witch laughed and left the secret room.
"Don't go! Witch!" Shirou shouted, gripping the iron bars of the secret chamber's door.
"Shirou... you should understand. That God actually cannot see you. How can a God without desires or needs have human wants? Subconsciously, that God has long since abandoned you. If your relationship was the same as the other avatars, the moment I cut your connection, he would have dispatched powerful enforcers to destroy me. But now? Nothing has happened. That's right—you are the forgotten one, and I won't let the White God remember."
"The Counter Force is an existence that is only loyal to its own purpose. Your subconscious is merely trying to make you sacrifice yourself for its goal."
"Just stay in this world. It's fine. Everything will be over soon." The receding Witch uttered strange whispers. Though her voice was small, it echoed in the youth's heart like a curse.
In the dark void, the Jungle Witch muttered to herself, "If it turns out like that, then I can fulfill my purpose as well."
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