[[ HELP MEEEEEEEEEE!!!! ]]
The flames packed inside the ash puppets triggered a massive explosion!
"NGUUUUWAAAAAAAH!!!"
The blast wasn't enough to be a fatal wound for a Servant—or rather, she made sure it wasn't. Jalter had adjusted the explosive power to be just enough to cause agonizing damage.
This was a Jalter Original: The Anti-Stress Pierre Explosion Tactic.
"Injecting flames into the ashes of those who once burned her, creating pseudo-puppets to throw at the enemy. These fire-driven dolls are extremely fragile; they collapse at the slightest touch—only to leave behind an explosion that consumes everything in the immediate vicinity."
The King explained the mechanics while devouring a gold-plated dango. Fou hopped around to make sure the sparks didn't singe his fur.
"—That fire belongs to her Noble Phantasm! Jeanne can be so versatile...!" Ea marveled at Jalter's tactical ingenuity.
Normally, such crude puppets wouldn't stand a chance against a Servant. A Heroic Spirit would simply keep their distance or parry them.
But—a Berserker is different. They have no choice but to eliminate the obstacles before them. They can only eliminate them. And that was the key.
[[[[ HELP MEEEEE!!!! ]]]]
Massive explosions and pillars of fire scorched Caligula.
"NGGGGGGGH!!!"
[[[[ HELP ME... HELP ME... HELP ME... ]]]]
For every one Jalter burned, more ash was born, more fire was replenished, and new Pierre-bombs were created.
Elimination, explosion, production. Elimination, explosion, production. Jalter sneered at the sight of Caligula trapped in his own self-destructive loop.
"Fufu. A comical dance between a savage beast and a pig fattened on his own greed. Shall we finish this?"
"Jeanne... you're so cool!! Like, you really don't hold back!"
Blushing at Rikka's praise, Jalter gathered the "heart-fire" used to control the Pierres into her left hand.
[[[[[[ HELP MEEEEE!!! ]]]]]]
The Pierres swarmed Caligula in a final wave, burying him under sheer numbers and heat.
"NGGGGGGGGH—!!!"
"Now, scatter into dust. Farewell."
Jalter crushed the heart-fire in her hand.
[[ HELP— ]]
"『Roar, O' My Fury — La Grondement Du Haine』—!"
She squeezed her fist tight. Every Pierre began to glow, and then—
[[[[[[ HELP MEEEEEEEEE!!!! ]]]]]]
A catastrophic detonation. A "filthy firework" erupted, the flames of her heart's resentment consuming the entire area. A pillar of fire that defied gravity surged upward, painting the night in a violent crimson.
"Ahahaha! Hahaha! Good work, Pierre! That was a lovely self-destruction! Though I wish you'd looked a little more pathetic at the end! Ah, I feel so refreshed! This is the best! I want to do it again!"
Jalter rolled around laughing. Rikka gently walked over and patted her head.
"The... form of the attack aside, you've gotten really strong, Jeanne."
"—Yes. I won't be a burden to you anymore."
The sadistic glint and mad laughter faded. Rikka's voice and touch acted as the anchor, pushing back the madness and sadism, providing a foundation for reason.
In truth, Rikka was the brake and the steering wheel for the "Runaway Express" that was the Avenger Jeanne Alter. Normally, an Avenger never stops. Their hatred and resentment burn until they have scorched everything—including themselves—into nothingness.
Yet here she was, learning cooperation, controlling her ego and her emotions. Her pride in being "your pride" allowed her to suppress those negative emotions with sheer will and resolve.
For Jeanne Alter, Rikka was her "Core." She burned her life for Rikka's sake. A fire with a purpose never burns its owner.
That was how precious that meeting—and that voice calling out to her—had been.
~
"Someday, I want to summon that Jeanne, too. Because... she was so, so cool."
~
For the sake of that wonderfully "idiotic" Master who sought out the Dragon Witch for such a simple reason, Jeanne would wield her flames.
"—..."
"Hm? What's up, Jeanne?"
"—Fufu. It's nothing."
She would follow her to the depths of hell. In every battle to come, Jalter would embrace her pride, burning and trampling everything in their path.
No matter the battle—even if it were a fight that ended the world. Or a ridiculous event. Or a battle to flee from a world they had grown tired of. Jeanne would smile and fight for Rikka until the very end.
Because that was only natural. To use her life for the one Master in the world who had wanted her—that was the most obvious thing in the world.
"—Is this the end of this strange parade? How disappointing."
Because, more than her revenge against the world, more than her anger at the unreasonable—
"It's okay! We'll fight together again in the next event!"
"—That's right. You can call for me whenever, wherever, okay?"
Jeanne gave a shy smile.
"After all... I am your pride."
To be your pride. That was the most important, the most wonderful source of self-worth she had. Jeanne reaffirmed that simple resolve in her heart once more.
"It seems the match is settled. Now, I shall reclaim these dango."
The Heroic King reached for one of the bags to store it away—but...
"...Hm?"
It was heavy. Strangely heavy. For dango to be this difficult for him to lift...
"...Wh... what...? The bag...? Wait, let me see..."
Caligula crawled forward, reaching for the bag. "Glory... must be given to the victor... It is wrong to obstruct it..."
As they opened it...
"—Dango is good civilization. Therefore, this belongs to me."
"Nu—?"
In a single stroke, Caligula was cleaved in two. Along with the bag.
"Hm. I accidentally cut the cloth as well. Forgive me. I shall not destroy life (munch munch)."
"—Altera...?"
Everyone stood speechless at the sheer absurdity of the intrusion. And in the midst of that—
"It's here! It's our turn, Darling! Wait for us, Rikka! We're here to save you!"
"The only thing in 'danger' is your brain! Argh, listen to me—!!"
One way or another, the story was heading for its climax!
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