Swept up in a whirlwind of dizzying fantasies that vastly exceeded her original expectations, Jeanne found herself utterly lost in her own mind. Her fingers remained loosely curled around the radiant amber crystal shard, her lips sealed in total silence. It was blindingly obvious to everyone in the room that she had plunged deep into a heavy train of thought, and out of collective courtesy, no one made any move to disturb her.
Instead, the engineering crew and leadership simply left Jeanne to her own devices in her corner, stepping away to discuss various mechanical logistics while occasionally glancing back over their shoulders to see if she had snapped out of her daze.
Yet, when they checked on her for the third time, they were met with a truly miraculous sight: the young girl had somehow managed to fall fast asleep while remaining in that exact same contemplative pose!
What kind of logic was that? The entire room was left thoroughly speechless by Jeanne's terrifying ability to fall asleep at the drop of a hat. She truly was a deeply eccentric anomaly of a woman.
In truth, even Jeanne herself had absolutely no idea when she had crossed the threshold into slumber. Perhaps she had focused so intensely on the mechanical logistics of her summoning magic that her consciousness had simply slipped away, quietly escorting her straight into the dream realm.
But the precise timing mattered very little to her now. The only thing consuming Jeanne's thoughts was a desperate urge to get that massive subterranean meteor excavated as fast as humanly possible so she could finally test her hypothesis! For the longest time, she had truly believed that achieving this specific feat would remain entirely impossible for the rest of her days.
It was true that Jeanne had already summoned a staggering number of draconic species to fight by her side, and she deeply treasured the well-being of every single wyvern under her command. But if someone were to look her in the eyes and demand to know which dragon she shared the absolute deepest bond with, the answer would undeniably, overwhelmingly be Talulah—!
Wait, no! That's completely wrong!
The moment that erratic thought crystallized, Jeanne violently shook her head in her sleep, instantly purging the ridiculous notion from her mind. While Talulah certainly qualified as a majestic dragon in her own right, that correlation only applied if they were discussing the broader, biological taxonomy of the draconic race.
When it came to evaluating the pure, unadulterated apex of the species—the absolute pinnacle of draconic existence—Jeanne wasn't referring to the lesser wyverns or sub-dragons currently bound to her grimoire. She was thinking of the legendary beings that resided strictly within the realm of ancient myth and prehistory: the True Dragons.
They were a species of flawless, terrifying perfection. And while it was true that across modern Terran mythologies, these cataclysmic entities were often reduced to mid-tier bosses meant to provide legendary heroes with experience points, high-grade armor, and historical glory, that narrative trope didn't mean True Dragons were weak.
In reality, these creatures were far more terrifying than a localized Catastrophe. To any ordinary mortal who didn't possess the historic, epoch-making prowess of a legendary hero, standing before a True Dragon meant being reduced to nothing more than a fragile, instantly popping bubble.
And the absolute strongest entity locked within Jeanne's summoning registry was none other than the catastrophic beast that had once terrorized the verses of the Nibelungenlied—the dragon of absolute, unmatched physical devastation: Fafnir!
During its era, that dragon had existed as an essentially invincible force of nature (even if it did, ultimately, get slain by Siegfried). It had held absolute dominion over the Gold and a mountain of endless, ancient treasure, commanding such a terrifying reputation that despite the boundless greed of the surrounding kingdoms, no one dared to make a move against its hoard (even if it did, ultimately, get slain by Siegfried).
Alright, so it had ultimately been cut down by Siegfried (Fafnir: That is enough! That is the third time you've mentioned it, I have a reputation to uphold here!). But considering that Siegfried had held the historical title of the most valiant and peerless warrior of humanity during that age, falling to his blade wasn't exactly an embarrassing stain on one's legacy.
Jeanne had fantasized about summoning Fafnir on multiple occasions in the past. If she could successfully manifest that titan into reality, she could comfortably deploy it to guard their base of operations whenever she needed to travel across the continent, fully confident that Talulah and the rest of the vanguard would remain completely secure under its shadow.
If the Emperor of Ursus ever suffered a sudden lapse in judgment and attempted to launch a surprise military campaign against her people while she was away, Fafnir possessed more than enough raw destructive power to force a sudden change in the imperial line of succession—or, more likely, force the entire Ursus government to relocate their capital to a distant, exile territory.
But pulling off a manifestation of that scale was a monumental logistical nightmare. Jeanne didn't possess a relic as boundless as the Holy Grail to provide her with the infinite sea of magical energy required to pull a True Dragon into this world. After all, she was already forced to chew through an entire ration of Originium Prime every single week just to summon a handful of basic flying wyverns!
Attempting to summon a cataclysmic entity of Fafnir's caliber demanded an astronomical reservoir of magical energy. Even if Jeanne abandoned all other responsibilities and spent three consecutive months doing nothing but devouring raw, high-grade Originium Prime day and night, the accumulated energy still wouldn't scratch the surface of the deficit.
Following the total failure of her previous experimental attempt, Jeanne had long since abandoned the idea of summoning Fafnir, locking it away as an utterly impractical, daydreamer's fantasy.
Yet, she never could have anticipated that the profound surprise promised by her Revelations would manifest in this exact shape!
As she sat slumped on the couch, entirely detached from her surroundings, a massive, unconcealable smile spread across her face. She giggled softly in her sleep, drifted a bit deeper into her dreams, and then let out another quiet laugh, completely trapped in her own euphoria.
The Doctor and the engineering crew stared at her shifting expressions, a sudden wave of genuine concern washing over them. They began to openly worry if the relentless, high-intensity medical schedules of the past week had finally shattered the young girl's psychological baseline.
How did we manage to break this poor child's brain the moment we turned our backs?
Amidst the bewildered onlookers, Kal'tsit was the sole individual who remained entirely unfazed by the sudden display of eccentric behavior. She had spent years watching the Doctor succumb to far more bizarre, unhinged mental collapses on a regular basis; a bit of sleep-giggling wasn't nearly enough to move her emotional needle.
Kal'tsit's flat, unreadable stare practically radiated a cold, internal monologue: Your behavior and your expression are utterly ridiculous.
Fortunately, Jeanne merely contented herself with smiling and laughing quietly in her sleep, refraining from engaging in any of the chaotic, destructive pranks that the Doctor usually pulled whenever she lost her sanity. The engineering staff checked her pulse a few times to ensure she wasn't suffering a sudden neurological relapse, and once they confirmed her health was perfectly stable, they let the matter drop.
"When can we head down to the impact zone to inspect the meteor?"
Jeanne had absolutely no concept of how many hours had ticked away while she slept. The very instant her eyes fluttered open, those words blurted out of her mouth as a pure, instinctual reflex.
She wanted to summon Fafnir right now! She couldn't bring herself to wait another single second! Even if the current energy levels proved insufficient to fully manifest the True Dragon, simply standing within the proximity of that massive subterranean core would do wonders to calm her racing heart.
When she fully surveyed her surroundings, she realized the bustling crowds had completely cleared out. Only Theresa remained in the chamber, sitting quietly beside her as she stared blankly at a nearby automated blast door with a look of intense, quiet contemplation, looking as though she desperately wanted to dismantle and repair the mechanism herself.
Jeanne blinked in surprise; she had never once picked up on the fact that the sovereign monarch of the Sarkaz harbored a latent passion for heavy mechanical engineering. Had Theresa not been completely empty-handed and secretly worried about staining her royal garments with industrial grease, she likely would have already pulled out a wrench and thrown herself into the machinery.
"Oh, you're finally awake!"
Theresa had been entirely absorbed in mentally charting out the structural repair of the pneumatic door when Jeanne's sudden, energetic outburst violently broke the silence, causing the monarch to jump slightly. She turned her head, a warm smile gracing her lips as she watched Jeanne sit up.
"But if you're planning to trek down to the collapse site right now, I'm afraid the hour has grown far too late," Theresa noted gently, gesturing with her hand toward a nearby observation window. "Perhaps it would be wiser to delay the inspection until tomorrow morning? As you can see, the environment outside has already fallen into total darkness..."
"Ah, has night fallen already? I had no idea I slept for such an immense block of time..." Jeanne mumbled absentmindedly, her gaze tracking the pitch-black void beyond the glass before shifting to focus on the scattered clusters of wax candles illuminating the power center.
A fraction of a second later, her sleep-deprived brain finally achieved full clarity, and she stiffened as a massive logical contradiction hit her. Something was profoundly wrong with this picture! They were currently entrenched deep within a sealed, subterranean cavern beneath the bedrock of Rim Billiton; what kind of celestial night sky was Theresa supposed to be looking at?!
"Ah... force of habit," Theresa chuckled softly, realizing the absurdity of her own gesture. They were trapped thousands of feet beneath the earth; there wasn't a single ray of natural sunlight or a moonlit horizon to observe. What on earth had she been pointing at?
"A short while ago, Closure and the Doctor appeared to be conducting a high-output stress test on one of the auxiliary power lines," Theresa explained, shifting the topic to clarify the current situation. "The moment they threw the primary switch, a massive short circuit rippled through the grid, plunging the entirety of Rhodes Island into pitch-black darkness. According to their initial diagnostics, the ancient distribution grid must have suffered a severe structural fault."
Theresa sighed softly, noting that she had been left behind to act as a solitary sentry to guard the sector while the remainder of the engineering teams and tactical staff dispersed into the dark corridors to locate the source of the failure.
Even Kal'tsit had proven to be far more intimately acquainted with the layout of this ancient vessel than Theresa herself. Had she not been thoroughly aware of just how terrifyingly vast and boundless her old friend's historical knowledge truly was, she would have spent the entire evening agonizing over how a baseline Terran clinician could navigate a prehistoric starship with such effortless precision.
"I see... in that case, I am completely useless in this scenario," Jeanne sighed, letting out a mild, self-deprecating laugh. When it came to navigating hyper-advanced, prehistoric electrical grids, she was more than happy to step aside and leave the heavy lifting to the professionals.
"But did I truly sleep for that long?" Still struggling to map out her missing hours, Jeanne received a wry smile from Theresa, who quietly informed her that based on the current chronological cycle, it was officially time for her to head back to bed for her actual night's rest.
As the two women shared a casual chat in the dim room, their eyes simultaneously locked onto the lone, flickering candle sitting on the console before them, its wax melting away at a rapid pace. A shared, silent thought passed between them: I wonder if this tiny flame will manage to survive until the primary power grid comes back online?
In moments like this, the complete absence of a Sankta operator felt like a massive logistical tragedy. If they had managed to bring even a single Lateran soldier along for this expedition, the radiant, divine halo floating above their head would have provided a flawless, infinite source of illumination. Who would ever need to waste time lighting primitive wax candles?
The exact second the flame died, plunging the room into absolute darkness, a massive hum vibrated through the bulkheads, and the entire chamber was instantly flooded with brilliant, stark white light. It appeared Closure and the Doctor had successfully bypassed the damaged circuitry and restored the primary power grid.
Yet, when the heavy security door finally slid open, Closure was the solitary figure who marched back into the command center. Even assuming Kal'tsit had already escorted little Amiya back to the residential block to ensure the child got some rest, where on earth had the Doctor wandered off to?
The two women immediately voiced their confusion, but to their disappointment, the Vampire mechanic merely shrugged her shoulders, entirely clueless as to the strategist's current whereabouts.
"The Doctor simply mentioned she had a few highly confidential, personal matters to oversee," Closure grumbled, wiping a fresh smudge of industrial grease from her forehead. "But I never expected the primary diagnostic to take this much time... Honestly, the structural signature of that circuit failure felt incredibly bizarre, almost as if someone had intentionally triggered the short circuit from a secondary terminal..."
While Closure continued to vent her suspicions in the power center, the Doctor was currently navigating a completely separate, heavily classified sector of the landship—a restricted, pitch-black zone that not a single member of modern Babel had ever set foot in.
The automated emergency relays within this forgotten sector had slowly flickered back to life, drawing power from the newly restored grid. The Doctor moved with heavy, deeply conflicted steps down the silent, metallic corridor, her boots echoing softly against the pristine plating until she finally ground to a halt before a colossal, seamlessly sealed blast door.
She stared at the ancient titanium barrier for an immeasurable length of time, her frame completely still within the shadows. When she finally broke the silence, her voice carried a trembling weight that she had hidden from the rest of the world for millennia.
"I'm home... Priestess," the Doctor whispered into the void.