As the Holy Grail War raged fiercely onward, Jeanne d'Arc belatedly arrived on the battlefield from afar.
Ever since the war had begun, Jeanne had traveled first from France to Trifas in Romania, then hurried from Trifas to the Red faction's stronghold in Sighișoara.
She then spent considerable effort tracking the movements of the Red faction throughout Sighișoara.
Soon after, due to the battle erupting near the outskirts of Trifas, she found herself racing back yet again.
By daylight, Jeanne had begun investigating the mysterious incidents of civilians whose hearts had been removed. Guided once more by her [Revelations], she returned to Sighișoara.
Now, here she was, yet again, back in Trifas.
In merely three days, Jeanne had rushed between these two locations three separate times.
With her recent activities, Jeanne felt she might as well abandon her title of "Ruler" altogether, jokingly calling herself a new Servant class: "Runner."
After all, aside from herself, another figure on the Red side shared the ability of [Revelation], rendering it extremely difficult for her to track him down through divine guidance alone.
Moreover, Assassin's Floating Garden was no joke. Jeanne had indeed sensed its presence in Sighișoara via [Revelation], but its incredible speed meant she couldn't catch up, especially since she herself lacked the ability to fly.
Thus, Jeanne hurriedly reached the battlefield between Black and Red Factions at last.
The entire battlefield was pure chaos.
Shouts of battle, stone shattering, bones being crushed, flames consuming all, cries of bliss from the paradise, and the thunderous roar of magical energy blasts filled the air.
This Holy Grail War had truly become an outright war, with casualties mounting in the hundreds, perhaps even thousands, beneath the destructive power of Servants wielding Anti-Army Noble Phantasms.
Both sides' armies had been virtually annihilated within mere moments, leaving behind nothing but corpses, wreckage, and debris.
Jeanne gripped her banner tightly, her gaze sharply surveying the battlefield.
Although she'd witnessed even bloodier battles before, as someone who grew up in a simple village, she would have preferred that war never occurred at all.
Then, amidst the carnage, she spotted a familiar figure—a boy with bright red hair.
The armor he wore was now battered, broken, and largely destroyed, yet he tirelessly searched among endless piles of corpses and debris, seeking out homunculi who might still be alive.
Even though his hands were soaked in blood and his legs had nearly lost sensation, Emiya Shirou continued his desperate search for survivors amid a battlefield where death could strike at any second.
Yet despite all this, Shirou's lips held a faint smile—not only because he had managed to save so many lives, but also because he felt a significant amount of mana being suddenly drained from him, just after the Yggdmillennia homunculi had ceased providing mana.
There was only one person who could draw mana from him like this—aside from his own projection magecraft:
His Servant, Arthur.
If Arthur still required mana from him, that meant Arthur was still alive. How could Shirou not be happy?
Still, Shirou didn't rush off to find Arthur immediately. Instead, he continued removing rubble, lifting corpse after corpse, desperately checking each for signs of life.
"You—"
Seeing Shirou covered head to toe in blood, Jeanne wasn't sure how to address him.
She desperately wished she could extend a helping hand, assisting him in saving the few remaining lives on this battlefield.
But she couldn't. To do so would mean taking a side.
Such an action was strictly forbidden for her as a Ruler-class Servant.
Shirou Emiya, nominally, was a Master of the Black faction, and these homunculi belonged to Black as well. As Ruler, Jeanne was absolutely prohibited from intervening.
Hearing someone calling out to him, Shirou slowly lifted his half-closed eyes, glancing up.
"Ruler-san…?"
Shirou tried to stand up, but his legs trembled beneath him as if he would collapse at any moment. Without a Servant protecting him, Shirou had suffered far too many aftershocks on the battlefield.
The flames generated by Karna and his opponent's fierce battle, the overwhelming blasts from the Floating Garden directed toward the Primordial Man, and the endless swarms of Dragon Tooth Warriors flooding the battlefield—all of these had battered Shirou relentlessly.
On this battlefield, Emiya Shirou's strength was negligible at best.
He lacked the power to break through the shield barrier around the Floating Garden. Any projected sword he fired toward the barrier was effortlessly intercepted by automatic magical defenses.
Moreover, he himself had become targeted by the Garden's barrage of magical artillery, making it impossible for him to approach.
Karna's battlefield was even less accessible. If Shirou recklessly interfered there, he'd likely be consumed instantly by flames hot as the sun.
Thus, Shirou had no choice but to focus solely on saving lives amid the chaos.
But the Red Faction's Assassin had sent over three thousand Dragon Tooth Warriors into battle. Meanwhile, nearly half of Black's army had been wiped out by the sudden bombardment, leaving only the remnants Vlad III had hidden in the forests for ambush.
Combined with the continuous bombardment and collateral damage of Servants' battles, Black's forces were now nearly wiped out.
In essence, Shirou alone stood against countless Dragon Tooth Warriors. Though he could easily defeat them individually, having already been struck once by an EX-ranked energy blast, his body was drenched in blood from injuries both old and new.
Already wounded severely, he faced overwhelming numbers of enemies capable of wearing him down slowly, like ants bringing down an elephant.
Moreover, he had to protect the critically wounded homunculi at the same time.
Under all these conditions, though something within him prevented mortal injury, Shirou still teetered dangerously close to exhaustion.
Seeing Jeanne approach, Shirou instinctively stood up, attempting a polite greeting. However, intense weakness exploded upward from his legs.
Standing too quickly, Shirou lost control and toppled forward.
Jeanne hadn't expected Shirou to collapse so suddenly. Reacting swiftly, she caught him gently before he hit the ground.
Seeing Shirou's fragile condition and reckless courage, Jeanne felt her heart tighten painfully.
To save others on a battlefield—no matter which side you were on—was a profoundly respectable act.
Moreover, Shirou was merely fifteen. In modern times, he would be no different from Laeticia, the girl whose body Jeanne inhabited, both just ordinary high school students.
Seeing someone so young endure the horrors of the battlefield filled Jeanne with profound sorrow.
But perhaps she had forgotten, for at the mere age of sixteen, Jeanne herself had once stepped onto a battlefield no ordinary person could imagine—and had emerged victorious.
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