A few minutes earlier.
High above France.
A massive black dragon wheeled through the sky, scanning the ground below. On its back rode Jeanne d'Arc Alter.
She leaned forward, eyes narrowed, hunting for any sign of Adam and the others. She had no exact fix on their location, so she'd split her Servants across multiple wyverns and sent them out in every direction.
Before they scattered, she had given them one crystal-clear order: the instant they spotted Adam's group, do not engage. Report back immediately. Only after they regrouped would they hit the enemy together.
That was why she wasn't worried any of them would rush in alone and get themselves killed.
At least, that was the plan…
Until now.
Jeanne d'Arc Alter suddenly sensed one of her own—Berserker Lancelot—bolting straight toward a single point, moving at full reckless speed.
It wasn't a casual advance. It was a full-on charge, like Gilles de Rais laying eyes on Jeanne, or Salieri spotting Mozart.
He had gone from a leisurely twenty kilometers per hour to a blazing hundred in the blink of an eye.
"What the hell is going on?"
She remembered warning Lancelot herself—multiple times—to report back the second he found anything. He had nodded like he understood.
So what could possibly make him lose his mind again?
Good news: she could still contact her Servants directly. She could just ask him what he'd seen.
Bad news: she had been shouting at him for the last minute straight—"Berserker! Stop!"—and the only reply was a guttural roar.
"Arthur~!!"
Even her direct command failed. Lancelot had completely broken free of her order and kept hurtling toward whatever had caught his eye.
"Wait—Berserker, what the hell did you see?!"
She felt him ignore her again, still charging full tilt, and her mind went blank.
Most of her Servants were reluctant to obey at the best of times, but the Mad Enhancement she layered on them forced compliance. And Lancelot, already a Berserker to begin with, should have had the deepest layer of madness among all of them.
So why was the maddest one of all suddenly the least obedient?
She still had options. She could send someone to drag him back.
Jeanne d'Arc Alter quickly scanned the positions of every Servant under her command and locked onto the closest one—Assassin Charles-Henri Sanson.
At the same time, Sanson was riding his own wyvern, dutifully sweeping the area for any trace of Adam's group. He was a professional; he would carry out his Master's orders to the letter.
But he also had one massive personal obsession: Marie Antoinette.
The moment he learned she was somewhere in the area, his excitement had spiked to the same insane level Lancelot reserved for Mash or Artoria Pendragon.
As he flew, his mind kept drifting to the pale nape of Marie's neck.
"I wonder when I'll get to see you again, my Queen… I'd love to swing at that lovely—"
A new voice cut through his thoughts.
"Assassin. Berserker's gone completely berserk for some reason—he won't respond to me. You're closest. Go see what's happening."
Sanson blinked, then recognized the voice of his Master, Jeanne d'Arc Alter. As a Servant with proper self-discipline, he obeyed without hesitation.
"Understood."
Simple and clear.
He turned his wyvern in the direction she indicated and sped off.
But she wasn't finished.
"Also, Assassin—the reason Berserker lost control might be that he actually found the enemy we told you about!"
"If that's the case, you must stop him!"
"I don't want to lose another Servant before the final battle even starts!"
Sanson froze mid-flight. After a brief pause, he replayed her words and his eyes widened.
"…Master, are you saying… there might be Marie over there with Berserker?"
Jeanne d'Arc Alter's voice faltered for half a second.
"…If Berserker really did find the enemy target, then yes, your Marie could be with them."
"But… why are you asking?"
Her tone carried suspicion—and a clear threat.
"I told you explicitly: the moment you locate the enemy, report back first. What exactly are you planning?"
Sanson had never worked so hard to keep the grin off his face.
When he answered, his voice was perfectly calm.
"Nothing at all, Master. Just asking. Even if Marie really is there, I'm not about to charge in like a madman the way Berserker did."
Jeanne d'Arc Alter heard the steady tone and decided Sanson still had enough sanity left. He wouldn't go rogue the second he saw his precious Queen.
She believed him.
"Good. If you can't stop him, at least slow him down. I'm on my way."
...
...
...
Sanson hovered in place for a full ten seconds, making sure her voice had truly gone silent.
Then the grin he had been fighting exploded across his face, stretching ear to ear.
He slammed his heels into the wyvern's sides and shot forward like a missile, overloaded wings beating hard enough to make the poor creature scream.
The speed matched Lancelot's own suicidal dash.
————————
Lancelot burst out of the treeline and into Adam's camp. One sweeping glance and his gaze locked onto "King Arthur."
"ARTHUR~!!!"
With a thunderous roar he spurred his wyvern, Arondight raised high, and charged straight at Jeanne d'Arc.
"Eh?!"
Startled, Jeanne instinctively lifted her spear to block.
Clang!
The sound wasn't steel on steel. It was steel on shield.
Black-and-red Arondight slammed against a pristine white shield.
Mash Kyrielight held the barrier one-handed, staring expressionlessly at the man she called "Father." The cold intensity in her eyes would have thrilled plenty of certain enthusiasts.
Her other hand balled into a fist and smashed into the back of her shield. The force rippled through the metal and blasted Lancelot backward more than ten meters. He twisted in mid-air, landed hard on both feet, and skidded to a stop.
The wyvern wasn't so lucky—it slammed into the ground beside him with a pained squawk.
Nearby, Mozart—still nursing a lump on his head—looked up and immediately guessed how Lancelot had found them.
No surprise. They had been fetching water on open plains with no cover. Lancelot must have spotted them, then followed their trail through the forest straight to the camp.
Adam glanced at the exact spot where Lancelot had emerged—right along the path Mash and the others had taken earlier—and reached the same conclusion.
"Followed the footprints, huh?"
Mash had already summoned her own shield and stepped up beside the other Mash.
Lancelot steadied himself. He stared at the familiar white shield in front of him, then at the equally familiar one beside the second Mash. Confusion flickered across his face for a few seconds before he let out another roar.
"Ar~thur…?"
This time the sound carried a hint of genuine bewilderment.
Ritsuka Fujimaru snapped into full alert the moment he saw Lancelot.
He scanned the Berserker's back, searching for reinforcements. After a long moment he realized Lancelot was completely alone.
The tension in Ritsuka's eyes melted into pure disbelief.
"Wait… this guy's really charging in solo?"
"One Servant against all of us…?"
He glanced around at their side: Siegfried, two Mash Kyrielights, two Marie Antoinettes, two Jeannes, two music maestros, the mysterious Kaguya-hime from earlier, and Martha. Oh, and the lazy angel—wherever she'd wandered off to.
Numbers didn't lie. They had Lancelot outnumbered nine to one.
"One Servant, nine of us. This should be interesting."
"He's not seriously here to throw his life away, is he?"
"Who even is this guy? Always this suicidal?"
"Hmm… how should I put it?"
Adam heard Ritsuka's mutter and glanced at the two Mash Kyrielights and Jeanne d'Arc.
If the Mash duo had drawn Lancelot here, then the one who had driven him completely insane had to be Jeanne.
Sure enough, the next second proved Adam right.
Lancelot tilted his head, eyes locking onto Jeanne behind the two shields. Madness flooded back into his expression.
"ARTHUR~~!!!"
He grabbed the fallen wyvern by the tail, swung the massive creature overhead like a club, and charged again—Arondight in one hand, "Wyvern Sword" in the other—aiming straight for the gap between the two shields and the saint behind them.
Jeanne watched the Berserker fixated on her, roaring incoherently, and felt utterly lost.
"Why does he keep coming after me? Do I know you?"
She had no memory of ever crossing paths with this knight in life. Had she somehow offended him without realizing it?
Lancelot, lost to madness, could only roar.
"ARTHUR~~!!!"
Even with two weapons he still couldn't break through the unbreakable wall formed by the two Mash Kyrielights.
Adam watched the disastrous "King Recognition" scene unfold and let out a quiet sigh.
First Gilles de Rais (Caster) mistook Artoria for Jeanne. Now Berserker Lancelot mistook Jeanne for Artoria.
All Adam could say was:
Takeuchi Takashi, you magnificent bastard.
Siegfried started forward to help, but a voice stopped her cold.
"If I were you, I wouldn't get involved."
The speaker was Swimsuit Jeanne d'Arc Alter. She sat casually to the side, legs crossed, already knowing exactly how this farce would end. She watched Lancelot's rampage with clear amusement.
"Why not?" Siegfried asked, pausing and turning.
Swimsuit Jeanne d'Arc Alter answered with nothing but two light, bell-like chuckles.
On the other side, Mozart rose to help as well—after all, he had been part of the water-fetching group and therefore partly responsible for leading Lancelot here. Salieri looked ready to join him.
Even the ever-helpful Marie Antoinette moved to step in.
"Ah-ah, none of that~"
Black Marie blocked all three of them with a single graceful motion.
"Why? Um… Black Marie?" Mozart asked, confused.
Black Marie tapped her delicate lips, considering how much to reveal. Having stayed close to Adam, she knew the tangled history between these Servants all too well.
"This is strictly a family matter for them," she said at last. "I'd strongly advise you three to stay out of it."
"Family matter?"
***
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