In a pitch-black void, a tiny bubble floated.
Inside the bubble, like a projection, scenes flickered by—some engulfed in darkness, some bright as daylight, and others with fleeting human figures. From beginning to end, these scenes spanned a long, long time.
After watching the images displayed in the bubble, Angra Mainyu propped his chin on his hand, lost in thought.
"You really like peeking into other people's pasts, don't you?"
Next to the bubble stood a motionless crucifix.
Tied to it, limbs bound by ropes, was Roy. His expression was cold as he looked at Angra Mainyu, his tone filled with undisguised disdain.
The Nightmare Curse Spirit floated beside him, half its eyes locked tightly on him. It resembled a monster from a horror film, enough to send chills down anyone's spine.
"Just a bit, ah—but don't get me wrong. I don't care about anyone else's past. It's only because it's yours that I'm interested. Can't you understand how focused I am on you?"
"Disgusting. Can you cut off your tongue?"
"What a cold person, yare yare."
Though Angra Mainyu sighed as he spoke, his smug tone made it easy to imagine the proud expression on his face.
Roy couldn't suppress the wave of disgust surging in his heart.
In his malicious state, he didn't like holding back, so he directly cursed out loud.
"A worthless scum like you is truly worse in person than the stories say. Did you hide away while humans evolved? Must've been tough for you, looking like a human. I suggest you stay home. The streets aren't for humanoid creatures to roam freely..."
A string of barbed insults, both overt and subtle, made Angra Mainyu's brow twitch uncontrollably.
As the embodiment of malice, Angra Mainyu didn't care much for mere verbal abuse.
What surprised him was how Roy could deliver such fluent and cutting insults. Just how much had he studied cursing?
"Enough."
Angra Mainyu shook his head, slightly bored.
"Back to the point—even after watching all of your past, I still can't understand. How do you suppress that deep-seated malice? Is it just because of something that girl Jeanne once said? That can't be it, right?"
That girl named Jeanne was simply too saintly, like a saint with no selfish desire or shadow.
Her words and actions didn't suit a normal human being.
More importantly, Angra Mainyu intuitively felt that Roy wasn't persuaded back by Jeanne's words alone.
As the embodiment of malice, he was extremely sensitive to it.
He could see that although Roy's words and actions were full of malice, his core logic, his beliefs as a person, weren't just about malice.
But if not malice, then what? Angra Mainyu couldn't see it.
There was something about Roy—a conviction that puzzled and confounded him. It was likely Roy's foundational principle.
It was definitely not something borrowed, nor something derived from another's words, because Angra Mainyu could feel it: Roy's beliefs weren't fragile. They felt more like something formed over a long period of time, a core that was uniquely his.
"I refuse to answer."
Roy flatly rejected further discussion with Angra Mainyu.
"Besides, I don't need to answer. Right now, it's you who should be nervous."
Angra Mainyu tilted his head.
In the current situation, Roy was clearly his prisoner. Those who came to save him were trapped in his dreamscape. What gave him the confidence to say something like that?
He thought for a moment and was about to speak when he suddenly froze.
Vmmm—!
As if echoing Roy's words, a crimson magic circle appeared beneath their feet and rapidly expanded.
From it emerged several girls, each with distinct styles. Among them were Okita, a twin-tailed girl, and a white-haired little girl.
The last one was a blonde, blue-eyed battle nun with a graceful figure.
"Jeanne? Why is she here?"
Even Roy was momentarily stunned by this unexpected reinforcements.
'Miss Jeanne came to the Aozaki house on her own and requested to enter the dream to save you. Strangely, she seems very concerned about you!'
Taigong Wang's playful voice rang in Roy's mind, sounding very much like someone enjoying a good show.
Since entering the dream, Taigong Wang had maintained contact with Roy.
Transferring Okita and the others here was also a result of Roy's prior instructions—to provide support at the appropriate time.
This hidden trump card was indeed well-placed.
In the pitch-black void—
The moment Jeanne appeared from the formation, her eyes immediately locked onto Roy.
Her gaze was incredibly complex.
Relief, guilt, and compassion—all kinds of emotions swirled within.
The moment she appeared, Okita charged straight at the Nightmare Curse Spirit. Her blade cut through the air with unstoppable force, aiming to fully restrain it and prevent it from unleashing any abilities.
Rin and Illya wasted no time freeing Roy from the crucifix.
Roy landed on the ground and flexed his wrists.
Then, he suddenly looked up at Jeanne.
In an instant, he caught the full complexity of her gaze.
Their eyes met—and caught off guard, Jeanne's eyes flickered with panic. She quickly looked away, not daring to meet Roy's gaze.
"Hmph!"
Roy snorted coldly.
"So that's it. You feel sorry, huh…? What a truly touching apology!"
As he said this, his voice rose by several notches.
Even if she didn't want to, Jeanne couldn't help but hear it. Her delicate body trembled, shoulders shrinking slightly as if she wished she could disappear from his sight.
"A-Angolamanue!"
As if trying to divert his attention, Jeanne bit her lip, raised her head, and shouted angrily at Angra Mainyu.
But her embarrassed flush and slight stammer completely deflated her momentum.
"That's not my name."
Angra Mainyu retorted, then clicked his tongue in frustration.
"Still, I didn't expect the saint to show up. She's probably my worst matchup... Ah, failure, what a failure!"
"From now on, I won't let you do whatever you want!"
As expected of a battle-hardened saint, Jeanne quickly forced herself into combat mode.
Whatever she was anxious about, she didn't hesitate—immediately drawing the silver rapier from her waist.
She decisively sliced her palm open with it, then knelt devoutly, hands clasped, eyes closed in prayer.
"O Lord, this body I offer unto Your will—"
Blazing flames, as radiant as sunlight, burst forth from her body. The fire bloomed like a lotus flower, layer upon layer of fiery petals expanding, spreading outward in all directions.
At the same time, Jeanne was completely transformed, clad in concept armour as pure and flawless as that of a saint.
"The heavens declare the glory of the Lord; the skies proclaim the work of His hands.
Day after day they pour forth speech; night after night they reveal knowledge.
They have no speech, they use no words; no sound is heard from them.
Yet their voice goes out into all the earth, their words to the ends of the world.
From the ends of the heavens it rises, and makes its circuit to the other end.
My end is here. My fate is here. My life is here.
My existence amounts to nothing, like a shadow drifting about.
My bow cannot save me; my sword cannot rescue me.
With the only thing I have left, may I protect his steps.
O Lord, this body I offer unto Your will—after despair comes hope!!!"
***
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