Ren stepped back into the Velvet Room once more. Igor and Lavenza were there as always. He glanced over at the jail cell and still saw that little speck that was Olga still floating there, dormant. He didn’t even remember falling asleep. All he remembered was shutting his eyes, trying to block out his friends’ voices, and before he knew it, he was here once more.

In a sense, it was a welcome relief. Now he had something to distract him for a bit longer.

“Welcome back, my Trickster,” Lavenza gently said, smiling up at him. He returned it with a grin of his own – which dimmed somewhat when he noticed that her smile was tremulous. “Now that you are in a Singularity and with its own collective unconsciousness, we can provide you with more power. However, it will be limited, nor will it be as powerful as Personas linked to your Servants.” She held up the Compendium and opened it. Most of the pages were still burnt, save for the one page with Cu Chulainn’s information marked on it. There were now multiple new pages, but they were all transparent, like they could fade away at any time.

Ren leafed through them, recognizing many of the Personas here: Pixie, Angel, Incubus… They seemed to correlate with the setting: Medieval times, so there were beings from folklore there, and Christianity, so he saw angels and devils there. While not having a huge number of options, it was still far better than what he had before. It would certainly be limiting if he could only use Arsene who, while powerful, still had his limits, or Cu Chulainn, who would render him catatonic if he pushed it too far.

He began picking personas to utilize. Pixie and Jack Frost were always good choices and were fairly low energy use. He took Succubus along too. Her mind affecting abilities would be helpful. Archangel too. That one might be more readily accepted by the people around. He took a few more just in case. A large number of them were, while powerful, too costly – he didn’t trust himself to be able to last if he brought them out and used them to fight for more than a couple minutes. There were three in particular where he pondered a bit longer. Then he smirked and summoned them as well. There wasn’t anyone else he wanted to bring, and they may prove to be useful.

He had to grin though – what would everyone’s reactions be if he actually used them?

“I’m surprised you’re not charging me fees,” Ren remarked as Lavenza closed the Compendium after he was done. “Not that I’m complaining, mind you – I’m not exactly overflowing with money at the moment. But even back with Yaldabaoth or Maruki, you guys still charged me for them.”

“The concept of ‘purchasing’ had long been engrained into the collective unconsciousness, my dear guest,” Igor answered. “In exchange for what you gave us, we would provide a ‘product’ in return. Even for fusions and executions, our ‘payment’ was the leftover energy that came from the process. There is no leftover energy with simply summoning your personas, so therefore a ‘payment’ is necessary.” Ren nodded. That made sense. “However, again, with the collective unconsciousness now so weak and Alaya providing what energy it can to preserve itself, we can forgo the concept. Of course, as you saw, we are still limited to what we can provide for you.”

Ren smiled and shrugged. “Better than nothing,” he easily commented. Being a Wild Card meant having more options to work with, to adapt to his enemies as necessary and strike at their weaknesses. Even a limited scale of it would be immensely helpful for the times ahead. He could already feel the presences of his personas in his mind, ready to be utilized whenever they were called for. As Lavenza noted, however, none of the Personas held as much ‘weight’ to them as Arsene or Cu Chulainn.

“My Trickster…”

He looked over at the little Velvet Room attendant and saw her looking up at him again, her expression sorrowful. “You truly bear a heavy burden,” she whispered. “I… I saw you cry. Both times. You miss your allies, your friends, your family, don’t you?”

A gigantic lump formed in his throat once more as he forced himself to give yet another easy smile. One he didn’t feel in the slightest. “Yeah, but that’s to be expected,” he replied casually. “We went through a lot together. But… it’s not like I can do anything about it by just crying, right? Once the Singularities are dealt with, then the Incineration of Humanity will be taken care of, and I’ll see them again. No big deal – it’s just like that time Yaldabaoth had us all disappear. It’s just for a bit longer is all.”

He reached over to gently pet the Velvet Room attendant on the head. “I’ll be fine, Lavenza, but thanks for worrying about me,” he reassured her, trying to smile. “I’m your Trickster, after all. Just believe in me, like you always have. I’ll restore everything in the end and bring everyone back. Then we can all celebrate. I’ll even take you out with us – there’s this one buffet where we went to celebrate taking down Kamoshida that had some of the best food we’ve ever had. You’ll love it.”

Lavenza blinked up at him through teary eyes and could only give an uncertain nod. Ren smiled once more, then turned to head back into his cell.

“A word of advice, my guest.”

Ren turned to look at Igor, who was regarding him with serious – and sympathetic – eyes. “It is fine to wish for the company of your old allies, for they are your source of strength,” he said. “But do not let that turn into neglect for your new allies. It would be most foolish to deny yourself new wellsprings of power when things are so tenuous.”

He blinked, then gave another half-hearted smile. “Got it, Igor,” he replied, turning back. “I’ll be sure to connect with them.” With that, he stepped through the back of his cell, which dissolved into the void, and he saw no more once again.

Lavenza clutched the Compendium tighter. “Master, will… will the Trickster falter in the end?” she asked.

Igor stared at the spot where Ren had vanished and sighed. “We can only hope he won’t, Lavenza,” he replied softly. “We can only hope.”

----------------------------------------

The next day, the group were on the road towards La Charite, as they had discussed the other night. The countryside seemed peaceful at first, but eventually it became eerie – they passed by farms and buildings that were empty or destroyed, the crops laying fallow. There weren’t any sounds of people nearby nor were there even any sounds of animals, even a bird chirp. The only thing they could hear was the occasional breeze that whistled through. Archer and Lancer stayed close by as opposed to scouting ahead. If Jeanne’s doppelganger could detect them, then it would be child’s play to spring an ambush on them before they could react.

“I recognize this tree. La Charite should be just ahead,” Jeanne pointed out.

Archer frowned and narrowed his eyes down the road. “If that’s the case, then it’s La Charite that’s burning right now,” Archer replied, summoning his twin blades to him once more. “I also sense a Servant ahead. While you might want to send us ahead, Master, it may be a trap to separate us. I suggest staying close together.”

Ren gritted his teeth but knew Archer had a point. “Fine, but let’s get a move on, guys!” Everyone nodded and charged forward. The Servants kept pace with the Masters so they wouldn’t be separated by their difference in abilities. Ren cursed himself for not being able to move faster. “Morgana?” he called out, looking down at his friend running alongside him, his legs moving so fast they were almost circular blurs.

Morgana activated his magic circuits and concentrated, but once more, nothing. “Sorry, Joker,” he replied apologetically. Ren just grimly nodded and kept running. Figures that Morgana couldn’t transform into his bus form. If this was modern times then maybe, but not in medieval France who didn’t even know what a bus was, let alone a transforming cat.

As they approached, Archer called out, “The Servant has retreated. It must’ve known we were coming!”

“Tch, figures,” Lancer grumbled. “Was hoping to get a good fight out of this.”

“Not important right now, Lancer!” Morgana snapped. “Even if there isn’t a Servant there, we need to take care of whatever damage control there is: taking down enemies, rescuing people, the works! Stay sharp, people!”

“Yes, Mr. Morgana!” Mash called out, hauling her shield as she continued running alongside everyone else.

However, when they reached La Charite, it was too late – all that remained were some burning cinders. Dead bodies littered the ruins of the village, some charred to pieces, others simply mangled or killed. Whatever happened here wasn’t just a pillaging raid or even an attack from an enemy. It was a wholesale slaughter, pure and simple.

“What… What could drive my doppelganger to do such this…?” Jeanne could only gasp out in horror.

Ren, however, didn’t take it quite so well. He had been born in more peaceful times, without conflict or war. Though he had delved in the Metaverse, the only deaths and casualties he saw were of inhuman things, be they ATMs as people back in Kaneshiro’s Palace or personally killing Shadows. The former were inhuman enough to detach himself from it, while the latter he carried out himself and was used to it. The sight of dead, mangled bodies with the scent of burning flesh turned his stomach inside out. And the flames gave him images. For a split second, he could see his friends as the bodies-

Running aside, he vomited his meager breakfast. Mash and Morgana ran over, with Mash gently patting Ren on the back as he emptied his stomach. Archer kept watch without commenting as Lancer shook his head. “Kid says he’s done this multiple times, yet he’s never stepped into a battlefield,” he observed. “He gets weirder with every thing we find out about him, right, Archer?”

Archer glanced over at Ren while a small frown. Lancer was right – Ren didn’t strike him as the type to overinflate such an act and the weariness he showed as he spoke about it was genuine. But then, where did he fight? What did he do? He was no stranger to combat yet wasn’t used to dead bodies. Still… “It doesn’t matter, Lancer,” he replied, continuing to observe his surroundings. “We can grill him for details later. For now, we’re currently on the field. Whatever he did before is irrelevant, besides his experience in fighting and leading. At the very least, he isn’t lying about that.”

Lancer didn’t say anything, staring at Ren who was heaving for breath as Mash offered him a canteen of water. Then he sighed. “Man, hate it when you’re right,” he grumbled, turning back to their surroundings.

Ren took the canteen from Mash. The first mouthful, he swilled in his mouth to get rid of all the bile and acid before spitting it aside. Then he slowly drank, allowing the cool liquid to soothe his burning, damaged throat.

“You alright, Joker?” Morgana asked worriedly as he watched Ren drink.

He took a deep heaving breath before giving a shaky smile to Morgana. “Yeah, yeah, I think I’m okay,” he panted. “Thanks for the water, Mash. Needed that.”

“Yes, of course, senpai,” she murmured, her expression mirroring Morgana’s. She could only watch as Ren straightened up, take a deep breath, and then looked back over the ruins. He seemed so utterly shaken compared to his usual, unflappable self, it was like night and day. Though she herself felt queasy from the sight and smell, she didn’t have as violent a reaction as Ren did. She wondered why but didn’t dare to ask. Her senpai wasn’t as infallible as he made himself out to be, but he still kept many things close to his chest.

“Lancer, Archer, any survivors?” Ren called out.

“Dead as doornails, Master,” Lancer replied grimly, poking at one body with his spear. “Whatever killed them was quick and thorough – poor bastards got no warning. At least it didn’t drag out.”

“I didn’t see any tracks or traces either,” Archer added. “It seems no one escaped or was dragged away. A small mercy at least that they died quickly as opposed to any torture.”

Ren nodded… then everyone started as they heard something shift. “You hear that?” Morgana asked, taking out his slingshot. Ren nodded quietly as he took out his own pistol. Then his eyes widened in horror as one of the bodies twitched, then slowly stood up. No way in hell was this a survivor – its body was far too mangled and damaged for the person to ever survive. It slowly turned its head toward the group, its eyes glassy yet ravenous. It began to shamble towards them, reaching out with its mauled arms for them as all around, more and more bodies started to move and rise as well.

“Z-z-z-z-z-z-ZOMBIES!!!” Morgana screamed. Mash immediately charged, smashing the closest zombie in the head with her shield and causing its head to erupt in a shower of gore. Lancer and Archer leaped in as well, the former’s spear flashing red as it poked effortless holes in the moving corpses while the latter’s blades quickly moved in tandem, multiple spinning pairs flying through the air to slice them apart as he carved them to pieces with yet another fresh pair of blades. Jeanne’s flagpole moved swiftly as well – not as quick as Lancer’s spearwork, but enough to kill off the undead easily.

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Ren heard a movement and turned around, just in time to see a zombie lunge and cling to him, its mouth seeking to clamp down on his throat. He shoved with all his might, trying to get the rotten corpse off him. His hungering maw and glazed eyes burned into Ren, sparking off panic. “ARSENE!” he screamed. The red-coated Persona immediately appeared in a flash of blue flame and sliced at at the zombie, knocking it away while splattering Ren in blood. It tried to shamble back up, but a fountain of darkness dissolved it back into nothingness.

Panting, Ren looked down at himself. He was covered in blood. He had to fight back another bout of nausea. As a Phantom Thief, most of their battles and efforts were fairly clean overall. Dealing with this was far beyond what he was used to.

“Joker!”

Ren blinked and looked over at Morgana who was glaring at him in concern. “Joker, breathe,” he told him. Ren took a deep breath. “Again,” Morgana commanded. In and out. In and out. Gradually, his nausea started to settle as did his nerves. Before too long, he was calm again. Shaken, but calm.

“Senpai, here.” Mash handed him a towel (just how many things did she have in that shield of hers?). He smiled shakily but gratefully to her as he wiped himself off. He tossed aside the red-stained towel. Another deep breath later, he slid his metaphorical mask back on. He had lost control of himself far too much, far too quickly. He was their leader – being shaken like this wasn’t tolerable. Not if they wanted to see this through to the end.

He straightened up as Jeanne stared at him. “That… thing you summoned,” Jeanne started. “Was that your magecraft? It looked demonic.”

Ren blinked, then gave a quiet, amused chuckle. “I can see how you’d think that,” he replied easily, grinning as if though he didn’t just have a panic attack. “No, it’s just a being who’s been with me for… well, basically my whole life.” It wasn’t a lie. Arsene was his inner self. The will of rebellion made manifest for him. He had dwelled within Ren for the longest time until the Metaverse came about and he was able to utilize his strength. Firing up his magic circuits, he summoned him again, and Arsene appeared, floating serenely yet confidently behind him. Jeanne stared up at it in surprise. “He’s been amazingly handy and powerful, so don’t be too surprised if I use him often,” he explained.

“And Joker’s not the only one who can use it,” Morgana pointed out. “Zorro!” The masked duelist appeared behind Morgana in turn, drawing Jeanne’s attention as well. She looked between the two personas, then giggled.

“Very well, I’ll trust your judgement and abilities,” Jeanne replied. Her face fell as she looked back over the town. Her flagpole vanished as she knelt down, clasping her hands, murmuring a prayer for those who died and then had their bodies desecrated. Ren, Morgana, and Mash lowered their heads in silent deference to her prayer as Archer and Lancer once more kept watch. They were too late to save the town but at the very least, they could offer their respect to those who had died.

A beeping from Ren’s watch interrupted them. “Guys, heads up!” Roman warned them urgently. “Servant signals are coming your way! Five of them!”

Ren scowled. Five Servants. While the group outnumbered them, they didn’t know the strength of their combatants. They couldn’t fight without more information. “Thanks, Roman,” Ren said tersely. “Everyone, move out. We need to get out of here before they show up.”

“No.”

Blinking, Ren turned toward Jeanne. She was standing back up, her flagpole out and defiant, her gaze hard and pure. “I wish to meet the tormentors of my country,” she stated. “I wish to meet this doppelganger of mine and see what would drive her to commit such horrors on our homeland. I wish to know their true intentions and stop them with all my might!”

He opened his mouth to argue, then gave up with a ragged exhale and a tired smile. That purity of her determination reminded him so much of his friends’ when they stood up and rebelled with all their heart. He knew he wouldn’t change her mind no matter what argument he used. “Mona, can you secure an escape route for us?” he asked. They still had the smoke and flash bombs that Da Vinci had provided them, but if they could get out of here without using them, they would take it. They were limited, after all.

Morgana nodded. “You got it, Joker,” he acknowledged before racing off.

“Archer, any chance you can find a place to provide cover fire for us?” Ren asked.

Archer turned and frowned at a certain direction. “There isn’t, Master, nor do I think that would be a good idea,” he replied. “If the doppelganger or whoever it is has the same abilities, then they would already know we were here. Splitting up might cause them to act unpredictably.” With that, he summoned his bow and a sword, which lengthened into an arrow. “That being said, I do see them from here,” he noted. “Should I take the shot?”

“Please don’t, Archer,” Jeanne requested. “As I said, I wish to know their intentions. This may be the best time to speak with them without any hostilities.” Archer looked at Jeanne before glancing at Ren. The Master hesitated, then nodded. Archer frowned but his bow and sword vanished, replaced with his twin blades. At the very least, he wouldn’t be taken off guard.

The air soon throbbed with the sound of beating wings, and before long five large wyverns were in sight. Flying in formation, they split off and landed, surrounding them. A Servant descended from each wyvern, standing at the ready.

Ren glanced at each one. Being surrounded like this wasn’t ideal in the slightest, especially with the wyverns joining in and essentially doubling their numbers. They all had their back to each other, weapons at the ready. Ren tired to take in what information he could. Each Servant was wildly different, but he could still feel their oppressive power bearing down on him all the same.

There was a man with long blonde hair and ice-blue eyes and carefully trimmed beard. He held in his hand an oddly designed spear. He wore a suit with a long coat that was frayed at the ends. His appearance and aura felt extraordinarily dignified on the surface, but right underneath that was a roiling bloodlust that was all too eager to spill over at the slightest provocation.

A grown woman was among them. Her attire showed no small amount of skin, looking more akin to just multiple straps rather than any fabric whatsoever. Over her ensemble was a skirt and cloak of blood-red satin, as well as thigh-high boots. Carefully done white hair framed her face, which was concealed by an iron mask. She wielded a large, metal staff topped with stylized bat wings. The ensemble would’ve been arousing if her mere presence didn’t set off every single alarm bell within his mind. This woman’s allure didn’t promise any pleasure – or rather, only promised pleasure for her. For any unfortunate victim, he had no doubt she would only promise pain beyond measure.

There was another woman with them. She was beautiful, but in the sense that she looked more like an untainted being than anything alluring to the opposing sex. Long purple hair with stern blue eyes. Her white robes were oddly exposing of her chest and legs, which were covered in blue stockings, contrasting her beautiful image. In her hand was a staff in the shape of a giant cross. Although, was it his imagination or did he see a bit of stress on her expression? Did this Servant not want to do this? But still, that wasn’t relevant right now.

The last one was a young woman…? Man…? It was hard to tell. Elegantly dressed in a light-blue uniform, topped with a large blue hat. It was surprisingly tight-fitting, though the curves made it no easier to tell whether they were a beautiful woman or man. Perhaps that was the whole point. Their blue eyes were a curious mix of gentleness and sternness. There was a rapier ready to be used at a moment’s notice. The rapier certainly reminded him of Sumire, but Ren knew without a doubt that this Servant was probably far deadlier with it than Sumire ever was.

And finally, at the head of the contingent, was their leader. It reminded Ren so much of the Saber he saw back in Fuyuki: Her clothes and armor were of fine make but black and red. Her skin was so pale it looked more dead than alive. Blond hair so pale it was almost white. Her eyes were yellow as well, but unlike Saber’s which were emotionless, hers was filled with scorn, anger, and hatred. To top it off, she bore her own flag as well. If her yellow eyes actually glowed, Ren would honestly think that she was Jeanne’s Shadow.

She was, without a doubt, the doppelganger of Jeanne d’Arc.

The doppleganger stared at Jeanne, her face an expression of shock. Then it twisted as she began chuckling before bursting out into outright laughter, the sound tinged with madness that could only come from pure anger and hatred. “O-Oh, this is utterly hilarious!” she laughed. “To think my past self would show up here! Oh, this is brilliant, just fucking brilliant! She looks so goddamn PATHETIC! Oh, is this His way of telling me to fuck off? Well same to you! My god, it’s like looking at a past image of yourself and seeing how stupid you looked! Ha!”

Jeanne could only gape in surprise before her expression settled into a scowl. “Enough!” she demanded. “Who are you? If you’re truly me, why are you destroying the country we worked and helped so hard to save?”

The darker Jeanne’s laughed dwindled, but she still had a twisted smile on her face from the stupidity of the situation. “Who do you think?” she asked mockingly. “I am Jeanne d’Arc. The Jeanne d’Arc that was burned at the stake, that everyone called a witch. A fucking witch, after everything I did for them! The Jeanne d’Arc that your precious king abandoned because I was inconvenient for his rule after raising him to the goddamn throne! The Jeanne d’Arc that He abandoned because I was no longer useful for His purposes either!”

Her expression twisted into a snarl. “You wanna know why I’m doing this?” she hissed. “This country left us to burn and rot. God left us to burn and rot. And you wanna know what I think about that? Fuck this country and fuck Him! I’ll raze it, burn it all down to the ground! They want their goddamn witch so bad, then I’ll give it to them. I’m the Dragon Witch now, and with my wyverns, I’ll turn this entire damn country into a hellscape even the Devil himself would be impressed by!”

The Saint scowled. “You are not me,” she declared, raising her flag. “I may have been burned at the stake, yes, but that does not matter to me. My life was given to France and its people to do with as they will. They were liberated and saved. That was my mission from God, and I willingly and happily bear it, even if it brought me to my end. I hold no enmity or hatred for Him, my king, or my people. I especially would never raise my hand and bring death and fire to my people!”

The doppelganger scoffed. “Because you’re a goddamn idiot,” she growled. “So was I until I felt the fire burn away at me. Oh, the pain, the torment. I tried to bear it but I wanted to scream so badly. You remember that, don’t you? Of course you do. Yet here you are, still playing the good little girl that everyone wanted. A patsy until the very fucking end. Immature and naïve. Fuck this, I didn’t expect you to come around anyway. You’re just a goddamn eyesore. Lancer. Assassin. I don’t care how you wanna do it but get rid of her – she’s yours to do with as you please.”

The man with the spear and the white-haired woman stepped forth. “Very well,” the dark Lancer replied. His voice was soft but like his aura, barely concealed his bloodlust. “In that case, I will have her blood. I’ve no doubt it shall be delicious.”

“Not so fast, ‘my King’,” replied the other woman. “She is a saint, is she not? I wish to partake in her flesh and blood myself. All of it. I will not forgive the fact she is more beautiful than me. Her blood I will use to elevate my own beauty. That is all she shall be good for. That is the privilege of a noble.”

The dark Lancer glanced at her. “So greedy,” he chuckled. “Very well. I shall have her soul. It is ironic though – I can only understand her beauty only after becoming a blood-sucking fiend. It shall be a decent consolation prize, however.”

As the two Servants spoke, a chill ran Ren and Mash’s spine. To speak of Jeanne like they were simply carving up a turkey was… inhuman to an unnerving degree. Jeanne gripped her flag more tightly as her expression morphed into one of disgust. Lancer readied his own spear with a scowl while Archer raised his blades, his sharp eyes already looking for a way out.

Surrounded by bloodthirsty foes… Despite his nervousness, Ren forced himself to laugh. That got everyone’s attention. “The hell? What, so scared you lost it, little Master?” the darker Jeanne mocked. “Don’t worry. I’ll make it nice and quick for you. But you’ll be screaming in agony the whole time though.”

Ren laughed again and shook his head. “No, that’s not what I’m laughing at,” he replied, forcing a smirk on his face. “You talk about showing up God and making this place into Hell, right? You almost make it sound like you met with the Devil himself.” His smirk widened. “Well then, how about we ask him for his opinion right now?” He once more moved to tear off his metaphorical mask.

“Satan!”

With a flash of blue flame, a gigantic blue monstrosity appeared, roaring. Everyone immediately backed off, with the darker Jeanne cursing. Though it was impossible, everyone instinctively knew that it was the Devil – or rather, a facet of the Devil – that Ren had summoned in their midst. The blue monstrosity pointed, and suddenly gigantic pillars of ice erupted from the ground, separating the group from their opponents. The darker Lancer’s spear arm was caught in the ice, who roared in rage as he struggled to pull it out. Suddenly, several small explosions burst in the wyverns’ faces, driving them into a frenzy.

Lancer and Archer didn’t hesitate to act – moving forward, they swiftly cut down the trapped dark Lancer, with Archer severing his head and Lancer thrusting into his heart. Mash caught Ren whose legs had given out from the strain of summoning Satan and proceeded to carry him through the opening the other two Servants made. Morgana hopped up ahead, waving at them. “This way!” he yelled before racing ahead. The group swiftly followed them.

“After them, don’t let them escape!” the doppelganger screeched. A burst of flames shattered the ice as the Servants began to rally – before being interrupted with pink orbs of energy bursting all around them. Suddenly, a discordant melody burst all around them, sending the wyverns once more into another frenzy and forcing the Servants to cover their ears in pain. By the time the melody ended, the wyverns had all flown off, and the group was long gone.

The darker Jeanne’s scream of frustration echoed through the air.

----------------------------------------

“We should be safe here.”

Mash nodded to Archer before setting down Ren. Ren grunted in thanks as he sat against a tree. He felt immensely sore and hot from his magic circuits burning through his body, but it still wasn’t as bad as the time he summoned Cu Chulainn. He definitely needed a rest though.

“Well, that was certainly a most interesting time,” chirped one of their rescuers. A young woman dressed in a tight red outfit with an oversized red hat, with red gloves and white stockings as well as long grey hair in pigtails. Her clear blue eyes shone with amusement, though with some trepidation as well. “I was about to come rescue you like a heroine from the old tales, but it seemed that wasn’t necessary after all! Still, introductions are in order, i think. I am Marie Antoinette, a Rider class Servant. A pleasure to meet all of you!”

“Yes, a most stunning performance with an unexpected climax,” exclaimed their other rescuer – a man in rather loud yellow robes and a whimsical smile. “It was a rather unexpected concert, but one that worked out well in everyone’s favor. Oh, I forget myself – I am Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. Although I am a Caster, I am utterly useless in combat, so do forget about me in the heat of battle!”

Jeanne gave a strained smile and nod to both of them. However, her attention was elsewhere. She looked down at Ren, who was resting against a tree still, just listening. This Master said he didn’t use demons, yet had just summoned the Devil himself. And not just a facsimile – there was absolutely no way one could mistake that presence. It wasn’t the Devil’s full power, sure, but it was still a significant portion that couldn’t easily be ignored. As a saint, she needed to address this. One way or another.

“Ren Amamiya. Who – or what – are you?”