Under the silver glow of the moon, Okita's blade shimmered as it sliced through the air. Werewolf heads tumbled across the damp ground, accompanied by the dry crack of breaking bones.
"Grrrroooouuuu…"
A werewolf's howl was silenced before it could echo. Okita spun on her left heel in a fluid movement, gripping her sword with both hands as she delivered a diagonal thrust. The blade tore through the air, decapitating the creature in a single, precise strike.
Without hesitation, she surged forward at blistering speed, her delicate feet barely touching the ground. With a subtle twist of her wrist, the tip of her sword pierced through another werewolf's skull, slicing clean through with a sharp snap. As she pulled the blade free, a stream of dark blood trickled down, dripping onto the earth. Okita raised her free hand, examining it briefly as the vapor of her breath faded in the cold air.
"I can push my body a bit more," she murmured, sensing her parameters were stable. For now, her Fragile Constitution seemed subdued.
Suddenly, a loud crash echoed through the clearing. Dozens of werewolves were reduced to heaps of flesh and fur by a devastating strike. Marie, arms crossed over her chest, watched the scene coldly. Her stone staff crushed the monsters, turning them into deformed mounds of blood and bone.
"Wow! You're like a walking slaughterhouse," she exclaimed, an ironic smile curling her lips. The power disparity was so overwhelming that Marie couldn't help but cast a pitying glance at the "poor little wolves."
"I'll take that as a compliment," Altair replied, letting out a slight yawn as the staff shrank down to 187 centimeters. Planting it into the ground, he rested his chin on the end, his heavy eyes threatening to close with another yawn.
At first, annihilating dozens of werewolves had been somewhat exciting. But now, it just felt like a monotonous slaughter — almost like beating up helpless puppies. And who in their right mind would enjoy something like that?
While Altair struggled to fight off sleep, Jeanne raised her flag and drove it into a werewolf's chest. The impact made the creature's body convulse before collapsing lifelessly. Beside her, Mash spun her shield in a wide arc, the flat edge cleaving another werewolf clean in half with a single strike.
"I think we're done," Jeanne said, planting her flag firmly into the ground.
"Really? I'm not so sure," Altair replied, his voice cutting through the air. The drowsiness weighing down his eyes vanished instantly, his gaze now sharp and fixed on the forest.
Right after his words, a figure emerged from the shadows of the trees: a beautiful woman with blue hair, holding a staff adorned with a cross.
"It's a lovely night, wouldn't you agree?" the woman said, offering a faint smile.
"A Servant!?" Mash exclaimed, raising her shield instinctively.
"It really is a charming night," Altair replied, kicking his staff into the air and catching it mid-spin. "By the way, were you sent by the corrupted saint to kill us?" He pointed the Ruyi Jingu directly at the blue-haired woman.
"Not exactly," she replied, shaking her head softly. "I was sent merely to locate and report your position — but I don't think I can pass up this opportunity." Her hands tightened around the staff with determination.
"For a Servant supposedly under Madness Enhancement, you seem surprisingly lucid," Marie noted, placing a hand to her lips and tilting her head in an adorably curious gesture.
"I've faced worse temptations than Madness Enhancement," the woman replied. "I can still preserve my sanity—or what's left of it—long enough to fight you." She raised her staff, aiming it at the group.
"I don't know if that makes much sense, but who are you?" Altair asked, while Jeanne, for some reason, watched the Servant with a strange expression.
"Who am I?" The woman tilted her head, letting her long blue hair fall over her face. "Someone who forced herself to be a perfect saint, but now serves a corrupted one." A subtle smile curved her lips. "And, ironically, I must now face a fellow saint."
Jeanne widened her eyes. "Fellow saint!?" she exclaimed, visibly confused.
"Yes…" The woman replied, letting out a sigh heavy with sorrow. "It's strange… I was summoned here, forced to follow the orders of a false saint, and now I find myself facing a true one…" Her eyes settled on the cross she held, her face marked by silent regret. "I wonder what our Lord would think if He saw me now. Would he understand that I fight against my own will? Would He intercede for me with the Father? Or would He pity me?"
Jeanne furrowed her brow. "You speak as if you knew our Lord personally."
"And I did," the woman answered, a soft smile lighting her face. "One of my dearest memories is of my sister sitting at His feet, listening to Him with devotion, while I busied myself with household chores…" said the Servant, her eyes lost in tender nostalgia.
Jeanne's eyes widened even more, sparkling with disbelief. "You… the woman who welcomed Him into her home… you're Martha! Saint Martha!" she gasped, stunned. Not just her, but her companions were also caught off guard by the sudden revelation of that name.
"The saint who defeated the dragon Tarasque, also known as the son of Leviathan," Altair murmured, lifting his gaze to the figure before them — the legendary dragon slayer.
"I'm glad to be recognized," the Servant said gently. "I am Rider, Saint Martha. It's a shame I've been driven mad. I would have liked to help you… and speak with a fellow saint."
"But we still can…" Jeanne began, searching for words.
Before she could finish, Martha interrupted with a firm tone.
"No words can change my mind. Even now, the Madness Enhancement consumes everything I have just to remain here, lucid. If I lose focus for even a second, I might stab you in the back." Martha offered a sad smile, every second a battle against something that wasn't truly part of her. "Still, I've come to terms with my mind. Defeat me. Drive your blades through my heart, without hesitation or mercy! Prove you're worthy of facing the Black Saint." With a firm motion, she raised her staff, ready for battle.
"I, Martha, of the Rider class, shall test you! Come forth, Iron Dragon Tarasque!" A blinding light flooded the forest, forcing the group to shield their eyes.
When they opened them again, the silver moonlight revealed the beast Martha had summoned.
It was a massive creature, supported by six short, powerful legs resembling those of a bear. They held up a bulky body reminiscent of an ox, while a spiked carapace covered its back. Four horns jutted from its massive head, and a long tail swayed behind it, completing its fearsome form.
Before them stood Tarasque, the colossal Armored Iron Dragon.
"Groooooooooo!" A deafening roar echoed through the forest, smoke escaping its flaring nostrils.
"I think we should've woken up Senpai," Mash said, raising her shield firmly.
"Don't worry, we just need to defeat her, right…" Before Altair could finish, the air vibrated with a thunderous roar.
Tarasque charged forward in a blur, its legs pounding the ground with tremors that shook the earth. Altair spun swiftly, striking the dragon's head with a direct blow from his staff.
The impact echoed through the forest, a shockwave exploding from the collision. Leaves were torn from trees as the group was hurled aside, rolling across the ground.
Altair was flung backward, his body spinning through the air before slamming into a tree with a dull thud.
"Groooooooooo!" Tarasque's roar tore through the air again, echoing among the trees.
The dragon, its eyes blazing, crouched like a predator. In a sudden move, its claws sank into the ground, and it lunged at Altair — far too fast for a beast of its size.
Tarasque bit into Altair's shoulder, dragging him violently into the forest's depths, his voice echoing through the trees.
"I'm gonna tear this lizard's legs off! I'll leave the saint to you guys!" His voice, still carrying an upbeat tone, was swallowed by the forest, where the sounds of battle soon began to resound.
Martha, still standing, calmly adjusted her stance, gripping her staff firmly. "He's really lively," she said with a hint of admiration, slowly raising the staff.
A brilliant light erupted from the tip of her weapon, pulsing in golden and white hues. She spun the staff in a wide arc, planting it into the ground with a force that cracked the earth around her.
"Since your heavy hitter isn't here, let's see what the rest of you are capable of." A wide smile spread across her lips.
••• ••• •••
Don't forget to throw power stones and leave a review to motivate me.
(Martha - Character image)