Chapter 139
A few minutes ago, hoping to use her own tracks as a point of reference, she had turned around.
The floor behind her was spotless.
She had checked the soles of her boots. The dirt was still there. But the moment it touched the white ground, any trace of contamination simply ceased to exist, erased by the fundamental laws of this Bounded Field.
“What a troublesome ability,” she sighed, letting her arms drop to her sides.
A flawless cage.
But the lack of footprints wasn’t the worst part.
Jeanne stopped walking. She closed her eyes and reached out with her soul, seeking the familiar, comforting warmth of her Class Skill: Revelation. It was the voice of God, an absolute instinct that guided her toward the correct path during her life and as a Servant.
Silence.
Since the moment the golden portal had closed behind her, the connection had been severed. She could no longer hear the heavens. She was completely, utterly isolated.
For the holy maiden, that silence was more terrifying than any demon. A cold sweat broke out on the back of her neck.
Will the Holy Grail War tear itself apart while I am trapped in here?
Just as the creeping dread threatened to overwhelm her, a flicker of something caught the corner of her eye.
She snapped her head to the right.
Color.
Far in the distance, breaking the endless monotony of white, she saw two figures. One was a woman with long, green hair, lying motionless on the floor. The other was a heavyset man, cautiously reaching a hand toward her.
Jeanne didn’t hesitate. She poured mana into her legs and sprinted toward them, her silver armor gleaming.
….
Gordes Musik Yggdmillennia knelt beside the sleeping woman.
He didn’t touch her. Instead, his eyes were locked onto the back of her right hand. His face, usually flushed with arrogance, was pale and drawn tight with grim realization.
“Command Spells…” he whispered. “She’s a Master.”
In the Holy Grail War, the Command Spells were the absolute proof of a Master’s contract with a Servant. When two Masters were in close proximity, their magical circuits would subtly react to one another, a faint tingling sensation warning them of an enemy’s presence. Gordes had felt that tingle the moment he waddled close enough.
But the mere fact that she was a Master wasn’t what had drained the blood from his face.
The design of a Command Spell was not entirely random. While unique to the individual, the overarching motif was heavily influenced by the faction and the summoning system used. The Yggdmillennia clan, the Black Faction, had designed their own specific summoning sub-ritual, resulting in a distinct, uniform style for their Command Spells.
Gordes recognized the crimson, jagged pattern on the sleeping woman’s hand.
That is a Black Faction seal.
“Who is this woman?” Gordes muttered, his heart hammering against his ribs. “Why does she bear our crest?!”
He was certain he had never seen her before. The Yggdmillennia clan had gathered all their chosen Masters at the Millennia fortress to conduct the summoning rituals together. He knew the faces of his comrades. This green-haired woman was not one of them.
Wait.
There was one exception.
One Master of their clan had not been present at the fortress. A man named Hyouma Sagara. He had been dispatched to secure a catalyst and was supposed to summon Assassin of Black on his own before rendezvousing with the rest of the clan.
They hadn’t heard from him since.
Gordes looked at the peaceful, sleeping face of the strange woman, and a chilling hypothesis formed in his mind.
“Did she…?”
Command Spells.
They are miracles crystallized in the flesh, intertwined directly with a Magus’s Magic Circuits. The Magic Circuits themselves act as a simulated nervous system, the very core of a Magus’s ability to convert life force into magical energy.
To forcibly extract Command Spells is equivalent to ripping out a cluster of nerves. The process is agonizing and, more often than not, leaves the victim permanently crippled, or worse.
Looking at the sleeping woman, Gordes Musik Yggdmillennia felt a cold certainty settle in his gut. This woman was not a member of his clan, yet she bore the mark of the Black Faction. Hyouma Sagara, the man who was supposed to summon Assassin, was undoubtedly dead, his arm likely severed to steal the Command Spells.
Gordes clenched his fists, glaring down at the sleeping thief.
He was furious. Because of this woman, the Black Faction had lost a Servant right at the start of the war. Even if it was just the Assassin class, a Servant was still a Servant. They were operating at a massive disadvantage.
But fury wouldn’t solve his immediate problem.
Gordes wasn’t an idiot. Strangling the woman here in this white void wouldn’t magically transport him back to his fortress. He was still a prisoner. First, he needed to get out.
He reached toward the woman, intending to shake her awake. If she was the Master of Assassin, perhaps she knew something. Perhaps she had seen their captors or understood the nature of this Bounded Field.
Of course, he wasn’t going to just wake a potential murderer without precautions. He prepared a simple binding spell in his other hand. He had to prioritize his own safety.
But just as his fingers were about to touch her shoulder…
Whoosh!
A heavy metal object blurred into his peripheral vision, striking his forearm with bone-jarring force and knocking it away.
Before Gordes could even register the pain, a tremendous impact slammed into his soft belly. The air was driven from his lungs, and he felt his feet leave the ground.
He flew backward, skidding across the pristine white floor.
“Guh…!”
….
“So that is your excuse for attempting to assault an unconscious woman?”
Jeanne d’Arc stood over him, her holy battle standard planted firmly in the white floor, one hand resting on her armored hip. She glared down at the portly Master of Black, her expression a mix of stern judgment and deep suspicion. She looked less like a holy maiden and more like a holy inquisitor.
“Y-yes…”
Gordes clutched his stomach, curling into a ball and trembling. The sharp pain in his gut was overshadowed by the sheer terror of angering a Servant.
Gordes was an arrogant man. He looked down on normal humans and even other Magi. But he knew his place in the hierarchy of the Grail War. Without Saber to protect him, he was completely helpless against a Heroic Spirit, especially one as formidable as Ruler.