"Saber!"
Staring at the figure gradually manifesting within the purple-black light, Sisigou broke out in a cold sweat.
If he wasn't mistaken, the strange book the weirdo had been holding was made of human skin, right?
A Servant summoned using such a clearly profane object containing forbidden knowledge was unlikely to be anything good.
Thinking this, Sisigou's heart sank.
"I know, Master!"
Hearing Sisigou's call, Mordred immediately understood his intent. Without hesitation, she unleashed powerful lightning, burning the tentacled monsters entirely to ash.
Seeing that the disgusting things on the ground didn't regenerate like when she merely severed their tentacles earlier, Mordred breathed a slight sigh of relief.
But immediately after, her violently throbbing Instinct skill drew her attention toward the completed Heroic Spirit summoning circle.
Her intuition told her that whatever this bloody ritual had summoned was an existence she deeply loathed.
"Tch!"
Mordred clicked her tongue. Without waiting for the Heroic Spirit to step out of the magic circle, she launched a bolt of lightning toward it.
"Disgusting bastard, die!"
As the Treacherous Knight, Mordred was not someone who blindly clung to chivalry. Against various enemies, she would launch sneak attacks or fight dirty when necessary. She wouldn't foolishly wait for the opponent to strike first before counterattacking like the honest Gawain.
Facing this entity reeking of an ominous aura, Mordred only wanted to hack it to pieces immediately, showing no hesitation.
Her Master, Sisigou, shot her a highly approving look. Even if Mordred hadn't attacked, he had already prepared to fire his shotgun.
However, this powerful, unrivaled bolt of lightning did not pierce the light of the summoning circle and strike the Servant within as Mordred and Sisigou had expected.
Instead, the instant before the lightning hit, a monster identical to the previous tentacled creatures lunged out from the purple-black light, sacrificing itself by being burned to a crisp to absorb the strike.
Witnessing this, both Mordred and Sisigou's eyes sharpened. They readied themselves, looking toward the figure revealed as the light dissipated.
"Ohhh, how miraculous, how wonderful. Is this a miracle? Is it a miracle granted to me by that despicable God, knowing my lingering attachment to her?! The Holy Grail... the Holy Grail... it is truly magnificent!"
As the light from the summoning circle faded, a hoarse, chaotic voice drifted into Mordred and Sisigou's ears.
Listening to these confused and mad ravings, the Master and Servant exchanged a glance, unable to understand the situation.
Could the weirdo have summoned a Berserker?
But when they focused on his appearance, they were stunned again.
Although his words indicated his mind was abnormal, his appearance told a different story.
The man had pale skin, and his tall, hunched frame was draped in a massive robe adorned with countless precious metals. Particularly eye-catching were his massive, grotesque, bulging eyes that resembled those of a deep-sea monster.
Judging by his attire and physique, Mordred felt the opponent appeared extremely physically weak.
Could such a frail creature truly be a Berserker?
Staring at the face that vaguely retained traces of former handsomeness, now twisted with ferocity and madness, Mordred felt puzzled.
It was then that the bizarre Servant, initially immersed in his return to the world, finally noticed the Saber of Red team standing a short distance away, watching him warily.
Upon seeing Mordred's face—her helmet now removed—he abruptly froze in place.
This was quickly followed by uncontrollable ecstasy.
"Ohhh! What a beautiful, holy, nostalgic face! I have finally, finally seen you again! Jeanne, Lady Jeanne!"
"Hah?"
Seeing the bizarre Servant charging at her with a crazed expression, Mordred was momentarily stunned, wondering who the "Jeanne" he spoke of was.
But when she noticed his posture clearly indicated an intent to embrace her, her expression changed instantly, goosebumps erupting across her skin.
Driven by revulsion, Mordred did not hesitate. Pushing off the ground forcefully to leap backward, she simultaneously swung her sword at the charging, bizarre Servant.
"Get lost! You disgusting freak!"
"Eh?"
Seeing Mordred recoil from him as if evading the plague, her face full of disgust, the bizarre Servant froze.
He did not even attempt to dodge Mordred's slash. He simply let it tear through his robe and sever his left arm completely.
Crimson blood splattered instantly, mixing with the pre-existing bloody stench to make the air overwhelmingly metallic and sweet.
Yet, the bizarre Servant acted completely indifferent to this debilitating strike, as if he felt no pain.
He merely stood there woodenly, staring blankly at Mordred's disgusted expression.
"Why... why do you not recognize me?"
He tilted his head as if confused.
"I am Gilles. I am your close friend, your admirer, your most loyal subordinate, Gilles de Rais! Lady Jeanne, do you not recognize me?"
"Gilles de Rais?"
Hearing this somewhat familiar name, Sisigou, who had been watching from a distance, frowned in thought.
Mordred, the target of his fixation, felt exceptionally irritated.
"What the hell are you talking about?! What Gilles, what Jeanne? I don't know them!"
Finding the nauseating stench of blood in the air unbearable, Mordred eagerly raised her royal sword.
She just wanted to eliminate this guy quickly and leave.
"Hey! Listen up. I don't care what class you are or how you mistook me for this Jeanne person, but my name is Mordred, Knight of the Round Table! Burn that name into your memory, and prepare to die!"
"Mordred?"
Hearing this, the Servant calling himself Gilles de Rais finally noticed something and looked into Mordred's eyes.
Although her face was identical to his Saintess Jeanne's, those eyes—that flowing blue—were completely different from the Saintess Jeanne in his memory.
Lady Jeanne's eyes were purple, as beautiful as amethysts, and whenever she looked at him, they always held gentleness and unwavering resolve.
How could he... how could he mistake this random person for the woman in his heart?
Truly, a sin deserving a thousand deaths!!!
"Ah... ahh... ahhhh!"
Realizing this, Gilles de Rais let out a howl of agony. Tearing at his sparse dark hair, he threw his head back and shrieked at the sky.
"Curse you, curse you, curse you! It is all your fault! All your fault, you detestable, despicable, pig-like God! If you hadn't taken her from my side, if you hadn't made her leave me so early, how could I have forgotten her face amidst day after day of yearning and madness! You detestable, damned God!"
Suddenly, as if remembering something, Gilles de Rais stopped howling. He froze in place like a fool.
Witnessing this scene, even the battle-hardened Mordred felt her scalp tingle at the sight of his chaotic and insane state.
"What the hell is wrong with this guy?"
Mordred instinctively tightened her grip on her royal sword.
"I see... I see."
Gilles de Rais finally seemed to regain some clarity as he stood up from the ground.
His dead, fish-like eyes turned toward Mordred.
"It was my close friend François. He was the one who summoned me using the manuscript of the flesh-bound book..."
"Ohh, to think that centuries later, I would once again receive your aid. Knowing you has truly been an honor, François."
At this point, he cast his gaze toward Mordred again. Under her guarded stare, he offered a faint smile.
"My apologies, Miss who shares the face of my Holy Maiden. I apologize for my earlier actions. I should not have mistaken you for my Holy Maiden."
Then, Gilles de Rais bowed slowly, offering Mordred a gentlemanly salute.
"Heh."
Mordred wasn't buying it. She returned a sneer she had learned from Morgan.
"Don't think spouting pretty words now will make me let you go. Even if you apologize, for the sake of these innocent murdered villagers, I am still going to kill you."
"Oh?"
Gilles de Rais chuckled lightly. Raising his only remaining hand, he wagged his index finger at Mordred.
"Miss with a beautiful face, allow me to correct your perception. The deaths of these villagers, including the boy who became my Spirit Core, are extremely meaningful, and they should feel honored."
"What the hell?" Mordred raised an eyebrow.
"Because of my descent, of course," Gilles de Rais stated with a matter-of-fact expression.
"To trade their lives for my reunion with my Saintess—is that not the greatest honor? It signifies that they can join me in revering the greatness of my Saintess Jeanne. Is that not honor enough?"
"Furthermore," Gilles de Rais continued wagging his finger, adding with a smile, "do you not find this scene aesthetically pleasing? The piled corpses, the flowing blood, the artistic aura permeating the air... Ah! My friend François! As expected of my artistic mentor, I truly cannot compare to you in this regard."
He reached his hand toward the sky, looking utterly intoxicated.
Hearing these words, both Mordred and Sisigou fell into silence.
"Hey, Master. I am now certain this guy isn't a Berserker. He is a genuine, absolute lunatic."
Watching Gilles de Rais immerse himself in his "art," Mordred silently raised her royal sword.
"Yes, he is indeed a lunatic," Sisigou agreed, pulling a cigarette from his coat. "From any perspective, he is a bona fide madman. This level of insanity goes beyond the scope of Mad Enhancement."
"Oh? Does that mean you already know his identity, Master?"
Hearing Sisigou's words, Mordred, highly familiar with him by now, looked over.
"Naturally." Sisigou did not keep her in suspense. "His True Name is Gilles de Rais. Historically, he was a general during the Hundred Years' War and Saintess Jeanne d'Arc's most loyal follower. But looking at him, he is definitely not from that period of his life. In that case, his true identity is unquestionable."
"Reviled for brutally murdering young girls and children, earning him the moniker 'Bluebeard.' That must be the true you right now, correct, Gilles de Rais?"
Sisigou lifted his chin slightly, looking at him.
Gilles de Rais looked surprised, turning his gaze toward Sisigou for the first time.
"Oh? I did not expect you to guess my identity in advance. How fascinating, Master."
"However, since you have revealed my identity, I shall wait no longer. Let the art commence."
Gilles de Rais smiled faintly, pulling a book bound in human skin from his robes.
Compared to the one François used to summon him, this book was noticeably thicker, and the human skin cover appeared far more ancient.
Seeing this, Sisigou instantly understood and roared a warning.
"Saber, watch out! He's going to unleash his Noble Phantasm!"
"Got it!"
Mordred shot him a thumbs-up before charging fiercely at Gilles de Rais.
Unrivaled lightning crackled across the radiant royal sword in her hands.
Facing the ferocious charge of the crimson lightning knight, Gilles de Rais remained extremely calm despite being a Caster.
He gently turned a page in the flesh-bound book and infused it with magical energy.
"Manifest here, this gift from my dear friend! Reveal your chaos and terror to the world! Noble Phantasm: Prelati's Spellbook—Text of the Sunken Spiral City!"
At his call, countless streams of eerie, pitch-black light surged from the book. In an instant, Gilles de Rais summoned dozens of grotesque sea demons around him.
Under his control, these indescribable monstrosities immediately moved to engulf Mordred.
"Hmph!"
Seeing this, Mordred scoffed coldly and decisively unleashed the first stage of her royal sword.