MMMS 65

"Haa... haa... haa..."

Blood trailed behind her as Fanatic stumbled through Einzbern Forest in the dead of night. Her veil was gone, exposing her fair face now smeared with crimson. The black robe hung in tatters from her shoulders, revealing wounds so grievous they'd make anyone flinch.

Her Saint Graph flickered like the last gasp of a dying flame, ready to snuff out with the slightest breeze. Yet she didn't spare a thought for her fading life. She bit her lip until it bled, focusing only on reaching the Castle before it was too late.

The worst had happened—the Holy Grail War had twisted into something monstrous, losing its original purpose entirely. She had to tell her master. Everything was spiraling toward catastrophe.

"Just... just let him get away," she whispered through bloody lips. "Let him escape what's coming..."

...

Two nights earlier, Fanatic had come face-to-face with Berserker. The Servant, taking the form of a young girl, had released a billowing cloud of dense fog, her small frame dissolving into the murky haze.

The miasma Jack the Ripper created was loaded with toxins designed to slow any Heroic Spirit who breathed it in. But Fanatic didn't even flinch—her [Zabaniya Delusional Poison Body] had turned every drop of her blood into deadly venom, making her completely immune to such tricks.

But the magical energy woven into the mist rendered Fanatic's [Zabaniya: Meditative Sensitivity] useless. In that split second of uncertainty, a whisper of bloodlust brushed against her senses from behind.

"Petty trick." Fanatic spun around in a blur, drawing a short knife from her bosom to knock away the silver scalpel aimed at the back of her head. Without missing a beat, she shot through space with godlike speed, closing the gap between herself and the young killer hiding in the mist.

Splash

Blood erupted from Jack the Ripper's shoulder, staining the thick fog crimson. Even with the mist as her playground, trying to outdo Fanatic in the art of assassination was nothing short of foolish.

"...Impressive," Jack the Ripper murmured. Like a wounded cub, she ducked her head to lick the blood streaming from her shoulder. "A genuine Assassin really is something else."

She glanced up at Fanatic's voluptuous figure beneath the black robe, her large, clear eyes glittering. "I know it sounds like I'm making excuses, but this form isn't my strongest... but." A pause. "The Noble Phantasm of this form is probably the most wicked and cruel one for you."

With those words hanging in the air, Jack the Ripper slammed her feet against the ground and hurled herself straight at Fanatic!

She moved with such blistering speed—faster than anything she'd shown before—that even Fanatic couldn't dodge in time.

"Zabaniya: Febrile Inspiration...!" Fanatic's whispered incantation sent beautiful minerals spreading across her skin.

This was one of the Eighteen Zabaniya—a defensive Noble Phantasm that transformed her skin to the hardness of Demon Realm Crystal.

Clink!

Jack's scalpel struck the crystalline surface and skidded off, leaving nothing but a faint scratch.

"Die, heretic." Fanatic seized the little girl by her face, hoisting her into the air with one hand.

Just as she readied her Noble Phantasm for the killing blow—

"Hell starts here," Jack the Ripper spoke with chilling calm. Her Noble Phantasm burst forth without hesitation. "We are the fire, the rain, the power..."

Space twisted around them as the murder began to execute itself.

This was a Noble Phantasm that spelled doom for almost any "female" target. Something beyond even what holy swords could achieve. The moment it activated, the murder was already done—a horrifying reversal of cause and effect.

First came the act of murder, then death, followed by the method—all in reverse. Against such twisted causality, counterattacks, evasion, and resistance meant nothing.

"Let the slaughter begin. Maria the Ripper!"

Black resentment surged from the thick fog like a tidal wave, a crushing wall of hatred rushing toward the female assassin and seeping into her pale skin, hungry for destruction.

"?"

The vicious female-targeting Noble Phantasm [Maria the Ripper] poured its dark malice directly into the female assassin's core.

But nothing happened.

She remained standing, still gripping Jack's face.

The "insides" of this woman had somehow resisted the curse's hunger.

"What—"

In a flash, Jack's tiny body flew through the air, sailing more than ten meters before crashing down.

Feeling her organs quake in protest, Fanatic had lashed out with a savage kick across Jack's chest, sending her flying.

Before Jack could push herself up from the dirt or gasp for the air knocked out of her lungs, hundreds—perhaps thousands—of black hairs shot forward like needles. They moved at high speed, spearing through her body from every angle, pinning her like an insect to a display board.

"...Why? Why doesn't the curse affect you?" Jack the Ripper was pinned to the ground by [Zabaniya: Raving Shadow Flash], staring up at the very much alive Fanatic with wild disbelief. "This can't be real! That's the raw hatred of hundreds of thousands of abandoned babies in London! No human could possibly survive it!"

"..."

Assassin walked silently toward Jack the Ripper, planted her foot heavily on the girl's chest, and looked down at her with cold eyes.

The true nature of [Maria the Ripper] was a concentrated mass of rage and hatred from countless abandoned babies who were treated worse than animals in 18th century London. Just brushing against it would drive normal people insane. Female Servants would have their stomachs ripped open by its touch. No human should survive curses this raw and potent.

But Fanatic wasn't just anyone. As the cult's most twisted member, her mental fortitude had grown far beyond human limits long ago. As the cherished apostle of the fallen angel, her body had soaked in blasphemies far worse than any curse. The bitter cries of abandoned babies couldn't scratch her.

"This body belongs to my noble lord alone," she said coldly. "I've seen hell itself. Not just visions of it—I've felt its flames lick my skin and walked away unharmed."

"Fine, fine, I give up." Though Jack still had one trick left, she knew when she was beaten and surrendered with surprising grace. "Haha, I thought we'd be perfectly matched, but it turns out we couldn't be worse for each other. Looking back, this child's [Luck] is E-rank for a reason..."

"Goodbye then, Berserker." Just as Fanatic moved to finish Jack off, her hand already rising for the killing blow, someone tapped her shoulder from behind. The touch was light, almost polite, like someone trying to get her attention at a party.

"Hmm, very interesting. You both have such fascinating abilities!"

As an Assassin, every alarm in her head went off at once. Her blood turned to ice. She was stunned that she hadn't sensed anyone sneaking up on her—not a footstep, not a breath, not even a shift in the air. It was like they'd materialized from nothing. She frantically triggered her defensive Noble Phantasm, muscles moving on pure instinct. "...Zabaniya: Febrile Inspiration...!"

But she was too late. In the next moment, Fanatic's abdomen was blown apart.