IBHJ 1165

Lord Barthomeloi's eyes narrowed. "What brings you here, Lord Darnic? Disrupting a Lords' conference without cause is a punishable offense!"

"I'm well aware," he replied calmly. "But I'm not here for the Lords - I'm here because of her."

As he spoke, a young girl stepped into the chamber.

El-Melloi II, Lord Barthomeloi, and the other Lords stiffened at her presence.

"A Heroic Spirit...?"

"My Lords of the Clock Tower, allow me to introduce myself. I am Laeticia, though you may know me as Jeanne d'Arc. I served as Ruler in the Holy Grail War of Romania."

"Ruler?" El-Melloi II looked stunned. "You're still here?"

"Yes, I've been stuck in Laeticia's body and consciousness, living in this world for several years now.” Her expression grew grave. "But that's not why I'm here. What I must tell you is of utmost importance—it concerns the Emperor and the crisis at hand!"

The Lords exchanged glances, murmuring among themselves.

Lord Barthomeloi's frown deepened as she straightened in her chair. "Saint of France, if your words can help us through this crisis, then speak. But should this prove a waste of our time, both you and the Yggdmillennia patriarch will answer for it!"

Jeanne met her stern gaze and nodded seriously. "This matter begins with Beast III—"

…

What transpired in that meeting remains unknown, but its outcomes were decisive: the twelve Lords unanimously voted to support Zelretch, providing ritual implements for the Grand Summoning and offering to mediate with surface nations that opposed Zelretch's use of leylines to summon Heroic Spirits.

Most importantly, the meeting concluded with Lord Barthomeloi entrusting Jeanne with the Black Barrel—one of the Atlas’s Seven Great Superweapons.

"Lord Zelretch, this is Jerusalem—where the European and Asian leylines intersect. At this moment in the cycle, magical energy here reaches its peak," Lord Barthomeloi explained, gesturing toward the iconic Western Wall.

Zelretch stroked his beard. "I'm quite familiar with this, Lord Barthomeloi. No need to guide this old man."

"On the contrary, guiding Lord Zelretch is an honor for the Barthomeloi family." She offered an elegant noble's bow before motioning to the assembled magi behind her. "To ensure nothing goes wrong with the ritual, I've brought my finest troops to assist you with the grand summoning."

Noting Zelretch's displeased expression, she added with a graceful smile, "Of course, this isn't due to any doubt in your abilities, Lord Zelretch. Consider it a small gesture—with, I admit, a minor ulterior motive. After all, participating in such a monumental ritual would certainly advance our understanding of magecraft. I hope you'll forgive our eagerness to learn."

Zelretch's stern expression softened slightly as he let out a dry snort. "Well, when you puts it that way..."

Deep down, he held little regard for this world's Mage's Association - even Lord Barthomeloi and the entire Clock Tower together would barely require a fraction of his power to deal with.

Still, caution was warranted. The Clock Tower now possessed the Atlas Institute's Seven Superweapons, including the Black Barrel—a weapon capable of striking down even Crimson Moon himself. More pressing was the fact that Pan-Human History's time was running short.

Ordinarily, Zelretch maintained strict neutrality in such matters. But the emergence of the First Magic had forced his hand as a wielder of the Second Magic. After all, the manifestation of the First Magic rarely boded well for the world at large.

The Emperor's very existence was proof enough of that.

The First Magic had crossed into Second Magic's territory—how could he just watch from the sidelines? Though he hid his sense of justice behind sarcasm, this was still Kischur Zelretch Schweinorg, the Wizard Marshal, through and through.

When he struck down Crimson Moon long ago, it wasn't just because of its arrogance—it was because of all the wrong it had done.

But that was all in the past now. The End that Atlas had predicted was drawing closer from the distant past, while the Emperor with his First Magic was trying to freeze everything in eternal stasis.

The future—of humanity, of the world, of all life and every individual—was becoming harder to see, fading away like morning fog.

There was no time left for anyone to act selfishly. For the sake of greater good, even the infamously bad-tempered Zelretch had to put aside his love of causing trouble.

History's largest Heroic Spirit summoning ritual was underway, with preparations carried out on a massive scale. Not just the Clock Tower and Atlas Institute, but forces from the surface world had joined in as well.

Tanks, excavators, and helicopters poured into Jerusalem.

BOOM!

The Western Wall—the historic boundary between Europe and Asia—crumbled to the ground.

BOOM!

The Temple Mount was also excavated.

A massive leyline connecting Europe and Asia was exposed.

The faithful cried out in protest, tears streaming down their faces.

But the military forces from various nations silenced every objection.

The media swept the destruction under the rug.

Jeanne watched everything unfold, seeing only ruins and devastation.

Her heart broke at the sight, but she forced herself to bear it.

The Emperor's ambitions went far beyond Pan-Human History. What he truly wanted was complete control over everything that existed, and to freeze the world in a permanent, unchanging state.

Both Leticia and Jeanne, who shared Leticia's body as the Master of Demonic Bodhisattva, understood this perfectly.

"Life has a funny way of turning things around, doesn't it, Ruler?"

The old man's voice startled her. Jeanne turned to find Darnic standing there, his white hair and aged body leaning on a wooden cane as he gave her a gentle smile.

"You—"

"I've gotten old, haven't I?" He let out a soft laugh.

She nodded, at a loss for words.

"Strange thing is," he went on, "even though it's only been a few years, I've learned to trust in the younger generation."

"Trust?" She looked at him, confused.

He pointed toward a few magi among the troops, his voice filled with pride. "Those three there... they're the finest minds our Yggdmillennia clan has produced."

The Yggdmillennia clan traced their roots back to Northern Europe, but like their namesake, their line had grown weak over time. Their magical circuits grew weaker with each new generation, their crest was lost to unfortunate accidents, and political defeats pushed them to the edges of the magical world.

Even if one of them mastered magecraft or reached the Root, the Yggdmillennia name would still carry no weight.

Two hundred and eighty years ago, when Darnic was a promising young magus making his mark, a marriage proposal landed in his lap. It was his chance to tie his family to noble blood. But when the magic crest problems surfaced, everything fell apart. The friend who had clasped his shoulder with a smile, talking of brotherhood, and the woman who had shyly whispered her love—they all turned their backs on him.

In that moment, Yggdmillennia's dreams of nobility crumbled to dust. Not just for Darnic, but for every generation that would follow.

That's when Darnic gave up on the usual path—reaching the Root through endless study, rising through the Association's ranks, earning noble status. It was a pipe dream. Instead, he focused first on keeping his clan alive, making the Root a secondary goal.

Too proud for a life of isolated research, he stayed in the Mage's Association, grinding his teeth and waiting for his chance at payback. Years later, he finally made his move, turning against the Association to orchestrate the Holy Grail War.

"Back then, I was just angry and stubborn, seeing everything as black or white," Darnic said with a gentle smile. "Those days... I'll never forget them. But now I'm not chasing after the Holy Grail anymore. I believe in our younger ones, and I know they'll make the Yggdmillennia name proud - show everyone who looked down on us what we're truly capable of."

Jeanne watched him quietly.

He'd changed completely.

Not just on the outside—his heart and soul were also different.

The Darnic who had schemed throughout the Holy Grail War years ago had been just another self-serving magus. Now he had grown into someone his clan could truly look up to.