Laurent flew for quite a distance before finally crashing into the forest, skidding through the undergrowth until he managed to steady himself.
Jeanne Alter had clearly held back with that last hit—otherwise, given her strength, he'd have been smashed clean through half the forest.
Still, his body ached. He reached out to brace himself against a nearby tree, and blood instantly welled from his palm, spreading outward like veins, devouring the trees around him.
His energy was running low.
And honestly, after being stepped on by her—and getting that accidental peek under her skirt—he'd wasted even more energy.
Thinking about it now, he really was a genius designer. Those small gaps in her armor, meant purely for movement and flexibility? From this angle, they were pure, lethal seduction.
And that allure wasn't just physical—it clung to her whole presence, like a dark, irresistible pull.
No, no, no!
Laurent slapped his cheeks hard, forcing his mind back in order.
Focus. He needed to assess the situation first.
This body wasn't his original one—it felt more like a Servant's form, a conceptual copy of his past self. He had his strength, yes, but not the full power—or concept—of evil.
Then came the next problem: his Master.
Where the hell were they?
From where he stood, the distant city was still burning—wyverns tearing through streets under a black sky.
And from what Jeanne Alter had said, Laurent was more and more certain the "Jeanne" he'd just fought wasn't the real one. No, she was her complete opposite.
The Jeanne he knew would never torch cities she once bled to save.
So why couldn't he bring himself to strike her down when he had the chance? The evil aura radiating off her would've even replenished his strength.
Forget it. Even with another chance, he knew he couldn't do it. But if he ever found out that woman had chosen Jeanne's face for her destruction, he'd never forgive her.
Rubbing his temples, Laurent sighed.
He needed to feed.
This time, not limiting it to his hands, he stomped his foot into the earth. Blood spread outward, devouring more trees in waves.
Then—
"Fujimaru, Mash, I've detected a Servant northwest of you. Massive energy signature—he's already noticed you! Can't confirm friend or foe, so stay alert. Avoid battle if possible—you've got the numbers advantage."
"Got it!"
"Roger!"
Laurent frowned. For some reason, one of those voices drew his attention immediately.
Numbers advantage? Ha. Back in his time, even hundreds of angels thought that.
And now, after that fight, more Servants were coming?
He'd barely had a bite.
With a sigh, he decided to see whether they'd attack him on sight like the last group.
Footsteps rustled closer through the forest.
"Mash, Fujimaru—careful! You're right on top of the target!"
"Yes!"
Laurent turned toward the sound, retracting the blood around him.
A few figures emerged from the trees:
A black-haired young man with sharp eyes.
A girl in revealing purple armor that barely counted as clothing—short, asymmetrical purple bob hiding one eye.
Laurent stared a little too long. Bold fashion choices for this era.
Then he saw the third figure—and froze.
…You've got to be kidding me.
The very same Holy Maiden who'd just driven a spear through his skull stood there, eyes wide with shock.
Her voice trembled. "Lau…rent…"
But Laurent had zero interest in dramatic reunions. He jumped back, pointing furiously.
"Hey, hey, hey! D'Arc! I'm warning you—if you dare stab me in the head again with my lance, I swear I'll grab you and spank your ass right here!"
"…"
Silence.
Everyone turned to stare at Jeanne. She blinked, glanced awkwardly at the lance in her hands.
"I… uh…"
Before she could finish, Laurent had already ducked behind a tree, only his head poking out.
"I'm serious! And don't let your companions touch me either, you hear me?"
"Wha—no way! I'd never do something like that!" Jeanne stammered, flustered.
Laurent squinted at her. White outfit. Gentle aura. Naïve expression. The exact opposite of the other one.
Same great figure, though. She really grew up nicely.
Meanwhile, Jeanne's mind was racing. His strange words, the way he said again—
Had he already met another version of her?
Laurent's gaze lingered a moment too long—then caught the ring glinting on Jeanne's right hand.
A ring?
The other one didn't have that.
He slowly stepped out from behind the tree, though the purple-armored girl and black-haired youth stayed on guard.
"It's alright," Jeanne said quickly. "Don't worry about him."
Laurent walked up to her and, ignoring everyone's reactions, reached out to pinch her cheek lightly.
Soft. Warm. Definitely his Jeanne.
"Jeanne?" he asked softly, still uncertain.
Her face flushed deep red. She couldn't meet his eyes, her voice shrinking to a shy whisper.
"L-Laurent… um… could we maybe… save this kind of thing for later…?"
---
A/N:
A quick reminder: once a singularity is resolved, it's as if it never existed.
Alter Jeanne can summon other Servants, while the original Jeanne appears as a Ruler-class Servant.
Think of it like the 14-Servant battle in Fate/Apocrypha.
Anyway—Alter Jeanne's hot, dangerous, and cool as hell. That's all you need to know.
T/N: this author really is a simp..
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