Fate Grand Order: Broadcasting Master Love — Chapter 106

Chapter 106: Fujimaru Ritsuka’s Gilles de Rais

In the universe of the magical girl, Illya stood with her hands planted firmly on her hips. Her shimmering white hair swayed with her agitated movements. Crimson eyes widened in absolute horror, her lips curling into a deep, dissatisfied pout.

“What is wrong with this guy?!” she cried out, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “He’s even worse than that Fergus creep from before! Everything coming out of his mouth is a total nightmare!”

Meanwhile, in the Fourth Holy Grail War’s Fuyuki City, a far more sinister reaction was taking place.

Deep within a dark, damp Magecraft Workshop, mottled bloodstains coated the concrete walls, taking on a sickening, rusted hue under the erratic flickering of candlelight. Uryu Ryunosuke stood on his tiptoes, his entire body vibrating with manic excitement. He clutched at his own fluffy orange hair, his eyes gleaming with a feverish, sickly light as he stared fixedly at the Servant on the broadcast.

“That’s it! That’s exactly it, Lord Bluebeard!” Ryunosuke shrieked, his voice cracking with euphoria. The air in the underground chamber hung heavy with the pungent, metallic stench of fresh blood, a scent that only stretched his grin wider. “Let us witness the most COOL spectacle together!”

Across the dimensional divide in the Fifth Holy Grail War, the Tohsaka residence offered a much cleaner environment, yet the warm yellow lighting of the living room did nothing to dispel the sudden chill creeping through the air.

Tohsaka Rin sat on the sofa, her delicate brows knitted together. Her clear blue eyes reflected nothing but pure revulsion. She rubbed her arms, trying to smooth down the goosebumps rising on her skin.

“Why do these Servants keep getting weirder and weirder? Ugh…” She suppressed a full-body shudder, turning her gaze away from the screen for a brief second.

On the light screen, Gilles de Rais’s mad, obsessive declarations continued to echo through the air. Fujimaru Ritsuka stood frozen in place, a single drop of cold sweat tracking down his temple. He instinctively took a half-step back, glancing toward the Servants flanking him.

“His enthusiasm is a little much…” Ritsuka muttered, a strained, helpless edge to his voice.

From the depths of Ritsuka’s shadow, the Avenger’s golden eyes flared with sudden ferocity. Edmond Dantes bared his teeth in a ghastly white grin, a venomous, echoing laugh tearing from his throat.

“Kill! Kill! Kill! That bastard knows exactly how to chew through a soul!” The Count’s voice scraped through the air like a poisoned blade, carrying a malice that made the scalp crawl.

In an instant, the surrounding scenery shattered like fragile glass. Ritsuka felt the world violently spin on its axis. An invisible force yanked his consciousness backward through the void, dragging him out of the chaotic singularity and abruptly depositing him into a familiar, reassuring space—Chaldea’s Control Room.

The Chaldean iteration of Gilles de Rais stood quietly by his side. The Servant leaned down slightly, his expression etched with genuine concern. His warm breath brushed past Ritsuka’s ear as he spoke in a hushed, gentle tone.

“…This is not good, Ritsuka.”

Unlike the raving madman on the broadcast, this voice was low, steady, and remarkably kind.

“You aren’t responding to Mash or the Doctor at all. It seems your consciousness has drifted somewhere incredibly deep.” Gilles lowered his gaze, the faint shadows beneath his eyelids giving him a melancholic air. “My deepest apologies. It appears a fragment of my being has caused you undue distress…”

Straightening his posture, Gilles kept his mild eyes fixed on the young Master. “You are in a truly precarious state. With my current power, I cannot pull you back to reality as you are now.”

A gentle, reassuring smile curved his lips, softening the harsh lines of his face. “But please, do not worry. From what I have seen, the radiance of your soul is entirely unique. As long as that light does not extinguish, you will surely find your way back to this place in time.”

His quiet conviction carried a strange weight, washing away the lingering anxiety in the room. Then, his eyes dimmed. A trace of imperceptible sorrow leaked into his expression, his voice dropping to a reverent whisper.

“…Although someone of my meager caliber cannot possibly fathom all of my Lord’s thoughts. Even so, you will surely…” He paused, taking a slow breath as he carefully chose his next words.

A relieved, hopeful smile finally broke through the sorrow. “…surely receive the protection of our Saint.”

Back in the Fourth Holy Grail War, silence reigned in the grand hall of the Einzbern Castle.

Saber sat rigidly upon a cold stone chair, her silver-white armor catching the dim candlelight. Her emerald eyes were wide with sheer bewilderment as she stared at the gentle, courteous Gilles de Rais on the screen.

“The Gilles de Rais summoned by that altered Jeanne was eccentric, yes, but he still followed his Saint’s orders,” Saber murmured to herself, her brow furrowing. “But this… how can he be so… lucid?”

She simply could not reconcile the dignified, soft-spoken man on the screen with the bloodthirsty, child-murdering Caster she was currently hunting in Fuyuki.

Leaning against a nearby stone pillar, Emiya Kiritsugu held a lit cigarette between his fingers. Wispy trails of gray smoke drifted upward, blurring his stoic features. He took a slow drag and exhaled a perfect ring into the freezing air.

“Unbelievable,” Kiritsugu muttered, a rare note of astonishment bleeding through his usual apathy. “Is it the influence of his Master? To think that butcher could act so…”

On the light screen, the scene shifted once more. Ritsuka slowly fluttered his eyes open, greeted immediately by a gentle, soothing female voice right beside his ear.

“—Ahh, thank goodness, you’ve opened your eyes.”

Lines of elegant golden text began to materialize in the corner of the broadcast, formally introducing the girl who had just spoken.

[Saint Joan of Arc, the world’s most famous saint. At seventeen, she left her hometown. In the mere two years before her execution by burning at nineteen, she carved her name into the very foundation of human history. She is the holy maiden who saved France. After miraculously achieving victory after victory, she met a tragic end born of slander and betrayal.]

In the Fifth Holy Grail War, out in the quiet courtyard of the Emiya residence, Emiya Shirou stared at the golden text and the blonde girl on the screen. His face scrunched up in utter confusion. Unable to hold it in any longer, he pointed a finger directly at the broadcast.

“I’ve been holding this in since that dark version of her showed up, but seriously—why does the Saint of France look exactly like Saber?!”

Standing just a few steps behind him, Saber frowned deeply. A flicker of deep bewilderment passed through her emerald eyes. She crossed her arms, just as clueless as her Master as to why the legendary King of Britain and the Holy Maiden of France shared the exact same face.