Fate Grand Order: Broadcasting Master Love — Chapter 17

Chapter 17: The Homeless Miss Alter on Christmas Eve (III)

Up on the light screen, Jalter stood tall, her armored fingertips carelessly tapping the empty air beside her. The corners of her golden eyes tilted upward, catching the light as a mocking smirk tugged at her lips. Her posture was relaxed, oozing a lazy yet entirely deliberate bravado.

“Ha—I see. This is truly an elaborate prank. Thank you for your hard work!”

She straightened her back, crossing her arms and tilting her chin to look down her nose at the camera. Dismissive pride radiated from her gaze. Every word she spoke was crisp, carrying a boastful, absolute certainty.

“You probably think I must be spending Christmas alone and lonely, right? But what a shame—I’m happy every single day.”

Spreading her hands, she shook them lightly. Her fingertips traced through the void, leaving faint, lingering trails of dark flame in their wake. Her tone grew cheerful, though the mirth never quite reached her eyes.

“I have so many delightful friends, so many I can’t even count them on both hands!”

Right on cue, a chorus of agonizing wails erupted from the broadcast.

The camera panned to reveal several disheveled, pale-faced Pierres huddled together in a miserable pile. Their fine bishop robes were torn and caked in dust. They waved their hands frantically at the screen, their voices hoarse and broken.

“Help! Let me go! Spare me!”

These were the very bishops who had condemned her, slaughtered by Jalter’s revenge during the First Singularity. Now, she was holding them in multiple spirit forms just to subject them to continuous, agonizing torment.

A small system notification floated across the bottom of the screen: [MasterLove Radar failed to activate.]

Outside the broadcast, Fujimaru Ritsuka blinked. He stared at the floating text for a long second before his shoulders slumped.

“What do you mean ‘failed to activate’?” he complained, rubbing his temples. “Isn’t that just blatant discrimination?”

Sion immediately leaned into his field of vision, her eyes curving into mischievous crescents. She threw him a playful wink.

“What’s wrong, Ritsuka? Were you secretly hoping Pierre would trigger the ML radar?”

“No, no, no, no, no!” Ritsuka shook his head so fast it was a blur. Heat rushed to his cheeks as he waved his hands in a frantic panic, terrified that entertaining the joke for even a second would permanently ruin his reputation.

Back on the screen, Santa Alter’s grip suddenly tightened around the hilt of her dark sword. Her brow furrowed, wariness and sheer disbelief bleeding into her flat gaze.

“A crowd of ghosts…?” she demanded, her voice dropping an octave. “You, did you use them—”

Jalter arched a delicate eyebrow. She let out a sharp, mocking laugh and snapped her fingers.

An invisible force immediately seized the wailing Pierres, dragging them across the floor and slamming them into chairs around a massive wooden table. Jalter strolled over to the edge of the board, her finger tapping against the scattered game pieces and colorful paper money. A crafty, malicious grin split her face.

“That’s right! I’m playing a delightful tabletop game with them! Games are so much fun, especially this one. It’s truly wonderful!”

Leaning over the board, she pinched a glittering gold coin between her fingers, spinning it effortlessly. A dark, thrilling excitement surged in her golden eyes, her voice dripping with an undisguised desire for absolute plunder.

“The weak can only follow the path of the strong, while the strong simply keep squeezing the weak. The feeling of snatching flesh and blood from the hands of other players who are bawling their eyes out… it is truly exhilarating.”

She slammed the coin onto the table. The crisp clink echoed through the room as her grin stretched wider, bordering on flamboyant mania.

“That’s right! My assets are now in first place with an absolute advantage! Monopoly is so much fun! Monopoly!”

Santa Alter frowned. She leaned closer to the table, her pale eyes scanning the scattered properties and paper bills. The crease between her brows deepened.

“Eh? The gap isn’t as big as you claim. There’s only a difference of about ten thousand dollars between first and second place.”

Still bound by Jalter’s invisible force, Pierre D trembled violently in his seat. His shaking fingers reached out, blindly grabbing the two dice. He tossed them onto the board. The little cubes clattered across the wood, bouncing off a plastic hotel before finally coming to a halt.

The result left even the despairing bishop stunned.

Jalter’s manic smile instantly froze.

Her golden pupils contracted into pinpricks. All of her previous smugness evaporated into thin air, replaced by sheer, unadulterated shock. A dark shadow visibly fell over her face.

Watching from the sidelines, Ritsuka took in the board state and couldn’t suppress the quiet snort that escaped his lips.

“A total reversal,” he murmured, his shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. “Jeanne d’Arc Alter landed on the boardwalk… she has to pay a million dollars to Pierre.”

On the screen, Jalter’s fist clenched. Without a second of hesitation, she swept her arm across the entire table.

Game pieces, property cards, and paper money went flying, crashing to the floor in a loud, chaotic clatter. She turned her face away, staring at the ceiling with forced nonchalance.

“Oh, sorry. My hand slipped,” she declared, though the twitching of her eye betrayed her immense annoyance. “Let’s just start over. What a shame.”

Pierre D slumped out of his chair and onto the floor. All color and expression had long since drained from his face. He simply lay there with his mouth hanging open, letting out a heart-wrenching, gravelly croak for help that barely made a sound.

In the Fourth Holy Grail War timeline, Gilles de Rais stood with his eyes blown wide. His breathing grew ragged, his fists clenching so hard his knuckles turned white. His entire magical aura fluctuated violently, feeding off his manic excitement.

Pressing a hand to his chest, he threw his head back and unleashed a joyous, fanatical howl.

“Yes! Exactly! That is it! My Holy Maiden! Avenge yourself! Hate! Punish the agents of God in this world without a shred of mercy! We are desecrating God right now! Ooooooooooh!”

Beside the screaming Caster, Uryuu Ryuunosuke kept his gaze lowered. His fingertips rubbed together in a slow, rhythmic motion. A cruel, twisted smile played across his lips as dark thoughts churned behind his eyes.

‘It is not enough… still not enough,’Ryuunosuke thought.’This level is far too inferior compared to true art. I want more. Even more blood…’

The morbid craving in his quiet smile was enough to chill the bone.

Back on the broadcast, Santa Alter watched the ruined Monopoly board with a deep, judgmental frown. Her pale eyes were entirely devoid of warmth.

“How wicked,” she reprimanded, her flat tone heavy with disappointment. “You haven’t reflected on your actions at all, have you? At this rate, you will never make any friends. Becoming a true Servant is even more of a pipe dream.”

Jalter scoffed. She turned her back to the Alter Saber, crossing her arms tightly over her chest.

“Hmph. I don’t want to be a Servant anyway,” she snapped, her chin jutting out in stubborn defiance. “And I certainly don’t want a Master.”

Despite her harsh words, a faint, almost imperceptible dimness flickered across her golden eyes. She lowered her eyelashes, her gloved fingertips curling slightly against her sleeves. When she spoke again, her voice had lost its bite, replaced by a heavy, unspeakable bitterness.

“Or rather… what face do I have left to go over to your side now?”

She slowly bowed her head. Her voice dropped to a soft, fragile whisper, carrying a deep and stubborn loneliness.

“I’m fine on my own. Being alone is fine. My atonement is something I should do myself.”

Then, as if realizing she had let her guard down, she snapped her head back up. The fierce, defiant fire returned to her gaze, masking her inner turmoil with deliberate, exclusionary sharpness.

“Besides, who would want to rely on someone else’s power? Especially the power of that hateful Fujimaru Ritsuka who defeated me! Who would ever borrow that?”

Outside the light screen, the original Jeanne d’Arc watched her counterpart’s outburst and shook her head. A gentle, understanding warmth filled her eyes.

“She seems… a bit of a tsundere, doesn’t she, Alter?” Jeanne laughed softly.

As if her tail had been stepped on, Jalter whipped her head around to glare at the holy maiden. Hostility flared in her golden eyes, her fangs bared in an instant.

“Ha? Can you, a country girl who can’t even write her own name, stop trying to show off your presence!”

The gentle smile instantly vanished from Jeanne’s face.

A blinding flash of magical energy erupted around her. In the blink of an eye, her standard armor dissolved, replaced by her Swimsuit Spirit Origin. She stood tall, a dangerous, terrifyingly cheerful smile tugging at her lips. The air around her grew heavy with playful but absolute pressure.

Raising her hands, she took a flawless throwing stance.

“It seems Big Sister needs to give you a proper education,” Jeanne declared, her voice dripping with sweet menace. “I will teach you exactly what respect for an older sister means. Take this! Onee-san Beam!!”

Fujimaru Ritsuka watched the chaotic scene unfold from the sidelines, his jaw hanging slightly slack. A deeply complicated, almost traumatized expression washed over his face.

“I feel like…” he murmured under his breath, a drop of cold sweat sliding down his cheek. “…I’m remembering some very strange things.”