Fate Grand Order: Broadcasting Master Love — Chapter 2

Chapter 2: First Encounter with Jalter

High above, the mysterious light screen flickered. Gilded characters and shifting shadows intertwined across its massive surface, broadcasting the origins of Jeanne d’Arc Alter—and her fateful first meeting with Fujimaru Ritsuka—to the entirety of the Nasuverse.

“Jeanne d’Arc Alter. A Servant born from Gilles de Rais’s wish upon the Holy Grail.”

The moment the glowing text materialized, a wave of shock and sharp critiques rippled across the various timelines.

In Fuyuki, during the height of the Fourth Holy Grail War, Tohsaka Tokiomi frowned deeply. He swirled the wine in his glass, his tone dripping with a magus’s aristocratic disdain. “So she is merely a product conjured by another man’s obsession using the power of the Holy Grail, not a Heroic Spirit born naturally from human history. Such a pieced-together existence has an inherently flawed foundation.”

Gilgamesh leaned lazily against a marble pillar, his crimson eyes sweeping over the projection. He scoffed, a cruel smirk tugging at his lips. “Gilles de Rais? Just a fool drowning in his own delusions. To think a mongrel could fabricate something like this using the Grail… it is a rare amusement for this King.”

Artoria’s gaze shifted slightly, her emerald eyes reflecting the screen’s glow. “Born from the catalyst of another’s wish,” she murmured, her voice tight. “This existence itself carries an extremely heavy burden of obsession and bias.”

Decades away, in the timeline of the Fifth Holy Grail War, Tohsaka Rin clicked her tongue, crossing her arms. “She was actually created by someone’s wish? Not summoned from the Throne of Heroes itself? That’s completely absurd!”

Emiya Shirou stared at the sky, utterly stunned. “You can create a whole new Heroic Spirit just by wishing for one? Then she’s completely different from a normal Servant.”

Archer leaned against the wall nearby, his eyes half-closed in cynical indifference. “Birthed by human obsession, she is essentially an incarnation of that madness rather than a true Heroic Spirit. An existence like that is doomed to experience nothing but extreme, volatile emotions.”

Meanwhile, inside the Chaldea control room, Da Vinci Lily tapped rapidly on the main console. She adjusted her glasses, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “Gilles de Rais’s obsession with Jeanne at that time had reached a pathological level. His grief, his anger, his prejudice—they were all forcefully kneaded into that wish. Jalter’s birth was tainted with heavy subjectivity from the very first second.”

She paused, her smile widening into something far more teasing. “But look at her now… hehehe.”

The light screen rippled like water, and new gilded text slowly burned into view:

“Although she is Jeanne’s inverted form, Saint Joan of Arc normally does not possess an Alter state. Jeanne d’Arc Alter was produced by mixing Gilles de Rais’s fury, his prejudice, and his one-sided obsession… artificially creating an ‘other side’ that fundamentally should not exist.”

At these words, the uproar across the Nasuverse grew deafening.

Inside the Clock Tower, Lord El-Melloi II abruptly stood up from his desk, his cigar nearly slipping from his fingers. “To conjure a Heroic Spirit form that never existed out of thin air? Gilles de Rais’s madness combined with the Holy Grail is a direct violation of the fundamental laws governing Heroic Spirits!”

Elsewhere, the priests of the Holy Church turned ashen. A white-haired Executor clenched his Holy Scripture, his knuckles turning white. “Twisting the sacred to birth heresy! This is not merely blasphemy against the Throne of Heroes—it is a direct trampling upon the divine!”

Back in the Fourth Holy Grail War, Kotomine Kirei stroked the hilt of a Black Key hidden in his sleeve. A dark, genuine smile curved his lips. “An ‘other side’ born purely from obsession. Such a beautifully twisted existence is practically a breeding ground for extreme emotions. How fascinating.”

Beside him in the shadows, Emiya Kiritsugu’s gaze remained dead and cold. “Born from the anger and prejudice of another. Such a weapon can only ever be a puppet to that obsession. It cannot possibly possess independent emotion.”

Inside Chaldea, Mash gripped her shield, her voice dropping to a soft murmur. “So Miss Jalter isn’t the true inverted Saint at all. She was just created by Mr. Gilles’s grief… No wonder she always insists she isn’t the real Jeanne.”

Fujimaru Ritsuka gazed up at the screen, a soft, empathetic light in his eyes. “Being tied down by someone else’s baggage since the moment you’re born? Anyone would get a little temperamental. Honestly, she’s actually being quite restrained.”

The screen’s image abruptly shattered and reformed, bringing the ash and smoke of the First Singularity, Orléans, rushing forth.

A girl in dark, jagged armor stood amidst the ruins, holding a tattered banner. The edges of the dark purple flag curled with roaring Black Flames. She had descended upon the world in the Ruler class, her golden eyes burning with the fierce, unyielding fire of vengeance. Her target: every single soul who had persecuted Jeanne in life.

In the vision, her movements were swift, brutal, and decisive. Wherever her Black Flames swept, the French forces that had conspired against the Saint were reduced to ash. She raised her banner high and laughed—a wild, broken sound filled with burning hatred that echoed across the blood-soaked battlefield.

“Cheer! Cheer for our revenge! Hahahaha!”

Gilded text appeared beneath the blazing inferno, revealing the tragic truth behind her crusade:

“She was born in the First Singularity under the Ruler class, launching a campaign of absolute revenge against those who persecuted Jeanne in life—despite lacking any of Jeanne’s actual memories.”

“No memories of the original owner? Then what exactly is she avenging?” Rin exclaimed, her eyes wide with disbelief. “To seek revenge driven by someone else’s madness, without even knowing what she hates… that’s just tragic!”

Shirou’s brow furrowed tightly. “No memories, yet she still carries out the slaughter. She fundamentally doesn’t know what she’s doing. She’s just being pushed forward by a ghost.”

Gilgamesh scoffed, crossing his arms. “A fool who doesn’t even comprehend the root of her own actions. Nothing more than a hollow puppet dancing on the strings of obsession.”

Artoria, however, shook her head. A complex sorrow softened her features. “Driven to burn the world despite lacking the memory of why. To be compelled against one’s own will in such a manner… it is deeply lamentable.”

The scene on the screen surged forward. The figures from Chaldea burst onto the blackened battlefield. Fujimaru Ritsuka stood at the absolute forefront, raising his hand to command the Servants beside him. They immediately arrayed themselves to meet the Dragon Witch.

Blinding sword light, the destructive glow of Noble Phantasms, and roaring Black Flames collided violently. The shockwaves shook the blood-red skies of Orléans.

At that moment, the two were absolute enemies. One fought desperately to save human order and repair the Singularity; the other fought to fulfill the hollow revenge programmed into her very core. Their positions were entirely adversarial, leaving zero room for negotiation.

Finally, amidst the dissipating smoke and dying Black Flames, Jalter’s spirit core began to crack. Her body gradually turned transparent. As she fell, her golden eyes locked onto Ritsuka—filled with burning unwillingness, raging fury, and a tiny, imperceptible trace of bewilderment.

The gilded text drew a cold, final footnote to the battle:

“Ultimately defeated by Fujimaru Ritsuka of Chaldea in order to save human order. This was their first ‘encounter’—a bitter fight to the death.”

As the scene faded to black, the Nasuverse fell into a heavy silence, soon broken by a mixture of sighs and sharp critiques.

Tokiomi adjusted his cuffs, his tone dismissive. “Opposed in stance, drawing swords, and fighting to the death. How could any sort of bond possibly blossom from such a barbaric first meeting? It is sheer nonsense.”

Kotomine Kirei, however, chuckled softly. “A first meeting that ends in a life-or-death struggle leaves a far deeper brand on the soul. This absolute antagonism might actually be the perfect soil for a bond to take root.”

Rin sighed, rubbing her temples. “Fighting to the death right out of the gate… who would have thought things would turn out the way they did later on?”

Archer’s eyes flickered with a rare hint of amusement. “Violent first meetings often breed the most complicated emotions. Especially once one party finally sees through the other’s tough exterior.”

Inside Chaldea, Ritsuka looked at the lingering image of the defeated Dragon Witch. His shoulders dropped slightly. “Seeing it again like this… she really was a bit pitiable back then.”

Mash nodded gently, her expression softening. “Yes. At that time, Miss Jalter was only driven by hatred, without any true thoughts of her own. Even so, it took everything we had to stop her. She was truly a formidable opponent.”

Lady Avalon sat perched on a nearby sofa, swinging her legs lazily. She let out a melodic, teasing laugh. “Oh, please! This is the classic ‘enemies to lovers’ pipeline! The fiercer the clash at the start, the sweeter the romance later on.”

High above, Jalter’s defeated figure completely dissolved into particles of light. But those unwilling, burning golden eyes remained deeply imprinted on the minds of every observer—laying the perfect, volatile foundation for a Master-Love dynamic that began in absolute opposition.