Abnormality In Type-Moon: Madness Of Animeverse

In a void of absolute darkness, a small bubble floated aimlessly.

Inside the bubble, fleeting images played out like projections—some pitch-black, some vividly bright, others featuring indistinct figures flashing by. The scenes spanned an endless stretch of time, from beginning to end.

After watching the entire display within the bubble, Angra Mainyu rested his chin on his hand, deep in thought.

"Do you enjoy prying into others' pasts this much?"

Beside the bubble stood a cross, steadfast and immovable.

Bound to the cross by ropes, Roy stared coldly at Angra Mainyu, his disdain for the creature evident in his voice.

Nearby, the Nightmare Curse Spirit loomed ominously, its countless eyes fixated on Roy like something out of a horror movie, sending shivers down the spine.

"Well, perhaps a little," Angra Mainyu admitted with a chuckle. "But don't get the wrong idea. I have no interest in just anyone's past. It's only because this is yours that I'm intrigued. Can't you appreciate my dedication?"

"Disgusting. Would you kindly cut out your tongue?"

"My, how cold," Angra Mainyu sighed, though his smug expression betrayed how much he was enjoying himself.

Roy's stomach churned in revulsion. Suppressing his disgust wasn't in his nature, so he made no effort to hold back his sharp tongue.

"You're even worse than I imagined. Did humanity evolve while you were hiding in a cave? Pretending to be human must be exhausting for you. Do us all a favor and stay indoors—civilization doesn't need creatures like you wandering the streets."

A barrage of barbed insults rolled effortlessly off Roy's tongue, leaving Angra Mainyu momentarily stunned.

As the embodiment of malice, Angra Mainyu wasn't particularly bothered by verbal abuse. What truly amazed him was Roy's sheer proficiency in hurling insults. How many books on mockery had this man studied to be this fluent?

"Enough of that." Angra Mainyu's interest waned, and he waved dismissively.

"Let's get back to the point. Even after delving into your past, I still can't understand—how do you suppress the malice inside you? Is it because of something that girl, Jeanne, once said to you? That can't be it, right?"

Jeanne, with her saintly aura, was like a flawless saint devoid of selfish desires or shadows. Her words and actions were beyond the grasp of ordinary humans.

But Angra Mainyu's instincts told him that Jeanne's words weren't what had held Roy back.

As the embodiment of malice, he was acutely attuned to such things. He could see that while Roy's words and actions were steeped in malice, the man's core beliefs—the foundation of his being—were far more complex.

Yet, Angra Mainyu couldn't discern what lay beyond the malice. It confounded him.

"I refuse to answer."

Roy cut him off bluntly, his voice filled with disdain.

"And frankly, I don't need to. If anyone should be worried right now, it's you."

Angra Mainyu tilted his head, puzzled.

The current situation was clear: Roy was his prisoner, and the would-be rescuers were trapped in a dream world under his control. What could Roy possibly mean by that?

Before he could respond, his expression froze.

"Buzz—!"

As if responding to Roy's words, a crimson magic circle suddenly materialized beneath them, expanding in an instant.

From the glowing array emerged a group of strikingly different figures: Miss Okita, the twin-tailed mage, and the white-haired loli—familiar faces to Roy.

But what caught him off guard was the last figure—a golden-haired, blue-eyed battle nun.

"Jeanne? Why is she here?" Roy murmured, momentarily stunned by the unexpected arrival of this particular reinforcements.

"She came to the Aozaki residence of her own accord, insisting on entering the dream to rescue you," Taigong Wang's playful voice echoed in Roy's mind. "And, oh, her concern for you seemed quite genuine. Interesting, isn't it?"

Ever since entering the dream world, Taigong Wang had maintained a connection with Roy, acting as his hidden ace. The timely transfer of Okita and the others was part of a prearranged plan—a wild card reserved for the right moment.

Inside the void, Jeanne's gaze immediately sought Roy.

Her expression was a complex mix of relief, guilt, and a trace of tender sorrow.

As soon as she arrived, Okita charged straight at the Nightmare Curse Spirit, her blade cutting through the void with relentless precision. She aimed to neutralize the creature before it could react.

Meanwhile, Rin and Illya worked quickly to free Roy from the cross.

Once on the ground, Roy rolled his wrists, then looked up sharply, his eyes locking onto Jeanne's.

In that fleeting moment, her conflicted gaze betrayed everything—reluctance, hesitation, and a guilt she couldn't hide.

"Jeanne…" Roy's voice was low, carrying an unmistakable edge.

Her eyes widened momentarily before she averted her gaze, flustered, as if trying to escape his piercing stare.

"Hmph." Roy snorted coldly.

"Is that guilt I see? How utterly pathetic. Do you really think 'sorry' is enough?" His voice rose several octaves, slicing through the tension like a blade.

Jeanne's shoulders trembled at his sharp words. She bit her lip, her face flushed with embarrassment, as if wishing she could disappear entirely.

"Ang… Angra Mainyu!" Jeanne suddenly raised her voice, attempting to deflect the attention.

But her stammer betrayed her, and the strength in her tone faltered.

"I don't go by that name." Angra Mainyu retorted nonchalantly, though he frowned in annoyance at the turn of events.

"Still, I didn't expect the Saintess herself to show up. Talk about the worst possible matchup. What a disaster…"

"You won't be allowed to wreak havoc any longer!" Jeanne's voice regained its composure as she forced herself into a battle-ready state.

Without hesitation, she drew a gleaming silver sword from her hip and slashed her palm, crimson blood dripping onto the blade. She knelt, clasped her hands in prayer, and whispered a solemn invocation.

"Lord, I offer this body unto Your will—"

Blinding flames erupted around her, pure and radiant like sunlight, forming a lotus of fiery petals that spread in every direction.

At the heart of the flames, Jeanne's form transformed, adorned in immaculate armor radiating an aura of divinity.

Her voice rang out, resounding with unshakable faith.

"The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of His hands. Day after day, they pour forth speech; night after night, they reveal knowledge.

Not a word is spoken, not a sound is heard, yet their voice goes out into all the earth. From the ends of the heavens to their farthest reaches, I go where I must. My life is but a shadow, my strength not my own, but I shall not falter.

Lord, I offer this body unto Your will—where despair reigns, hope shall rise!"

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