Fate/Juggernaut

A/N: confession time. I'm trying a new thing. I've decided to run my text through chat GPT for the purpose of cleaning up the text. Nothing more. I wrote the chapter, and simply said "clean this up a little" and this was the result.

I know a lot of people might be skeptical, as I've seen authors use A.I. to write their books, but all I had it do was clean it up.

Please tell me your impressions, and whether or not you like it. Please also tell me if you think I should stop using it. I would greatly like to know your thoughts.

===Jeanne===

"Better her hands than yours!" Jeanne spat, glaring at the Altar of the man she loved.

His hate-filled eyes snapped toward her as he rose, his back mending itself before he reached up to touch his still-burnt face.

"What did you do? Why am I not healing?" he demanded, a tremor of uncertainty in his voice.

Jeanne didn't have an answer. When she'd struck him with her flames, she had poured everything into them—her will, her desires, her hope, her hatred… and all her love and purpose.

As the seconds passed, she watched the full extent of her actions unfold. His skin attempted to regenerate, but it flaked off again, leaving the damaged muscle beneath exposed to the air.

His left eye had been scorched so badly it seemed to have melted in its socket, leaving behind a gooey mass as his healing factor worked furiously to repair him.

"Damn you! DAMN YOU!" he screamed, his one remaining golden eye burning with rage.

Jeanne moved just as he lunged, rolling to the right before lunging forward, thrusting her sword into him once more.

He screamed in pain as her sword ripped through his ribs. She backstepped, dodging a wild backhanded swing from his left arm, then rolled forward to hamstring his left leg. With a swift motion, she thrust her lance upward into his unguarded back, just below his right shoulder blade.

Another cry escaped him, but he twisted and swung his halberd with all his might. The weapon missed as Jeanne leapt over it, but the hillside beneath them collapsed under the force of his swing.

She crossed her weapons in front of her to block a punch from his left fist, but the impact sent her crashing into the broken earth. She hit the ground hard, rolling aside just as he appeared above her and stomped down with all his might, shattering the ground around them.

The shockwave of the impact threw her backward, but she was caught mid-air before being thrown violently to the ground. The air was knocked from her lungs as Alter's right fist slammed into her stomach, forcing her into a ball of pain.

Her head was wrenched back as he grabbed her hair with his left hand and pounded his right fist into her face. Blood poured from her nose and mouth with each blow, until finally, he dropped her limp form back onto the shattered earth

They were both breathing heavily, though Jeanne sputtered blood with each breath. She slowly pushed herself up, propping herself on her elbows as she stared defiantly at the twisted figure of her lover.

He took a step back to catch his breath, a grimace twisting his face into a mockery of a grin.

"You know what she'll do to him?" he growled, his voice little more than a rasp.

"She'll try to make him hers. She craves love, but all she knows is lust and domination. You chose to let him go with her, instead of dying by my hand," he said, crouching down and gripping her face to force her gaze up at him. "I get it. I understand your choice. But where I would have killed him, she'll break him. He's weak—he won't be able to resist her."

His tone turned mocking. "She'll break him down, make him think he's unworthy of you. Especially after what she does to him."

He shoved her face away as he stood and gripped the back of her head by the hair.

"I can already hear her saying, 'No one will want someone as broken as you.'"

Grabbing Jeanne by the hair, he yanked her upright, ignoring the grunt of pain that escaped her.

"You know how I know she'll say that?" he sneered. "Because it's what she said to me." He followed the words with a brutal punch to her stomach.

She crumpled to the ground, but as he closed in, she pushed herself to her hands and knees. Blood filled her mouth, and she spat it out before forcing herself to her feet.

"She might say that to him," she said, tossing her head back to fling her bloodied hair from her face. "But he won't believe her. You know why?" Her voice was filled with defiance.

Alter stopped, momentarily thrown off balance. He tilted his head, confused.

"Because he's not a little bitch like you."

With that, she exploded into flames, charging forward with her sword raised.

Alter roared in rage, throwing a fist at the flames, but the moment his skin made contact, his roar turned into a guttural cry of pain. The flames, while weaker than before, were still enough to burn with deadly force.

Golden energy surged through Alter's right arm as the purple Rho Aias shield bloomed to absorb the flames.

"This isn't over!" he screamed from behind his shield, which cracked under the pressure of Jeanne's fire. "Do you hear me!?"

With a roar of humiliation and anger, Alter turned and fled, dissolving into blue particles, vanishing from sight.

As he did, Jeanne extinguished the flames surrounding her, standing alone amid the ruins of the battlefield. She swayed slightly before collapsing to her knees, then falling backward onto the ground. Exhausted from the fight, she struggled to remain conscious, her energy spent.

Her white and silver armor shattered like glass, dissolving into her usual blue and silver attire. Voices calling her name reached her ears, but they were distant and muffled.

Soon, the world faded to black.

===Artoria-The Battles Climax===

Dashing forward, Artoria slammed Excalibur into her Alter's twisted blade, throwing her off balance. Alter staggered back but swiftly countered with a sweeping uppercut that Artoria parried. The clash of their swords sent a shockwave rippling through the air before Artoria gritted her teeth and threw herself forward.

"Look at what you've become," she hissed.

Alter remained silent, meeting Excalibur with her blackened blade as the two struggled for dominance. Artoria, her focus unwavering, continued speaking, trying to understand how this twisted version of herself had come to be. She prodded, questioned, but Alter said nothing in response.

The battle between them raged on, their swords clashing as they fought with everything they had.

Meanwhile, Mordred and her Alter were locked in a bitter exchange, trading insults as much as blows.

"You're a mockery of everything we stood for!" Mordred Alter spat.

"Look who's talking, bitch! Taking orders from Artoria?" Mordred retorted, their swords locked in a fierce struggle.

"Watch your mouth, kreeten!" Alter hissed, her rage evident.

"Struck a nerve, huh?" Mordred chuckled, the tension in her voice unmistakable.

As the two pairs clashed, Heracles, Cu Chulainn, Igraine, and the Masters did their best to hold off the knights of the Round Table.

Heracles, in particular, was relentless, cutting down the corrupted knights with brutal efficiency.

He lifted a knight overhead and brought him down onto his knee with such force that the man was torn in half. Standing tall, he threw the two halves at other knights before diving back into the fray.

Then, a scream of pure rage pierced the air, drawing everyone's attention. They watched in horror as Jeanne Alter, with Godrick in tow, hurled herself off the cliffside into the water below.

"What is she doing?" Mordred Alter asked, stunned.

"Think fast, chucklenuts!" Mordred shouted, unaware of the distraction. Seizing the moment, she smashed her sword into her Alter's unguarded side, cutting deeply into her chest.

The blow was devastating. Mordred Alter hit the ground hard, blood spilling from her side. She groaned in pain, trying to get back on her feet, but it was no use. Mordred stepped forward, sword raised, preparing for the killing blow.

But years of training kicked in for the Saber. With a quick sidestep, she dodged to the right—but not quickly enough to avoid Artoria Alter's blade. The strike cut through her left shoulder, leaving her arm limp.

Mordred quickly reacted, twisting to the left before darting right, slashing Clarent across the Alter's face in a desperate counterattack. The Alter barely flinched, instead grabbing Mordred Alter and dashing off toward the north.

The mother-daughter duo gave chase, but a sudden burst of flames to their right made them stop in their tracks. They watched in awe as Jeanne drove off Godrick Alter in a fiery explosion of heat, forcing the Juggernaut back.

"Holy shit," Mordred muttered, still staring at the flames.

Without a second thought, she ran toward Jeanne, who collapsed to the ground. Sliding to a stop beside her, Mordred knelt and urged, "Jeanne! Hey, come on!" trying to rouse the fallen woman.

Jeanne soon blacked out, leaving the duo to pick up the fallen pieces in the aftermath of the battle.

"What do we do now?" Mordred asked her mother, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

Artoria shook her head, unsure of how to respond.

"I… I'm not sure," she murmured.

===Godrick===

Godrick's eyes fluttered open at the sound of footsteps approaching. His mind was foggy, the pain in his right shoulder throbbing, and he could feel someone clinging to him.

Staring up at the sky, a middle-aged man—slightly shorter than Godrick—stepped into view.

"Just like the mistress said," the man muttered to himself, before kneeling to pry the body clinging to Godrick away.

The man moved out of view for a moment, then returned, gripping Godrick's legs and dragging him toward what appeared to be a cart or wagon.

"Heavy bastard!" the man grunted as he hoisted the Juggernaut into the cart.

The cart lurched forward soon after, and Godrick, unable to keep his eyes open, lost consciousness once more.

===Alvin===

Alvin was a dutiful man, and every afternoon he did as his Mistress had instructed, watching the coastline. He'd spend about an hour each day scanning the shore for the two figures she had predicted would arrive, though it had been a few days since her prophecy.

On this particular afternoon, he approached the shoreline with his wagon, just as he did every day. But when he saw the two bodies lying on the shore, he stopped in shocked silence.

"There they are!" he muttered to himself, rushing toward them.

"Just like the Mistress said…" he mused.

The man was enormous, looking as if he would tower over Alvin by a significant margin. He was missing his right arm, his body covered in cuts, though the sea had washed them clean.

The woman, by contrast, was lithe and of modest build. Her platinum hair clung to her face, and she wore blackened steel armor. She was draped over the man, clinging to him as if her life depended on it.

Alvin knelt and gently pulled her off the man before turning and walking toward his cart. He placed her carefully in the back, near the side.

"Now, the brute," he muttered, walking back to the giant. He grabbed the man by the ankles, struggling with the weight as he dragged him into the cart, grumbling with every movement.

After a few moments, Alvin stopped to catch his breath. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he finally managed to hoist himself back into the cart, setting it in motion.

The road was relatively smooth, but every small bump caused one of his passengers to groan, which only added to the oppressive atmosphere. The gray sky, the colorless landscape, and the crashing waves painted a dreary scene—but Alvin wasn't about to lose hope just yet.

Soon enough, he reached the seaside town where his Mistress resided, drawing curious gazes from the townspeople as he passed by.

He stopped at one of the fishing huts, dismounted, and quickly made his way up the steps.

"M-Mistress Morgan… I've brought them, just like you asked," he said nervously, his voice wavering.

A moment later, a woman in black robes stepped out of the hut. Her blue eyes scanned the wagon with a sharp intensity, almost electric, before she turned her gaze onto Alvin, who flinched slightly.

"I-I did what you asked, Lady," he stammered, tripping over his words.

"You have. Thank you, Alvin," she replied, her voice warm enough to ease the tension in his body.

"Of course," he said, more at ease now.

"Help me get them inside," she instructed, walking toward the wagon. She carefully pulled Jeanne Alter's limp form from the cart, carrying her inside and setting her down on one of the empty tables.

As she did, a gleam of silver caught her eye from one of the back rooms. She followed the glint to a wooden box, its lid slightly ajar, revealing a silver arm inside. A deep breath escaped her as she looked at the prosthetic, knowing how difficult and painful it would be to bind, but understanding that Godrick would need it if he were to succeed in what was to come.

Returning to the main room, which was cluttered with hanging fish and cutting tools, she saw Alvin struggle to bring Godrick inside. With a grunt, he practically dumped him onto a table, before catching his breath.

"Thank you, Alvin. That will be all," Morgan said, dismissing him with a nod.

Alvin nodded and exited, still panting, before pulling the cloth door shut behind him.

Morgan stood over Godrick, her fingers gently tracing his face.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Morgan said as she looked down at her son's face.

She then turned to see Jeanne Alter, who had woken up and summoned her lance, regarded her with icy disdain.

"And why not? You're the only one standing in my way," Jeanne Alter said, her tone sharp.

"Because I'm the only one who can give you what you want," Morgan replied, her voice steady. She faced the Alter with unwavering calm. "Kill me, and this Godrick will be lost to you forever."

Alter's eyes narrowed, but Morgan continued without hesitation.

"Now sit, and I will tell you how you can have everything you've ever dreamed of."

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