[In the light screen, Jalter stood tall, her fingertips carelessly tapping the void beside her.
The corners of her golden eyes were tilted high, and a mocking smirk tugged at her lips.
Her tone was lazy yet carried a hint of deliberate bravado: “Ha—I see.
This is truly an elaborate prank.
Thank you for your hard work!”]
[Her back straightened even more as she crossed her arms and tilted her chin up.
Her golden eyes were filled with dismissive pride, and every word was clear, carrying a boastful certainty: “You probably think I must be spending Christmas alone and lonely, right?
But what a shame—I’m happy every single day.”]
[As she finished speaking, she spread her hands and shook them slightly, her fingertips tracing through the void and leaving faint trails of flame.
Her tone grew more cheerful, but there wasn’t much genuine mirth in her eyes: “I have so many delightful friends, so many I can’t even count them on both hands!”]
[Immediately after, a chorus of wails erupted within the light screen.
Several disheveled, pale-faced Pierres were huddled together, their clothes covered in dust, waving their hands frantically for help.
Their voices were hoarse and broken, filled with despair: “Help!
Let me go!
Spare me!” — These were the bishops killed by Jalter’s revenge in the First Singularity, now being held by her in multiple forms to endure continuous torment.
The ml radar failed to activate.]
Outside the light screen, Fujimaru Ritsuka froze for a moment before he couldn’t help but complain, his expression filled with helplessness: “What do you mean ‘failed to activate’?
Isn’t that just discrimination?”
Seeing this, Sion immediately leaned in, her eyes curving into a mischievous arc.
Her tone was teasing and playful as she winked at Ritsuka: “What, Ritsuka, were you hoping he was ‘ml’?”
“No, no, no, no, no, no!” Fujimaru Ritsuka shook his head like a rattle, his cheeks flushing slightly as he waved his hands in a panic, fearing that saying anything more would only make it worse.
[In the light screen, Santa Alter’s hand suddenly tightened on her sword hilt.
Her brow furrowed, her eyes full of wariness and disbelief.
She paused for a moment and questioned sharply: “A crowd of ghosts…!?
You, did you use them—”]
[Jalter raised an eyebrow and let out a mocking laugh, snapping her fingers.
The wailing Pierres were dragged by an invisible force to a massive table.
She remained standing tall and walked slowly to the table’s edge, her finger tapping the game board and coins on it as she smiled craftily and maliciously: “That’s right, I’m playing a delightful tabletop game with them!
Games are so much fun, especially this one.
It’s truly wonderful!”]
[She leaned over, her fingers picking up a glittering gold coin and spinning it between them.
A dark light of excitement surged in her golden eyes, and her tone carried an undisguised desire for 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 is truly exhilarating.”]
[She slammed the coin onto the table with a crisp clink, her mouth splitting into a wide, flamboyant grin.
Her tone was upbeat and slightly manic: “That’s right—my assets are now in first place with an absolute advantage!
Monopoly is so much fun, Monopoly!”]
[Santa Alter frowned and leaned closer to the table, her eyes scanning the asset details.
Her frown deepened, her tone full of doubt and helplessness: “Eh?
The gap isn’t as big as you say…
There’s only a difference of about ten thousand dollars between first and second place—”]
[Controlled by the invisible force, Pierre D trembled all over.
His shaking fingers grabbed the dice and threw them blindly.
The dice rolled across the table a few times, and when they stopped, the result left even him stunned.]
[“!” The smile on Jalter’s face instantly froze.
Her golden pupils contracted sharply, and her previous smugness vanished, replaced by sheer shock and disbelief.
Her face darkened visibly.]
[Fujimaru Ritsuka, watching from the side, saw everything clearly and couldn’t help but speak softly, his tone carrying a hint of suppressed laughter: “A reversal…
Jeanne d’Arc Alter paid a million dollars to Pierre…”]
[Jalter suddenly clenched her fist and swept her arm across the table, instantly knocking the game pieces and coins to the floor with a loud clatter.
She nonchalantly turned her face away, her tone carrying a forced composure while her eyes hid an unmaskable annoyance: “Oh, sorry, my hand slipped.
Let’s just start over.
What a shame.”]
[Pierre D slumped on the ground, his face long since drained of any expression.
He simply kept his mouth open, crying out for help with a heart-wrenching, gravelly voice that was almost inaudible.]
Gilles de Rais from the fourth war world had his eyes wide open, his breathing ragged and his fists clenched.
His entire aura fluctuated violently with excitement.
He suddenly pressed his hand to his chest and threw his head back, letting out a joyous shout filled with fanaticism and agreement: “Yes!
Exactly!
That’s it!
My Holy Maiden!
Avenge yourself!
Hate!
Punish the agents of God in this world without mercy!
We are—desecrating God right now!!!
Ooooooooooh!!!”
Beside him, Ryuunosuke kept his eyes lowered, his fingertips unconsciously rubbing together.
A cruel and twisted smile played across his lips as dark thoughts surged in his mind: It’s not enough…
still not enough…
this level is far too inferior compared to true art.
I want more, even more…
That smile carried a morbid craving that was bone-chilling.
[Inside the light screen, Santa Alter watched the farce before her with a deep frown.
Her eyes were cold, and her tone was filled with disappointment and reprimand: “…How wicked.
You haven’t reflected at all, have you?
At this rate, you’ll never make any friends.
Becoming a Servant is even more of a pipe dream.”]
[Jalter scoffed and turned away, crossing her arms.
Her tone was full of disdain and stubbornness, yet a faint, imperceptible dimness flickered in her golden eyes: “Hmph, I don’t want to be a Servant anyway.
And I don’t want a Master.”]
[She lowered her eyelashes, her fingertips curling slightly.
Her tone deepened, carrying a hint of unspeakable self-deprecation and bitterness: “Or rather, what face do I have left to go over to your side now?”]
[She slowly bowed her head, her voice so soft it was almost inaudible, carrying a stubborn loneliness as she repeated in a low whisper: “…I’m fine on my own.
Being alone is fine.
My atonement is something I should do myself.”]
[She suddenly looked up, her eyes regaining their usual defiance.
Her tone was deliberately sharp and exclusionary, as if masking her inner emotions: “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, Jeanne looked at the Jalter on the screen and shook her head helplessly.
However, her eyes held a gentle understanding as she laughed softly: “She seems…
a bit of a tsundere, doesn’t she, Alter?”
As if her tail had been stepped on, Jalter whipped her head around to glare at Jeanne.
Her golden eyes were full of hostility, and her tone was sharp and biting: “Ha?
Can you, a country girl who can’t even write, stop trying to show off your presence!”
“What?” The smile vanished from Jeanne’s face.
A faint light flashed around her as she instantly switched to her Swimsuit Spirit Origin.
Her posture was gallant, a dangerous smile tugged at her lips, and her eyes held a playful pressure.
She raised her hands and took a stance: “It seems Big Sister needs to give you a proper education so you’ll know what respect for an older sister means—take this!
Onee-san Beam!!”
Fujimaru Ritsuka watched from the side, dumbfounded.
An indescribable expression appeared on his face as he murmured under his breath: “…I feel like I’m remembering some very strange things.”
It might not seem tempting right nobut who knows what the future holds?
“And If you’re enjoying it, drop a Power Stone for me!”