Jeanne stared down from the observation deck at the sprawling, dark mass of hostile units locked in a fierce struggle with her allies. The stark disparity in numbers between the two forces left her briefly at a loss for words. After absorbing the grim reality of the battlefield, she turned her gaze back to the Doctor.
"Is this what you meant when you said the scales were tipped heavily against you? Looking at the sheer volume of fighters you brought along, holding onto this landship feels like an incredibly desperate gamble."
Jeanne could easily discern that Babel's defense lines had already fractured, sinking into a dangerous vulnerability. Because the opposing infantries were completely tangled together in a chaotic melee, her flock of wyverns could only swoop down to harass the enemy's rear flanks to avoid hitting friendly forces.
As she voiced her concerns, a mischievous thought suddenly drifted into her mind: What if I simply hopped onto a wyvern and flew away right now? How would the strategist react? Would she spend her remaining days cursing my name over a tiny voodoo doll?
Of course, if Jeanne actually followed through on such an impulse, she would be completely irredeemable—a thoroughly wicked character deserving of a severe thrashing.
As a Saintess, she knew she wasn't capable of such malice. Her trickery was strictly confined to harmless pranks; abandoning an ally in a crisis was simply beyond her.
"We didn't expect this either," the Doctor admitted, giving a helpless shrug. "Perhaps the Regent caught wind of our secret movements back in Rim Billiton and used that window to mobilize every available sword-for-hire in the region." Looking out at the ocean of hostile mercenaries, the strategist secretly wondered if Theresis had crossed continental borders just to press-gang every stray company he could find.
"I have to ask," Jeanne sighed, gazing at the massive numerical gap. "If I weren't standing here to bail you out, how exactly did you plan to survive this onslaught?" Was the burden of this entire war truly meant to fall squarely on her nineteen-year-old shoulders? Nineteen, yet carrying a weight heavy enough to crush a mountain.
"How?" the Doctor replied, her voice entirely indifferent. "We would simply keep sending our own hired cohorts into the fray to hold the line. We spent a fortune securing their contracts for this exact purpose—to fight our battles for us."
Jeanne nodded slowly, finding a cold logic in the words. Danger was the natural currency of the mercenary trade, and it wasn't her place to judge the harsh realities of their profession.
Turning away from the railing, she prepared to enter the fray. Her singular goal now was to bring this brutal conflict to a swift conclusion.
"By the way," the Doctor called out, watching Jeanne take her leave. "If the circumstances allow for it, could you perhaps ask Fafnir to intervene? If a legendary beast manifests on the field, it might shatter their resolve. It could make them think twice about throwing their lives away, which means far fewer casualties on both sides."
The suggestion immediately reminded Jeanne of the promise she had made a few days prior—that if the opportunity arose, she would take the young dragon out to stretch her wings and participate in the action.
Jeanne spun back around, a warm smile spreading across her face as she looked at the strategist. The timely request provided the perfect excuse to fulfill the child's wish.
"That's simple enough. But you had better have a magnificent reward prepared once the dust settles! Don't forget, her appearance fee doesn't come cheap."
Jeanne remembered the terms of their alliance perfectly: if Fafnir's strength was required, Babel had to negotiate with the young dragon directly, offering whatever wealth or treats it took to sway her.
The Doctor nodded in firm agreement, promising to deliver a tribute that would thoroughly satisfy the great beast, even if she currently had zero inkling as to what a dragon's tastes actually entailed.
With that assurance, Jeanne slipped out of the command room and headed straight for the mess hall to retrieve the little glutton, who was undoubtedly foraging for snacks. After being cooped up indoors for so long, it was high time the child had some fresh air.
The Doctor remained behind, perfectly satisfied. She knew that once Jeanne's flock and the true dragon graced the skies, whatever martial courage the enemy possessed would instantly dissolve into pure despair, forcing a mass surrender.
The moment Jeanne explained the situation, Fafnir leaped into the air with pure excitement! Clutching a roasted treat of unrecognizable origins, she skipped and bounded alongside Jeanne all the way out to the main deck.
When they stepped out into the open air, Jeanne found the massive steel platform entirely deserted. The Doctor had already cleared all personnel from the area to give them completely unhindered room to move.
"Well then... let's go, Fafnir!"
Jeanne looked down at the obedient companion beside her. As the child prepared for combat, the innocent facade began to melt away, revealing the primordial majesty of a true dragon.
In an instant, an absolute, suffocating silence blanketed the valley. Fafnir's ancient lineage awakened, casting a wave of pure, concentrated draconic pressure across the badlands that triggered a primal terror in the heart of every living soul.
The wyverns that had been soaring joyfully through the upper atmosphere suddenly lost all coordination. Under the crushing weight of the true dragon's bloodline, they descended frantically to the earth, lacking even the basic courage to flap their wings in her presence.
Every creature across the plains was paralyzed by an overwhelming sensation of asphyxiation, from the mightiest airborne predators down to the smallest, unseen insects crawling through the dirt.
The lone exception to this absolute terror was Jeanne, who stood directly beside the shifting child. Watching her young companion prepare for battle, the Saintess paused for a moment before raising her standard high into the air, her voice carrying across the silent deck:
"Reveal your true majesty to the world, Fafnir! Though this petty battlefield is far too small to serve as your grand debut, it is more than enough to display your wrath. Let this world engrave your true form into its history!"
Jeanne wasn't entirely certain why such grandiose words had tumbled from her lips, but the sentiment had surged from her heart, demanding to be spoken.
(Jeanne: Apologies, that was a bit embarrassing to blurt out out of nowhere. But honestly, saying it aloud felt strangely exhilarating. How odd.)
"Ruaaaa—ROAR!"
Answering Jeanne's call, Fafnir's humanoid shape dissolved as she expanded into her true, colossal draconic form. Her massive silhouette cast a shadow so vast it literally blotted out the sun, plunging the entire battlefield into sudden, artificial twilight.
Every single soul in the valley—friend and foe alike—froze in absolute shock. Weapons slipped from nerveless fingers and clattered against the stones as warriors stared up at the sky, unable to comprehend the reality of the vision before them.
What kind of mythical titan was this? A creature massive enough to eclipse the sky itself defied all recorded history; there were virtually no beasts of this scale in the annals of Terra.
The manifestation was so sudden and overwhelming that many refused to believe their own eyes, assuming the colossal entity was merely an elaborate trick of the light—a massive illusion conjured by Babel to hide their desperate vulnerability and terrify the advancing host. After all, if Babel possessed such a catastrophic asset, why wait until their defenses were collapsing to deploy it?
Yet, the momentary paralysis across the lines shifted the tide of the melee instantly. Those who managed to snap back to reality first immediately cut down their dazed opponents, buying themselves precious breathing room.
Hoederer, drenched from head to toe in enemy blood, cleaved through a cluster of stunned soldiers before quickly retreating to a safer defensive pocket. He looked up at the impossible creature dominating the sky, entirely transfixed.
"Staring into space in the middle of a war zone? Bold move," Ines muttered, stepping up to his flank with her weapons raised, her sharp voice dragging him back to reality.
"My apologies," Hoederer murmured, his eyes never leaving the sky. "I was simply curious. If Babel had access to a deterrent of this magnitude, why on earth were they acting with such extreme caution—"
He never finished the sentence.
A blinding sphere of concentrated fire ignited within Fafnir's jaws. The cataclysmic projectile erupted from her maw, streaking through the sky in a straight line toward the dense cluster of enemy reserves at the rear of the valley.
The resulting detonation was nothing short of a localized catastrophe. The shockwave ripped through the canyons, unleashing a violent gale that caused the skin on Hoederer's face to sting painfully, shattering whatever doubts he had left.
"Ah," he breathed, staring at the rising inferno. "So they were being cautious because her destructive power is simply too absolute."