"According to Miss Martha's information, there may still be scattered lone followers in France." Fujimaru Ritsuka looked at the followers fighting side by side with a solemn and solemn expression, "The fight between beasts is natural.
There will be a winner, but when one side is dying, we need someone who can wield the sword against the dragon."
"Based on the pattern of servants being summoned independently at natural singularities, I have a guess that there may be other servants who are capable of slaying dragons and have been summoned to France."
"In fact, even if they are not dragon-slaying servants, we must absorb as much as possible the various fighting forces stranded on the land of France."
Fujimaru Ritsuka placed her hand on Mashu's shield, her eyes glaring: "And Miss Lawrence and Miss Martha will stay here, responsible for sharpening the claws of the beast."
"Others, group into groups to find other lone followers."
"Matthew, Miss Mary, Mr. Mozart and Miss Joan of Arc form a group, heading west."
"And Miss Elizabeth, Camilla, and Miss Simonetta are another group, looking toward the southeast."
"And Miss Kiyohime..." Fujimaru Ritsuka looked at the salamander that was clinging to him and couldn't get rid of it, and sighed, "Stay here and be responsible for guarding the camp."
"It has been more than a week since I arrived at the French Singularity."
"The decisive battle is very close to us."
"For humanity, for humanity, my followers."
"We must win!" Fujimaru Ritsuka made his declaration in front of all the heroes in human history.
...
Mary and her party set off towards the west.
Fujimaru Ritsuka's grouping should basically ensure that the average level of the two groups is not much different.
Because at this moment, there are countless flying dragons flying in the sky in France, and there are also numerous zombies and skeletons scattered on the ground.
In addition, several servants under Black Joan of Arc are still working tirelessly to carry out massacres throughout France.
As a servant, even if you are not a rider, everyone's footsteps will not be too slow.
Mary and Joan of Arc really became friends, and they chatted a lot while they were on the road.
A French saint who saves the nation, and an ignorant queen who has a bad reputation actually became friends. This may be the greatest drama of the heroic spirits.
Mozart was making bad jokes while moving forward.
Suddenly, everyone spotted a group of soldiers in front of the road.
"Those are not zombies, but real soldiers." Joan of Arc observed, "They are fighting the flying dragon, let's go help them!"
Mary smiled and nodded, and Mozart and Matthew had no objections either.
Several people rushed into the battlefield and shocked the soldiers.
"Who are these people?" a leading soldier asked.
"Hey...you're lying, is that person, the Dragon Witch?" Another soldier held the sword in disbelief.
"...Kill her to avenge your companions and hometown!"
"Kill her!"
For some reason, the French soldiers who recognized Jeanne suddenly became excited, and instead waved their swords at Jeanne who helped them fight the flying dragon.
"..."
Joan of Arc silently blocked the attack from the French soldiers.
"Miss Jeanne -" Matthew was a little worried about Jeanne's condition.
"Ah ah ah, it looks like I found something good." A voice that sounded calm and elegant came over.
The flying dragon, which was larger than the average bipedal flying dragon, landed on the ground.
Two figures, riding on the back of the dragon, looked at the several people who were fighting the French soldier's flying dragon with joking eyes.
"Those are... those mentioned in the intelligence, Vlad III and Sanson!" Matthew looked at the image and quickly analyzed it.
Vlad III and Sanson, who were on the back of the flying dragon, jumped down: "Our real names have indeed been exposed. It was the woman Martha who told you."
His true name was exposed, but Vlad III remained relaxed, waving his spear in his hand, looking at the four people with bloodthirsty and dangerous eyes.
"Yes, my name is Vlad III. I am here as a vampire archduke, and the purpose of appearing here is naturally to kill you." Vlad III narrowed his eyes, "It's different from last time.
, the little girl holding the shield, I won’t hold back..."
Blood wrapped around Vlad III's body, the vampire's eyes flashed with scarlet light, and there was a distinct smell of blood in the air.
Unlike the vampires that Camilla and Simonetta were shaped into, Vlad III’s identity as a vampire is——
Dracula.
Therefore, in terms of vampire abilities, Vlad III is much stronger than the other two.
"Uh-" The spear hit Mashu's shield, and the tremor caused by the huge force made Mashu's hands feel numb.
Joan of Arc said nothing, avoided the French attack, and killed the flying dragon.
"...Why didn't she fight back?" a French soldier asked his companion in confusion.
"And why would she kill those wyverns?"
"Who knows, let them both lose. They are all bastards anyway, so it would be best if they all died!"
Sanson's sneer voice came. His current mental state was very abnormal, and he was obviously in a state of madness: "Ah, Joan of Arc, do you see it? This is the France you protect."
Joan of Arc ignored him and just poked him with a flag.
"Are you angry with shame? Haha." Sanson blocked the blow with his own weapon, "What a pathetic saint. Do you want to try the guillotine?"
"My death is dedicated to France. Therefore, I must not lose here!" Joan of Arc looked serious, and her strength seemed to have become a little stronger.
"Hey, who cares who you want to dedicate your life to?" Sansong grinned, no longer looking at Joan of Arc, but turned to look at the woman, the woman who made him miss him day and night.
"Ah, Marie, Marie Antoinette!" He looked at Marie with a feverish expression and his eyes widened.
"How wonderful this is!" He stood there and said intoxicatedly. "This is really, so exciting!"
"I have never forgotten you! My queen, you admirable nobleman! Your breathtaking neck, as beautiful as white snow, makes me unable to forget it even after death!"
Mary said nothing, just looked at Sanson.
What kind of look is that?
Compassion, lamentation.
"Charles Henry Sanson." Mary called out the name.
"Yes, it's me, Sansong, who will kill you again after this death. Ah, ah, it's so wonderful! I can actually kill you again. This is simply the greatest luck for me to become a heroic spirit!"
Mozart waved his baton and looked at Sanson with obvious disgust in his eyes.