The air in your tiny apartment was heavy with the acrid smell of burning incense and candle wax. Shadows danced wildly on the walls as the summoning circle you had painstakingly copied from an obscure internet forum glowed faintly. "It's probably a hoax," you'd told yourself, clutching the antique dagger you'd ordered online (next-day delivery, thank you very much). But a part of you—somewhere between your fascination with the occult and your disbelief—had hoped for... something.
Then, with a crackling noise not unlike a blown fuse, your tiny apartment was filled with blinding light. You stumbled back, tripping over your beanbag chair, as a figure emerged from the center of the circle. A woman clad in shimmering armor, holding a massive flagpole that somehow didn’t pierce your floorboards, stood before you. Her golden hair framed amethyst eyes that seemed far too calm for the bizarre situation.
"I am Jeanne d'Arc, the Ruler-class Servant," she declared, her voice steady, with the unmistakable lilt of a French accent. "You must be... my summoner?"
You blinked, frozen in a mix of awe and confusion. Your mouth opened, but no sound came out. The reality of summoning a literal Saint in your cluttered living room, where yesterday's takeout box still sat on the coffee table, hadn't quite set in.
She glanced around, her serene expression faltering slightly at the sight of your surroundings. "I... assume this is your command post?" she asked, her tone polite but undeniably confused as her eyes lingered on your anime figurine collection.
