"So, Ophis, this is our home!"
With a sweep of her arm, Jeanne proudly introduced the humble abode. Nestled in a prime location, it wasn't the kind of place just anyone could afford. Jeanne, ever the realist, had long assumed the house came with a hefty price tag—making her all the more grateful that upon her unexpected transmigration, this had been where she awakened.
The house itself… wasn't extraordinary. Not in the way she'd hoped.
Truthfully, Jeanne had fantasized about something iconic—something like the Emiya residence, with its serene, Japanese-style charm and minimalist elegance. But reality was rarely so kind. The building before her was wholly European in its architecture, simple and unadorned.
Two bedrooms. One living room. A modest kitchen. A bathroom.
By all definitions, it was the perfect space for someone living alone.
Or rather—someone living alone with a child.
Adjusting her hold so that she could support Ophis with one arm, Jeanne turned the key and stepped inside.
The moment the door creaked open, Ophis inhaled deeply, then exhaled with a soft, almost inaudible sigh of contentment.
Jeanne didn't think much of it. She wasn't aware that during the three weeks she had spent in a near-comatose daze—resting, healing, barely conscious—the entire house had slowly become saturated with the lingering energy of her transmigration. As a result, the air now held an uncanny resemblance to the Dimensional Gap itself, a place Ophis was intimately familiar with.
Still, one thing puzzled Jeanne.
Why did this girl take such an immediate liking to her?
She had no idea who Ophis really was—not beyond the name. Maybe some connection to the supernatural? That was her only real guess. Her outfit, after all, was far too distinct to belong to a normal child.
But Jeanne had no idea how to bring it up.
"So, Ophis~ let's get cleaned up first, okay?"
Ophis gave a small, obedient nod.
After a quick bath, the two settled in the living room.
Fortunately, whoever—or whatever—had written that Letter had been thoughtful enough to furnish the place. Without chairs or a couch, Jeanne would've had to do something drastic.
Like summon the Throne of God.
Just kidding.
Still, it would've been far more annoying if she had to resort to that.
As the television flickered on, casting a soft glow around the dim room, Jeanne gently pulled Ophis onto her lap. She absentmindedly stroked the girl's hair while asking the kind of questions any sensible guardian would.
She didn't plan on kicking Ophis out, regardless of her answers—but she needed something to go on.
"Ophis… just to confirm. You're part of the supernatural world, right?"
Ophis nodded once.
Good. That meant Jeanne didn't have to hide too much. Or maybe… she still did?
"Ophis… do you plan to stay here for a long time?"
The girl hesitated. A beat passed. Then:
"…Yeah."
'Too cute…' Jeanne nearly groaned internally. What am I supposed to do with a kid like this?
She nodded softly.
"Then let's make a deal. No secrets between us, okay? It'll make things a lot easier."
"…Okay."
"I'll go first. Is that alright?"
Ophis nodded again.
"You can't tell anyone, got it? Not a single soul."
Her voice was more serious now. Jeanne wasn't worried about malicious intent—Ophis seemed far too innocent for that. But carelessness? That was always a risk.
"Okay… You know my name, right?"
"…Jeanne."
"Right! Do you know where that name comes from?"
"…No?"
Jeanne blinked.
This… might take longer than she thought.
"Alright, let's rewind a little. Do you know about God?"
"…Yeah."
"How smart~" Jeanne chuckled, ruffling Ophis's hair. The girl purred softly under her touch.
"Then, you know how there are Saints? People who do holy work in God's name?"
Ophis nodded once more.
"I'm one of them!"
Jeanne announced with a grin, expecting some reaction.
None came.
Ophis nodded again, utterly unbothered.
'Wait—wasn't that supposed to be a big reveal?' Jeanne sulked inwardly. Why do I have such a tough crowd…
Any average person would've gasped or asked questions—maybe even doubted her. Jeanne d'Arc, after all, was known to have died on the stake centuries ago. Yet here she was.
But her audience was Ophis. A child—or perhaps something more—who seemed blissfully unaware of certain details.
'Shouldn't someone involved in the supernatural know this stuff?'
She caught herself.
No. That was stereotyping. Just because Ophis was supernatural didn't mean she'd studied history or myths. Jeanne had to be careful not to fall into her own delusions of grandeur.
Besides, she wasn't even this world's Jeanne d'Arc.
She was the TYPE-MOON version.
Even Metatron—her divine counterpart—was a TYPE-MOON creation. A conceptual entity shaped by collective belief, a vessel born from myth.
That's why Jeanne assumed she'd be stronger than this world's Michael. Their sources of power were fundamentally different. Michael had been created by the real God. Jeanne was an amalgamation of what humanity believed the Archangel Metatron should be.
"Alright then, Ophis. Just think of me as… a Lazy Angel!"
She puffed out her chest with pride.
She was done thinking for today.
"…Oooooh."
Ophis let out a soft cheer.
"Your turn!"
"…I am a dragon."
Jeanne nodded as if that made all the sense in the world.
Somehow, she had known. There had to be a reason why Ophis gravitated toward her so quickly. Unless—
Could she be a stray dragon? A baby, lost and unfamiliar with the world?
"That's pretty cool!"
Ophis nodded in quiet agreement.
Was there anything else that needed to be said between them…?
Jeanne lingered in the silence, her gaze falling on the girl in her arms. But no words surfaced—only the soft, steady rhythm of Ophis's breathing. There was a certain tranquility between them now, something unspoken yet complete. With a quiet exhale, she let the moment pass. The days ahead would be long, and the weekend still felt painfully far—four more endless days of school.
Her arms tightened slightly around the small girl she carried as she made her way to her bag. Jeanne reached inside and pulled out the folder the Student Council had so ceremoniously dumped on her—an uninspiring, paper-filled monstrosity that radiated bureaucratic suffering.
Well technically it was her fault for sleeping for 3 weeks, but...
Her face twisted into a scowl.
'I really don't want to do this…'
The thought echoed bitterly in her mind. Her laziness was practically mythological at this point, a divine trait unto itself. But even for her, it was smarter to get this over with now than to procrastinate until Sunday, as she'd originally planned.
Why rush?
Because this weekend, she had plans.
She imagined herself wandering the streets of Kuoh, the city lights reflecting in puddles beneath a soft evening drizzle, Ophis by her side. Window-shopping, eating too much street food, pretending—for once—that they were just ordinary girls in an ordinary town.
It sounded… nice. Comforting. Maybe even a little fun.
The Village Girl inside of her was excited, and Jeanne could even feel a small ounce of anticipation coming from the Dragon Witch, both personalities unfamiliar with leisure.
Metatron was as mechanical as always.
Carrying that vision in her heart, Jeanne drifted through the house, eventually arriving at one of the vacant rooms. The door creaked open slowly, revealing blank walls and a pristine floor, untouched by presence. There was only a single bed pushed against the far wall, its white sheets slightly wrinkled as if waiting for someone.
The other side of the room was empty—perfect.
A slow, knowing smile tugged at the corner of Jeanne's lips. Whoever, or whatever, had tossed her into this world had at least shown her a shred of decency. There was just enough room here… to summon that.
Her hand rose, fingers crackling with faint light.
She was going to place the Throne of God here.
Last time she sat upon it, it had felt like heaven molded into a seat—warm, powerful, and unshakably serene. It was undeniably an SSS-class napping location
Ophis blinked, her head tilting up with childlike curiosity as Jeanne began to channel divine power. The air thickened, trembling faintly. And then, like a scene cut from a myth, golden sigils burst into bloom around Jeanne's feet.
With a breath that shimmered in the charged air, she activated Throne Creation.
Light descended in a pillar, not blinding, but majestic—soft rays glowing like dawn through stained glass. The Throne took form slowly, as if time itself hesitated to behold it: towering, sculpted with radiant curves of white and gold, its surface etched with ancient scripture that pulsed faintly like a heartbeat.
Holy power flowed from it in waves, each pulse mixing with the eerie, quiet radiation Jeanne always exuded from her connection to the Dimensional Gap. The result was something surreal—like floating in a sacred dream.
Ophis's wide eyes reflected the throne's light, just for a second. A flicker of awe, gone as soon as it came.
Then came the wave of comfort.
Jeanne didn't notice.
Instead, she sank into the Throne, her posture relaxed yet undeniably regal. The seat molded to her body like it remembered her. With a flick of her finger, she shifted it into its less ceremonial form—gaming mode. A compact desk extended with a soft click, subtle and mechanical.
A monitor above her head, having a video of a fireplace running, the sound of relaxing classical music running through the Throne.
The Throne of God… repurposed for schoolwork.
God would be rolling in his grave.
And yet, the power she felt was real. The moment she sat, Jeanne could feel the divine flow rush into her like warm water pouring into an empty vessel. Even without manifesting as the Scribe of God Metatron, the Throne alone elevated her body, her soul, her very being. She felt untouchable.
Beside her, Ophis slumped gently, the holy presence lulling her into instant sleep. Her small body curled like a cat in the sunlight, lips parted in a silent sigh as her breathing slowed to a quiet, rhythmic calm.
Jeanne felt the same pull. Her eyelids grew heavy. The divine energies worked against her like a weighted blanket woven from light. But she couldn't afford to fall asleep. Not now. If she drifted off in the Throne, she would awaken to problems far more troublesome than any exam.
So, she resisted. Barely.
Thanks to EX-rank Throne Creation, meaning Jeanne already had access to it despite not being manifested as Metatron, only a sliver of Metatron's true might flowed through her, enough to tempt, but not overwhelm. Even as drowsiness nipped at her thoughts, Jeanne gritted her teeth and focused.
The Throne was a tool, after all. An elegant disguise. It let her draw on holy power without making it obvious she was an Angel—if the Throne itself hadn't already given that away.
In this form, paired with the Divine Pen, she was perhaps one of the most powerful beings walking this world.
She hadn't tested it—of course not. Who would? This wasn't the kind of neighborhood where you fired off ancient Magecraft in the backyard. But she knew. The Throne was her channel, and the Pen her relic: the two Divine Constructs of a divine scribe, allowing her to command mystery itself.
With them, she could unleash Magecraft straight from the Age of Gods.
Ironically, this world still existed in the Age of Gods, so the concept lost some of its grandeur.
Regardless, the Divine Pen had only one use tonight.
To do her homework.
She summoned it without fanfare. A simple flick of her wrist, and the pen materialized midair, glowing faintly in ivory light. Jeanne narrowed her eyes and funneled her intent through it, casting an impromptu spell.
The Pen began to move.
It scribbled fluidly across the worksheet, each stroke infused with her understanding. And through Metatron's omniscient grace, there was no doubt: the answers would be perfect. Not just correct—but divinely accurate.
Some might call it blasphemy to use two relics of holy might for High School homework.
Jeanne didn't care.
Power existed to be used. She had never understood why shounen heroes gained unimaginable strength only to throw themselves into endless battles. Why not take a break? Live? Eat snacks and sleep in?
As the Lazy Saint, Jeanne refused to waste energy chasing power she already possessed.
She had been reborn near the summit. What reason did she have to climb higher?
Fighting had never been her thing. Well… maybe Jeanne Alter had an argument. But that was another story entirely.
As the final answer etched itself across the page, Jeanne let out a breath of relief. She dismissed the Throne with a wave, the divine structure unraveling into golden dust that vanished like a mirage.
Then, dragging herself off the chair and hoisting Ophis in her arms once more, she staggered over to the bed.
The sheets were cool. The mattress soft. And the moment she lay down, the world slipped from her fingers like sand.
Sleep claimed her the way death claimed martyrs—sudden, total, and absolute.
--+--
A/N: This is my attempt at a short and daily chapter, cause I have a webnovel to read for the rest of the day. I would be thankful if one could spare Power Stones tho.
If you guys have any ideas what to do tomorrow or if you guys want a short timeskip to Jeanne's and Ophis's day out, then PLEASE give me some recommendations.
I decided that canon technically would start in like a week in a half, so we're pretty close.
Also, I did say that Jeanne has Revelation.
This was said cause I completely forgot about At the End of the Pure and Clear Prayers. The EX rank version of Revelation
If you guys have a way to apply God's Resolution to DxD, feel free for advice, cause in Apocrypha it just meant that they had 2 command spells. I had an idea where Jeanne could create a phenomena where fighting stopped twice a day as an alternative in light of "God's Resolution"
Also the man who said about Jeanne using magecraft, is this good? Jeanne and Jeanne alter don't really use magecraft specfically, and from what I saw from Metatron Jeanne's fgo showcase, she used her pen to create conduits to expel mana as a phenomenon through mystery, basically Magecraft.
While fgo used it for combat, there's obviously a lot of ways to use this.
Also does anyone know the time period when Ingvild was sent to the Grigori for analysis? Or when she was kidnapped by Nyx?
Also, when I did say that Jeanne wasn't the proactive type, this doesn't mean that the other person had to be dominant asf.
It's like how even though issei had women all over him, he never had the balls to do it.
--+--
A/N: Small rant: I don't actually hate issei hyoudou. I didn't really like him in the beginning, but he is just the classic shonen protag archetype, just a little or rather a lot more perverted. I don't really like how it seems like everything is sort of given to him, but personality wise, I don't hate the dude.