Chapter 124

But when Joan of Arc actually began to act on her promise, Hebe felt uneasy, agitated, and even...

Why is this happening? Hebe gripped her wrist.

Her breathing suddenly quickened slightly, Joan of Arc noticed this immediately. She stopped speaking and came over to try to do something, but Hebe blocked her with her arm.

"I'm sorry, I..." Hebe stood up and pinched the corner of her eye. "I need some time alone to calm down."

Her steps were a little unsteady.

Joan of Arc watched Hebe's retreating figure and smiled sadly.

She could tell, of course, that while Hebe was putting on a calm facade and inwardly sarcastically retorting, he was actually still concerned about her.

Why? Because that's how she always was.

"Ishtar, you're still wrong."

Joan of Arc thought to herself.

She had no choice.

After suffering the Skyflint's Excommunication, her achievements as the "Burning Witch" were destroyed along with her.

But the existence of the December Archon, the Duke of Sighs, ensured that everything could always die a little more.

Therefore, the Burning Witch's achievements were reduced to their original form by the Celestial Flint, and the moment Joan of Arc forcibly raised the banner, the damaged achievements would ignite her.

Knowing her days were numbered, she hesitated when Boudica offered her the crown.

In Joan of Arc's eyes, Hebe would become the ruler of the city-state of Mycenae, creating an equal and brilliant civilization in the New World.

It was precisely for this reason that Joan of Arc found Hebe's assassination attempt intolerable—she could have rightfully and justly destroyed Atlantis, rightfully brought justice to all the sinners, and redeemed all the innocent.

There has never been a king who succeeded through assassination.

As Pure Water Spirit, Hebe only needs to walk the path of light and should not and need not use despicable assassinations to sully her hands.

He just needs to wait until he has swept everything away and become the new king of Mycenae.

After that, I will hand over the northern army to Hebe.

Joan of Arc knew that Hebe had the ability to appease them and enable them to live in peace and prosperity... She was even more confident in this Hebe herself.

As the instigator who opened the curtain on war, Joan of Arc had long been prepared for her to fall into purgatory, beyond redemption.

The wind blew in through the gaps in the tent, scattering the maps and white papers onto the ground.

Joan of Arc knelt down and picked up the papers one by one.

As she picked up the items, Joan of Arc suddenly felt an urge to cry: she realized that she could not truly redeem everyone, and she knew that she could not be perfect; she knew full well how much of that statement was false, and for this she was even prepared for a terrible death.

Boudica's death did indeed cause her distress and guilt, but who else did she connect with after Boudica's death?

This was Joan of Arc's true, unspoken vow, hidden deep within her heart by pride.

—Saving all is a lie, and for this lie I would fall into Naraka, but there is one who must be saved... She is in danger and must survive. The day and the sun will not harm her, nor the night and the moon.

Pure Water Spirit should be a pure and joyful race, forever singing of peace and freedom.

What truly broke Joan of Arc's defenses was simply that Hebe had dirtied her hands.

Hebe killed her enemy, and it seemed that she had gained a comrade-in-arms and achieved great results, but Joan of Arc harbored resentment in secret.

She hated her own powerlessness, and she also hated Hebe for being too free. She should have been happy about this victory, but she seemed to hate even more the fate that bound everything to it, a fate that repeats itself endlessly.

Stepping outside the tent, Hebe found her breathing unusually rapid.

She walked along the side of the path. All around her were soldiers patrolling in an orderly fashion, their backs straight, their eyes bright, and their faces beaming with confident smiles.

It's hard to imagine that not long ago, more than half of them were ordinary people.

Hebe recalled an interview he had seen before, in which it was said that veterans who survived several battles could become junior officers in the army.

Hebe suddenly found it all rather tiresome. She gritted her teeth and spun her feet on the ground, leaving tiny footprints.

She realized that the bright flame emanating from Joan of Arc was, to some extent, burning her.

Why does it burn? Upon reflection, it's probably because of the weight of the "sacrifice".

Hebe is certainly capable of making sacrifices, because this is Lostbelt, and she is in the Secret History Simulator, so she has the capacity to start over and try again.

In the Eastern Lostbelt, she could easily discard even the achievements of the Heavenly Fox Path.

Jeanne, however, was different. She didn't know this was Lostbelt, nor did she know that everything she was doing was like a child constantly scooping up stranded fish from the beach and throwing them back into the sea.

Hebe didn't want Jeanne to waste her life like this.

It's all in vain, futile, how ridiculous, how foolish... yet how captivating it is.

However, this was nothing more than a stroke of the pen that Eris could easily change.

Joan of Arc hated Hebe for soiling her hands once again.

Hebe also hated her for setting herself on fire in vain.

Almost at that moment, a subtle, opposing feeling, somewhere between jealousy, hatred, and a delicate self-deception, welled up simultaneously in the depths of their hearts like water.

193 The Third Secret Ritual

[The Third Great Ritual: Opposing Blades]

[Sexual Aspect: Blade]

[Rank: Daytime]

Power Struggle is one of the laws governing the world, and Opposing Blades are the smallest unit of Power Struggle. Every ruler, every mortal, every grain of dust plays its role in this eternal struggle.

[The eternal Power Struggle February Archon and August Archon is revered; Opposing Blades will be locked together in the engine of war, and the world and history will sway and burn with their contest... Each pair of blades understands the other's situation from the bottom of Opposing Blades hearts, and each of them longs to liberate the other from the engine. They will pursue this to the death; if one dies, the other cannot live alone... Yet until then, no external force can interfere with this sacred opposition.]

[For this is a sacred gladiatorial contest permitted by the two rulers, as it has been since the time of Mycenae!]

The compass needle pointed to one side of the yin-yang symbol, between "Shi" and "Da You." Wildfire flickered, scorching the green thunder branches, and a pack of gray wolves sobbed, for a white horse carrying the sun came from the far east. The hunter was old, but his cunning strategies still proved effective...

[The current ruling position is "Joan of Arc," so the February Archon will favor her; the current leap position is "Hebe Stanton / Ismara (Lostbelt Limited)," so the August Archon will assist her.]

This represents the opposition between "theory of total good" and "theory of cost." The upright is proud, the intercalary is detached... but the relationship between them must change.

[This further intensifies the conflict, elevating the ritual to the "twilight" level, thus truly completing the ceremony.]

Hebe's face looked terrible, extremely terrible.

The ritual of "Opposing Blades" has now been initially completed, and the daytime position is sufficient to be immune to the effects brought by twilight.

In other words, when Hebe advanced the ritual to the Twilight rank, neither the Eternals and Named Attendant in the Wasteland could exert any external force on her and Joan of Arc.

At this point, even Eris could not interfere further... Moreover, given His name, Eris was most likely unable to move His true form.

Because the April Archon was still alive, the Fisher King was just in very poor condition. He had not yet been completely replaced by Eris from the inside out. Before that, Eris was always the "god who was about to be born!"

Of course, at this moment, with Hebe simulating entering the Atlantis Lostbelt and facing Eris head-on, whether the latter's true form has actually been born is not particularly important.

The only benefit established by this ritual was to tell Hebe that Joan of Arc was no longer affected by Eris.

But what would be the price? Hebe felt a little breathless.

The details she had overlooked surged into her mind like a tide: Joan of Arc of Arc claimed she wanted to save everyone, but when she did those things, did she ever explain a single word to them? If she didn't care about someone so much, why would she lower herself and compromise?

Jeanne, the village girl from Domremy, became Joan of Arc.

She wanted to change everyone's fate, but before that, she had already gathered up the embers that were far too dangerous.

Just as the simulator portrays, Joan of Arc of Arc was proud; her crown was not on her head, but in her heart.

That's why she clumsily used the "theory of all good" to try to distance herself from assassination and step back into the night of weaving shadows and secrets.

Hebe twitched her lips, she probably wanted to laugh, but she couldn't make a sound, only revealing a trembling and comical expression.

"I'm not good at dealing with people who are nice to me."

Hebe thought to herself.

A-Long was one example, and now Joan of Arc is another. The only difference is that the former was very obedient, while the latter was too stubborn and acted on her own initiative.

What frustrated and troubled Hebe the most was that she was able to clearly understand the other person's situation.

However, in order to maintain the secret ritual of Opposing Blades, Hebe still had to push this opposition forward.

It was clear that a single sentence could have resolved the past grievances, but she had to deliberately go against the grain.

Pain and struggle make one exceptionally clear-headed; hate and love are truly two sides of the same coin.

"A clash of ideas about redemption; opposing paths of resistance..." Hebe let out a long sigh. "Well, what else could it be?"

Hebe walked back wearily, only to see Skadi standing at the intersection looking around.

What are you doing here?

Hebe looked at Skadi, her brows furrowing slightly. "Didn't I tell you to go back to the North?"

"Something has happened in the North."

Back in the tent, Hebe said to Joan of Arc.

Just as they were currently roaming back and forth within the borders of Issu, the northern territory was also in chaos.

However, it was not the Golem Knights who caused this chaos, but rather philosophers and schools of thought that followed them.

In Issu, philosophers and musicians are two parallel systems that do not conflict with each other. Under normal circumstances, they do not interfere with each other, but at this moment, they cannot afford to be too concerned about each other.

According to the message sent back by Skadi, there are now more than a dozen different schools of thought "traveling" in the Northern Isles, and the one supporting them in "traveling" is none other than Elizabeth, who is in charge of the brewing process of "Youthful Dew".

When Joan of Arc heard Elizabeth's name, she knew she could not keep Hebe.

She couldn't even continue trying to persuade them.

It is a matter of course to avenge national and ethnic grievances.

She could only say, as if to make amends, "Wait for me to get back, but don't come so soon..."

But even Joan of Arc herself didn't quite believe how binding those words were, and in the end, only the silent air remained between the two of them staring at each other in the tent.

Hebe smiled enigmatically.

The northern border is bitterly cold and the Water and Soil are barren.

This is common knowledge, even among the Northerners themselves.

It is said that only the island of Mycenae has land where harvests can be plentiful.

Legend has it that on that island, heavy ears of rice grow everywhere, and when you peel them open, you find sweet and soft white rice. Fat, braised pigs roam the fields, and every piece of meat on them is a fragrant, cooked delicacy.

An inexhaustible school of fish patrols the island, and when fishing boats pass by, the fish even scramble to jump into the cabin.

"Unfortunately, all of this is just ignorant legend from the natives."

From within a golden coffin came a woman's languid voice. Accompanying it was a strange gurgling sound, as if the coffin was filled not with burial goods, but with flowing liquid.

"Legends also have value; within them lie clues to history."

The person following beside the coffin adjusted his glasses and replied with a smile, "Well then, Lord 'Vermilion,' someone will be going first."

"What do you mean by 'going first'?" Elizabeth chuckled from within the coffin. "It would be more accurate to say that you were the last philosopher to depart, Nietzsche."

Nietzsche smiled slightly, "Is that so? But in my opinion, there is no strict definition of who comes first and who comes last... Well then, I wish you a courageous and joyful life in the world of free destiny."

He quickened his pace, took a few steps, and quickly disappeared near Elizabeth's carriage.

The coffin swayed, as if something was trying to come out of it, but in the end only an unpleasant snort was heard.

Even among philosophers, who are often eccentric, Nietzsche was certainly an eccentric.

194 Philosopher's Kid

When Hebe led Skadi to Norwich, the largest city in the North, they found it in complete chaos.

At the city gate, several people were having a heated debate about the nature of the world.