My Lord is Here

Long ago, before humanity even existed, the entire universe was a paradise belonging to the Old Ones —at that time, darkness occupied the surface of the universe, and the void on the surface of the abyss was as black as water, illuminating the endless chaos and indescribable body of the universe.

The Old Ones each occupy a star and build their own palaces upon it.

—The city called ' R'lyeh ' is one of them.

It was created by Cthulhu, one of the Great Old Ones, and is the eternal residence of Cthulhu.

After the Old Ones ruled the universe for a long time, and the surface of the abyss faded, the universe was rebuilt, and this palace of the old gods also disappeared.

But it doesn't disappear.

Instead, they immerse themselves in the deep sea beneath which even the most arduous journeys are difficult to reach.

And like .

The dark abyss reappeared at this Singularity Point, the magnificent palace was shrouded in mist, and the eternal mansion of the Old Ones emerged from the depths of the sea, enveloping the entire France.

As night fell, the world was shrouded in darkness, but this darkness was distinctly different from the previous one.

The air was thick with moisture, like the surging tides, and an immense pressure echoed between heaven and earth. The ear-piercing sound, like claws tearing at a sturdy steel helmet, reverberated in everyone's ears.

Cities, streets, villages, fields... countless wriggling figures emerge from underground.

They have fine scales and sharp claws and teeth, and their faces have fish-like gills that make splashing sounds.

They climb, wriggle, crawl, their outstretched palms pressing against the earth, leaving shallow, damp welts.

Their heads are shaped like huge fish, or perhaps like wriggling, spreading octopuses... Scarlet eyes gleam, and azure light flashes by.

"What is that...?"

Countless people stopped to watch, and then they were attacked.

Orléans, a countryside enveloped in pastoral charm.

A young man had his arm torn off unexpectedly, a woman fleeing in panic fell to the ground, and then countless footsteps trampled over her... The Serenity night was suddenly shattered, and the chaotic scene disrupted all order.

The frail old man sat on the ground, panting, before him stood the icy-cold claws of the 'fishman' extending towards him.

The aging body could no longer escape its effects; the old man closed his eyes, praying for salvation... The Middle Ages was an era of widespread faith, especially in this region of France.

However, the next second, after closing his eyes, a deep voice came from the darkness. "Old man, are you alright—"

The old man opened his eyes. Before him, the monster had been split in two. The silver-haired man, wielding a heavy sword and wearing silver armor, flicked the azure liquid off his sword.

Following them were even more corpses.

You are...

The old man opened his mouth.

"I am Siegfried." The dragon-slaying hero Siegfried swung his heavy sword, raised his head, and looked at the horrifying scene in the distance, his brows furrowed.

What is that...?

He didn't know.

Even from a great distance, he could still feel an extremely strong sense of chaos and madness.

It is not to be looked at.

"Don't look at chaos and madness"—a strong warning swept through his brain at the same time. Siegfried withdrew his gaze, it was only for a fleeting moment, but his brain had already begun to swell slightly.

"Please take them to a safe place."

"Roar!"

The enormous roar echoed, and only then did the old man notice that behind the tall man was a huge, ferocious dragon.

However, after experiencing the events of the day, they witnessed the scene of ' Joan of Arc ' riding an evil dragon.

The old man didn't panic; instead, he calmed down and asked, "Are you Lady Jeanne of Arc's companion?"

"Yes—" Siegfried did not deny it. He knew that at times like this, the name Jeanne of Arc could have a calming effect.

Fafnir the Evil Dragon, spread his wings; he is a cursed dragon... He was originally human, and his extension also requires human intervention.

Therefore, when necessary, He will not hesitate to protect humanity—good and evil never have absolute boundaries; at certain times, evil can also be 'good'.

For example... when encountering an even bigger, more terrifying 'evil'!

"Senior, what is that...?"

"Dr. Roman, Dr. Roman —no, the communications have been lost again!"

Ritsuka Fujimaru and Mash ran through the vast expanse of water vapor. The girl, dressed in a tight-fitting combat suit, wielded her heavy shield and used the power of the Servant she had gained to knock away one attacking monster after another.

Her short, red hair was slightly raised, and the girl's brows were furrowed.

Chaldeas and Romani Da Vinci also looked grave. Communication was interrupted, and on the Chaldeas observation device, the Singularity Point was completely shrouded in a chaotic vortex.

An anomaly has occurred and continues to expand.

This is not the kind of scene that should appear in the ' Incineration of Humanity ', but rather a disaster that exceeds the Human Order Foundation Value held by the French Singularity.

"Piercing Thorn—" A deep voice rang out, and countless blood spikes surged from the ground, piercing the attacking aquatic monster to death on the spot.

Vlad III, with his white hair swaying and his beard twitching, dressed in a heavy black robe and looking like an old man, gripped his long spear tightly, his brows furrowed.

That direction, without a doubt, is Paris.

The witch... no, it should be that Gilles de Rais used underhanded means.

"The Roman Empire was still thinking about taking back the cities that the enemy had occupied, forming a reverse encirclement, and launching a counter-encirclement..." The only one who intended to use strategy and seriously confront the enemy, the Romania general, frowned and felt a headache coming on.

"Oh, fight! Fight!"

Together with Vlad III, Beowulf charged madly into the enemy ranks, tearing apart countless monsters with his fists.

The France court scene Reality Marble by Queen Marie has long since collapsed, and what has emerged is naturally the external landscape: the Orléans wilderness, with wild grass blowing in the wind, the sky shrouded in a dark vortex, and endless streams of water rushing into the sky, connecting heaven and earth.

This is a truly apocalyptic scene.

But this was something the Dragon Witch hadn't anticipated—

"Gil... what is that guy doing!?" Dressed in a black robe and covered in black armor, the witch, whose black style was completely different from Joan of Jeanne's, frowned deeply as she raised the Evil Dragon Banner, which fluttered violently in the steam and gale.

Her golden pupils revealed impatience... She felt anger.

Gilles de Rais, what did that guy do behind my back?!

"Here you go—"

"Give it to me, Your Majesty!"

Facing the gaze of Rovi, Jeanne Arc remained stern, her iris banner gleaming brilliantly in the darkness.

Rovi looked up.

His knees bent slightly, and with a slight tremor in the ground, he soared into the sky amidst the recoil of the massive stomp—his target being the 'palace' in the sky, and the enormous figure seated within it.

One of the Old Ones, one of the sleeping beings of the Abyss, Cthulhu.

That's his real opponent.

That was the real enemy he had to face.

"Don't go!"

Although she didn't know what Gilles de Rais was planning, the Dragon Witch still regarded the people in front of her as enemies... especially Rovi, whom she inexplicably and intensely cared about, a man she had never met before.

Then, amidst the surging magical power and the waving Evil Dragon Banner, the previous Fafnir had been frozen in place due to the inexplicable change, roared to the sky.

He was about to rush into the sky to stop Rovi from leaving, but the next second, a dazzling and continuous light appeared above his head, like a majestic manifestation. Fafnir's head struck it, but only ripples were generated.

The Dragon Witch grinned, looking at what lay before her with a cold smile.

Amidst the desolate wilderness, Joan of Arc raised her banner high and declared, "Your opponent is me!"

"Um--?"

The witch glanced behind Jeanne of Arc.

Nothing at all, not a soul in sight... Queen Marie, Mozart, and Charles also departed the instant Lovi soared into the Rovi.

This was an exchange that just ended in an instant.

The witch will be dealt with by Jeanne herself...

"Queen Marie, is this really alright?"

In a world shrouded in chaotic moisture, Mozart looked with some concern at the ever-receding light curtain of Fleur-de-lis banners behind him.

Charles didn't speak, but simply dragged the decapitation weapon backwards, his footsteps leaving long trails in the grass.

Marie pursed her lips. "Don't worry!"

"She is..."

"Our Saintess who Saved the Nation!"

"Saintess who Saved the Nation? Saintess who saved France? What a... joke!" Fafnir behind her landed back in place, the witch's golden pupils growing even colder. She looked at the girl in front of her—or more accurately, at the Fleur-de-lis Banner in her hand—and couldn't help but sneer.

The Fleur-de-lis is the national hill of France, and the Fleur-de-lis flag is equivalent to the France national flag.

Jeanne of Arc, carrying the banner of the Fleur-de-lis, led the France people on the battlefield, winning victory after victory in one difficult battle, and rescuing France from the quagmire of defeat and national subjugation.

In this era, in France... the Fleur-de-lis banner held by Joan of Arc was a symbol of victory, glory, and miracles.

But to the witch... that was just a joke.

"Your victory only brought glory to this country; your honor does not belong to you—"

"Betrayed, sold out, judged, and finally executed... what did you gain!?"

Sharp words came from the witch's mouth. She was not the real Joan of Arc, but rather the 'product' of the Holy Grail wish, and the image of the resurrected saint that Gilles de Rais desired.

The Dragon Witch possesses all of Joan of Arc's memories... so she knows Jeanne's experiences, and even knows the torment, loneliness, and even... resentment she felt while imprisoned and awaiting trial.

During that trial, the local archbishop, who had accepted bribes, regarded her as a 'witch' rather than a 'saint'.

Countless people were too afraid to approach her.

Countless people, upon seeing her, only felt disgust and rejection in their eyes.

Among those people...

There was no shortage of France people, France nobles... people she saved.

Resentment is inevitable.

Jeanne Dalque, undeniably.

"I do indeed resent them." Jeanne gripped the flag of the Fleur-de-lis tightly in her hand and spoke slowly, her clear voice echoing in the wind and mist. "In the last moment of my life, when I was betrayed, I did indeed resent them."

Jeanne Darc, defined by the world as a 'saint' and a person who received 'divine revelation', was ultimately just a teenage girl.

She is very young.

No matter how resolute one's mind is, it's impossible to remain completely indifferent... or rather, there is never absolute indifference or absolute calmness in this world; so-called calmness is simply because one hasn't encountered something truly important yet.

Without a doubt, being betrayed by the very person she had been protecting and fighting for was something that Jeanne of Arc deeply cared about at that time.

They've given so much.

The feedback received, the mere shackles, are something even a saint cannot remain indifferent to—a saint, after all, is still just a human being.

This may explain why Gilles de Rais is able to make a wish and why he is able to summon the Dragon Witch.

Because Jeanne... did indeed harbor resentment.

"But, at the moment I stepped onto the execution platform, at the moment the flames engulfed me, as I looked back at the elegantly dressed nobles watching, as I gazed into the distance at my homeland, my home..."

"I suddenly realized that I had not actually been betrayed."

He was not swayed by the sharpness of the witch's words, nor was he confused by the resentment he had felt before his death.

Golden braids fluttered in the wind, and fiercely billowing Fleur-de-lis banners echoed in the air.

Her voice echoed throughout the room as she said, "Because what I protect is not those well-dressed nobles, and what I want to protect is not those self-important fellows who stand on high and boss people around."

These words, unusually sharp compared to her usual gentleness, came from the saint's mouth, yet Jeanne Arc's smile remained gentle.

"No one has betrayed me—those I protect are still on my side."

"They are ordinary people who have never been cared about, those who have no voice and have even been deprived of their freedom as human beings..."

"France is not the France of the nobility, but theirs."

"What I am protecting is also this kind of France."

"—This is France in my heart!"

Even if the final path is death.

"But I still don't regret everything I've done... because it is the will of the self that the Lord has made known to me!"

Fleur-de-lis bloomed wildly, their light radiating and spreading in the air. Joan of Arc's words reached the witch's ears, and her eyes widened slightly, her mind going blank for a moment as if shaken.

The previous evil dragon Fafnir was still roaring behind her, but the witch could no longer hear it.

At this moment of consciousness, only Rin's music echoed.

Joan of Arc spoke loudly.

She said:

"Regardless of the past, present, or future."

"Where the flag is raised."

"—My Lord is Here!"