Draw the Sword

Before this, the witch had no regard for Jeanne of Arc.

Because she knew that Joan of Arc had indeed had a brief period of resentment and confusion before her death, and she also knew that because of this past resentment and confusion, it was revealed that the Joan of Arc descended was not actually a complete being.

Her Spirit Origin is incomplete, and her power has not come down from her 'seat'.

As long as there is resentment and confusion in one's heart, even if it is only the slightest bit, the saintess will not be a match for the witch—because the existence of the Dragon Witch, to a certain extent, can be regarded as a reversal and complement to the existence of Jeanne.

At this moment, the witch realized she was wrong.

I was terribly wrong...

The Joan of Arc before me is resolute, sincere, and free from resentment and confusion.

At that moment, the sublime will displayed by Joan of Arc and the radiant light shining in her eyes caused the witch's mind to go blank, and even Fafnir behind her let out a series of fearful roars.

The Dragon Slayer is ultimately cursed by the dragon. Evil dragons have always feared those with unwavering will, because they can resist curses that ordinary people cannot withstand through sheer willpower. Sigurd and Siegfried were able to successfully kill Fafnir not because of their strength. In terms of strength, although they were powerful as heroes, they were clearly no match for the evil dragon that stood at the top of the Dragon Kind and possessed Divine Spirit Power.

They relied on their own will and the glory of upholding themselves.

Now, the former evil dragon Fafnir also sees this brilliance in Jeanne's eyes.

A steadfast and radiant person... is enough to make all malice fade away and disappear without a trace!

"Roar!"

Under the glow of the waving Fleur-de-lis Banner, the Spirit Origin that carried the evil dragon Fafnir began to collapse. The previous evil dragon was merely Projection of history and was not as powerful as the real Fafnir. It was only natural that it would disappear under the weight of a steadfast and sublime will.

The Dragon Witch took a half step back, the Evil Dragon Banner in her hand falling limply. Her exquisite body, wrapped in black robes and armor, trembled slightly. Her short silver hair flew wildly, and the strands of hair on her forehead, bound tightly by a black headband, swayed. She bared her teeth, her face full of resentment, but also unconsciously filled with fear.

"You--"

"Are you going to kill me!?"

"Kill me, eliminate the resentment and confusion that once existed in your heart—kill me, and you will become a perfect saint, a true saint!"

What is the origin of the Witch's Birth?

It is the resentment and confusion that Joan of Arc truly felt, her struggle and resentment against the injustice of the world that betrayed her, and even more so, her loneliness and confusion when she lived alone in a cage.

Even if it wasn't actually Jeanne or the Witch of the Moon, it was indeed Gilles de Rais who used the Holy Grail to extract the flaw in Jeanne's heart.

Kill her.

That would fill the void in her heart.

Erasing evidence of Joan of Arc's imperfections...

He killed himself.

"That will allow you to fulfill yourself."

The sky was still shrouded in dark clouds, and a heavy mist filled the air. In the hazy world, one could vaguely see magnificent palaces and the ancient bronze city stretching out, which was the ancient ruins called ' R'lyeh ', the resting place of the Old Ones.

Under the cold, gloomy light, amidst darkness, chaos, and eeriness, the wind whipped at her clothes, her silver armor swayed and rubbed, and her golden braids flew wildly. Faced with the witch's words, the saintess remained silent, only clutching the Fleur-de-lis Banner in her hand, stepping forward step by step through the weeds.

The witch grinned, her smile appearing wild, yet it was a very forced one.

it's over...

She was no match for Joan of Arc of Arc in this state.

She possesses immense magical power.

Yes...

She doesn't know how to use it.

"Ha... a perfect saintess... how laughable!"

The witch stopped retreating, and the world behind her stretched out vast and boundless, but there was no place for her to stay.

Give up!

Right here...

She closed her eyes, but the smile on her lips grew even more disdainful and unruly.

But dead... huh?

Her thoughts suddenly stopped. The death she had anticipated did not come. She slowly opened her eyes, only to suddenly feel a warm touch on her face. The saintess standing before her did not wave her banner to cleanse the witch's resentment with her dazzling holy light, but instead raised her hand and gently stroked her cheek.

Joan of Arc smiled and said, "Why would I kill you?"

"Just as you said, I did indeed harbor resentment in my heart."

"So you are me—killing you would not give me perfection, but loss and abandonment, and even more so... betrayal."

"I cannot betray France, and I cannot betray myself."

You are me.

You are the flaw in my heart, the imperfection in my heart.

I acknowledge your existence.

I acknowledge the resentment and confusion that once existed in my heart.

The only way is to acknowledge the past.

Only then can one have the courage to face the future directly.

"Isn't that so?"

Jeanne slowly withdrew her hand. The golden-haired girl's smile was serene and beautiful. The witch stared blankly at the beautiful and pure figure before her.

She had no intention of killing him.

She admitted it.

She admitted to being a fraud.

you...

"Seriously, so long-winded!"

The witch turned her head away, her face slightly flushed, but inexplicably felt... joy and peace in her heart.

She always knew that she was a fake.

The so-called resentment, the so-called revenge, and all the actions taken before this were perhaps more about proving her existence to the world.

Perhaps it's just because... I'm afraid of loneliness, afraid of reaching a point where I feel like I'm nothing.

"From this day forward, you are 'me,' you are Jeanne."

Joan of Arc slowly extended her hand and grasped the witch's. "People need to have flaws in order to progress. It is because people are imperfect that they appear real."

"This is the principle that 'the Lord' taught me—"

Are you willing to grow together with me?

"Nonsense, nonsense, nonsense!" Jeanne Arc's canine teeth gleamed as she spat out her own, but she didn't pull her hand away from Jeanne's. "I'm not doing this to help you... I'm just doing it for myself!"

"Don't misunderstand!"

How could I possibly refuse?

How could that be...

"Yes, I understand." Jeanne smiled especially happily. She had been asking Rovi to give her this other self to solve the problem, and it was precisely for this moment.

We are all ' Jeanne Dalque'.

Why then do they kill each other?

The girl's tightly clenched hands sparkled and burst with light. The witch was stunned. Looking at the increasingly holy girl before her, and at that pure and sincere smile, she couldn't help but smile too.

The Dragon Witch was supposed to be a non-existent, virtual Servant, but at this moment, thanks to Jeanne's own approval, her existence was finally officially recorded in the world's history, officially becoming a Heroic Spirit and a possibility for Jeanne.

A witch reborn from the flames, carrying the fires of vengeance, rides a dragon to burn the powerful and wealthy...

Both she and she were Jeanne.

Both she and her loved France.

They admire and love the Lord even more.

"That's right? He is 'the Lord', the human incarnation of 'the Lord'."

Seeing the slightly surprised look in the witch's eyes, Jeanne's lips curled into a sly smile. She raised her gaze to the sky, where the masked ' Cthulhu ' Rovi was soaring into the air and hovering.

After Jeanne learned that the witch had truly become ' Jeanne ', she was finally able to sense the 'Lord's' revelation and finally knew that Rovi was the 'Lord'. She also understood the source of her many inexplicable emotions towards Rovi before.

"The Lord has never abandoned us."

"This is the Lord's salvation for us and for the world!"

The saint raised the Fleur-de-lis Banner.

The witch snorted, "What do you mean, 'Master'... I don't care at all!"

Despite saying that, she still raised the Evil Dragon Banner in her hand.

Just like the distinction between angels and demons, or the boundary between heaven and hell... but regardless of good or evil, we are all 'humans', and also the components of the world.

"My Lord, may your Eternal Radiance!"

A clear, melodious voice echoed in the wind.

"Truly... unexpected, yet poignant." Siegfried swung his greatsword, defeating the attacking monster. For a moment, he sensed the auras of the cooperating saintess and witch. He paused, then smiled.

Fafnir glanced sideways at his former nemesis, now a dragon-slaying hero fighting alongside him, and let out a roar.

"Don't forget, we are still enemies—"

"Since we're enemies, let's compete, you evil dragon!"

Siegfried raised his Noble Phantasm,' a legendary dragon-slaying sword that was now burning with crimson light.

"Let's see who can protect more people and slay more monsters!"

"Are you kidding me? I am a dragon—a dragon that curses all mankind!" Fafnir scoffed.

Siegfried tilted his head. "So you want to admit defeat?"

"No, what I want to say is—I will win!"

As soon as he finished speaking, the evil dragon flapped its wings and flew out.

"As expected of an evil dragon, it actually tricked us!" Siegfried instantly bent his knees and leaped to give chase.

Saintess and witch join forces

Dragon slayer stands shoulder to shoulder with evil dragon.

"Mozart, are you even capable?!"

"That despicable Charles Henry Sanson, how dare he embarrass me, Marie!"

"That's because you're incapable!"

"You just wait—"

Marie looked helplessly at the two people arguing again in front of her, and then at them walking away.

"Did it succeed... Miss Jeanne?" The helpless expression faded, and the Queen of France sensed the intertwining of auras, a smile involuntarily appearing on her face.

"So this is what happened..." Outside the city, in the suburbs, Vlad III drew his spear and shook his head helplessly.

They... actually teamed up?

So why is he going to such lengths to plan, design, and counter the enemy?

"What does it matter!?" Beowulf swung his fist, instantly sending the attacking fish-like monster flying. The tall, muscular man revealed a carefree, excited smile, "As long as there's something to fight, isn't that enough?"

The white-haired, white-bearded Grand Duke of Romania sighed, "Indeed."

"That might be better... who knows!"

He looked at the surging monsters. "This is... what I should do."

Vlad III, later falsely portrayed as the Vampire Duke Count Dracula, was also known as Vlad III. He was considered by many to be a symbol of slaughter because he had subjected all enemy troops attacking Romania to the punishment of impalement... But no one knew that Vlad III's actions were not for the sake of killing. He did not actually like killing, but at that time Romania's territory was barren and weak, and only cruelty could deter the powerful forces surrounding them.

Therefore, even knowing he would be condemned and vilified, Vlad III still chose to carry out the execution.

He did it to save people.

He disliked killing even more...

"Let's unite against the enemy, gentlemen!" The spear sank into the ground, and then a continuous stream of spears emerged from the ground like bamboo shoots after a rain, as numerous as a forest, piercing through all the invading spears and pinning them to the ground.

"Haha, that's right, that's how it should be!" Beowulf laughed excitedly. "You really are a strongman, Vlad III!"

"If I have the chance, I definitely want to fight you!"

"I have no desire to confront mythical monsters—" Vlad III said, but the smile on his lips also carried a hint of excitement.

He looked up at the sky, at the chaotic monster...

I glanced at it briefly, not daring to look any longer.

The air grew thicker with moisture, and the shadow of the colossal ancient civilization's ruins gradually revealed its mottled outline. Rovi stood on the air, with the chaotic void before him, the Old Ones, slumbering in R'lyeh's nightmare, plotting to drag the world into a dream, to drown in eternity.

But within the nightmare, a glimmer of light appeared.

Shining brightly.

The dazzling light reflects the brilliance.

Gilles de Rai summoned the Old Ones, hoping to destroy this Singularity Point through the power of Cthulhu and to avenge the era and nation that betrayed the greatest Saint Maiden in his heart, the Maiden of the Ages.

Cthulhu's power is indeed immense.

but...

"When the cataclysmic disaster strikes, humanity will unite like never before."

"Our internal strife is endless, and the factional struggles have never stopped."

"We have good, and we also have evil."

"Only when the end of the world is near will humanity unite."

"Because the premise is that good and evil are in chaos."

"Our essence is 'human'!"

Amidst the swirling, turbulent steam, Rovi raised his hand, facing a twisted, writhing tentacle that had already approached.

The tentacles were enormous, like surging waves, covered with countless layers of keratinous skin. Each layer of keratin seemed to contain countless eyeballs, and deep within the pupils of these eyeballs, pale white fragments twisted, resembling countless crawling worms... As the tentacles lashed out, the thousands of eyeballs focused on Rovi's's body, and the crawling worms spread and rotated, spiraling outwards.

A malicious gaze is enough to make any living being tremble with fear.

But it was only in that instant.

Rovi raised his hand and caught the light behind him.

He accepted Jeanne of Arc's acceptance of the witch, and he accepted the witch's hidden love for France and her longing for the Lord. He also picked up Siegfried's heroic will and Fafnir's actions of protecting humanity despite his evil deeds.

Marie, Mozart, Charles, Vlad III, Beowulf... the world's heroes all wish to protect this world and humanity.

Rovi picked up their wishes.

The Lord of Heaven, the Son of Man, and the Spirit of the Void responded to their wishes and reclaimed the glory that belonged to human heroes.

He moved forward.

The palm shimmered with light, then closed into a sheath, moving forward...

He drew his sword and rose up!