Meanwhile, in a dark corner of the prison, a smiling man leaned against the wall and struck up a conversation with great interest.
"I heard that when you were thirteen, you witnessed your first miracle: Archangel Michael, supreme commander of the Angel Army, proclaimed God's will to you, ordering you to drive out the British and lead the crown prince to Reims for his coronation?"
"Michael... let me think... you mean Michael, right?"
"To be honest, I know that birdman well. I beat him up badly. Back during the War of Light and Darkness, I chopped off half his chicken wings. Did he ever tell you about that?"
"No? Then did you meet anyone else, like the Virgin Mary or something? Just asking, was she pretty?"
Accompanied by invisible tremors in the air, the incessant chatter kept entering Joan of Arc's ears.
Although Joan repeatedly restrained herself and did not wish to heed such harassment, the voice resonating with the aether flowed directly into her consciousness, making it impossible to guard against.
The stream of disrespectful remarks felt like countless flies buzzing around her ears. This saintly girl, who wished only to serve the Lord with devotion and had always been gentle by nature, had veins bulging on her forehead. She nearly lost control and felt the urge to grab her greatsword and stab someone, just as she did on the battlefield.
However, because of the watchful gaze from the stairway, the Maid of Orléans had no choice but to take several deep breaths and calmly send her thoughts to someone.
"Sir, I am praying. Could you please show at least a little consideration and keep quiet?"
"Uh, it does seem I failed to consider your religious beliefs. That was my oversight. Sorry, sorry."
Samael, whose figure was concealed within