Simulate the universe, starting with speedrunning Greek.

Joan of Arc unleashed her magic, beginning to shelter and heal the survivors around her.

"We cannot ignore those who plead for salvation."

Although this body is not the original body, but rather a shadow follower created by that person.

The reason is clear: as her original form, her current strength is too immense; for this war, it is not a trial, but destruction.

Although that being did not issue any forceful orders to these heroic spirits, allowing them to act freely, they were supposed to be here to fight as part of a trial.

Joan of Arc could only pray for the Lord's forgiveness in her heart—she simply could not bear to watch those cries of agony any longer.

And so, on the battlefield, a small yet striking iris banner, emitting a soft, pale white light, suddenly appeared... without anyone noticing.

“Heavens…angels!”

The survivors of the area where Joan of Arc descended were undoubtedly fortunate.

Time may seem to pass quickly, but in reality, every second of the war causes a large number of deaths. In this wasteland that is already burning like Fuyuki, not to mention ordinary civilians, even the British army has been almost wiped out. At this moment, it can be said that they are completely annihilated.

And when they saw the "angels" again, a glimmer of hope arose in their hearts.

When the survivors looked up, they saw the church's special aerial combat units in the sky, weapons of war manifested as enormous angels spreading their wings of light.

At this moment, Archbishop Maxwell stood atop a hot air balloon amidst countless air force personnel, surrounded by a throng of admirers, with numerous loudspeakers and megaphones in front of him!

His fervent speech proclaimed: "Yes!! We are the agents of the angels of death on earth! Now is the time of judgment—in the name of God...............!!"

"Defendant! Britain!! Defendant: Monster!! Verdict: Death penalty!! Death penalty! Death penalty! Death penalty! Death penalty! Death penalty! Death penalty!

A frenzied, chilling declaration, seemingly poised to resound throughout London, a roar imbued with absolute will.

Maxwell has gone completely mad!! Completely fearless!

Even the gods have sent down miracles, proclaiming that they will surely win this time.

There is absolutely no possibility of failure—we have "God"!!!

No matter who the enemy is, or how powerful their forces are... we have "God" hahaha... hahahahahahahahahahaha!!!

Perhaps the words he had used to calm the knights seemed to make more and more sense the more he thought about them, and even Archbishop Maxwell himself was convinced.

If one thinks about it carefully, this great miracle might just be a blessing bestowed by the great God, recognizing his achievements and honoring his promotion to archbishop.

"I am a man blessed by God—worthy of being recorded in history as the Vatican Archbishop who guided the Holy War!"

At such a young age, it's not impossible for him to even dream of becoming the Pope in the future.

With this mindset, his attitude towards the citizens of London became even more arrogant. After the frenzy subsided, he calmly declared: "For this I deeply regret, dear sinners."

Clenching his fists, he spoke with a trembling voice, as if he couldn't tolerate filth and was an extreme germaphobe, his cold eyes surveying the earth: "Yet sin will never be forgiven! Let the Bible die like a withered flower! [All flesh is like grass; the flower will wither and the grass will dry up. (Isaiah 40:68; 1 Peter 1:24-25)]"

"Insignificant lives, burdened with heavy suffocation! [Like a butterfly, a useless thing, die like a bee!] Hahaha, haha ​​...

It is filled with contempt for life and extreme arrogance!

"Shut up, it's so noisy! It's awful!"

Just then, sounds of annoyance echoed from the earth.

The sound was so loud that Maxwell, hundreds of meters above the ground, seemed to hear it as well.

?? !!

"Who? Who is it?!"

Maxwell flew into a rage, and his previous posture of spreading his arms, twisting his limbs, and laughing wildly vanished, replaced by a distorted face.

Cursed by mere heretics and filthy insects!!

On this earth, at a time like this, the only ones who would show him such disrespect are clearly not his own people, but rather his enemies.

Instead of fearing us, God's agents, and the terrifying angels of death, they utter provocations—what an unreasonable and arrogant bunch!

Unacceptable! Absolutely unacceptable!

On the ground, Mordred, a follower of the shadows, looked up at the Vatican Archbishop of this world, who seemed to lack a cerebellum.

If it weren't for the fact that it was somewhat of his "father's" subordinate in the mortal realm, she would have already blasted that unpleasant-sounding thing down with a single sword strike.

Even if Britain is no longer their former Celtic homeland, it is not something that such scum can slander.

How dare they declare Britain "deadly"!

She couldn't think about it anymore; she was afraid that she might lose control and start attacking the church forces on this land.

It was a rare opportunity to be summoned by a compassionate "father," and even knowing that he was currently just a shadow servant whose spirit origin information had been recorded, Mordred still wanted to make a good impression.

Now that she has arrived, she will be the one to personally test the strongest person on this battlefield!

With such determination, Mordred didn't want to waste time on other things. She decided to find the strongest individual here as quickly as possible, ahead of the other Shadow Servants! This was her Round Table Knights' home turf, with the advantage of local backing—how could she possibly lose to other foreign Heroic Spirits?

However—

At this moment, among the shadow followers, a certain Lancer, after descending upon this land, felt a long-lost surge of adrenaline.

A deep, authoritative, and surprised voice: "This feeling is..."

71

Chapter Seventy-One: Piercing the Duke - Strange, a local bonus? Who brought Yu Romania here?

Dressed in an elegant evening gown, the platinum-blonde man slowly opened his eyes.

Despite it not being his territory, he enjoyed almost the strongest local bonus.

Standing on this land, as if he were on Romanian soil, he even dared to challenge Hercules!

Perhaps this is the origin of the Lord's summoning them to this battlefield, or perhaps this "spur-of-the-moment" is just an illusion, or perhaps the Lord has strengthened their spiritual foundation.

Vlad III frowned, unable to confirm.

Like other Heroic Spirits, he almost always chose to act alone after his arrival. He hadn't yet witnessed the strength of the others' Spirit Origins, so he naturally couldn't determine whether this enhancement was specific to him or applied to everyone.

However, a strong, almost fateful premonition gave him the feeling that he would encounter an inevitable adversary on this land.

That intense sense of destiny, as if it were divine revelation, made him grip the spear in his hand even tighter.

Since thinking is useless for now, let's leave everything to the instinct to fight. Fate will guide him in the right direction!

After investigating but failing to identify which madman had uttered those outrageous words, Maxwell, enraged, launched an almost indiscriminate attack!

He suddenly swung his hand down as if to cleave this hellish world in two: "What you see is a graveyard [meaning burial], bury God [our] enemy completely! Target: ahead!! Execution! Immediately!

With a snap of his fingers, and at the archbishop's command, countless church-equipped helicopters in the sky began firing wildly.

The missiles fell rapidly like sausages from a factory, raining down like drops of water!

Rumble~!!!

Houses were blown to pieces, and human bodies were riddled with bullets; under the impact of the bullets, flesh and bones were torn to shreds.

Whoever that voice just now was, die! Die! Die!

Such a fate befits a mere heretic!

Maxwell's expression became increasingly contorted, his mouth almost splitting open to his ears.

Meanwhile, on the other side, the major on the airship, who had been playing an exciting tune since the Shadow Servants appeared one by one, started dancing even more wildly, completely ignoring the Doctor who was almost driven mad by the chaos on the battlefield.

When the doctor called out to the major repeatedly but received no response, he saw the fat man who looked like the world's most outstanding musician performing in the Vienna Hall, with his powerful arm swings and his white suit with its tail flapping in the wind.

"He's playing the symphony of war! As if some very important person is watching!" The air was filled with a sense of pilgrimage.

Unconsciously, this atmosphere and intuition made the doctor feel a sense of disorientation, as if there really were a pair of giant eyes in the sky watching them.

Watch as the major performs for him!

This is the art of war offered to him!

Cold sweat poured down my back!! Doctor:......!

What is this? No one can disturb the performance. Is it a hallucination? He seemed to really hear the sacred yet ominous sound of a symphony! He even seemed to see the fading golden light of salvation!

In the original Hellsong world, apart from a few mysterious beings like vampires and werewolves, there were naturally no other mysterious settings. The major's actions could not possibly be like those in the anime, where he could actually play the song.

But one by one

At this very moment, the will of the night has begun to permeate the entire universe.

That night, I truly heard something from the major's "powerful will"—

The sounds that God heard flowed out—like a virus forming tangible music—and began to circulate across the battlefield.

Although there was no sound, it seemed to be resounding throughout the entire sky, the earth, and the entire city of London, even showing signs of radiating to the whole world, just like the inexplicable and bizarre salt blizzard and the great flood that had occurred before.

Those on the battlefield who heard this sound all paled and reacted in completely different ways.

The spirit conveyed in that voice would only send chills down the spines of ordinary people.

But for the "monsters" who were born to live in this hell, or who were already used to it, it was like a war horn, igniting all the ferocity in their hearts!

Just like Accardo, just like Vlad III!!

At this moment, everyone seemed to become an instrument under His direction, an actor offering himself and his art to God.

Roaring and howling, their eyes had turned bloodshot at some point, the Vatican Knights had begun to clash with the last remaining force on the battlefield.

The Knights and the Last Legion, the Last Legion and the innocent Londoners, the Knights and the people.

They fought each other, a chaotic and brutal battle.

"Die! Die! Die! Die! That's it, kill them all!! You lowly insects!! While you're still alive! Look at us, behold, this is the authority of the Vatican!"

"Only dead Protestants are good Protestants! Hahahaha!"

Maxwell, so excited that he was practically drooling, roared his declaration.

Ah, I suppose even those disgusting little bugs from before were all dead in that terrifying melee.

Hearing the "symphony of war," his ferocity became uncontrollable; he longed to see more of the enemy's blood.

Meanwhile, on the other side, Indra, the only remaining fighting force for England, watched as even members of the church joined the massacre in London. Unable to bear it any longer, she gritted her teeth and denounced the priests and others for their betrayal.

Having just finished the battle, Father Anderson, who had protected Intgra, simply stated that betrayal and deception were to be expected in war; on the contrary, they should be praised, especially when dealing with infidels.

Andersen: "But..."