Simulate the universe, starting with speedrunning Greek.

"Did you mistake me for someone else?"

But the specific feeling of blood boiling, as if seeing Alucard descend, made many people's eyes widen.

Integula—the master of Accardo, the current head of the Van Helsing family—was so astonished that he dropped the cigarette he was holding... SAN.

On the Thames River—on the ship, where they had finally reached the shore—Accademia suddenly opened his eyes.

!!!!

Rainforest—!! The familiar thorny rainforest can still be clearly seen here.

When the true ancestor's eyesight allowed him to easily spot the dark figure atop the broken iconic London Tower in the distance.

Two gazes seemed to meet from afar, then collided, and simultaneously, their pupils contracted.

A strange feeling of familiarity mixed with strangeness welled up inside me.

Alucard murmured, "Human—? Monster?"

Incredibly—his mood suddenly calmed down.

The dazed feeling that had been evoked by the previous miracle has now calmed down.

Boom!

Meanwhile, after the appearance of the Piercing Rainforest, the Shadow Servants in other places seemed unwilling to be outdone, and under the stimulation, they began to unleash their Noble Phantasms.

In an instant, numerous Noble Phantasms appeared on the battlefield, including Mordred's beam cannon and Jeanne d'Arc Alter's roaring flames of rage, attacking indiscriminately.

Although it couldn't compare to the miracle that occurred the previous night, this world, with its low level of mystery, still revealed a magnificent and beautiful scene that most people would find hard to believe and rarely see in their lifetime.

Rumble rumble rumble!!!!

Just as London was experiencing a devastating scene with pillars of fire and light cannons shooting into the sky, causing the earth to shake and the world to tremble.

The only one whose style seemed completely different from everyone else's was the French Saintess, who not only generously revealed her true form but also actively protected others after activating her Noble Phantasm.

"I offer my prayers here."

Please shelter these innocent and pitiful people, for my Lord is here!

The saint spoke loudly.

Suddenly, a region of holy light appeared on the battlefield, isolating countless attacks and becoming the only sanctuary in this hellish place.

Vlad III's identity has not yet been fully revealed, but Joan of Arc's identity has already been guessed.

Not long ago, the survivors who had been saved and sheltered by Jeanne d'Arc witnessed the attacks from all sides, including countless terrifying Noble Phantasms and the indiscriminate killing of the invaders, who had protected them!

That sacred iris banner, held high!

! "

On the battlefield, a heroine holding an iris flag guided people forward toward hope!

Historically, there was indeed a girl who was so radiant, kind, and brave that even the English, her enemies, could not deny.

"That...that radiance was?!"

"Angels descended one by one, each dressed exactly like the legendary French saintess."

You...you are...?!

Countless survivors turned their trembling gazes toward them.

Even a blonde girl couldn't help but make the sign of the cross on her chest, tears streaming down her face as she prayed devoutly.

Whether it was an angel, a legendary saint resurrected from history, or descended from heaven, it didn't matter. All they knew was that—in their most desperate moment—that beautiful holy maiden appeared.

At this moment, these people seemed to be able to experience the sense of hope that arose in the hearts of the French people in despair when they suddenly saw the appearance of that saint.

Ah, that moving radiance!

"Although this may be beyond your comprehension, please do not doubt it, believe my words—my true name—Jeanne d'Arc, I am a Heroic Spirit resurrected from human history, and I have shown this power to protect you!"

"The weak, the innocent citizens, those who thirst for protection, come to the glorious protection of our Lord. I swear by my true name, I will do everything in my power to protect those who trust in me!"

Knowing her own limitations and the impossibility of extending her Noble Phantasm to cover all of London, Joan of Arc could only openly reveal her true name and treat everyone with sincerity, urging the survivors to rush to her side.

And it was precisely this act of deliberately exposing herself that led to this.

Suddenly, it was as if a magnitude 12 earthquake had occurred in hellish London.

This caused a stir of shock and disbelief among the local forces on the battlefield!

"Heroic spirits"?

A saint—Joan of Arc?!

The dead coming back to life—this taboo that shouldn't exist in reality—has actually happened?

The Englishmen felt as if they were still dreaming.

If that beautiful and holy young woman hadn't deceived them, then the French saints they had harmed had risen from the depths of human history to protect them?

What the hell—what an incredible, absurd, and bizarre day! Is this really not a dream?

74

Chapter 74. She had no complaints against the world or God until her death; who else in human history could compare to her?

woc ! !

WOCC Holy crap, it's a plant.

For a moment, the Englishmen felt a chill run down their spines.

The intense impact was like ten thousand grass-horse mythical beasts galloping through my mind.

They stared blankly or in shock at the figure that had sheltered them.

At this moment, how complex and indescribable their feelings must have been!

Were they sheltered by their former enemies?

Was she protected by the saint they had cruelly judged and burned at the stake?

Should I feel ashamed? Or humiliated? Angry? Or perhaps grateful and moved?

No, it seems there weren't that many complicated emotions. There was only the lingering fear of surviving this hellish nightmare and the relief of finally breathing a sigh of relief.

"I survived!!"

Although it may sound somewhat shameful, regardless of whether that person was truly Joan of Arc, the historical heroine who saved France, they now genuinely relied on this powerful and holy young saint from the bottom of their hearts and souls.

This is hardly a French saint!

As long as they can live, she is their Virgin Mary, their Saint of England!!!

Even if they were asked to make a decision that went against their ancestors' wishes... "They could go back and pray to God every day, confessing the sins of the English people in harming the saint, without any problem."

For ordinary people, Joan of Arc was the hope of survival, the only ray of light in hell.

But for those on the battlefield who understand the underworld, the situation is entirely different.

The concept of Heroic Spirits, which I've never heard of before.

But without a doubt—those are historical figures who should have died hundreds of years ago, resurrected!

Father Andersen's pupils contracted.

The dead coming back to life? That's a miracle that defies reality and common sense, a taboo that shouldn't exist in this world.

In this world, all means of bringing the dead back to life and enabling them to walk on the earth are ominous forces.

Most of them are related to vampire powers!

Blood is the currency of the soul. As long as you find a new currency before it runs out to replace your original consumption, time will stop and reveal its magnificence to life!

Therefore—

Is he another example of a relic of a bygone era, a product of the old age, a monster who would stop at nothing to survive and sell his soul?

But soon Father Yi and others completely rejected this idea.

For that glorious "miracle of God" still emanates a soft, holy light from the raised white iris banner!

A miracle of this magnitude would be so great that no one would doubt it was the Virgin Mary herself.

How could this possibly be the miracle of "immortality" achieved by vampires—those weak, filthy monsters—by drinking blood?

And then there's Jeanne d'Arc's newly unleashed Noble Phantasm phrase—"My Lord has descended?!!"

A chilling thought flashed through the minds of the priest and the others: Was "the Lord" personally responding to that holy young girl?

Even now, they still favor and pamper this saintess, showering her with "miracles" as if they were free!

In the sky—

Maxwell's voice didn't come again for a long time. He broke out in a cold sweat, then suddenly braced his hands on the barrier in front of him and stared intently down.

"Impossible!"

Bakana Bakana, God not only bestowed miracles upon him, but continuously bestowed miracles upon him, a glory that even he, the newly appointed archbishop, could not enjoy.

That village girl who claimed to be a French saint who had been resurrected from the dead received such enviable and jealous affection!

This doesn't look right at all! There must be something wrong with it.

Having shed his impoverished and weak past, and having finally reached such a noble, elegant, and great position, Maxwell believes himself to be the man most favored by God, and loved by fate and the Lord!

It's not an exaggeration to say that fate revolves around oneself.

On this battlefield, he should be the protagonist!!

However—

......

All eyes are now drawn to those heroic spirits.

Joan of Arc's exposure also drew comparisons to the spirits that had just manifested terrifying power throughout London.

Were all of them, like Joan of Arc, human heroes who died and were resurrected from history, from the annals of humankind?

Compared to these once-renowned heroes, Maxwell felt as if he had instantly become an insignificant clown, a mere background figure.