Simulate the universe, starting with speedrunning Greek.

That was a gentle, smiling declaration: "Victory—long live!"

In a daze, the voice seemed to remind one of an art student who had failed his exams, wearing white gloves, raising one hand high, revealing a smile and a seductive announcement.

I recall that era that once brought fear to the whole of Europe.

In that instant, the overly friendly tone even made the last remaining troops instinctively think—had their "reinforcements arrived?"

"Long live victory!!"

The last remnants of the Third Reich, the last remaining forces, shouted fervently in response—as if they had found their backbone at this moment.

Because the major was taken away by God midway, he completely abandoned the original plan, letting his men fight independently. His equally powerful werewolf captain was also sent to the battlefield early on to deal with the Royal Order of the Church.

Another vampire in the unit, a policewoman who is part of Alucard's retinue.

Therefore, the werewolf captain did not appear here.

This resulted in the last battalion being the only one without any high-level combat personnel on the battlefield. Their morale had dropped considerably after they saw Father Andersen and Accardo appear together.

However—

With a whoosh, as a gust of wind whipped up dust and the smoke cleared, a certain saint, clad in a military uniform with swastika armbands, suddenly appeared on the battlefield.

Then the ghoul's bright red eyes lit up with excitement!

But perhaps Yi-yi is celebrating too soon.

Integula: "Swastika flag armband—!!!"

Accardo suddenly opened his eyes wide and interrupted his master, saying, "No, it's not that one—it's just somewhat similar, my master."

Open your eyes wide and look carefully at what that is!

Intgra: ??

Isn't that the symbol of fascism that once instilled fear throughout Europe and even the world?

When Integula stared intently at the next moment, her usually calm and composed face showed a look of horror, and she broke out in a cold sweat.

Indra Van Helsing: "That, that's—!!"

Handsome as the sculpture David, with a full head of silver hair and wearing a military uniform—his armbands are engraved with a powerful law composed of countless skulls.

The perceptions of destruction, love, and absolute justice are the radiance of Saint Joseph's spiritual foundation at this moment, specially enhanced by God.

Twisted sacred love! For ordinary people, who cannot look directly at the law, the skulls they see are arranged and displayed in the most terrifying way in their understanding: they are revealed in a way that humans can understand and bear, which is why Indra and other "weak" people mistake them for swastika armbands at a certain moment.

Only when you concentrate and stare intently, trying to explore its essence, will you discover what it is!

Countless skulls, and the sighs of the dead seemed to emanate from them!

I heard it! I heard it! A mournful wail, like something out of hell! It was a curse—a curse from the suppressed and killed souls against the owner of this armband!! But what was even more terrifying was the man who deliberately wore it as an ornament, as if displaying glory and achievements, completely unafraid of the hatred and influence of those dead souls.

Amidst these sighs, his form and will remained unwavering.

The Shadow Servant Saint Joseph summoned his Noble Phantasm—a book! Each disciple has his own autobiography, which records not only his own story but also the story of God, and he takes pride in his journey with God.

Chosen this time as God's spokesperson on earth to proclaim the "Gospel to the world," Saint Joseph trembled with excitement.

It is not Saint Peter, nor Saint John, nor Saint Paul, nor the Virgin Mary—not any of you, but I, Saint Joseph, who have been chosen to descend this time—applause for God!

His emotions were overflowing and could no longer be contained! Praise be to you! Praise be to my Lord, Hallelujah!

When he heard the last of the troops shout "Long live victory!" in unison, Saint Joseph's face revealed a cruelly brilliant smile: "Very good—they are all very motivated."

In any case, if your fate is like this tragic war, you can only die a miserable death.

It would be truly pathetic to let one's thoughts be filled with despair!

"Death is a matter of a moment, it should not be so painful. If we embrace him, praise him, and sing his praises, despair will disappear—so! Praise him, praise him!"

Let us pray together, one by one! Our Father in heaven, may your name be hallowed.

Lord, grant them eternal rest, and let eternal light shine upon them.

Arriving with astonishing force, their uniforms exuded a sacred aura that covered the entire battlefield, plunging it into a terrifying spiritual pressure!

The handsome young man, whose armbands are embodying concepts of fear, death, and war itself, is more like the Third Reich than the Third Reich, more like the devil than the devil that mankind fears most, yet he praises God, invoking prayers from the world, and exuding an eerie sense of holiness!

Its immense spiritual will carries a powerful infectiousness, making people want to believe in it.

Thus, despite its terrifying and powerful beast-like appearance, the weak-willed English survivors, driven by their instinctive instincts as insignificant as ants, reflexively sought refuge.

"God!"

"Please, please save us!"

Those survivors who hadn't yet rushed to the protective aura of Joan of Arc seemed to regard Joseph and Joan of Arc as shadow followers.

They instinctively wanted to gravitate towards it, and as a result...

Boom!

A dazzling white light struck just before those people were desperately trying to run past, and an explosion instantly engulfed everything. This explosion was so violent that all the previous missile bombardments paled in comparison, as if it were about to tear apart the entire vast sky.

It was nothing more than a light blast formed from the insignificant power released by Saint Joseph!

“..............!”

Immediately, Accardo, Father Andersen, the Major, and others all looked in the direction where St. Joseph was.

The mysterious man who had just arrived mercilessly killed the innocent survivors that Joan of Arc had tried to protect.

What exactly just happened in this world?

At this moment, the other survivors who were still far away and did not rush over immediately were filled with fear and relief.

Why?

Some of the British shed tears of fear.

Aren't this man and that saintess companions? Shouldn't they both be there to protect them?

The fat major smirked. "Oh my, this is getting interesting."

Inside the golden demon city, Ye's expression remained unchanged as he sat on the throne.

77

Chapter Seventy-Seven: Fool, this time God isn't silver, but gold! The Love of Destruction

Clearly, people's previous guesses were wrong!

God didn't favor the English, but only Joan of Arc—a human being?

Who said that his will as a "god" was to protect those Englishmen?

Although he was not interested in massacring civilians, that was entirely Saint Joseph's personal act.

Night hopes to see everyone unleash their true nature, climbing to the pinnacle of their inner desires. Only those souls with such pure and unwavering conviction will be his true followers and subjects, forever engraved with his principles, and able to unleash the full power of his system.

Therefore one by one

He has made this place the final battlefield for the warriors of this world to test their skills.

Ordinary people couldn't possibly survive to the end here; only Joan of Arc was willing to expend the effort to protect those Englishmen.

After everyone else knew that those they killed would go directly to the Lord's conceptualized microcosm, which was equivalent to ascending to "heaven," they felt no burden at all—"Whoever provokes me, I will kill them."

After all—killing you is like helping you into heaven!! Why bother protecting him then? Killing you is actually a good thing!

However, Saint Joseph is now seen as somewhat extreme by the other Shadow Followers.

After all, the spirits still retain the pride of being heroes in life and are unwilling to attack unarmed ordinary people. As long as these survivors do not take action, they will let them fend for themselves.

But Saint Joseph—

At this moment, his thought process was extremely simple!

What the Lord wants now is hell, to let hell grow completely into a dead river!

If we follow the Lord's will, then from this moment on, every life on this earth is sinful! Every breath we take is a grave sin!

Even he himself, who has already descended as a heroic spirit, is guilty!

They all need to join this hellish battle.

The thought processes of madmen are always beyond the comprehension of ordinary people.

At this moment, Saint Joseph looked into the distance and cried out in fear, "Why?"

The British.

The other person was caught in the aftershocks of the explosion. Fragments of broken steel bars and concrete pierced through his back and ribs, and his entire hand was blown off at the elbow, leaving him in a truly gruesome state.

The man had countless tiny wounds on his body, and he kept bleeding and vomiting. He looked at this side with despair and fear. He felt that he would not survive due to extremely severe internal injuries, and he questioned the truth in his voice.

But soon, the Englishman was intimidated by Saint Joseph's cold smile.

It was a silent indifference, and deep within that indifference seemed to lie contempt.

*— ! ! * ! !###! !

He cursed blindly in his heart, but at this moment he no longer had the courage to question them, because a single look from the other party was enough to freeze the soul of an ordinary man.

"Don't get me wrong—although the heroic spirits that have descended this time are all the work of our great Lord—I am different from that overly kind little girl."

God loves everything in the world and will not be stingy in giving love to everyone. To send miracles to protect only a limited group is far too narrow a love!

St. Joseph rarely spoke up to explain.

God has a thousand faces, and the will He wants to show varies greatly at different times.

This time, Saint Joseph believed he had grasped the true meaning of the great Lord—Satan. What kind of "love" did Ye [Night] intend to demonstrate?

Yes! God, you all love us! This time it is not the radiance of a silver God, but the golden High Heaven! [Golden love is too profound, yet everything in the world is too fragile!]

"like"?

On the other side, they heard such absurd remarks.

No, it's not that the words are absurd, but rather that the contradiction between the other person's actions and words creates a sense of absurdity, even frightening.

The other person proclaims love, yet offers no hope; instead, they commit acts of destruction!

If the goal is to spread the light of equal love on behalf of God, shouldn't we protect everyone...?