In order to become a Heroic Spirit, I had no choice but to cause trouble in history.

It's not just the parameters that belong to the Heroic Spirits, but also the authority that belongs to the Arbitrator.

On this French land, the spirit of Joan of Arc was finally recognized.

The French flag unfurled, corresponding to the banner of the evil dragon, bringing not death and despair, but the dawn that shatters despair.

Jeanne d'Arc's banner dance resembled a spear dance, with sweeping, powerful movements. There were far more regular Servants than Shadow Servants, not to mention the Arbitrators who could suppress normal Servants in regular battles.

Shadow Servants are like paper in front of Jeanne d'Arc; she can take one down in just two or three shots.

Fujimaru Ritsuka watched from behind, swallowing hard.

Why does Jeanne d'Arc seem to be radiating a... strong aura of a stern older sister?

Joan of Arc said nothing, waving the French flag, and no one could stand in her way.

Maintaining this stance, Joan of Arc, wielding the French banner, charged from the doorway all the way to Black Joan of Arc.

Jeanne Alter, who had just been smug, had begun to tremble.

There was both fear and anger.

For some reason, when Jeanne Alter stands opposite Jeanne d'Arc, I unconsciously feel a sense of powerlessness and trembling.

The battle outside the city continued and moved inside, where the two banners clashed once more.

During the struggle, Joan of Arc remained as steady as a mountain, while Black Joan of Arc, whose strength was in no way inferior to hers, had already begun to fall into a disadvantageous position.

The jumbled words did not break Joan of Arc's heart, but they completely shattered Black Joan of Arc's own psychological defenses.

Those sharp, sarcastic questions were less about Joan of Arc and more about describing their own way of life.

So......

"You...don't have any memories of your childhood, do you?" Joan of Arc asked dejectedly, but her grip tightened even more.

"..." Jeanne Alter gritted her teeth.

"So what?"

"..." Joan of Arc pursed her lips.

"Then I will not bring you any resentment or anger, but rather compassion, and I will defeat you."

Joan of Arc solemnly declared her position.

Jeanne Alter's pupils contracted sharply.

"You... bastard!!!"

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Chapter 269 The Anger That Cannot Be Directed at a Friend

Gilles de Rais, who was fighting and retreating, was extremely anxious upon hearing Jeanne d'Arc's roar.

Gritting his teeth, Gilles de Rais channeled his magic into the human skin book in his hand, which was his treasure, the Preliti's Spellbook.

At the same time, a devilish laugh escaped his lips.

"Hahahaha—hahahahahahahaha—!!!"

The sea monsters in the corridor suddenly multiplied, grew larger, thicker, and more resilient.

The sea monsters and their flesh grew together, multiplying and growing in tandem.

Finally, a thick wall of flesh formed in front of Mashu and Camilla.

Gilles de Rais, peering through the gap in the flesh wall, said expressionlessly to the two men, "Please don't disturb my banquet with the saintess, you scum."

The flesh walls grew together, and Gilles de Rais turned and left.

"Miss Camilla, what do we do now?" Mash asked anxiously.

"Calm down, Kyrielight." Camilla was equally anxious, but didn't have a good solution at the moment.

Simonetta stood there, swaying unsteadily.

However, as a reliable adult woman, she knew that the most important thing at this time was not to be too hasty, otherwise she would definitely lose her composure.

After a brief observation, Camilla discovered that although these sea monsters were more resilient and had a much faster regeneration rate, their aggression had been greatly reduced in exchange for standing there as a barrier.

"There's not much we can do right now, let's just force our way through. Since these sea demons regenerate so quickly, let's break through before they regenerate."

"Yes! I understand," Mashu replied enthusiastically.

While things were in chaos outside, inside the main hall, the two Joan of Arcs were also locked in a fierce battle.

However, it is obvious that although Jeanne Alter is angry, she always gives people the feeling of being outwardly strong but inwardly weak.

It is not a case of being outwardly strong but inwardly weak.

Rather, it's about other aspects.

Although evil, it has no reason to be evil; although tyrannical, it has no root cause of tyranny.

Enraged by Joan of Arc's fate, the brutal ruler who raged across France, Black Joan of Arc, had no memory of Joan of Arc.

For both Jeanne Alter and Jeanne d'Arc, this was an immense act of malice that offered no basis for their existence.

Through battles and exchanges, Jeanne d'Arc had long since discerned the way Dark Jeanne d'Arc existed.

That way of existence is as fragile as a rootless duckweed, unable to withstand any form of destruction.

Ping Pong —

"Damn it, you..." Jeanne d'Arc Alter's evil dragon banner was deflected, and just as she was about to retaliate again, she saw the tip of the French banner's spear was already inches away.

puff-

Accompanied by Joan of Arc's sighs and resolve.

Jeanne Alter's chest was pierced through.

A trickle of blood flowed from the corner of her mouth, and Jeanne Alter stared blankly down at it.

I... was pierced?

Am I... going to die?

Gilles de Rais, who happened to be at the door, witnessed this scene.

"Joan of Arc!!!"

The sudden shout startled Fujimaru Ritsuka, who had been carrying Lawrence, who weighed ninety pounds, for a long time without feeling tired at all.

Gilles de Rais rushed toward Jeanne d'Arc Alter.

Joan of Arc remained silent and drew the tip of her spear.

Jeanne Alter was nearly knocked over by the force of the movement, clutching the hole in her chest, her expression blank.

She swayed, seemingly about to fall to the ground, but instead fell into a large embrace.

She looked up.

Gilles de Rey's eerie face was streaked with sorrowful tears.

But there was no surprise or anger.

“Gil…” Blood trickled from the corner of Jeanne d’Arc’s mouth.

The spirit core is shattered, and its departure is inevitable.

"Don't worry, I'll bring you back right away." Gilles de Rais forced a smile, even if it was a smile through his tears. "Leave the rest to me."

Jeanne Alter was stunned for a moment, and her body began to emit golden light.

"Yes, I trust you the most, Jill..."

"I'll leave the rest to you..."

As the golden light descended, the small figure held in Gilles de Rais's arms transformed into golden magical particles and dissipated into the air.

The woman who ignited hatred and rage throughout France has finally met her end.

“Gil,” Joan of Arc called softly.

After Jeanne Alter disappeared, something remained in her body.

A golden cup, the Holy Grail.

Gilles de Rais held the Holy Grail in his hand and stood up.

"Ah, Saint Virgin, I know what you're going to say." The strange man held the Holy Grail and looked at Joan of Arc, the true Saint Virgin, the savior of France, Joan of Arc.

Mash, Simonetta, and Camilla finally broke through the wall of flesh and arrived at the scene, where they saw Gilles de Rais holding the Holy Grail.

"She is not you."

"I know."

“She was just my wish,” Gilles de Rais said to Joan of Arc, weeping and laughing, yet speaking calmly.

"She does not exist on the Throne of Heroes; she is merely a fictional Servant created by the Holy Grail through me, through my wish, Gilles de Rais."

"Joan of Arc, Holy Virgin."

Gilles de Rais kept talking.

Besides Jeanne d'Arc, Fujimaru Ritsuka, Camilla, Mashu, and Simonetta were also listening.

The overall situation is settled, so it's not bad to let the enemy leave without any resentment.

"I've been thinking about a question ever since you died."

"Why did you die? You were so pure, so great, so radiant."

"You led France, you led us, and you brought victory after victory, bringing countless glories to France and averting destruction."

"In the end, why did you face such an unfair end?"

Gilles de Rais's tone was calm, yet everyone present felt a pressure as intense as a volcano.

"...So, you hate this country that much, Gilles?" Joan of Arc sighed.

“Yes, hatred, hatred, loathing, rage, these are all my emotions, all my emotions after your death,” Gilles de Rais said earnestly.