Nobody knows how to be a villain better than me.

"Madness is order!"

"The sacred should be dissolved into darkness!"

The man flipping through the pages of the book seemed to have grasped the ultimate truth of the world from the distorted and bizarre words. He immediately began to dance with excitement, blinking his bulging eyes and muttering to himself.

"Joan of Arc, my saint, have you also heard that beautiful heavenly voice? Join me in raising this banner of salvation, in welcoming the truth hidden beneath the stars, and in returning the world to its mad essence!"

Gilles de Rais, clearly mentally deranged, raised his hands to the sky and uttered a passionate declaration.

At the same time, the ancient book in his hand moved without wind, its patterns of light flickering.

On the yellowed cover, earthworm-like lines emerge and gradually connect to form a painful, distorted human face.

That gaping mouth seemed to emit an endless wail of the soul, and its sharp resonance could almost shatter anyone's supposedly strong reason.

Suddenly, the murmurings, sometimes high, sometimes low, sometimes near, sometimes far, echoed in Joan of Arc's ears, like invisible tendrils of flesh piercing her skin, breaking through her flesh, and stirring into her mind, turning her rational thoughts into a color of madness.

Joan of Arc's expression hardened, and she bit her cherry lips hard with her pearly teeth, maintaining her clarity of mind. At the same time, she raised her hand and tightly gripped the cross on her chest, reciting David's Psalms to cleanse her soul and prevent her spirit from being corrupted and parasitized by that all-pervasive and terrifying power.

"The Lord is my shepherd"

I will not lack

He made me lie down on the green grass.

Lead me to the still waters

He revived my soul.

Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death

Not afraid of being harmed

Because you are with me!

Milky-white holy light, under the repeated pious invocations, formed into a tangible flame, clinging to Joan of Arc's body and the holy sword.

Tsk tsk tsk!

The Saintess of Orleans, having regained her composure, did not hesitate for a moment. She continued to chant hymns silently while charging forward, her Saint Catherine's sword slashing through the air repeatedly. Dozens of sword beams, overflowing with holy light, pierced the air like blazing crescent moons, striking the crazed figure.

However, before the sword's edge even reached her, the ground beneath Joan of Arc's feet trembled violently, and hundreds of thick, fleshy tendrils burst forth from the shadows behind Gilles de Rais.

Its mouthparts, split open like flower petals, actually tore apart and swallowed the sword's edge.

At that moment, as Joan of Arc charged forward, a rustling sound came from the dark abyss to one side.

Chirp... Chirp...

Joan of Arc looked out and saw hundreds of sea monsters, shrieking like rats, climbing up from the dark abyss and lunging at her path, making her hair stand on end.

Meanwhile, Gilles de Rais, enveloped in a dense mass of fleshy whiskers, gazed fervently at the dazzling, holy light, his obsession and madness driving him to tears that flowed uncontrollably.

O Supreme Ruler, thank you for bringing this light before me. I want to blaspheme, I want to praise that great being!

Looking up at the sky, high above

The time for the stars to return to their proper places has come.

The past is gone, the end times are coming.

The seal has been destroyed and the Great Old Ones have awakened.

They will return, and humanity will be astonished.

They bring fear

They call faith in their name

When they return, they hope to return to darkness.

Ignorance and stupidity have become the new masters!

Terrifying! Terrifying! Terrifying! Extremely terrifying!

Under the frenzied lyrics, the melody of this sacred song, originally used to praise God, instantly became eerie and sinister, giving people an indescribable sense of unease.

As the hymn drew to a close, the figure within the dense tentacles, with tears streaming down its face, uttered the final call.

"Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn"

In an instant, the earth shook and the mountains trembled. Yellowish waves surged from the dark abyss on one side, and a terrifying, writhing phantom rose from the darkness.

Chapter Nineteen: My Lord is Here!

Inside the cave, the roar of the surging tide grew ever louder and deeper, like thunder echoing through the valleys. The fierce, magical tides brought sharp howls, like the wailing of ghosts and wolves, sending chills down one's spine.

So strong!

Before even glimpsing the monster's full form, the aura emanating from it made Joan of Arc, who was directly in its path, feel her limbs go cold and stiff, her heart pound uncontrollably, and she almost couldn't breathe.

"I firmly believed in my motherland, but I was betrayed!"

They firmly believed in justice, yet they were slandered by the light and branded with sins!

They firmly believed in God, were given divine revelation to save the world, yet their prayers went unanswered!

Joan of Arc, my beautiful saint, so holy, yet so foolish.

Since devout praise cannot win the Lord's mercy, let me guide you to true salvation!

Surrounded by sea monsters, Gilles de Rais gazed at the Saintess of Orleans before him, raising his arms in a frenzied manner, replacing her pure figure, to lodge a protest against fate and the gods.

"Oh, oh, oh, oh! God, I, Gilles de Rais, will raise the banner of salvation here and hold a feast of death and decadence for you. All the forsaken are welcome to gather here. I will lead and command you. The voices of resentment uttered by us, the forsaken, will surely reach the ears of God."

"Lord in heaven, I will praise your name with rebuking words!"

At the same time, the frenzied figure, enveloped by layers of tentacles, sank into the writhing flesh, making a pilgrimage towards the ultimate chaos and madness.

In an instant, the terrifying shadow in the abyss, as if breaking through some kind of boundary, smashed through the rock layers and surged to the surface, intending to show the world this terrifying and twisted beauty.

At the same time, hundreds of purplish-red fleshy tendrils extended from one side of the abyss, lashing wildly in all directions, like noisy and disorderly drumbeats, composing a blasphemous hymn to the world.

Oops!

Joan of Arc's pupils contracted sharply; the powerful sense of oppression caused her body to tremble and stiffen uncontrollably.

No! We absolutely cannot let that monster get out!

The saintess of Orleans immediately clenched her teeth, grinding them against her cherry lips, using the pain to dispel the stiffness brought on by fear, regaining control of her body, and immediately lunged forward, intending to stop this indescribable being from rising from the darkness.

Puff puff puff!

Amidst a series of dull tearing sounds, Joan of Arc wielded the sword of St. Catherine, severing the tentacles that blocked her path, as she surged forward through the gaps between falling rocks and crashing tentacles.

But those tentacles had an unparalleled ability to regenerate. No matter how many times Joan of Arc cut them off, the fleshy tentacles blocking her way not only did not decrease, but instead gathered more and more, constantly compressing Joan of Arc's space to move around.

To the left front! There!

A glittering gold shone from the azure eyes in the darkness, locking onto the monster's main body, the pulsating vesicles that resembled flower buds.

Human vision can be clouded, but divine revelations convey the most essential answers.

In this age when the gods have vanished, such an incredible monster must require special support to rise to the surface of this world.

Gilles de Rais, the summoner, is the anchor point that pulls this underwater iceberg up from the darkness!

The Lord is my fortress, my rock, my refuge; I have no fear, for God is with me!

The Saintess of Orleans cleaved horizontally with her sword, shattering the three tentacles with extended sharp teeth in front of her. At the same time, she silently chanted a hymn of praise with piety, and the holy light around her body formed a blazing white flame that burned the two sea monsters that jumped down from above to ashes.

As the path ahead cleared, Joan of Arc's gaze locked onto the fleshy sac that was faintly pulsating. Her expression immediately turned solemn. She slid her right leg backward and tensed it, lowered her body slightly, gripped the hilt of her sword tightly with both hands, and poured all her surging magical power into the Sword of Saint Catherine.

The time of judgment has come; behold, the Lord will come soon to repay each person according to their deeds—divine judgment!

Accompanied by a silent, solemn chant in her heart, Saint Catherine's sword burst forth with a cross-shaped beam of light several meters long, slashing forward with overwhelming force.

boom!

The tentacles wriggled and shrieked as they converged, and the blazing white sword light, blocked by layers of obstacles, was like a comet falling in the night sky, dazzling but fleeting.

The light vanished in the blink of an eye as the layers of flesh writhed and sucked it away.

The fleshy sac that was surrounded by the crowd continued to beat rhythmically, just like a heartbeat.

This tactic is useless!

Joan of Arc's expression froze, and her heart sank to the bottom.

But before Joan of Arc could think things through, the situation took a sharp turn for the worse.

"Jiji!"

At that moment, accompanied by the screeching of rats, long, venomous, snake-like tendrils snaked toward Joan of Arc from all directions, their darting eyes radiating sinister malice.

Clearly, her all-out attack had not only failed to achieve its purpose, but had also thoroughly ignited the monster's murderous intent towards her.

That was a madness and tyranny that even Jill's last remaining will could not suppress.

Tsk tsk tsk!

At the same time, thick, red beams of magic shot out from the frantically blinking, eerie eyes, intersecting with rays of death that densely plowed across the ground.

Joan of Arc, whose magic was almost gone, had no way to escape.

Wait! That's...

At the critical moment, Joan of Arc looked towards the dark corner of the prison ahead, her azure eyes flashing with an intense light.

boom!

Instantly, the girl turned her Saint Catherine's sword and slammed it against the stone wall to her side. Then she rolled on the spot, narrowly avoiding the magical beams that slashed through the air, and leaped into the dug-out prison.

But in an instant, the tentacles blocking the entrance behind him swarmed toward the prey that had become a caged bird, like maggots clinging to its bones.

Just as the slender figure in the dark corner was about to be swallowed up by the overwhelming filth and distortion, a white flag with irises suddenly unfurled in the darkness, fluttering in the wind.

"My banner, protect my people—my Lord is here!"

The saint of Orleans stood upright, gripping the flag tightly in both hands, and shouted in a high-pitched voice.

In an instant, the radiant light, fueled by faith and hope, formed a barrier that seemed to seal off the tentacles that had tried to infiltrate the prison.

I never imagined that I would be reunited with my own flag in this way, on this occasion.

Joan of Arc, having caught her breath, looked at the flag fluttering in front of her, her heart filled with complex emotions.

When her gaze fell upon the scattered, frail bones and the mottled bloodstains on the ground, the cries and wails of the children seemed to echo in her ears, and her face turned ashen.

The relief of surviving the ordeal vanished from Joan of Arc's heart, and the brilliance of the banner dimmed considerably in an instant.

Indeed, in order to vent his anger and accuse the world, Gilles de Rais threw the sacred banner they had fought for and regarded as their faith into this blasphemous pile of bones, leaving it to be stained with blood and defiled by wailing.

This is his way of fighting back against fate.

Bang bang bang!

All around, countless purplish-red tentacles frantically pounded against the increasingly dim light screen, coiling around the thin eggshell like snakes and pythons. The nauseating purplish-red fleshy walls writhed incessantly, attempting to drag the last remaining glimmer of light inside into a frenzied abyss.

Click...

Spiderweb-like cracks spread rapidly across the barrier, and the slippery whispers seeped through the gaps into Joan of Arc's mind. The whispers of this ancient evil god were bringing endless distortion.

In her hazy vision, Joan of Arc seemed to see the surrounding skeletons sprouting flesh and blood, and children with their skin and flesh rolled up, grinning maliciously at her.

This is a power that humans cannot reach, a will that the mortal world cannot resist.

Joan of Arc bit her cherry lips, suppressing the bloodlust in her eyes. Leaning on the holy banner, she knelt on one knee, holding the sword of Saint Catherine upside down in both hands, with the ancient cross hanging from her chest.

Therefore, only gods can fight against gods!

The blade pierced his palm, and crimson blood flowed through his fingers to the ground, staining the twisted bodies.

The immaculate saint gazes at the obscured heavens and solemnly chants.

"The heavens are the glory of the Lord, and the firmament is the great work of the Lord."

The day conveys language, and the night conveys knowledge.

They can neither talk nor speak, and their voices cannot be heard.

The warm light spread across the earth, reaching even the other side of the world.

Climb up from one side of the sky until you reach the other side.

My destination is here, my destiny is here, my life is here.