Nobody knows how to be a villain better than me.

My life is equivalent to nothingness, like a shadow wandering everywhere.

My bow is unreliable, and my sword cannot save me.

With the only thing I have left, I wish to protect his steps.

Lord, I entrust this body to you—

After despair comes hope!"

hum!

In an instant, the space trembled violently, and a dazzling stream of pure white light shot into the sky!

Chapter Twenty: The user you are calling is not in service area.

The ultimate light, under a loud and solemn declaration, transformed into a blazing torrent of flames that melted through the layers of flesh that were being swallowed up.

However, the pitch-black dome almost completely swallowed up all the light.

Here, space, time, and dimensions present a chaos completely different from the ordinary world. Amidst endless terror and madness, maintaining rationality and praying to the gods remains an unattainable goal.

"Squeak!"

The indescribable creature, repeatedly wounded, emitted angry rat-like screams. The purplish-red flesh around its wounds writhed like maggots, and patches of frenzied flesh crawled toward the beam of light piercing the darkness.

Hundreds and thousands of fleshy buds were scorched and melted under the burning flames, but then countless more fleshy buds grew, once again crushing the light that they loathed.

In just a few seconds, the air was filled with a nauseating smell of the sea.

At the same time, the crimson tentacles wrapped around Joan of Arc, with their terrifying power capable of splitting stone tablets, continuously compressed and coiled, intending to taint the tiny insect in her palm with a madness.

Beneath the writhing, ferocious tentacles, the suckers that had been tightly pressed against the Holy Banner's light screen split open, revealing ring-shaped sharp teeth resembling those of a lamprey's mouthparts. These teeth, like drilling machines, continuously corroded the crumbling support surrounding Joan of Arc.

The slippery murmurs, like invisible worms and snakes, burrowed into my brain and gnawed at it, bringing endless madness.

Crimson blood flowed down the blade. Joan of Arc bit her cherry lips, but she could not stop the increasingly powerful mental shocks. The blazing light, like a torch in the night, dimmed rapidly and began to flicker.

puff……

In an instant, the faint light of the candle flickering in the wind within the fleshy walls vanished, and the frail figure, like an ant caught in a Venus flytrap, was about to be devoured and assimilated by the writhing flesh around it.

Is it no longer possible...?

With his hands gripping St. Catherine's sword upside down, Shao knelt before the holy banner in prayer, gazing up at the as dark and unchanging sky, a silent sigh escaping his lips.

boom!

Just as the fleshy tendrils that were tearing through the light barrier were about to engulf the girl in her desperate situation, a dazzling black-red comet, trailing a long fiery tail, tore through the darkness of the dome and fell from the sky, forcefully piercing through the layers of writhing flesh walls, and crashing into this cramped prison.

The shockwaves from the explosion swept outwards, clearing away all the filth from the cave.

At the same time, the figure standing tall amidst the twisted flesh and blood slowly raised its hand.

"God said, 'Let there be light...'"

As soon as the order was given, a dazzling light instantly illuminated the cave as if it were daytime. The surging torrent of flames surged forward with overwhelming force, instantly melting and evaporating the dense fleshy tendrils along its path, like snow piled up under the blazing sun.

The girl beneath the holy flag subconsciously looked up, staring blankly at the figure before her.

He came from the light, and his body was like a jewel.

"Roar!"

The ancient demon god, whose feast had been disrupted once again, was enraged. Thousands of tentacles rapidly sprouted and spread from his body, dancing wildly. His countless blinking eyes shot out beams of magic that almost filled the entire space.

At the same time, purplish-red tentacles slashed and thrust at the prey in the cave.

He turned to the deity who was praying, his brow furrowed, and turned to look back at the terrifying silhouette in front of him, his lips moving indifferently.

"All things are created and destroyed in an orderly manner, time is divided into day and night, all waters are divided into upper and lower, my power is above, your might is below—Destiny: Suppression!"

In an instant, golden wedge-shaped divine runes appeared in the sky, forming a giant light cross with a diameter of 100 meters. Then, with lightning speed, they fell towards the indescribable thing, piercing through layers of flesh and pinning it against the rock wall.

"Ow!!"

The soft-bodied demon god, resembling an octopus, twisted into various shapes under the suppression of layers of dark golden light.

In the darkness, the snakes' vertical pupils split open into colorful cross-shaped patterns of light, their cold gazes locking onto a certain spot, and they raised their hands again, uttering a low murmur.

"Dust to dust, ashes to ashes—Destiny: Stripping Away!"

puff!

At the same time, as space tore and twisted, the mountain of flesh nailed to the cross of light seemed to be torn apart by a pair of invisible giant hands.

Immediately afterwards, a humanoid figure, enveloped in layers of tentacles, was roughly dragged out by the neck.

Holding the fallen one's pale fingers, he tightened his grip inch by inch, pressing coldly against the bones.

"Jill..."

The girl beneath the holy flag hesitated several times before finally pursing her cherry lips and whispering to herself.

The man glanced back, closed his eyes, sighed, and casually tossed the unconscious, deranged man into a corner of the prison.

"Squeak..."

However, the squeals of rats once again came from the chamber of that ancient demon god.

The ancient book in Gilles de Rais's arms, stimulated by this, began to spread out dense blood vessels that burrowed into the host's body.

Gilles de Rais, who had been unconscious, was like a wind-up puppet, his joints twisting and his body contorting and struggling. His chaotic consciousness was gradually awakening in response to the call of the deep sea.

The ancient serpent frowned slightly, casually flicking its fingers to snatch the ancient book from Gilles de Rais's arms, its fingers tightening inch by inch.

The wedge-shaped divine pattern that appeared on his palm transformed into golden flames, burning and scorching the ancient book.

Instantly, the blindfolded figure on the yellowed cover of the ancient book appeared as if it were alive, twisting and wailing, its plaintive murmurs seeming to plead with the abuser.

Samael glanced at it, his face indifferent, unmoved.

The R'lyeh Text, also known as the Shroud of the City of the Dead, is a grimoire bound in human skin. It can not only summon and command monsters from the deep sea, but also has the ability to act as a magical core, allowing it to cast ritualistic spells on its own regardless of the caster's own magical power.

More importantly, this thing contains forbidden knowledge about ancient evil gods that existed before the emergence of humankind, including records of the Deep Ones, the Father God Dagon and the Mother Goddess Hydra, the Star Familiar of Cthulhu, "Sons of Cthulhu" Zoth Omog and Gatanottoa, and the Great Cthulhu, and other unspeakable beings.

In short, this is related to the Great Old Ones who rule the deep sea and starry sky.

Once one delves into reading and comes into contact with that indescribable existence, human consciousness will be infected and driven to madness.

This is precisely why Gilles de Rais's personality changed so drastically.

Moreover, the cult book in Gilles de Rais's possession was not the original, which was even more shockingly distorted, but merely an Italian copy and translation by his friend, the magician François Plelatti.

The two shared a common interest in collecting art, exploring knowledge, and studying alchemy.

Judging from the current situation, François Plelatti most likely learned that his friend Gilles de Rais was secretly grieving over Joan of Arc's fate, and thus gave this taboo item to Gilles de Rais, which led this already cynical French marshal to the extreme of mental instability.

As for whether his so-called friend was well-intentioned or malicious, Samael had no way of knowing.

But such a monstrous thing should not exist in the world.

Samael clenched his fists, and golden flames burned fiercely. Under the scorching heat of the flames, gushing blood oozed from the cracks of the forbidden book, attempting to extinguish the terrible flames.

However, all the struggles were in vain.

The R'lyeh Text, engulfed in flames, gradually turned to ashes amidst wails and distortions.

"Whizzing!"

Just as Samael was about to destroy the cult classic, two crimson tentacles shot out from the darkness, attempting to stop him.

"Boom! Boom!"

But before it could even reach its body, its two arms and legs were blasted into flying pieces of flesh by the wedge-shaped divine runes flying all around.

The snake, standing in the light, its vertical pupils splitting into cross-shaped patterns, looked up and gazed ahead, whispering softly.

"Did I let you move?"

Ying Ning's murderous intent caused the surrounding air temperature to drop sharply.

Chapter Twenty-One: Where is Joan of Arc, this big of a thing?

Instantly, the pupils on the wrists and feet darted around in terror amidst the chilling aura that rushed towards them, vaguely revealing a trace of fear.

"You think you can just lay a finger on my territory? You're nothing but an empty shell summoned by a false scripture, you're not qualified!"

Samael gave a cold snort and made a grasping motion in the air with his fingers curled in front of his chest.

"To sing praises. To extol. To chant."

Ancient mystery, may it be extinct.

May that sweet allure vanish into nothingness.

"—Holy Lance, pull anchor!"

In the solemn chanting, countless surging streams of starlight converged between his fingers and palms to form a spear wheel that pierced through heaven and earth.

"—Shining in the Spear of the End (Rhongomyniad)!"

Samael leaned back, his retracted arm forming an exaggerated arc, and then suddenly roared, calling out the true name of the weapon that maintained the world's barrier and balance, before striking forward fiercely.

In an instant, the dazzling spearhead unleashed a terrifying ethereal storm, and a vast torrent of golden magic, compressed to its limit, poured forward, spiraling through the distorted shadow.

Bang bang bang!

Instantly, the Starry Sky Demon God, which rose from the abyss, with its cystic and deformed body, began to disintegrate inch by inch under the extreme light, and the entire cavern began to collapse uncontrollably.

The flying bits of flesh, though not completely devoid of life, were swallowed up by the massive spatial rift torn open by the gun wheel before they could coalesce.

The damaged monster clinging to it roared as it was sucked into the spatial rift, falling into the dark abyss.

Only at this moment was Joan of Arc able to see the whole thing.

It depicts a monster with a vaguely human-like outline, but with a head like an octopus covered in numerous tentacles. Its body is like a gelatinous substance covered in scales, with giant claws and a pair of long, narrow wings behind it.

In addition, this thing has a bloated and obese body, with mucus dripping from its surface. Its huge green body stands silently, like a mountain peak spanning the heavens and the earth.

So, it turns out He was fighting against this kind of monster...

The saintess of Orleans shook her head slightly, her mind filled with countless thoughts.

As this ancient demon god fell, the surrounding wet whispers and the faint sound of waves gradually disappeared.

The chaotic space, time, and dimensions were also reassembled in an orderly manner under a series of distortions.

Joan of Arc looked up and realized that they were in a dark underground stone chamber, and everything before seemed to be just an illusion.

"The Great Old Ones, the Star Gods, the Extraterrestrial Enemies—that's what we call them. These monsters are very powerful..."

A soft murmur reached her ears, and Joan of Arc smiled brightly, pursing her lips in admiration.

"But the power of salvation in your hands is far more magnificent, isn't it?"

"What illuminates this darkness is your strength, your faith..."

The ancient serpent murmured softly, its deep yet clear eyes looking down at the kneeling believer beneath the banner. Its warm fingers rested on the beautiful head, as if trying to relive the feeling of that past touch.

However, the descending fingers passed straight through this slender figure, bringing with them a handful of golden light that scattered like stardust.

This time, in the end, we were a step too late...

The ancient serpent raised its head, its gaze dimmed, and its serene expression sank into darkness.

For a mortal to reach the will of Heaven and invoke the descent of the gods is an extremely difficult ritual at any time, with not only a very low success rate but also considerable risks.

The priestesses of Uruk were almost completely wiped out when they tried to summon the goddess Ishtar.

Even in the age of gods where all conditions were in place, such a heavy price had to be paid. In this alien space, isolated from the present world, the outcome of praying for a miracle from the gods is predictable.

In fact, in order to break through this distortion and darkness, Joan of Arc initiated the highest-level mystery ritual of the saints.

That is—sacrifice…

He had not exaggerated; the power to repel the Great Old One truly originated from Joan of Arc herself.

It was because of that pure will and fervent faith that Samael was able to break through the boundaries of space and the restrictions of the declining age of gods, and briefly demonstrate his power as a deity.

But as the price for mortals to command gods, the girl before them used herself as a torch, ultimately burning herself out.

However, Samael's depression lasted only a moment before he rallied.

Fortunately, only the body disintegrated; the soul could still be transferred into a new vessel.