Nobody knows how to be a villain better than me.

Due to the collapse of the [Courtyard] and the erosion by the Spirit Virus, the entire mobile fortress's defense system has crumbled.

Joan of Arc, having entered the courtyard, encountered almost no significant obstacles and made her way to the temple gates with unstoppable momentum.

The lone rider charged straight in, rushing through the dimly lit passageway and continuing onward with undiminished momentum.

Samael watched the lone rider approaching, his eyes narrowed slightly, and spoke softly.

“Please entertain my guest, Semiramis.”

"As you command, Your Majesty!"

The Assyrian empress at the foot of the steps bowed slightly to receive the order. When she looked up again, the dejection on her face vanished. She gracefully raised her right hand toward the entrance, and wedge-shaped divine runes wove into a dense, star-like magic array before her, with the free-floating ether pouring into it.

In an instant, the focused magic arrays, as if filled with cannonballs, lit up one by one, radiating a dangerous light.

Tsk tsk tsk!

As the Assyrian empress swung her right hand down, beams of red and black magic shot forward, forming a web of death.

Faced with the dense, rain-like streams of ethereal light, Joan of Arc swung her sword with all her might, but could only protect herself.

Boom!

Soon, the gap in defense caused his bronze-iron warhorse to be pierced by the falling magical beams during its charge.

The priceless bronze and iron warhorse, after being bombarded by several magical attacks, collapsed with its hooves buckling and neighing as it fell onto the cratered ground.

Joan of Arc, a woman with extensive war experience, used the impact of her horse falling to flip off its back and quickly jump away.

The moment she stood up, the bronze-iron warhorse with its damaged furnace core exploded with a roar, and a ball of orange-red flame shot into the sky.

Amidst the billowing smoke and dust, the French saintess, her robes fluttering in the firelight, gripped a sword in one hand and raised her holy banner in the other, continuing her charge toward the throne of the gods.

"Huh, stubborn!"

Semiramis, standing below the steps, looked at the disrespectful one who dared to defy divine authority and raise the banner of rebellion before her. Her anger surged, and she immediately bent her fingers forward and grasped. One by one, dove-shaped familiars woven from divine runes and magic emerged from the magic circle.

These creations completely blocked Joan of Arc's path, their bodies brimming with a frenzied, explosive power, like a swarm of suicide bombers, crashing into the French saint in a frenzied frenzy.

Joan of Arc paused, raised her white iris banner high, and solemnly recited a hymn of praise.

“The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.”

He made me lie down in green pastures and led me beside still waters.

He revived my soul and led me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.

Even though He walks through the valley of the shadow of death, He will fear no evil, for you are with me!

The power of devout faith transformed into a solid barrier, enveloping that petite figure in light and preventing her from being harmed by darkness.

Boom boom boom!

One by one, the dove-like familiars crashed into the blazing white light barrier, exploding violently and creating a deafening roar.

The sound waves caused the entire hall to shake violently, surging with the turbulent tide of ether, and dust to fall in a flurry.

At the same time, the circular magic array surrounding the Assyrian empress also began to rumble.

The intense light and explosion nearly obliterated Joan of Arc.

Even so, the petite and delicate-looking girl shouldered the increasingly dim banner, and with her willpower, she pieced together the shattered light screen. Braving the dense artillery fire and explosions, she hunched over and advanced step by step...

Until they reached the foot of the steps to the throne, they raised their proud heads!

"I love your eyes, so indomitable, so never giving up, as if you would never bow down to anyone..."

Their eyes met. The Assyrian empress, who served the throne, leaned down and looked down at the raised face with amusement in her golden eyes.

"But, can you still stand up now, Your Highness..."

Under the teasing question, Joan of Arc coughed violently, and an intense feeling of weakness and numbness spread uncontrollably throughout her body. Her straight body went limp, and she knelt on the ground.

At some point, the entire hall was filled with a reddish-black mist that smelled like wine, intoxicating the body and causing the will to sink.

【The Wine of the Prideful King】, the second Noble Phantasm of this Assyrian empress.

As the oldest poisoner, Semiramis possesses the ability to poison the surrounding environment.

Simply put, she can not only imbue various attacks with poison, but she can also poison the air and magic itself.

The moment Joan of Arc stepped into the temple, the poison, along with Semiramis's attack, had already spread through the air and seeped into the body of this French saint.

Although the poison Semiramis used was not fatal, given her superior's attitude, it was enough to paralyze Joan of Arc's mobility, rendering her unable to pose a threat.

"Checkmate!"

Meanwhile, Samael, sitting on his throne, advanced his Knight on the chessboard in front of him, completely capturing the white King. After ending his game against himself, he looked up and calmly announced his verdict.

"Looks like you've lost."

"As long as you don't get the Holy Grail, I haven't lost!"

Joan of Arc stared directly at the deity on the steps, and even though she was extremely weak, she still shook her head firmly and stubbornly in denial.

"Aren't you still giving up?"

Looking at the stubborn girl below the steps, Samael sighed, his gaze turning cold, a faint mockery appearing in his eyes.

"Don't you think the whole temple feels too empty? Isn't something missing?"

In a daze, Joan of Arc caught a glimpse of the poisonous creatures around her, and her chaotic thoughts were suddenly jolted awake.

Assassin! Jack the Ripper!

She hasn't shown up since the start of the war!

Could it be that, like last time, she went...?

No, that's not right!

He couldn't possibly not know that there was only one chance for a surprise attack.

Moreover, having learned from the previous experience, the entire defense system of the World Tree Castle has had its keys completely changed and has been triple-protected.

The command center has not received any warning messages yet, and the spirit particle erosion has been completed successfully, which proves that the castle has not been attacked.

So, the answer is…

Having grasped the key to this, the saintess suddenly looked up, staring in astonishment at a battlefield magic projection in front of the throne, her pupils contracting sharply.

At this very moment, in the basement of the Gothic castle, a grayish-white mist had somehow spread out.

Having just dodged a volley of arrows from Atalanta, the dragon girl was getting up in a disheveled state. While relieved, she didn't notice a faint, petite phantom figure quietly appearing behind her, holding a dagger high in its hand.

“Avisbro’s choice was indeed unexpected, but I did not place all my hopes on external factors.”

Looking down with deep, dark eyes, the deity on the throne casually tossed the white king down the steps and spoke leisurely.

"Sorry, it seems you don't have a chance."

Meanwhile, the results in various parts of the battlefield were also gradually settled.

Siegfried's chest was pierced by Karna's Godslayer Spear;

Astolfo was completely powerless to fight back under Mordred's suppression;

Chiron, his chest caved in, was ejected from the barrier as a loser;

Finn and Diarmuid's bodies were already riddled with cracks and on the verge of breaking apart;

Adam, the original man, was tightly entangled by the giant serpent Bashum and could not step out of the lake. He could only roar in vain.

The dazzling Holy Grail emerged from the dragon girl's severed, microphone-shaped spear and fell into Atalanta's palm.

Everything will eventually come to its predetermined end...

At this moment, having completed her scheme, the wicked woman picked up her wine glass and swirled it, regaining her elegant demeanor. She then waved her hand to close the palace doors, looking down at Joan of Arc, who, having been poisoned, was powerless to resist and could only watch everything unfold. She then playfully parted her cherry lips.

"I regret to inform you that your journey has come to an end, Your Highness..."

"No, I still have a chance..."

However, Joan of Arc, standing on the steps, seemed unsurprised by this outcome. She shook her head calmly, gripped the blade of Saint Catherine's sword with both hands, and let the sharp edge cut her palms.

Crimson blood dripped from the tip of the sword, staining the ground a glaring crimson.

The young woman from Orleans, kneeling in a devout posture at the bottom of the steps, parted her cherry lips slightly and offered her final prayer:

The heavens are the glory of the Lord, and the sky is the great work of God.

...

…language is conveyed by day, and knowledge is transmitted by night.

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

The warm light spreads across the earth and extends to the end of the world.

Climb up from the end of the sky and go all the way around to the end of the sky.

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

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

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

With this one and only remaining possession, I wish to protect his steps...

...Lord, I entrust this body to Your disposal—

Despair will always give way to hope!

A blazing flame rose from that frail figure, like a blooming, fiery red lotus.

Chapter 81 The Lord Doesn't Care, But I Do! 4.3k

Flames roared in the courtyard, and the red lotus was about to bloom brilliantly before the palace.

At the critical moment, a fair and jade-like finger pierced through the raging flames and landed on the saintly maiden's shoulder, instantly causing the budding, fiery red lotus to wither and crumble.

"enough!"

The somber voice sent a chilling current through the entire hall, causing the temperature to plummet and making one feel as if they had fallen into an ice cave.

His open, dark, vertical pupils coldly gazed downwards, as if from a prison or an abyss.

"Stop struggling, you've lost!"

Simultaneously projected within the hall, the large goblet shimmering with golden light had already fallen into Atalanta's hands.

The outcome is already decided.

However, the saintess, kneeling in a prayer position at the foot of the steps, responded with a bright smile to the overwhelming divine power that was surging towards her.

"But you lost too..."

Joan of Arc's gaze fell on the hand resting on her shoulder, and her cherry lips curled up slightly.

Samael was struck dumb, and suddenly realized what was happening, his face stiffening.

be cheated!

Given such a disparity in strength, it would be virtually impossible for the Thousand World Tree's side to seize the Holy Grail or storm the temple and take away the "King" title.

Therefore, this woman bet everything and barged into the courtyard alone, not to stage a desperate comeback, but to force him to take action face to face!

According to the agreement, he is not allowed to interfere in the course of the Holy Grail War; otherwise, it would be a violation of the agreement...

However, it is clear that in order to deceive the gods, she not only needs the desperate cooperation of all the heroes of the Yggdrasil, but also needs to personally put herself on the scales.

But what if I don't act, or I'm too late like last time?

"It was the same in Rouen, it was the same at Tiforski Castle, and it's the same now! Six hundred years have passed, and nothing has changed! You are all so stubborn; it's simply incomprehensible!"

The ancient serpent looked at Joan of Arc, who was almost burned to ashes again, and at that familiar face. His heart turned slightly cold, and he even spoke with a kind of resentful gnashing of teeth.

"You risked everything, everything, just to prove you could beat me?"

Light or darkness; hell or heaven; gods or demons...

Do you really think all of this is that important? More important than your own life?!

"important!"

Joan of Arc, kneeling in a prayer position at the foot of the steps, nodded solemnly and gave a firm reply.

"very good!"