Nobody knows how to be a villain better than me.

Looking at the saintess as always, the ancient serpent laughed in exasperation.

Although, as the god of trickery, he has many ways to exploit loopholes in the rules and easily win this game.

For example, since he only took action after the Holy Grail had changed hands, it wasn't considered a violation of the rules...

For example, they only mentioned the way the violation occurred, but didn't mention the punishment...

such as……

But an indescribable weariness and disappointment permeated Samael's heart.

Those who walk different paths will ultimately find it difficult to make plans together.

"you win……"

The first fallen ones did not engage in verbal sophistry, nor did they maliciously break their promises.

The devil will keep his promise.

But this might be the last time he indulged the person in front of him.

Samael waved his hand dismissively, climbed the steps one by one, sat back on the throne, propped his cheek up with one hand, and looked coldly at the saintess kneeling devoutly in prayer below, his eyes gradually losing their warmth.

"So, what do you want? Wealth, fame, peace?"

The ancient serpent shook its head and chuckled, a hint of mockery flickering deep within its dark pupils.

"Or... do you want to stand on the moral high ground, in the sunlight—to judge me?"

"It's not these..."

Joan of Arc unexpectedly shook her head seriously in rebuttal, rose with her battle flag as a support, looked solemnly at the throne with her pure purple eyes, slowly raised her right hand, and spoke softly.

"I just want you to come back to the light with me..."

what?

Is this what she was praying for?

The souls are torn apart by an uncompromising conflict, 600 years of decline, and now a high-stakes gamble to sacrifice everything, all for this?

Refusing to acknowledge his dark nature, they wholeheartedly hope to lead him to the throne of light.

Samael looked at Joan of Arc, who was speaking out for him in the audience, and felt a moment of disorientation.

Is a faith that cannot be defiled?

A respectable persistence, but...

After a moment of silence, the ancient snake looked at the stubborn girl in front of him, the tense expression on his face relaxed, and he couldn't help but shake his head, chuckled, and gave his usual answer.

"The Lord doesn't care..."

But

care!"

However, a deafening shout echoed in Samael's ears like thunder.

“Let the unrighteous remain unrighteous, and the corrupt remain corrupt.”

"Let him who is righteous continue to be righteous, and he who is holy continue to be holy."

"This is how the world should be!"

Joan of Arc, descending the steps, quoted from the Book of Revelation, venting the emotions that had been suppressed within her for so long. She then took a deep breath, her eyes burning with intense light, and looked up at the figure on the throne, speaking solemnly.

"I want my Lord to stand in the sunlight, enjoying the worship of all people, and receiving the praise and glory he deserves! Not to sink into darkness, bear the name of depravity, and suffer unwarranted scorn and curses!"

The impassioned declaration echoed throughout the temple, silencing all the noise and plunging the world into silence, resonating with the heartfelt words of the saints.

"Spartacus saw you as an oppressor who brought injustice, but you gave him equality and freedom;

Vlad III viewed you as a clay figure who couldn't distinguish right from wrong, yet you bestowed upon him a holy name and innocence:

Avisbro saw you as an authority figure to be challenged, yet you gave him your approval and endorsement…

Joan of Arc's hand, which was holding the battle flag, tightened unconsciously, and she bit her cherry lips with her pearly teeth.

So, she knew all along...

So, she remembered everything...

Samael looked at the girl before him, who seemed even more wronged and aggrieved than himself, and felt an unprecedented surge of emotion in his heart.

"People are always used to attributing all evil to the temptation of Satan and to the tricks of the devil, as if they are the innocent lambs, even though you have done so much for them and for the world."

Those who carry firewood for the world freeze to death in the wind and snow.

Those who pave the way for freedom are often entangled in thorns.

Those who dedicate themselves to the people's livelihood perish in silence.

Joan of Arc took a deep breath, her face full of stubbornness.

"This is unfair! I absolutely will not allow it! Because you are more qualified than anyone, any god, to stand on this high platform, to stand in the sunlight!"

The saintess, standing before the steps, looked up at the deity on the throne. Her once calm eyes rippled with emotion, as if she had transcended time and space to see the figures of different sizes sitting opposite each other on the hillside of the town of Dom Remy.

——————————Plot Break————————

What kind of person is He?

The little girl under the shade of the tree held up the cross to her chest and looked at the older girl with purple hair next to her.

"He was a very good and gentle person..."

The purple-haired girl, a disciple, gently brushed aside the strands of hair that were ruffled by the breeze, reminiscing about the past, and answered with a smile.

"Possessing immense power, yet not using strength to oppress the weak, the evil He confronts becomes more and more despairing with each passing moment..."

Possessing extraordinary wisdom, yet not arrogant or haughty, the people of the country He governed lived in peace and prosperity...

Having the opportunity to unify all things, He voluntarily relinquished the chance to ascend to the supreme throne. He chose to cleanse all sin and defilement, leaving a bright future for the new world and humanity…

Martha rested her chin on her right hand and thought about it seriously, half guessing and half certain.

"Hmm, perhaps there's a human heart inside that god's body..."

The blonde girl was completely absorbed in the epic tale, listening intently. Gradually, she clenched her fists and widened her bright eyes as she looked at the saint before her.

"Will He help me save France?"

"That's a question for you to ask, little Jeanne..."

Martha gently stroked the girl's nose with her hand, her smile radiant.

Do you believe in the gospel He brings you and the destiny He guides you through?

"I believe!"

Without hesitation, the girl nodded emphatically, gripped the cross on her chest, and resolutely embarked on the path she was meant to take.

——————————Plot Break————————

She never doubted the existence of the Lord, nor did she ever give up her faith in Him.

Whether on the battlefields of France, in the prison of Rouen, in the desperate situation at the Château de Tifges, or just now in front of the temple, the self-destruction...

Her Lord always extends a helping hand at crucial moments.

as always.

Therefore, the more this happened, the less she could accept that her Lord was being slandered, cursed, and shrouded in darkness!

Joan of Arc, now at the bottom of the steps, looked resolutely at the figure on the throne.

Their eyes met, and the demon couldn't help but sneer.

"Are you sure? I was one of the first to fall..."

"Degeneration? Humanity's degeneration has never stopped since the beginning of our creation."

Joan of Arc spoke calmly, showing no reverence whatsoever, and even inquired about the strategy of action as a soldier.

"So, should we first reform the Papacy, or should we first rewrite the scriptures?"

"That's the Bible! Are you crazy?"

"The Bible? Come on, that stuff is too much trouble to even wipe your butt with."

Joan of Arc raised an eyebrow, her purple eyes reflecting the figure stepping down from the throne before her, and she shook her head with a faint smile.

"Those so-called thugs who sought the light sealed the genuine article away for a thousand years. Do you know how many people, for their own selfish desires, deleted or even altered its contents over that long period of time?"

“Those people are saints…”

Samael was somewhat skeptical and seemed to be trying to salvage the reputation of the Church's predecessors.

"There might be some truth in it, but can you guarantee it's all true?"

Joan of Arc spoke indifferently, showing no respect whatsoever.

"If they can change it, why can't we?"

"Hey, hey, you're a saint, isn't it a bit treasonous of you to say that?"

Seeing Her Highness's outrageous behavior, Samael's expression was sarcastic.

However, Joan of Arc glanced at the figure in front of her, her expression unchanged, and added calmly.

"All of the above is what you said; I'm just repeating it verbatim."

"..."

Samael's expression froze, and he couldn't help but recall that these were the exact words he had used to deceive Joan of Arc after the Rouen Trial (see Volume 5, Chapter 12 for details).

However, these vivid words also carried a hint of the saintess's personal grudges.

Of course, not to him, but to the church.

After all, this saintess was almost roasted by the church in the name of witchcraft.

Moreover, for a long time after the Rouen trial, her family suffered from public stigma.

The ancient god, dwelling in darkness, looked at the pilgrim before him, blinked, and politely declined the believer's offer.

"I'm responsible for keeping this world running, so I'd better not show my face in public."

Are you kidding me? Why did he run away from the Dark Council?

It's because the workload of parliament prevented him from slacking off and enjoying life.

If even a behind-the-scenes boss has to work so hard, how much more so the leaders of the Abrahamic religions who manage two-thirds of the world's population?

Moreover, judging from Joan of Arc's demeanor, it seems she intends to unite all religions, restore the glory of her former master, directly attack Heaven, and put him on the throne.

At that time, wouldn't I be working for the benefit of all mankind, completely drained, and working until I die?

"You promised..."

Joan of Arc reiterated earnestly, her gaze fixed intently on the deity before her.

Under this solemn prayer, the Old Gods abandoned their teasing thoughts, rubbed their temples, and...

"Do you really want me to come back? Now that humanity has already stepped out of its cradle, why put shackles on ourselves again?"

Even the worst order is better than no order at all.

The saint held a completely different view on this issue.

A sublime God may not care about faith, but vulnerable people need something to rely on.

Joan of Arc, standing at the bottom of the steps, remained as resolute as ever, a hint of sneer flickering in her eyes as her thoughts raced.

"Since ancient times, people have been praying to the Lord, hoping to have their desires fulfilled, hoping to receive Your forgiveness, hoping to receive Your salvation..."

After a brief pause, the saintess, standing in the center of the temple and bathed in sunlight, looked up intently at the figure on the throne, and her long-suppressed emotions burst forth.

"But this time, it's my turn to save you!"

The iris banners fluttered in the wind, as if sounding a clarion call to overthrow the world.

Man, come to save God?

Semiramis, standing on the steps, gazed at the arrogant woman before him, feeling a moment of bewilderment. He wanted to utter a sarcastic remark, but for some reason, he fell silent. Finally, his eyes, filled with complex emotions, turned to Joan of Arc in the courtyard.

"Please allow me to lead you out of that darkness and into the sunlight, to wash away the stain on your body and to give you the honor you deserve."