I'm Shenji, what are you doing?

The stone-paved passage seemed to extend infinitely forward, which was undoubtedly caused by Semiramis' magic.

However, Joan of Arc was convinced that she was moving forward with her goal in mind, because the aura of the Great Holy Grail was becoming more and more obvious.

The width of the passage is quite narrow, allowing at most two people to walk side by side. In contrast, the ceiling is so high that it is almost invisible. There is a cold earthy smell in the air, a nostalgic feeling.

Apart from being separated by that sudden trap, you have not been hindered by anything until now. Is it because you have prepared a countermeasure against yourself? Or--?

No, not anymore, she had already sensed the person "greeting" her.

"Come out, Red Caster—Shakespeare."

"Oh, oh, oh! Even if you don't yell, I will come out on my own! Combining sincerity, soul, sincerity and other various things, my letter is finally completed!"

Shakespeare, who had been in spirit form, finally appeared. He was wearing free and easy medieval aristocratic clothing, holding a pen in his hand and a thick book under his arm.

The distance between the two is quite far. As if speaking on the stage, Shakespeare bowed his head deeply and saluted:

"It's the second time we've met, although it's the first time we've spoken to each other, you crazy girl from the country! Let me be your opponent from now on."

Jeanne just frowned at his acting-like tone.

"You?"

Whether it is the knowledge given by the Great Holy Grail or the information displayed on the Servant's panel, it shows that Shakespeare has nothing that can compete with him except his popularity. Joan of Arc originally thought so, but before the war, Shen Er reminded her that she must Beware of Shakespeare. If you encounter him, you must kill him as quickly as possible——

Recalling Shenji's extremely solemn expression, Jeanne gritted her teeth and rushed towards the writer who was supposed to be weak.

Shakespeare sighed with some trouble: "Oh, oh, you are really a madman, don't you even give me time to say my lines?"

"I'm sorry, I'm not interested in listening to your nonsense here...!!"

Speeding like a bullet, since she decided to trust her companions, she would never doubt Shinji's words.

Unfortunately, the distance between the two was quite far, giving Shakespeare enough time to activate his Noble Phantasm.

"What a pity. It's rare that I still want to explain the Noble Phantasm. Come on, my Noble Phantasm is about to open! Sit down! No smoking! No filming! No rude and disrespectful comments! The world is in my hands, yes My stage! The show starts now - please give me thunderous applause!"

The script in Shakespeare's hand is opened, and the world is closed and becomes a stage for the story to be forced to be performed - the moment before the holy flag is about to penetrate Shakespeare's body.

"Huh……?"

The scenery changes. Before realizing this, the nostalgic smell of grass passed through Jeanne's nose.

"This is my hometown...!?"

She looked at her hands. Because I have been helping my family with farm work since I was a child, my joints look a little bulging—a palm that makes me feel a little ashamed. The armor on his body and the holy flag he held in his hand disappeared to no one knows where.

"...Is it an illusion...?"

What a bad taste - Jeanne couldn't help but frown. This is indeed her hometown of Donremi Village. It was here that I received God’s revelation, and then walked out into the outside world.

There were six followers in total. Collect the men's clothes and horses, and go to the command of Charles VII——

Although it is a very nostalgic memory, now is not the time to wallow in nostalgia for it. How on earth can this illusion be destroyed?

Jeanne looked around and spotted a figure.

"Red Caster..."

Facing Shakespeare, who bowed solemnly, Joan of Arc was about to approach him. However, his figure suddenly disappeared.

"That's useless. No matter you want to hurt me or the characters, the story will never stop. Because this is such a Noble Phantasm. Even if you are a Ruler, there is no exception."

"If it's an illusion, I can break it with my magic power."

"This is not an illusion, it is a story. And the protagonist is you, Jeanne d'Arc. You must know that this is my attack. Please recall your life and experience the impossible story."

This is Shakespeare's dramatization. Facing Joan of Arc who can resist all attacks with her holy flag, magical attacks are completely useless.

However, his Noble Phantasm belongs to a realm beyond that type of magic - simply put, it has the same level of coercive power as an inherent barrier. Once sent to the stage, you can only play your role well until the end of the story.

It is not a Noble Phantasm that targets the physical body, but the spirit.

It doesn't matter whether he is a hero or a saint - this is a poison that can kill anyone who lives with sin.

"Are you ready to wake up?"

"My life and so on are nothing compared to many heroes. Even if I were asked to perform something like that, it wouldn't be interesting."

In response to her answer, Shakespeare just shook his head wordlessly and then disappeared.

Let me re-experience my life. As a Noble Phantasm, it can only be regarded as third-rate at best. ...Of course, the coercive force that can involve even Ruler, who has the strongest magic resistance, is indeed quite powerful. But even so - even so, he couldn't succumb to such a Noble Phantasm.

"Jeanne."

As soon as I heard this voice, my spine suddenly trembled. A complex emotion between joy and disgust. It was a very scary and very nostalgic sound.

When she looked back, she couldn't believe it. This is nothing but a dream, the power of Shakespeare's Noble Phantasm. However, the consistency between the person in front of her and Joan's memory almost made her forget this fact.

The person who calls herself by her childhood nickname is a gentle and amiable woman.

"Mother."

He separated from her when he was seventeen and never saw her again until his death. Although I have had this awareness for a long time, now that I recall it, my heart can't help but be filled with guilt and nostalgia.

"Do you have to go anyway?"

"Yes, I must go."

As if it were a matter of course, the words fell out of his mouth naturally. Yes, it's just like the old days. It was a conversation he had with his mother when he was about to leave Donremi Village.

"I cannot turn a deaf ear to the Lord's sigh. Maybe after this farewell, we will never be able to see each other again in this life - but please watch over me. As long as you and the Holy Mother are watching over me, I will never be defeated."

"I will pray that the light will always illuminate your path."

That's right, after keeping these words in mind, he left the village and set off - that's how it should have been. However, the mother continued to talk:

"...But you didn't come back."

"Mother……?"

Jeanne's mother shook her head as if she felt uncomfortable. There was no malice in her expression, just sadness.

"Why were you burned at the stake and mocked for the next eighteen years?"

"this……"

"Your will is made of fire and steel. No matter what kind of hardship and despair you encounter, your faith will never be cut off. However, I just feel very sad."

It would be nice if she could simply be accused of being a fake. However, this is the true state of mind of mother Isabel. Joan of Arc knew...she could feel it.

"So - don't go. You should understand what will happen if you go, right?"

A moment of hesitation. Despite this, Joan of Arc held her hand firmly and said:

"Mom, even so, I still have to go. To save this village and this country. I have to stand up no matter what."

Of course, such an answer was of no comfort. The mother just shed tears sadly - a pain as sharp as a knife was felt in her heart.

"But you still picked up the holy flag. You are truly worthy of being Joan of Arc. Such an awareness is beyond the reach of ordinary heroes!"

Hearing the whisper coming from nowhere, Jeanne responded honestly:

"It's useless even if you borrow my mother's gesture, Caster. If you are satisfied, then free me immediately."

"No, no, your story has just begun! Then, let's move on. The second act begins!"

There was a snapping sound in my ears. The girl just blinked, and the stage changed.

The smell of earth, blood, and gunpowder——

Joan of Arc is now standing in the center of the battlefield.

Holding the holy flag on the battlefield, he was fearless in the face of the rain of arrows, riding a white horse and galloping forward.

No problem, although the urge to give up and kneel down is almost to the limit, but I can still endure it.

Suppressing the screams of fear, marching forward bravely with the soldiers——

"No matter how many times this kind of scene is repeated—"

No matter how many times you repeat it, what you want to do will not change, and the path you want to take will also not change. Your past will not change, and you will not regret your past.

Even if the moment of death comes...it is impossible for my heart to give in.

"I see, it's exactly what your mother said. Your heart is made of fire and iron. No matter what situation you are in, as long as you know what you should do, you will run straight towards the finish line. It's really too Wonderful!”

Joan of Arc barely restrained herself from saying the words "It's so noisy" and continued to deal with the story constructed by Shakespeare.

Many conflicts occurred on the battlefield between enemy soldiers who begged for their lives and soldiers who insisted on killing them without taking them prisoner.

She is fighting on the battlefield even though she is a saint, and she accepts the killing of her own people even though she is a saint.

Enemy soldiers who were supposed to be dead denounced this.

"If it's a saint, why do you want to kill us?"

"You have the holy flag in your hand and you want to harm us?"

"We are not sinners, we are just ordinary people who stand in a different position from you."

Jeanne accepted the scoldings quietly. Everything they said was correct. Although she is a saint, she waves the flag and approves of harming others. That shouldn't be the behavior a saint should do.

In the past, Saint Martha used the power of prayer to drive away dragons——

What he is doing now is just working with others to defeat other commanders.

"That's true. I'm by no means a saint. That's what I think."

Even though I have extremely devout faith and devote myself to praying to the Lord every day—even becoming a being who receives revelations, I still think so.

"In that case, why did you stand up?"

The enemy soldier whose head was pierced by an arrow asked. The bloody head, the empty pupils, and the tight purple lips.

Facing him who had turned into a zombie, Joan of Arc responded with a solemn attitude:

"Because even so, I firmly believe that this path is the right path."

That was not anger, but a show of determination.

The words she spoke shattered all the enemy and own soldiers. They turned into dust and slowly disappeared together with the battlefield filled with blood and smoke.

Trampling on the helpless guilt, Jeanne shouted:

"Caster! You still have a third act, right!? Can you start it quickly!"

"Okay, okay, of course. This is a story to explore whether your life is a mistake, and if it is a mistake, whether it should be corrected. So now let's enter the third act!"

The scene darkens - after a scene change, Joan of Arc is seen riding a white horse in a procession. People all around were shouting with joy.

You don't need to look to see where you are. You can understand where you are just by looking at the cheers. The crowning ceremony of King Charles VII was a miracle that was accomplished with great difficulty. In Reims Cathedral, Charles VII received the ceremony of pouring holy oil on his forehead, and the crowning ceremony was completed here.

The smiling angel statue located at the front entrance of the cathedral - while looking up at the angel statue, I was also sharing my inner feelings with my companions.

Charles VII stood up and turned his face to himself. Although he is thin, he has eyes that contain a strong will. He asked Jeanne with a sincere expression:

"Joan of Arc, why didn't you stop before this step?"

The cheers stopped, and everyone in the cathedral looked at her with doubt. Ignoring the slight pain that passed through her heart, Joan of Arc asked:

"--what do you mean?"

Charlie immediately replied:

"This is where I embarked on a different path with you. From this moment on, even if you are not the Lord, you should be able to understand your loss. You are so smart, you must not know everything, right? .”

"..."

"Answer me, Joan of Arc. Do you still think that the path you are taking is the right one?"

"Yes."

"You are completely baseless. The revelation you received was something that the Lord only gave to you. The results were only obtained later. That is the right path that only you believe is the right way. Why should others follow you? believe?"

"—The path I have taken is, to put it bluntly, this path. It is different from His Majesty who is suspicious but tries to trust others."

Charles VII hoped to achieve peace with the enemy Burgundians, which became the decisive reason for his separation from Joan of Arc.

Although it was packed with people, the cathedral was frozen in silence. This is the story of Joan of Arc. As supporting characters, they cannot speak without permission and certainly cannot disappear without permission.

Charles VII confided in a voice like vomiting blood:

"Looking back at history, you were indeed proven right. However, that was just a late-stage homework added by later generations of historians without authorization. At that time, in that situation, was my choice wrong? That could Is that wrong! And Joan of Arc, why don’t you think of a way to make me believe in you! As long as I have your power, I should believe in you! It’s not that I don’t believe in you! It’s that you don’t believe in me. ah……!"

That was the distress caused by being accused of "making mistakes" later in history.

At the same time—it was also the sadness caused by abandoning the girl he loved. Joan of Arc held the hand of Charles VII, shook her head and said in denial:

"No, it is destined that Your Majesty and I will take different paths here. ...Furthermore, even if Your Majesty chooses to believe me, the result will probably not be any different. We are just a piece of the huge ladder of history." Bricks and tiles. But it is correct. I may be right. But it is also wrong. Your Majesty and I fought with all our strength. Just like this - just like this, isn't it enough?"

The moment he said these words, everything disappeared.

"——I just want to know the answer. Very good, then let's move on to the next scene."

What appeared next was a character that could perhaps be described as "just as expected."

"Pierre Cauchon..."

That was the bishop who presided over the trial of Joan of Arc. He belonged to the Burgundian faction that was opposed to Charles VII, whom Joan of Arc supported, and he was supposed to be a man who had no power to judge her.

He was also a man who was extremely passionate about the execution of Jeanne d'Arc as a heretic.

The man said with a mocking smile on his face:

"We meet again, miserable bitch."

Jeanne sighed, not knowing where to turn her gaze for a moment - she had no choice but to stare into the void for the time being.

"The Red Caster is useless. Even if you reproduce him in your script, it will only repeat the same scene as before. This Noble Phantasm cannot cause physical pain, right?"

Joan's accusation is correct. When will the Noble Phantasm of Graduation be purely something that works on the spirit? Even Shakespeare, the most famous person in the world, could not recreate the pain on stage.

Pierre Cochon shrugged his shoulders, nodded and replied:

"That's right, Joan of Arc. With my power, I can't even make you bleed. The only people who can fight you are ancient heroes like the Red Lancer and the Red Rider. , or maybe he is my master."

Shakespeare spoke in the mouth of Pierre Cochon.

"...In this case, what is the purpose of your Noble Phantasm?"

"Well, I'll leave it until the final situation to tell you."

Shakespeare, dressed as Pierre Cochon, walked up. With just a snap of her fingers, the scenery changed - even though she had already had such a premonition, Jeanne sighed as if she was tired.

"This is the scene at the moment when you were tortured."

Time is stopped.

People who laughed at her, people who looked at her with sympathy, and people who cried to see her off - the people who mourned her execution in the Place de Vie Marche in Rouen were almost all ordinary citizens. Of course, there are also many people who mock her as a witch.

——If cursing is the song of a distant country, then sorrow is like a mother’s lullaby——

"Did you already know that such a scene would happen?"

Faced with Shakespeare's question, Joan of Arc nodded and said:

"Yes, I have long been aware of this ending."

"Don't you regret it?"

"——Of course. Because with me as the cornerstone, we have successfully saved the motherland."

"Really! Are you saying you have no regrets? No matter in this era or in future generations, there is obviously no girl who is more tragically praised than you?"

"Looking at it from the perspective of others is different from experiencing it personally. I never feel that there is anything wrong with my life."

That is Joan of Arc's sincerity.

A life that is too short, a glory that is too short, and a lamentable ending. But even so, she can confidently assert that her life is not only sad.

The firelight instantly enveloped her surroundings. In the square that had become deserted at some point, the two of them looked at each other face to face. That was the saint who disappeared in the flames, and the man who gave this instruction.

"Is it destined that you die here?"

"Yes, that is a fate that I cannot escape and at the same time I do not intend to escape."

"Do you have anything to say to those who are implicated in your arrogance?"

Shakespeare borrowed the face of Pierre Cochon and said with a smile - even Joan of Arc couldn't help but feel shaken at this time.

The blazing flames kept swaying as if accusing themselves. A pair of dark eyes were staring closely at Jeanne. Just like the past inquisitions, it was a pair of eyes full of hatred and ridicule.

Even so, Jeanne answered as if nothing had happened. She did not hate Pierre Cochon. He also lived in his own way, and finally met a death that can be described as miserable. ...In a sense, they can also be said to be the same kind.

"No, it's not necessary, although I find it pathetic."

That's right, there is no need for him to defend himself against those people he has implicated. Because that would be an insult to their destiny and their choices.

Joan of Arc derived the correct answer without any mistakes——

"That's what I wanted to hear."

Smile at the correct answer. He snapped his fingers and the flames disappeared immediately. What appeared in the field of vision was not darkness, but pure white space with nothing in it. At some point, Pierre Cochon was no longer around, and Shakespeare appeared.

"Then let's move on to the next scene."

"……What did you say?"

Next scene. There is no next scene for Joan of Arc. She has no idea about the rest of her life. She's done here. Facing the frowning Joan of Arc, Shakespeare smiled and said:

"Because this is a bit intolerable, please be careful!"