The world-devouring dragon

On May 30, 1431, when the sun was shining, a pair of bare feet bound by chains walked out of prison for the first time in half a year.

"Wow..."

With the sound of chains clanging, a woman walked out of the prison.

Dizziness, intense dizziness.

The moment she walked out of the prison, the sunlight outside was so dazzling that Jeanne, who had not seen the sun for a long time, couldn't help but squint her eyes and her head felt dizzy. Only the fresh air without the rancid smell could make her feel a little better. Feeling a little better.

There were several clergymen standing in front of them, one of them was holding some document in his hand, and Jeanne seemed to recognize them.

But who is in front of her?

She didn't pay attention because she didn't care about it. After all, she already knew the verdict and it was just a routine matter at the moment.

"Jeanne Daac, you are accused of heresy, suicide, non-congregation... a total of eleven charges, and you will be sentenced to be burned at the stake."

The old voice spoke word by word.

Jeanne, who was in a trance, did not listen carefully to what the priest in front of her said. She just covered her head and tried to wake herself up, but her illness was not cured. Even the British were so anxious to judge. She, just because she was afraid that she would die before being sentenced.

Her weak state caused her to moan weakly from time to time.

The priest looked at the woman in front of him, a commander who once led the French army, but now she was as fragile as a glass doll, about to die, helpless and pathetic, and couldn't help but sneered.

"Poor woman, your King Charles doesn't seem to have tried to save you. You trust him so much, but what did he give you in return?"

At this time, as if she heard the priest's words, Jeanne's painful moans stopped.

She raised her head, gasping, and opened her eyes wide, her blue eyes full of anger.

"You have no right to attack Charles. Charles is a good Christian and he is a good king."

Even at the end of her life, her stubborn voice remained the same. Just as everyone said about her, she was a maverick, stubborn and proud girl, and no one could change the things she believed in.

She believed in Charlie. He was not a strong person, even a bit mediocre, but he was not a bad person. She believed that he would be a good king.

"Yeah?"

However, what she responded to was the priest's sneer. There was contempt in the sneer, as if there was a hidden meaning. But before Jeanna could figure it out and there was no more nonsense, the priest immediately waved his hand, and the two jailers behind Jeanna escorted her forward.

…

"Buzz..."

Along the way, many people on both sides of the road were whispering. Some even came from Paris and its surrounding areas in France just to have a glimpse of the Maid of Orleans. However, to their disappointment, the Maid of Orleans was not as good as the Maid of Orleans. The brilliance in the legend is bright, and now she is in a state of embarrassment, and she looks no different from an ordinary girl.

"Is that the Saint of Orleans?"

Some people said in disappointment that the image was too down and out, even in embarrassment, so that they could not feel that she was a religious saint, but just an ordinary woman.

As the young King of England said.

"I just want to show those French people how destitute the saint who saved the country is."

Jeanna was pushed by the soldiers and walked step by step onto the firewood pile in the city square. There was a very high firewood pile and a wooden pillar. Jeanna would be tied to the wooden pillar. According to the will of the church, they were burned at the stake, their bodies were burned, and they were exposed to the uncleanness of witches.

The girl who was tied to the wooden pillar could easily see the expressions of the people below, their whispers, and their numbness...

In their opinion, who is the Saint of Orleans, who saved France? Maybe they are just curious about a woman who is about to be burned here, just like the burnings they have seen many times, whether it is a witch or a saint, and There is no difference.

They don’t know what France is or what England is. Although they were born on French soil, they have never realized that they are French. Does it matter which country they are from? Those who come and go are still the nobles. No matter which country they are from, they just want them to pay taxes, and they have nothing to do with them.

Numb, confused, this is France.

Jeanne has known for a long time that this is the current situation in France, and it is precisely because of this that she tried to call on the French to resist. In her view, it is precisely because of disunity that France has fallen to where it is today.

But even though she knew it, looking at those blank and numb faces, Jeanna couldn't help but feel a little sad.

How she wanted to shout to them, "My compatriots! We are all of the same race who grew up here, why don't we stand up and resist!"

But she couldn't tell because the burning at the stake was about to begin.

"ignition!"

Following the order, the torch fell on the oil-covered firewood, and the dry firewood pile immediately burst into flames. The firewood crackled and burned, and the fire was accompanied by thick smoke, which made Jeanna burst into tears and runny nose. I couldn't help but shed tears.

"Cough cough... cough cough..."

Coughing violently, her smoke-covered eyes couldn't help but shed tears, forcing Jeana to close her eyes.

In my ears, there are only the noisy human voices, but no voice of God...

"Huh? Girl of Orleans, listen, this is the world, this is humanity, this is the French people you are trying to save..."

With her eyes closed, Jeanne couldn't see anything, and only a low laughter sounded in her ears.

Jeanne ignored her, she just gritted her teeth, unwilling to speak, unwilling to make weak sounds of pain. What that guy liked to hear most was the sound of others crying over him, but for Jeanne, she would never Refuse to give in to that guy.

"You tried to save France, but who came to save you? No one! You are just a tool. No matter who it is, God or Charlie, everyone just treats you as a tool and abandons you after use..."

Her closed eyes were still weeping uncontrollably. In the hazy moment, the girl seemed to see a black shadow slowly walking towards her.

The skin is as white as a man's, the naked body with well-defined muscles, the cold and calm posture, and... there is no light, not even reflection, as if it has swallowed up all the light, like a black hole, swallowing everything.

Greed, darkness, darkness that even light will be swallowed up by.

That appearance is so beautiful, breathtakingly beautiful.

"Look, no one is going to save you."

In his dizzy vision, he could only feel the dark purple lips opening and closing, and the voice full of magical charm came out of his mouth.

Wild hair filled the field of vision, millions and millions of strands, twisting like poisonous snakes. In a trance, those hairs seemed to have grown eyes, and the millions of vertical snake pupils were staring at her.

Along with that voice, it stretched out its hand toward itself...

The hands were carved like marble, solid and full of delicate texture.

Obviously looking at that body will make you feel inexplicable fear and trembling, your heart seems to be tightly grasped by big hands, making you breathless, but at the same time, you will sincerely feel a sense of closeness, longing to be with that body. Touched by hands.

It is too powerful and too beautiful.

Because of fear, I try to get close to it, because only by working hard to get close to it can I feel that I am meaningful, and my meaningful self will not be easily erased by it.

"Jean, are you angry?"

That low magnetic voice sounded in Jeanna's ears.

anger?

Is there really nothing at all?

Of course not, after how much he has sacrificed for France and single-handedly saved France from the brink of destruction, who in France will save him? Among those French nobles and French generals, who tried to save him?

It may be subtle, but isn’t that sense of grievance and anger real?

"Jeanne, are you angry at these French people?"

At this moment, that low magnetic voice sounded again.

In front of Jeanne, the scene that she had not seen when she closed her eyes reappeared. The citizens of Rouen, the citizens of Paris, people who came from all over the world were looking at themselves being burned by the flames, exclaiming from time to time. They screamed, and sometimes screamed, but no one showed any unbearable expression.

They just came to see the "saint" being burned at the stake.

Even Jeanne, who had always been determined, felt confused in her heart.

"Is this the French people I want to save..."

"Is this the French people you want to save..."

The devil's low laughter gradually became wanton. Jeanne, whose throat was choked by the smoke, was in pain, and her skin was burned by the fire, accompanied by the devil's wanton laughter.

"Poor Jeanne, the French people don't care about you, and the French king doesn't care about you either. What's the point of what you do?"

"You are not allowed to...insult Charlie..."

However, amidst the devil's wanton laughter, a weak but stubborn voice struggled to speak.

Her cheeks were scorched by the flames, her hair was a sea of ​​fire, and there were traces of burns everywhere, but the girl still stubbornly raised her head and looked at the beautiful and suffocating life in front of her.

"Charlie...is a good man..."

She was a little delirious, but she just instinctively said that Charlie was a good king, and Jeanne always believed so.

The long hair that filled the sky was like venomous snakes, and the millions of vertical snake eyes looked at her, ruthlessly and indifferently. Looking at the woman in front of her who was still stubborn even at the end of her life, her dark purple lips curled up into a smile of ridicule and pity.

Jeanne had seen that smile before. It was also because of King Charles. It was the same smile of ridicule and pity. The priest had also smiled like this, as if he was looking at a fool.

"Poor woman, to this day you still don't understand why you have fallen into this situation."