The stone-paved passage seemed to stretch forward indefinitely, no doubt due to the magic of Semiramis.

However, Joan of Arc was sure that she was moving forward with her goal in mind, as the aura of the Great Grail was becoming more and more apparent.

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

Except for being separated by that sudden trap, he has not been hindered in any way until now, is it because he has prepared a countermeasure against himself? Or is it ——?

No, there is no more, she already perceives the person who "greets" her.

"Come out, Caster the Red—Shakespeare. ”

"Oh, oh, oh, even if you don't shout or shout, I'll come out on my own! Combining Dancheng, spirit, sincerity, and all kinds of other gods, my book is finally finished!"

Shakespeare, who had been spiritualized, finally appeared. He is dressed in a casual medieval aristocratic attire, with a pen in his hand and a thick book under his arm.

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

"It's the second time we've met, though it's the first time we've spoken, mad girl from the country! ”

Joan of Arc only frowned at his god-like tone.

"You?"

Whether it is the knowledge given by the Great Grail or the information displayed on the Slave's panel, it is clear that Shakespeare has nothing to contend with him except for his popularity - Joan of Arc thought so, but before the war, Shinji reminded her to be careful of Shakespeare. If you encounter him, be sure to kill him as quickly as possible-

Recalling Shinji's solemn expression, Joan of Arc gritted her teeth and rushed towards the writer who was supposed to be weak.

Shakespeare sighed a little troubledly: "Oh, oh, what a madman, don't you even give me time to speak lines?"

"I'm sorry, but I'm not interested in hearing you talk nonsense here......!!"

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

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

"It's a pity, it's rare that my generation still wants to explain the treasure. Come on, my treasure is about to open! Sit down! No smoking! No shooting! No rude scolding! The world is in my hands, it's my stage! Now it's time to show - please give a thunderous cheer!"

Shakespeare's play is opened, and the world is enclosed and becomes the stage for the forced staging of the story – just before the flag is about to penetrate Shakespeare's body.

"Huh......?"

The scenery has changed. Before she could understand this, the nostalgic smell of grass swept through Joan of Arc's nostrils.

"This is, my hometown......!?"

She looked at her hands. Because he has helped the family with farm work since he was a child, the joints look a little bulging - palms that make me feel a little ashamed. The armor on his body and the holy flag he held in his hand disappeared somewhere.

“…… Is it a hallucination...... ? ”

What a bad taste—Joan of Arc couldn't help but frown. This is indeed her hometown, the village of Donremi. It was here that I received God's revelation and then stepped out of the outside world.

The retinue consisted of six people in total. Collect men's clothes and horses, and go to the command of Charles VII—

It's a nostalgic memory, but now is not the time to dwell on it. What does it take to destroy this illusion?

Joan of Arc looked around and spotted a figure.

"Red Caster ......"

Faced with Shakespeare, who had bowed in a matter-of-fact manner, Joan of Arc was about to approach him. However, his figure suddenly disappeared.

"That's useless. Whether you're going to hurt me or the characters, the story won't stop. Because this is such a treasure. Even if you're a Ruler, you're no exception. ”

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

"It's not an illusion, it's a story. And the main character is you, Joan of Arc Dalke. You know, this is my attack. Please reminisce about your life and experience the impossible. ”

This is Shakespeare's theatrical treasure. In the face of Joan of Arc, who is able to block all attacks with the Holy Banner, magical attacks are completely uncommon.

However, his Noble Phantasm is a realm beyond that kind of magic—in short, it has the same level of coercion as the inherent enchantment. Once you are sent to the stage, you can only play your role well until the end of the story.

Not for the flesh, but for the spirit.

It doesn't matter if it's a hero or a saint – it's poison that can put to death those who live with sin.

"Are you ready to come to your senses?"

"My life or something, compared to many heroes, I don't even mention it. Even if I were asked to perform something like that, it wouldn't be interesting. ”

Shakespeare simply shook his head wordlessly at her reply, and then disappeared.

Let me re-experience my own life, as a treasure, it can only be regarded as a third-rate at best. …… Of course, even the Ruler, who has the strongest magic resistance, can be involved in it, and the coercive power is indeed quite powerful. But even so - even so, he could not succumb to such a precious Phantasm.

"Jeanne. ”

As soon as he heard this voice, his back suddenly trembled. A complex relationship between joy and cold. It was a very terrible and at the same time very nostalgic sound.

She looked back and was in disbelief. It's nothing more than a dream, the power of Shakespeare's Noble Phantasm. But the consistency between the person in front of her and Joan of Arc's memory almost made her almost forget this fact.

The person who called herself by the nickname of her childhood, was a gentle and amiable woman.

"Mom. ”

He separated from her at the age of seventeen and never saw her again until he died. Although I have already had this realization, now that I think about it again, my heart can't help but be full of regret and nostalgia.

"Do you have to go anyway?"

"Yes, I have to go. ”

As if taken for granted, the words blurted out naturally. That's right, it's the same as it used to be. It's a conversation between himself and his mother when he is about to leave the village of Don Remi.

"I cannot turn a deaf ear to the sigh of the Lord. Maybe we won't see each other again in this life after this goodbye—but please keep an eye on me. As long as you and Our Lady are watching over me, I will never be defeated. ”

"I will pray, and may the light always light your path. ”

That's right, with this in mind, he left the village and set off - as it should have been. However, the mother continued to speak:

“…… However, you did not come back. ”

"Mom......?"

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

"Why did you suffer to be burned at the stake, and you have been mocked by the people for the next eighteen years? ”

"This ......"

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

If only I could simply accuse her of being an impostor. However, this is the true state of mind of her mother Isabel. Joan of Arc knows...... She could feel it.

"So—you don't go. You know what happens if you go, right?"

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

"Mom, even so, I have to go. To save the village, but also the country. I have to stand up no matter what. ”

Such an answer, of course, had no comforting effect, and the mother only wept sadly—and there was a pain in her heart that was like a knife.

"But you still picked up the holy flag, you really deserve to be Joan of Arc, this kind of consciousness is not comparable to ordinary heroes!"

Hearing a whisper from nowhere, Joan of Arc replied with integrity:

"It's useless for you to borrow my mother's gesture, Caster. If you're satisfied, free me at once. ”

"No, no, your story has just begun! Act II opens!"

The snapping of fingers rang in my ears. The girl just blinked, and the stage switched.

The smell of earth, the smell of blood, and the smell of gunpowder—

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

Holding the holy flag on the battlefield, he is fearless in the face of arrows falling like rain, and gallops forward on a white horse.

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

Suppressing the sorrow of fear, he marched forward with the soldiers—

"This kind of scene, no matter how many times you repeat it—"

No matter how many times you repeat it, what you want to do will not change, and the path you will take will not change either. My past will not change, and I will not regret my past.

Even if it is the moment of death...... Nor is it possible for one's own heart to give in.

"I see, as your mother said. Your heart is made of fire and iron, and no matter what situation you are in, as long as you know what you should do, you will run straight to the end. It's so wonderful!"

Joan of Arc barely held back the phrase "noisy to death" and continued to deal with the story that Shakespeare had constructed.

Enemy soldiers who pleaded for mercy, soldiers who advocated killing them without capturing them, numerous conflicts on the battlefield.

Fighting on the battlefield even though she is a saint, but accepting the killing of her own people as a saint.

The enemy soldiers, who should have been dead, condemned this.

"If it's a saint, why kill us?"

"With the Holy Flag in your hand, you want to harm us?"

"We're not sinners, we're just ordinary people who stand on a different footing than you. ”

Joan of Arc quietly accepted the scolding. They're all right. She is a saint but waving a flag and agreeing to hurting others. That shouldn't be the proper action of a saint.

In the past, St. Martha used to drive the dragon away with the power of prayer -

What I'm doing now is just a commander who takes down people with people.

"That's true. I'm not a saint, that's what I think. ”

Even though I have a very devout faith, I dedicate and pray to the Lord every day—even when I become a being who receives revelations.

"In that case, why are you standing up?"

The enemy soldier who had been pierced through the head by an arrow asked. Blood-drenched head, hollow pupils, tense purple lips.

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

"Because even so, I am convinced that this path is the right path. ”

It was not anger, but a show of resolute will.

Her words shattered both the enemy and her own soldiers. They turned to dust and slowly disappeared along with the battlefield filled with blood smoke.

Trampling on the guilt of helplessness, Joan of Arc cried out:

"Caster, you still have a third act, don't you!?

"Okay, okay, of course. This is a story to find out if your life is wrong, and if so, whether it should be corrected. So now let's move on to the third act!"

The scenery darkens - after the scene cuts, Joan of Arc is seen riding a white horse in the procession. The people around were shouting for joy.

You don't have to look to know that you can understand where you are just by these cheers. King Charles VII's crown is a miracle that was finally established. In the Cathedral of Reims, Charles VII received the ritual of infusing the forehead with holy oil, and it was here that the crown was performed.

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

Charles VII, who stood up, turned his face to himself. Despite his thin stature, he had eyes that contained a strong will, and asked Joan of Arc with a sincere expression:

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

The cheers stopped, and everyone in the cathedral looked at her with puzzled eyes. Ignoring the slight pain passing through her heart, Joan of Arc asked rhetorically:

"-What do you mean?"

Charlie immediately replied:

"That's where I took a different path with you. From this moment on, your loss, even if you are not the Lord, should be understandable. If you're so smart, you don't know anything. ”

“……”

"Answer me, Joan of Arc. Now—do you still think you're on the right path?"

"Yes. ”

"You're completely unfounded. The revelation you receive is something that the Lord has given you only as a person. The results were all obtained later. The path that only you believe is right, why should others believe in it?"

"—The path I have traveled is, to put it bluntly, the way it is. This is not the same as being suspicious and trying to trust someone else's majesty at the same time. ”

Charles VII's desire to make peace with the enemy Burgundian faction became the decisive reason for his parting with Joan of Arc.

Despite the crowd, the cathedral is silent as if frozen, this is the story of Joan of Arc, who, as supporting characters, cannot speak without permission and certainly cannot disappear without permission.

Charles VII poured out in a blood-vomiting voice:

"Looking back at history, you have been proven right. However, that was just a later assignment added by later historians. At that time, in that situation, was my choice wrong? Can it be said that it was wrong! And Joan of Arc, why did you not want to make me believe in you! As long as I had your strength, I would have believed you! It's not that I didn't believe you! It's that you didn't believe me, ......!"

That's the anguish of being accused of "making mistakes" in later history.

At the same time, it was also the annoyance of abandoning the beloved girl. Joan of Arc took Charles VII's hand, shook his head and denied:

"No, it was destined that Your Majesty and I would take different paths here. …… Moreover, even if His Majesty chooses to believe me, the outcome will probably not be any different, we are just a brick and tile that makes up the great ladder of history. However, it is correct. I may be right. However, it is also wrong. Your Majesty and I fought with all our might. Isn't that just — just that, enough?"

The moment he said this, everything was gone.

—I just want to know the answer. Okay, so let's move on to the next act. ”

The next thing that appears is a character that might be described as "as expected".

"Pierre Cochon ......"

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

He was also a man who was unusually enthusiastic about the execution of Joan of Arc Dahl as a heretic.

The man smiled mockingly on his face and said:

"We're meeting again, miserable. ”

Joan of Arc sighed, not knowing for a moment whether to turn her gaze there—she had to stare at the void for the time being.

"Red Caster, useless. Even if your script recreates him, it will only repeat the same scene as when he was born. This Phantasm can't cause physical pain, right?"

Joan of Arc's accusation is correct. When did the treasure of graduation be purely something that worked on the spirit. Even Shakespeare, one of the world's most well-known artists, could not recreate the pain in a stage play.

Pierre Cochon shrugged his shoulders and nodded in reply:

"Yes, Joan of Arc. With my strength, I can't even make you shed a trace of blood. The only people who can fight you are ancient heroes like Red Lancer and Red Rider, or maybe my Master. ”

Shakespeare gushed through Pierre Cochon's mouth.

“…… In that case, what is the purpose of your precious feat?"

"Well, I'll leave it to you until the end. ”

Shakespeare, dressed as Pierre Cochon, walked. With just a snap of his fingers, the scenery switched—and Joan of Arc sighed tiredly, despite the premonition she had already had.

"This is the scenery of the moment when you were tortured. ”

Time stops.

Those who laughed at her, those who cast sympathetic glances, and those who wept as they saw her off – almost all those who mourned her execution on Place Vière-Marche in Rouen were ordinary citizens. Of course, there are not a few people who ridicule her for being a witch.

If swearing is the ballad of a distant land, then sorrow is like a mother's lullaby—

"Did you know this was going to happen?"

In response to Shakespeare's question, Joan of Arc nodded:

"Yes, I've long been aware of such an outcome. ”

"Don't you regret it?"

"—of course. Because with me as the cornerstone, I have successfully saved the motherland. ”

"Yes, you say you don't regret it. Whether in this era or in the future generations, there is obviously no girl who is more tragically praised than you?"

"From someone else's point of view, it's different from my own experience. I never felt like there was anything wrong with my life. ”

That's Joan of Arc's heart.

Too short a life, too short a glory, a sad ending. But even so, she can confidently assert that her life is not all about sorrow.

The light of fire instantly enveloped her surroundings. In the square, which had become empty for some time, the two were staring at each other face to face. That is the saint who disappeared into the flames in the past, and the man who made this instruction.

"Is it predestined that you die here?"

"Yes, that is a fate that I cannot escape and which I do not intend to escape. ”

"Do you need to justify someone who is implicated in your arrogance?"

Shakespeare borrowed Pierre Cochon's face and said with a smile - even Joan of Arc could not help but waver in his heart at this time.

The blazing flames flickered as if they were accusing themselves. A pair of dark eyes were staring at Joan of Arc. As with the heretical inquisitions of the past, it was a pair of eyes full of hatred and ridicule.

Even so, Joan of Arc replied casually. She didn't hate Pierre Cochon. He also survived in his own way, and finally ushered in a tragic death. …… In a sense, it 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 to justify those who are implicated by you. Because it was a blasphemy against their fate and choices.

Joan of Arc derives the correct answer without error -

"I just want to hear that. ”

Laugh at the correct answer. He snapped his fingers, and the flames vanished. What emerges from the field of vision is not darkness, but a pure white space where there is nothing. At some point, Pierre Cochon was gone, and Shakespeare appeared.

"So, let's move on to the next scene. ”

“…… What do you say?"

The next scene. There is no next scene for Joan of Arc. The rest of her life or something, she didn't have it at all. She's done here. Facing Joan of Arc with a frown, Shakespeare smiled:

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