This place itself is like a shadowy corner of the glossy city.

There are almost no lights, and ordinary people need to carefully grope their way forward when they walk here.

But for Silence and Joan of Arc, it was as clear as day.

Joan of Arc had already smelled blood, which made her quicken her pace, quietly and quickly shuttling through the alleys, while Silence was still walking unhurriedly, but strangely staying by Joan of Arc's side, not leaving an inch.

Finally, we arrived at the place where the smell of blood was strongest.

It was a small courtyard with a detached villa, and the light bulbs that were supposed to exist at the doorway had all been broken.

Joan of Arc slowed down.

The beautiful face was very serious, and the eyes were full of fierce anger.

Joan of Arc, who had been fighting on the battlefield for two years, was easily recognizable, and there were at least dozens of corpses in the room, and her anger burned at the thought of many children among them.

Still, force yourself to stay calm.

After looking at Shen Ming, she tried to hide her breath and get closer and closer.

There was a faint sound like a fine line coming from inside.

"It's wonderful, it's a work of art! It's a caster. ”

"Ryunosuke, sure enough, you can understand that humans are a species that is numb to fear, but if you give hope first, this moment from hope to despair is the most wonderful fear, and if the gods really exist, they will definitely be angry about it." The other is the same intoxicating voice.

It seems that he vaguely understands the meaning of the words of these two people, and then recalls the tragic situation at the scene before, Joan of Arc can no longer wait.

"That's it!" She waved the flag and broke through the front with a thud.

As far as the eye can see, it is an extremely tragic scene.

Blood and severed limbs everywhere, countless wriggling tentacles crawling on the corpse's body, making terrifying sounds, the initiator of all this, a demonic heroic spirit, and even fiddling with a head full of fear.

This can no longer be called the ghost of a departed hero.

Instead, it should be called a fierce spirit.

But at this moment.

The head in the demon's hand fell to the ground due to the weakness of his fingers, and his large bulging eyes trembled as he looked at the intruding girl, as if filled with incredible joy.

He took a step forward.

Falling in front of Joan of Arc in the midst of stumbling, the smile on his face was like seeing a loved one who was separated from life and death.

He humbly stretched out his hands and shouted in a trembling voice:

"Your Highness, is this true? I have one more day to see you again, ah, the gods have finally heard my heart's desire, I have been waiting for your resurrection, I have been waiting for the day when I will see you again, here and now, here and now! My wish came true! ”

Joan of Arc heard the man's words and opened her mouth slightly.

She had thought about all kinds of scenes after the meeting, but Dudu didn't expect this.

Since she is called Her Highness the Holy Maiden, that is the one who knows her.

Joan of Arc couldn't help but take a closer look at the servant in front of her.

Dressed in an old-fashioned robe with bloodshot red lines, a thin face, large bulging eyes, and a crying and laughing expression, he looked like a moody and dangerous person at a glance.

But.

Joan of Arc was still vaguely recognizable from the outline of her facial features.

"Jill...... Is that you, Jill? She said as if she wasn't convinced.

"Woohoo." Gil's tears flowed from her big eyes, and she cried hysterically, "There is still a day when I can hear you calling my name, and even if I die immediately, there is no regret!" ”

“......”

Joan of Arc opened her mouth slightly, feeling the strong smell of blood in the air, as if she wanted to say something, but couldn't say anything.

She is not ignorant of history.

After being burned to death by a witch, he was regarded as a comrade-in-arms who had fought together, Gil de Ray, although he ascended to the throne of the marshal with his military exploits, but he was also addicted to black magic, and even tortured hundreds of teenagers, there is no doubt that the Gil in front of him is the embodiment of the devil, and it is the manifestation of his tragic fate that is closely related to himself.

The hands holding the spear strained slightly.

"Jill." Joan of Arc made her voice as calm as possible, "We are all people from the past, and at this moment as servants gathered here because of the Holy Grail War, there is no saint and marshal, I am the ruler, and you are the caster, it is just such a reason, but what you have done has violated the rules of the Holy Grail War. ”

Although he met his former comrades-in-arms and friends, Joan of Arc could not reminisce about the past, nor could he reminisce about it.

Even if Jill has his own responsibilities to become like this, even if Jill is so eager to meet him again.

But I can't let him go on like this.

Joan of Arc was guilty but determined to bear the sin of betraying her companions, so she never considered herself a saint, but a dull sinner who had made her body stained with blood for the sake of her own wishes.

So—

Joan of Arc raised the spear in her hand slightly.

"Please don't say that! Her Highness the Holy Maiden. Jill looked up, her bloodshot eyes still seemed to be filled with some kind of ecstatic joy, "It doesn't matter anymore, the Holy Grail War has long been irrelevant!" I have found a better deity, a deity better than the Lord you believe in! It is the great He who has made my wish come true and made me see you again! So, stop talking about rulers and casters, the so-called Holy Grail, and even the so-called gods, can no longer shackle us, Your Highness, only your most loyal servants here! ”

At this time, Jill did not have that crazy expression, but was more intoxicated by the intoxication of a better future.

Once again, he returned to Her Highness.

Once again, I returned to the days when I was able to meet Her Highness the Holy Maiden.

For him, everything else is no longer important.

"Jill, you ......"

Joan of Arc took a deep breath in the strong smell of blood, as if to remind herself of the time on the battlefield, to make herself indifferent, so that she would not hesitate.

Isn't it already decided?

Kill some to save more.

Isn't this hopeless thought what she believed and did when she was alive?

And just when Joan of Arc was ready to do it directly.

A silent voice suddenly came.

"You said you found a good deity?"