Earth Princess? No, it's Fujimaru Ritsuka!

Page 46

"I never imagined that you were the one behind all this, the conspiracy to destroy France!"

Lahail angrily swung his greatsword, cleaving a table in the general's tent in two. His eyes were bloodshot, and his face was extremely pale.

"No, what did I do?!"

Marshal Gilles asked, bewildered, "What do you mean I'm the one pulling the strings behind the scenes?"

Does La Hire speak French?

Why can't I understand a single word?

"You're still pretending, aren't you? I heard it all in Vaucouleurs: it was you who fabricated the story of the corrupted Joan of Arc, making a mess of all of France. Now you still want to deny it?!"

"Can someone like you even be considered a French soldier?!"

“Gil de Rai! I am ashamed of you!”

Lahail turned his head and spat.

He heard it clearly: it was Gilles de Réyon's witchcraft that fabricated a false Joan of Arc, causing all of humanity, and even humanity's "future," to suffer. This not only affected the future of France, but also the future of the wider world!

"Can you please explain yourself clearly! What exactly did I do?!"

Faced with the madman's massive sword, Marshal Gilles was bewildered, furious, and even somewhat innocent: "**Commander Orle! I'm telling you again, can't you explain yourself clearly?!"

"Explain yourself?! You have the nerve to ask me to explain myself, you traitor!" La Hire cursed. "You can't reason with someone like you!"

You didn't even explain yourself properly before you started attacking people. How am I supposed to know what you're up to, you bastard!

(Actually, La Hire didn't understand either.)

(He attacked Gilles de Rais as soon as he learned that he was the mastermind.)

As for that Gilles de Rais...

There are already two Joan of Arcs in the world, so there can't possibly be two Gilles de Rais, right?

No way?

Interlude 44: The Blasphemous Feast at the Opening!

(Queen Marie takes everyone back to Vaucouleur by carriage, while Marshal Gilderais's camp in the north faces its final crisis.)

"Tell me, what exactly have you done? Why did you use evil witchcraft to resurrect our saintess?"

The furious knight's chilling tone was filled with rage, and his eyes were bloodshot from anger.

"What witchcraft? You..."

Marshal Gilles was speechless, his face swollen like a pig's liver.

He had been fighting the wyverns with utmost diligence and dedication. How could Marshal Gilles de Rais, one of the Saintess's most capable generals, possibly betray France?

“You dare say you haven’t studied witchcraft? Do you dare look me in the eye and tell me frankly—you haven’t, swear in the name of the saintess.”

"you..."

Gilles de Rais paused for a moment.

A dark gloom settled over his already somewhat effeminate face.

Marshal Gilles was unable to swear an oath.

He didn't know what had happened, but if what he was studying now was related to the saintess's fall into witchhood, how could he not know? He only had some understanding of "that thing," far from believing in, using, or even blaspheming against the gods.

But if such a thing could really create a fallen witch like Joan of Arc... how come he himself didn't know?

"Heh... As expected, you can't answer that, can you?"

La Hire clearly believed that Marshal Gilles' behavior was a sign of guilt, so without hesitation, he raised his rusty greatsword again and slashed at Gilles. Although he was not as powerful as the unreasonable superhumans like Heroic Spirits, he was still a warrior and had strength beyond that of ordinary people.

"Die, Gilles de Rais!"

"It's all because of you! It's all because the saintess saved the country that it perished!"

"It's all because of you that everyone is dead!"

"It's all because of you that the saintess has fallen!"

"If it weren't for you, if it weren't for you—"

Clang! The humming sound of metal clashing made Marshal Gil's eardrums ache. It was hard to imagine that La Hire still possessed such power under these circumstances. He truly deserved to be called the hero of the Angry Knight.

Marshal Gil fought back against La Hire's attack with all his might. As he gripped the rapier tightly, his pale face swelled up and turned red, and the veins on the back of his hands bulged. Then, in a fit of rage, he raised his foot and kicked La Hire in the stomach.

"hateful!"

Lahail roared as he was struck hard in the abdomen. He threw away his sword and pounced on Marshal Gilles like a tiger out of control.

The two roared and threw down their swords, wrestling like wild beasts, their punches landing with brutal force. Each attack was filled with endless anger and resentment, as if they were trying to vent all the discontent in their hearts.

However, they did not notice that the outside of the military camp was already shrouded in the shadow of death and slaughter.

A sense of despair and the despair of being unable to win spread among the only French force still capable of resisting the wyverns. This despair, resentment, regret, and the glory of fighting alongside the saintess were now completely gone.

""

The sentry kicked at the pebbles on the muddy ground with his feet, seemingly bored.

Logically speaking, being a soldier should be a very serious and dedicated profession, and soldiers who risk their lives should not be so lax.

But...how to put it.

The sentry raised his gray eyes, which held no light, as if deep within them he saw withered wheat stalks in the countryside, or dry trees without green leaves in winter.

It was unclear when, but the sound outside the military tent seemed to have fallen silent—clumps of horrific minced meat crawled forward little by little, moving in an eerie manner behind the soldiers on guard duty, and then, like a giant dumpling wrapper, completely enveloping them.

The sentry tried to scream, but the moment he opened his mouth, he saw an extremely pale, familiar yet strange face, with eyes that bulged out like an octopus—eerie and terrifying. Putting those factors aside, the man looked remarkably like Marshal Gilles de Rais... but the wizard-like sharp nails and black robes were chilling and terrifying, so different from the gentle and polite Marshal Gilles!

It's the enemy!

Although the sentry had lost the will to fight, his sensitivity honed through years of war still allowed him to react immediately.

"Ugh, enemy attack..."

However, just as his vocal cords began to vibrate in an attempt to warn him, it was as if a pendulum that had just been floating had been abruptly stopped, and the sentry's neck seemed to be stuck, preventing him from making a sound.

"Shh!"

The terrifying person held up their long, thin fingers, which didn't look like human hands, to their lips.

He chuckled and whispered to the terrified sentry.

"Don't make any noise."

"It will cause a commotion."

Pfft!

The pieces of meat closed up, and not even a drop of blood was spilled.

The poor sentinel was thus transformed into the flesh and blood of the sea monster!

The somber atmosphere sent a chill down one's spine.

The whole process was eerily quiet, yet filled with suffocating despair.

The source of this despair is a monster named Gilles de Rais.

“Mmm, the new world I long for, a world where even Joan of Arc can live happily—for this reason, this decaying old world is unnecessary.”

"A corrupt king, a decadent knight, a filthy nobleman, an ignorant commoner—it's all so disgusting and hopeless! And then there's the god who burdened my saintess with the destiny of saving the nation, yet cruelly abandoned her!"

"I, Gilles de Rais, am willing to offer the flesh and blood of the French traitors as a sacrifice, to unleash a feast of death and slaughter!"

The voice just fell.

Countless worm-like tentacles slowly crawled out from the illusory void, densely packed together, surging into the barracks surrounding the military tent, opening their ring-shaped mouthparts full of teeth, turning the enormous tent into a deathly hell.

"More souls, more flesh and blood! More despair! Fear no more, my former soldiers! Today's death will surely become tomorrow's hope!"

He opened the textbook he was holding, revealing a densely packed Latin manuscript filled with blasphemous words. As the words glowed with a decadent light and incantations were chanted, an even more chilling realm, exuding a thick mist, blossomed forth!

Blood mist filled the air outside the tents, and the screams abruptly ceased like shredded cloth.

The air seemed to be kneaded by an invisible hand, mixing the stench of decay with a sulfurous smell.

Constantly devouring the living, its sharp teeth and mandibles resembled a sea monster churning flesh, these twisted chunks of flesh, their outer skin like rotting oranges, dragged the wailing soldiers into darkness, the bloodstains on the ground like an altar summoned by a demon.

Jill's sword and La Hire's fighting suddenly froze.

Even the most foolish among them should have realized what was happening.

LaHail released his fist from Jill's face, sat up from him, and his pupils contracted sharply.

He had previously thought that there probably wouldn't be two Gilles de Rais... but now it seems that's really the case?

That crazed face, I could still vaguely see the familiar face and outline of the effeminate swordsman lying on the ground.

"Monster...monster."

Lahail's back slammed against the table, and a whimper that seemed inhuman escaped from the corner of his mouth.

Just when he was stunned.

Jill's terrifying eyes, filled with twisted evil and depth, trembled as they looked over, like wriggling frog eggs. That terrifying feeling instantly invaded his entire body, making him hold his breath, as if a knife tip was gently scraping his bones, cold and piercing.

"Hey~~"

The magician, his terrifying grin stretching to his ears and revealing fangs like a wild beast, turned his head and saw La Hire.

Stab it!

In the blink of an eye, while La Hire was still immersed in panic and chaos, suddenly, a foul-smelling sea monster tentacle covered in slime tore open the tent. It was covered with eyes that seemed to be emitting sharp laughter, and each eye reflected La Hire's face, which was twisted to the extreme.

Immediately, I'm going to tear him apart and pierce him!

In that critical moment, Marshal Gilles on the ground shouted "Watch out!", then picked up his sword and lunged forward to sever the sea monster's tentacles.

pat!

The torn muscles twitched on the ground, dark green blood splattered on his face, and the burning pain made the effeminate swordsman scream in agony!

Marshal Gilles, enduring the excruciating pain, raised his head to look at the face with the twisted smile, and at the ancient yet malevolent scripture in his arms.

“That’s…?!”

The Book of the City of Desolation, originally belonging to François, was eventually given to Gilles de Rais by him. Judging from its eerie state of constantly radiating magical power, these ever-emerging sea monster tentacles are indeed the strange creatures summoned from this book.

"This is impossible, this... could it be—"

Even Marshal Gilles himself felt fear and trembling.

It wasn't because of the invasion of unspeakable monsters, but rather...

La Hire is right.

He couldn't believe his eyes.

"Oh! Nice to meet you, this is [myself] in my former life. Without a doubt, I am currently carrying out a grand plan, for the sake of the saint and the world, to sweep away all traitors and maggots. Oh! For the world Joan of Arc envisions, [myself], would you like to lend me your assistance?"

"What...what are you talking about?"

Marshal Gilles was incredulous.

"Do I need to spell it out even more? [Myself]! You should understand, shouldn't you? The Saintess was betrayed!"

Marshal Shu said with deep sorrow, "She was betrayed by this world, betrayed by the people and the country, betrayed by the gods! But even so, she is still deeply mired in the quagmire of saving this terrible world. How could this be? How could this be?"

"No, no, our Holy Maiden should take revenge, take revenge on everything in this world!"

"So I resurrected the saintess with the All-Powerful Cup! Yes, that's the Dragon Witch who deserves revenge on all of France!"

—The mournful voice of the magician Gilles de Rais made Marshal Gilles' brain buzz as if it had exploded.

It would be a lie to say that he didn't have such thoughts subconsciously.

But...the saintess...

Marshal Gilles de Rais bit his lip hard, and his hand gripping the sword trembled uncontrollably.

What can he do?

Joan of Arc is dead!

They can never be brought back to life. What good would it do to create a fake Joan of Arc?

What could he, as the head of Joan of Arc's support group and a French marshal, possibly do?