At this moment, shatter the dimensional barrier.

Chapter 62 Joan of Arc's Shyness, the Crimson Saintess
Irene withdrew her gaze and looked down at the city below, now reduced to ruins. She had never had the chance to set foot in this city when it was prosperous, but now that it was in ruins, she stood above it as an angel.

In an open area of ​​this ruined city, people are making crosses with their hands, looking up at her and praying for her salvation.

“Healing Wind—” Eleanor gently flapped the three pairs of angel wings behind her, and a blue breeze cascaded down from the six wings and blew toward the people.

She flew slowly across the central square of London, heading towards the next refuge.

A blue wind blew through the people whose bodies had been damaged by the mantle vine spores, and their deformed arms and rotting skin were visibly restored.

"I'm all better! Great angel!"

"The great Lord Cheryl!"

"Oh, great Lord!"

The healed people shouted towards the beautiful angels that were slowly flying across the sky.

"Miss Eleanor, Lord Cherubin." Allen murmured to himself, gazing up at the holy and beautiful angel in the sky. "After this, I must go to the church in Cardiff to pay my respects to you. I wonder if I will be able to meet the 'Priest'."

Although he knew the true identity of the 'priest' in his heart, he could never reveal it. That would be blasphemy, rebellion. Without the guidance of 'fate,' one should not yearn for things outside of one's own destiny.

Otherwise, it would be like Phaethon in Greek mythology, who tried to touch the sun and was struck down by the supreme thunderbolt.

"Cherubim, Cherubim, angels..." Quentin's eyes reflected the angels slowly disappearing from his sight. After fulfilling his mission and dying as a saint, will I be able to ascend to heaven and become one of the angels? Great Lord.

As he spoke, he touched the faintly visible stigmata on the back of his hand.

Eleanor's second refuge was the municipal area, where the buildings were spaced far apart and there were sports facilities. So London's councilors and municipal staff were all safe and sound there, and supplies were plentiful. The upper class continued to enjoy lavish meals.

The mantle vine spores had only been active for a little over two days, and after the magic of the Star Sword swept over them, they were mostly still alive.

Eleanor doesn't distinguish between good and evil at times like this; she heals them even after flying over their heads.

Not all members of parliament are bad; many uphold peace and justice. For example, the old judge in the arbitration tribunal does his best to mediate disputes among citizens within the bounds of the law and also helps ordinary people caught in unreasonable lawsuits.

"Oh, angels... Lord of heaven, will I go to heaven after I die?" The eighty-year-old judge looked up at the angels in the sky and asked.

"..." The Mayor of London and a group of city councilors, who had been quite enthusiastic when they saw the angel, felt a chill run down their spines upon hearing the old judge's words. Even though their bodies were being healed by the blue angel's power, they still trembled with fear.

Those who are terrified when they see the angel of salvation naturally know that they are not good people and cannot be without a clear conscience.

Saints with stigmata exist, six-winged seraphim exist in the Garden of Eden, and countless miracles described in the Bible exist; therefore, God must also exist.

If God exists, then Heaven and Hell also exist.

In other words, they are definitely going to hell; the things they did could not possibly prevent them from going to hell.

"I am grateful to the angels and miracles for saving me, but why do you have to be real! Why did you tell me you exist!" London Mayor Miles trembled uncontrollably, his mind collapsing at the thought of going to hell.

It's all those aristocratic councilors and greedy Jewish merchants' fault! They insisted on coveting God's power! And they dragged me into it! I was only greedy for money! Now I'll definitely be accused of coveting God's power!
More than 400 of the country's 600-plus members of parliament have joined the Extraordinary Research Program! He also approved documents to send prisoners to conduct experiments, most of whom were not guilty of capital offenses!
You guys are really going to get me killed!

……

At this moment, the giant mantle vines that had originally stretched towards the sky and pierced through the clouds had disappeared, and even the huge mountain range that had risen nearly 10,000 meters had been cut in half, its surface almost shaved into a plain.

Golden specks of light slowly descended from the atmosphere; these were emanating magical energy. Because the magical energy content here was extremely high, this firefly-like magical energy would last for a very long time.

At the center of this plateau atop the mountain range lies a nearly circular gray area, almost two kilometers in diameter, revealing numerous rough, vertically descending caves of varying sizes, their entrances constantly writhing. This gray area is a cross-section of the mantle vine, and these writhing entrances are its internal tubular structure.

Severely damaged by the Star Sword, it has temporarily lost its ability to regenerate rapidly.

Joan of Arc stepped forward, slowly knelt down on one knee, and held the blade of the Noble Phantasm, the Sword of Saint Catherine, in both hands. Her expression gradually softened, and an aura of self-sacrifice emanated from her, accompanied by sacred golden magic.

Before unleashing her second Noble Phantasm, she glanced back at Los Saint standing behind her, a blush creeping onto her cheeks, a rare display of girlish shyness.

Take a deep breath, and let your prayer be filled with longing for the God you serve.

"The heavens are the glory of the Lord."

"The vast sky is the Lord's great undertaking."

"The day conveys words, the night conveys knowledge."

"My heart is warming up inside me."

"Burning with longing."

As the prayer for the second Noble Phantasm began, the Holy Catherine's Sword in Jeanne's hand slowly emitted a sacred golden light. This light was fundamentally different from that of Excalibur, being much gentler and carrying a sense of redemption.

"That girl was shy just now, that's rare." A smile played on Luo Sheng's lips. "The prayer in this second Noble Phantasm is entirely an expression of her longing and dependence on God."

Normally, it's nothing, and people will even praise her, saying, "She truly deserves to be called Joan of Arc."

However, it would be somewhat shameful to pray such a prayer in front of the person you believe in and miss. Moreover, Joan of Arc was essentially still a 19-year-old girl who had spent her life fighting for the freedom of the French people, and the only person she missed was the God she believed in.

In other words, Joan of Arc devoted her girlish heart to him, this God.

'It gives me the feeling of witnessing the true God of the next world,' Luo Sheng thought to himself.

Joan of Arc's eyes were closed as she continued chanting the prayer for the precious artifact.

"This is where my end will come."

"I offer my fate here."

"I offer up the illusion of my life here."

The sword of Saint Catherine in Joan of Arc's hand shone brightly, and crimson flames suddenly burst into flames around her, as if she were witnessing the moment she was burned to death.

Joan of Arc opened her eyes, her voice firm and tragic.

"Lord, I entrust this body to you..."

call--

Crimson flames surrounded Joan of Arc, forming a fiery tornado. Joan of Arc rose from the flames, gripping the blade of Saint Catherine's Sword. The iron lotus at the hilt of the sword instantly bloomed, and a huge fiery lotus was raised high.

"La Pucelle, the Crimson Saintess!"

(End of this chapter)