Became the Weapon Monopolist of the Gods-Chapter 21: The Girl Called a Saint (2)
"Protect the girl who became the scapegoat of the Hundred Years' War."
This was the quest the status window gave me.
At first, I didn’t understand the meaning of this quest.
Saint Joan of Arc was the miracle girl.
She was not someone who was protected by others; she was someone who protected others.
But now, I understood.
Joan of Arc was not protecting anyone—she was sacrificing herself.
‘Stigmata.’
On the girl’s back was a red, angelic wing-shaped mark.
Every time the girl waved her flag, blood flowed from those wings.
The more soldiers recovered from their wounds, the more blood flowed from the wings.
It was called Christ's Wounds, a top-tier light attribute awakening ability.
‘Stigma.’
In other words, the holy wounds.
However, the only person officially recognized by the Holy See as having the stigmata in history was Saint Francis of Assisi.
It is said that Saint Francis of Assisi, after years of asceticism and fasting prayers, saw a vision of Jesus Christ in the form of a six-winged seraphim on Mount La Verna, who imprinted the stigmata upon him. When he awoke from the vision, wings like those of an angel were engraved on his back.
However, it is said that Saint Francis of Assisi never shed blood nor suffered any side effects.
‘Fake.’
The stigmata on Joan of Arc’s back was artificially implanted.
It was a ‘mock stigmata’ created to maximize the power of the saint’s flag.
“......”
The girl bearing the stigmata looked exhausted.
She was suffering from extreme fatigue and even winced in pain when struck by stones thrown by the enemy.
It was different from what history had recorded.
The Joan of Arc in history was believed to be a superhuman, a warrior of God.
Even when struck by arrows in the neck, or when a stone hit her head, or when she jumped from a high place,
Joan of Arc appeared unscathed the very next day on the battlefield.
Her appearance, like witnessing the resurrection of Christ, raised the morale of her troops and instilled fear and terror in the English.
At the end of the Hundred Years' War, even when she was captured by the English and accused of witchcraft, ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) she remained an indomitable warrior of God.
But now...
The Joan of Arc I was looking at was simply a frail girl, writhing in pain.
Although she didn’t show it outwardly, I could feel that she was in pain.
She had become so accustomed to pain that she didn’t know how to express it, and so it didn’t show.
Could this girl really survive all the crises that the history books recorded?
‘Impossible.’
Even with the saint’s flag, this was a flag that relied on Joan of Arc’s sacrifice.
Using it for her own healing would only bring more pain.
A flag of sacrifice that eats away at life in exchange for survival.
─“Thank you, Saint Joan.”
─“I’m alive thanks to you.”
The girl could alleviate the suffering of others, but when it came to her own pain, she endured and suffered in silence.
This was a far cry from the warrior of God, Joan of Arc, as described in history.
What had happened?
Had history lied?
The history agreed upon by both France and England?
Various suspicions arose, but they were all just guesses.
One thing was certain.
"Protect the girl who became the scapegoat of the Hundred Years' War."
All I knew was that I had to protect Joan of Arc.
Thud, thud, thud.
I approached Joan of Arc.
On that late night, when the moonlight shone down,
The girl sat by the lakeside, her stigmata visible on her back, suffering alone.
The saint couldn’t show weakness.
Her role was to raise the morale of her troops, so Joan of Arc endured her suffering in solitude, away from everyone else.
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“Jeanne.”
“Seo-jun?”
The girl’s violet eyes wavered, as though she hadn’t realized I was watching.
I raised my hand to stop her from trying to hide her back.
“Wait a moment.”
I pulled out a mana potion from my spatial backpack.
It was a recovery potion that Kim Ha-yoon had given me as a gift before I came to this world.
I opened the lid and carefully poured it over Joan of Arc’s back.
She instinctively grimaced, likely recalling the pain when the holy water had touched her.
But this recovery potion caused a completely different effect compared to holy water.
The blood stopped flowing, new flesh began to form, and the wounds from the stigmata faded.
As expected from a gift from the leader of Yeomyeong’s Constellation Guild, the potion was of the highest grade.
‘This bottle must cost hundreds of thousands.’
It was an excessively good potion for a gift.
Joan of Arc, who had been grimacing in anticipation of more pain, suddenly opened her eyes wide.
“What did you use?”
“It’s expensive holy water.”
“Can you really use something like that on me?”
“Of course. I’m here to help Jeanne.”
“To help me?”
“Yes. Jeanne came to my shop first, didn’t you?”
“......”
“That place isn’t somewhere just anyone can find.”
Joan of Arc looked confused, as if she didn’t understand, but I didn’t mind.
“If it hurts, don’t hesitate to come to me, Jeanne. You don’t have to worry about what the bishop thinks.”
I wasn’t planning on explaining my abilities to her.
“You’re the only one who can enter my shop.”
Once I finished speaking, I noticed that the potion had completely absorbed into her skin.
However, it wasn’t fully healed yet, so it seemed like it might get worse if left alone.
The not fully healed wound would be extremely painful if it touched her clothes.
“I’ll have to wrap it.”
“......?”
I took out some emergency bandages from my bag and carefully wrapped them around Joan of Arc’s back.
When she tried to get up in surprise, I gently pressed her shoulder to keep her still.
“Stay still. If you leave it like this, it’ll get worse.”
“Ugh!”
I wrapped the bandage tightly so that the stigmata couldn’t be seen anymore.
To protect Joan of Arc, I had to stay close to her.
Fortunately, that wasn’t difficult.
Although it was a formality, as the saint, Joan of Arc had the authority of a commander.
With her permission, I could easily stay by her side.
There were some objections, but the authority of the saint easily silenced them.
“I’ll have to change the bandage.”
On days when there was a battle, I treated Joan of Arc’s stigmata and changed the bandages every night.
Thanks to that, the risk of complications from the stigmata diminished.
‘But just treating the stigmata isn’t enough.’
Joan of Arc, as recorded in history, would face death three times.
She would overcome each of those three deaths and become known as the miracle saint.
And the first of those three deaths was approaching in two days.
─May 7th, the siege of the Château de La Turel.
Joan of Arc was shot by an English archer with an arrow that pierced her neck.
But despite being pierced by an arrow shot from a longbow with 70kg of tension, Joan of Arc washed the wound with olive oil and participated in the battle the very next day, appearing unscathed.
The first death of the miracle girl.
“Jeanne, be careful of the arrows in the battle in two days.”
As I wrapped the bandage around her armpit, I warned her about the arrows that would fly toward her neck.
“Arrows?”
“Yes, arrows targeting your neck will come flying.”
Joan of Arc looked skeptical, but just being aware of it was enough.
I would be the one to stop them.
The siege of the Château de La Turel began with the French army’s attack.
“Charge! Charge!”
“Set the ladders!”
“Uwaaa!”
Soldiers carrying siege ladders ran toward the castle walls, and arrows rained down from above.
Joan of Arc waved her flag in the middle of the battlefield.
“Don’t be afraid! We have the saint with us!”
“Waaa!”
The morale of the French troops soared at the sight of the saint. However, contrary to expectations, the situation turned unfavorable.
The soldiers charged with overwhelming force, but they couldn’t place the ladders against the castle walls.
─The moat.
The moat was dug deep in front of the walls and filled with water, preventing the soldiers from getting close.
As the situation dragged on, a priest who was assisting Bishop Cambrai spoke.
“Bishop, it seems we won’t be able to enter Turel today.”
“We’ll have to hope for a miracle from Christ.”
Even though it was said that they couldn’t enter Turel, Bishop Cambrai smiled gently.
He mentioned the ‘miracle.’
Then, the assisting priest quietly stepped back.
Shortly afterward, French knights began to charge toward the moat.
Among them were many holy knights guarding Joan of Arc.
The English soldiers, watching from the castle walls, didn’t miss this opportunity.
“The saint’s guard is gone!”
“Target the saint!”
“Shoot!”
As the guard around Joan of Arc diminished, a hail of arrows flew toward her. fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm
Most of the arrows fell short, but a few came dangerously close.
And one of them, fired at an incredible speed, was aimed directly at Joan of Arc.
It was an arrow shot by an awakened archer hidden by the English.
“Protect the saint!”
“Stop the arrows!”
The knights, startled, rushed to protect Joan of Arc, but it was too late.
Swoooooosh─!
An arrow infused with mana flew toward Joan of Arc, threatening to pierce her.
Bishop Cambrai quietly observed the situation.
“......”
At that moment, Choi Seo-jun, using Napoleon’s Rifle, was shooting down the English archers on the castle wall.
