Chapter 627: The Meeting Between Old Friends

This place itself is like an unknown shadowy corner of a bright city.

There are almost no lights, and ordinary people even need to grope carefully when they walk in here.

But for Silence and Joan of Arc, it is natural to be as clear as day.

Joan of Arc had already smelled the blood, which made her quicken her steps and shuttled through the alleys silently and quickly, while Silent was still walking unhurriedly, but strangely she always stayed in Zhen De's side, not an inch away.

Finally, to the place where the smell of blood is the strongest.

This is a small yard with an independent villa, and the lighting bulbs that should have existed at the door have all broken.

Jeanne slowed down.

The beautiful face is very serious, and the fierce anger is surging in the eyes.

For Joan of Arc, who had participated in the war on the battlefield for two whole years, it was easy to identify that there were at least dozens of corpses in this room, and when she thought that there were many children among them, her anger was Burning.

Still, he forced himself to remain calm.

After she glanced at the silence, she tried her best to hide her breath and got closer.

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

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

"Ryunosuke, as expected, you can understand that human beings are a species that is numb to fear, but if you give hope first, the moment from hope to despair is the most wonderful fear, if the gods really exist. , and you must be angry about it." Another voice was equally intoxicated.

It seems that he vaguely understood the meaning of the words of these two people, and then recalled the tragic situation at the scene before, Joan of Arc couldn't wait any longer.

"This is it!" She waved the flag and broke through from the front with a bang.

It was an extremely tragic scene.

Blood everywhere, broken limbs and broken arms, countless wriggling tentacles crawling on the corpse, making a terrifying sound, the initiator of all this, like a demon-like heroic spirit, is even playing with a head full of fear.

This can no longer be called the undead of the dead hero.

Rather, it should be called an evil spirit.

But at this moment.

The head in the fierce spirit's hand fell to the ground because of the weakness of his fingers. His big raised eyes trembled as he looked at the girl who broke in, and seemed to be full of unbelievable joy.

He took a step forward.

He stumbled and fell in front of Joan of Arc, with a smile on his face as if he had seen relatives who were separated from life and death.

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

"Your Highness, is this true? I still have one day to see you again, ah, did the gods finally hear my wish, I have been looking forward to your resurrection, and I have been waiting for the one who will meet you again. This day, this moment, this moment! My wish has come true!"

Jeanne opened her mouth slightly when she heard the man's words.

She had thought about various scenes after the meeting, but Du Du didn't expect it.

Since she was called Her Royal Highness, she was someone who knew her.

Jeanne could not help but carefully looked at the servant in front of her.

Wearing an ancient-style robe with blood-like red lines on it, a thin face, big raised eyes, and a crying and laughing expression, at a glance, he looks like a moody and dangerous person.

but.

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

"Jill...is that you,

Jill? ' she said in disbelief.

"Woo woo." Jill's tears flowed from his big eyes, and he cried hysterically, "There will be another day when I can hear you calling my name, even if I die immediately at this moment, there is no regret!"

"..."

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

She is not ignorant of history.

After being burned as a witch, his comrade-in-arms, Gil de Rei, who fought together with him, although he ascended to the throne of the marshal by virtue of his military exploits, has also been addicted to black magic, and even killed hundreds of teenagers. There is no doubt that Jill in front of him is the embodiment of the devil, the manifestation of his tragic fate that is closely related to himself.

The hands holding the spear exerted a little force.

"Jill." Joan of Arc calmed her voice as much as possible, "We are all people of the past, and now we are here as servants because of the Holy Grail War, there are no saints and marshals, I am the ruler, and you are Caster, that's just the reason, but your actions have violated the rules of the Holy Grail War."

Although she saw her former comrades and friends, Joan of Arc could not reminisce, nor could she reminisce.

Even if Jill has become so responsible, even if Jill is so eager to meet him again.

However, he cannot be allowed to continue like this.

Joan of Arc has guilt in her heart, but she is determined to bear the sin of betraying her companions, so she never considers herself a saint, but a stupid sinner who stained her body with blood for her own wishes. .

so--

Jeanne raised the spear in her hand slightly.

"Please don't say that! Your Highness." Jill raised his head, his 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 gone! I found A better god, a god better than the Lord you believe in! It is the great He who made my wish come true and made me see you again! So stop talking about ruler and caster Now, the so-called Holy Grail, or even the so-called gods, can no longer shackle us, Your Highness, only your most loyal servants are here!"

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

Once again, he returned to Her Majesty's side.

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

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 she wanted to use this to remind herself of the time on the battlefield, to make herself indifferent, and to stop herself from hesitating.

Wasn't it already decided?

Kill some to save more.

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

And just when Jeanne was about to do it directly.

A silent voice came suddenly.

"You said you found a good deity?"