Chapter 21 : The Girl Called a Saint (2)

[Protect the girl who became the scapegoat of the Hundred Years’ War.]

The quest that the status window gave me.

At first, I didn’t understand the meaning of this quest.

Saint Jeanne d’Arc was the miraculous girl.

She wasn’t someone to be protected, but someone who protected others.

But now I understood.

Jeanne d’Arc wasn’t protecting anyone; she was sacrificing herself.

“Is it the stigmata?”

On the girl’s back was a red mark shaped like angel wings.

Every time the girl waved her flag, red blood flowed from those wings.

As the number of soldiers recovering from their wounds increased, the amount of blood flowing from the wings also increased.

The wound of Christ, called the highest level light-element awakening ability.

It was “stigma.”

Another word for it is the holy stigmata.

However, the only person officially recognized by the Vatican as having the stigmata in history was Saint Francis of Assisi.

Saint Francis of Assisi, after years of penance and fasting prayers, saw a vision of Jesus Christ in the form of a six-winged seraph on Mount La Verna, who marked him with the stigmata.

It is said that when Saint Francis awoke from the vision, angel wings like the ones Jeanne d’Arc had appeared on his back.

But Saint Francis of Assisi never shed blood, nor did he experience any side effects.

“Fake.”

The stigmata engraved on Jeanne d’Arc’s back was artificially implanted.

It was a “fake stigmata” made to maximize the ability of the saint’s flag.

“……”

The girl with the stigmata seemed to be struggling.

She was suffering from extreme fatigue, and she was in pain from the stones thrown by the enemy.

It was different from what was written in history.

The Jeanne d’Arc from history was believed to be an extraordinary being, a warrior of God without a doubt.

Even if she was struck in the neck by an arrow, had a stone hit her head, or jumped from a high place.

Jeanne d’Arc would appear the next day, fully intact on the battlefield.

Her appearance was like witnessing the resurrection of Christ, boosting the morale of her allies and instilling fear and terror in the English.

At the end of the Hundred Years’ War, until she was captured by England and burned at the stake as a witch.

The girl was an invincible warrior of God.

But now…

The Jeanne d’Arc I was seeing was just a frail girl writhing in pain.

Although she didn’t show it on the outside, I could feel that the girl was in pain.

She was simply used to pain and didn’t know how to express it.

Could this girl really survive the many crises written in history?

“Impossible.”

Though she had the saint’s flag, it was a flag that relied on Jeanne d’Arc’s sacrifice.

Even if she used it to heal herself, it would only bring more pain.

A flag of sacrifice that consumes life in exchange for overcoming a life-threatening crisis.

─Thank you, Saint.

Because of you, I was saved.

The girl could alleviate others’ pain but endured her own suffering in silence.

This was very different from the warrior of God in history, Jeanne d’Arc.

What happened?

Did history lie?

Was it the official record after cross-checking by France and England?

Many doubts arose, but they were all just guesses.

The only thing that was certain was one.

[Protect the girl who became the scapegoat of the Hundred Years’ War.]

I just had to protect Jeanne d’Arc.

Thud, thud.

I approached Jeanne d’Arc.

Late at night, when the moonlight was shining down.

The girl was sitting by the lakeside, showing the stigmata on her back, struggling in solitude.

A saint was not supposed to show weakness.

That was the saint’s role—to boost the morale of the allies, and so Jeanne d’Arc would endure her pain alone in such a deserted place.

“Jeanne.”

“Jeosun?”

Not realizing I was watching, the girl’s violet pupils shook.

I stopped her from trying to hide her back by raising my hand.

“Wait a moment.”

I took a magic potion out of my spatial backpack.

It was a healing potion given to me as a gift by Kim Hayun before I came to this world.

I opened the cap and carefully poured the potion onto Jeanne d’Arc’s back.

Perhaps recalling the pain from the holy water, Jeanne instinctively frowned.

But the healing potion had a completely different effect from the holy water.

The blood stopped, new flesh began to grow, and the wound of the stigmata faded.

As expected from the gift of the leader of the Constellation of Dawn, the potion was of the highest quality.

‘This bottle must be worth hundreds of thousands.’

It was an excessively good potion for a gift.

Even Jeanne d’Arc, who had been grimacing in anticipation of the coming pain, widened her eyes in surprise.

“What did you use?”

“It’s expensive holy water.”

“Is it okay for you to use something like that on me?”

“Of course. I’m here to help Jeanne.”

“Help me?”

“Yes. Didn’t Jeanne come to my shop first?”

“……”

“That place isn’t somewhere just anyone can find.”

Jeanne gave a puzzled look as if she couldn’t understand, but it didn’t matter.

“If it hurts, don’t endure it and come to me, Jeanne. There’s no need to worry about the bishop.”

I wasn’t planning to explain my abilities to her.

“You’re the only one who can enter my shop.”

After saying that, I looked at the stigmata again, and soon the potion had completely absorbed into her skin.

However, since it wasn’t fully healed, if I left it as it was, it might worsen.

The half-healed wound would sting terribly if it touched her clothes.

“I’ll have to bandage it.”

“…?”

I took out a bandage from my bag, one that I always carried for emergencies, and wrapped it around Jeanne d’Arc’s back.

Jeanne, startled, tried to get up, but I pressed down on her shoulder to stop her.

“Stay still. If you leave this like this, it will get worse.”

“Ugh!”

I tightly wrapped the bandage around Jeanne’s back, making sure the stigmata wasn’t visible.

To protect Jeanne d’Arc, I had to stay close to her.

Fortunately, that wasn’t difficult.

Although formal, as a saint, Jeanne d’Arc had the authority of a commander.

With Jeanne’s permission, I was able to stay by her side without difficulty.

There was some resistance, but the authority of the saint quelled it all.

“I’ll need to change the bandages.”

On days when there was a battle, I would treat Jeanne d’Arc’s stigmata and change her bandages every night.

Thanks to that, the risk of Jeanne d’Arc suffering from side effects of the stigmata was reduced.

‘But just treating the stigmata won’t be enough.’

Jeanne d’Arc in history faced death three times.

She overcame these three deaths and came to be known as the miraculous saint.

And the first death was approaching in two days.

May 7th, the siege of the fortress of Le Tourelle.

Jeanne d’Arc was shot by an arrow from an English archer, piercing her throat.

However, despite the arrow, shot from a longbow with 70kg of draw weight, piercing her neck, Jeanne washed the wound with olive oil and participated in the battle the next day, fully recovered.

It was the first death Jeanne d’Arc would experience as the miraculous girl.

“Jeanne, be careful of the arrows in the battle two days from now.”

While wrapping the bandages around Jeanne’s armpit, I warned her about the arrows that would fly towards her neck.

“Arrows?”

“Yes, arrows will fly, aiming for your neck.”

Jeanne looked at me as though she couldn’t believe it, but just being aware of it was enough.

I would be the one to block them.

The siege of Le Tourelle began with an attack from the French forces.

“Advance! Advance!”

“Set up the ladders!”

“Uwaah!”

Soldiers carrying siege ladders rushed toward the city wall, while arrows poured down from the walls.

In the middle of the battlefield, Jeanne d’Arc waved her flag.

“Don’t be afraid! The saint is with us!”

“Wahh!”

The presence of the saint raised the morale of the French soldiers to the skies. However, contrary to expectations, the battle turned unfavorably.

The soldiers charged with a mass assault, but they were unable to place ladders against the city wall.

The moat.

Because the area in front of the wall was deeply dug and filled with water, they couldn’t approach the wall.

As the situation stalled, the priest assisting Bishop Cambrai spoke.

“Bishop, it seems impossible to enter Tourelle today.”

“Then we must hope for a miracle from Christ.”

Despite the priest’s report, Bishop Cambrai smiled kindly.

He mentioned the “miracle.”

At this, the assistant priest quietly stepped back.

A moment later, the French knights began charging across the moat.

Among them were many holy knights who were guarding Jeanne d’Arc.

The English soldiers observing from the walls were quick to notice.

“The saint’s surroundings are empty!”

“Aim for the saint!”

“Shoot!”

As Jeanne’s guards were reduced, arrows began flying toward her.

Most of the arrows missed Jeanne, falling short, but some of them were dangerously close.

One arrow, in particular, flew toward her with terrifying speed.

It was an arrow shot by an awakened archer hidden by the English.

“Protect the saint!”

“Stop that arrow!”

Surprised knights quickly turned to protect Jeanne, but it was too late to block the arrow.

Sweeaaah!

The magical arrow, with a trail of light, flew toward Jeanne.

Bishop Cambrai silently observed the situation.

“Block it!”

The knights protecting the saint drew their swords.

In the moment of crisis, the arrow was about to pierce through the knights and strike Jeanne.

Taaang!

But the arrow never reached Jeanne. Sparks flew as it was deflected.

The knights, who had been a little late, quickly returned, forming a solid wall around Jeanne once again.

Taaang—! Taaang—!

The archers on the city wall fell one by one like dominoes.

Taaang—! Taaang—!

Bishop Cambrai’s gaze returned to the noise.

“……”

There, standing among the fallen archers, was Jeosun, who was shooting them with Napoleon’s rifle.