Became the Weapon Monopolist of the Gods

[Save the maiden sacrificed in the Hundred Years’ War.]

The quest given to me by the status window.

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

Jeanne d’Arc was a girl of miracles after all.

Not someone who needed protection, but someone who gave protection.

However, now I could see it.

That Jeanne d’Arc wasn’t protecting others but sacrificing herself.

‘A stigmata?’

On the maiden’s back was a red brand shaped like an angel’s wings.

Every time the maiden waved her flag, blood trickled from those wings.

The more soldiers healed, the more blood flowed from the wings.

The highest-tier light-element awakening ability known as Christ’s Wounds.

‘Stigmata.’

Or, in other words, Holy Wounds.

But there was only one officially recognized case of stigmata in history according to the Vatican.

Saint Francis of Assisi.

Saint Francis of Assisi underwent severe penance and fasting prayers and saw a vision of Jesus Christ with six wings of Seraphim on Mount La Verna, imprinting the stigmata. When he awoke from the vision, Francis had the same angelic wings branded onto his back.

However, Saint Francis of Assisi never bled and suffered no side effects whatsoever.

‘It’s fake.’

The stigmata on Joan of Arc’s back was artificially implanted by someone.

A counterfeit stigmata created to maximize the power of the Maiden’s Flag.

The girl looked exhausted.

She was tormented by extreme fatigue and winced in pain when hit by rocks thrown by the enemy.

This was different from what history books said.

The Joan of Arc in history was believed to be a superhuman warrior of God without a doubt.

Even if an arrow struck her neck or a rock hit her head or she jumped from a high place, Joan would appear perfectly fine on the battlefield the next day.

Her image, akin to witnessing the resurrection of Christ, instilled morale in allies and fear in the English.

Until the end of the Hundred Years’ War, when she was captured by the English, accused of being a witch, and burned at the stake, the girl was an unbeatable warrior of God.

But…

The Joan of Arc I’m seeing now is just a fragile girl writhing in pain.

Though she didn’t show it outwardly, I could sense that the girl was in pain.

Just because she was accustomed to suffering and didn’t know how to express it didn’t mean it wasn’t there.

Could this girl really overcome all the crises written about in history and survive?

‘Impossible.’

Even with the Maiden’s Flag, it was predicated on Joan’s sacrifice.

Using it for her own healing would only bring more pain.

A banner of sacrifice that devoured life in exchange for surviving mortal wounds.

─Thank you, Saint.

─I’ve recovered thanks to you.

While the girl could ease others’ pain, she endured her own silently.

This was far too different from the divine warrior Joan of Arc history spoke of.

What happened?

Did history lie?

The official history cross-checked by France and England?

Though many doubts arose, they were all mere speculation.

One thing was certain:

[Save the maiden sacrificed in the Hundred Years’ War.]

That I must protect Joan of Arc.

Thud, thud.

I approached Joan of Arc.

Under the moonlit late night,

the girl sat by the lake, alone, exposing the stigmata on her back while quietly suffering.

The saint shouldn’t show weakness.

It was the role of the saint to boost ally morale, so Joan endured her pain alone in such uninhabited spaces.

“Joan.”

“Sejun?”

Her violet pupils wavered, not realizing I had been watching.

I raised my hand to stop Joan from covering her back.

“Wait a moment.”

From my subspace backpack, I pulled out a mana potion.

It was a recovery potion Kim Ha-Yoon had gifted me before coming to this world.

I unscrewed the cap and carefully poured it onto Joan of Arc’s back.

Recalling the pain caused by holy water, Joan instinctively frowned.

But the recovery potion had a completely different effect.

The bleeding stopped, new flesh grew, and the stigmata wound faded.

Worthy of being a gift from the team leader of Dawn Star Constellation, the potion was top-tier.

‘It must cost several million won per bottle.’

The excessively good potion was quite a gift.

Even Joan, bracing for pain, widened her eyes in surprise.

“What did you use?”

“Expensive holy water.”

“Should you really use something like that on me?”

“Of course. I came here to help Joan.”

“To help me?”

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

“…”

“To a place not just anyone can enter.”

Joan wore a perplexed expression, not understanding, but it didn’t matter.

“If it hurts, don’t endure it—come to me, Joan. Don’t worry about the bishop.”

I didn’t intend to explain my abilities.

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

By the time I finished speaking, the potion had fully seeped into the skin.

However, it wasn’t fully healed yet, so leaving it might cause additional scarring.

Touching raw wounds with clothes would hurt terribly.

“I need to bandage it.”

“…?”

I took out an emergency bandage from my bag and wrapped it around Joan of Arc’s back.

When Joan tried to stand up startled, I pressed her shoulder down.

“Stay still. Leaving this untreated will worsen it.”

“Uh!”

I tightly wrapped the bandage until the stigmata was no longer visible.

*

To protect Joan of Arc, I needed to stay close to her.

Fortunately, that wasn’t difficult.

Formally, the saint Joan of Arc had command authority.

With Joan’s permission, I could easily remain by her side.

Though there were objections, the saint’s authority silenced them all.

“I need to change it.”

On nights with battles, I treated Joan of Arc’s stigmata wounds and changed her bandages at my shop every night.

Thanks to this, the risk of Joan suffering complications from the stigmata decreased.

‘But treating the stigmata isn’t enough.’

According to historical records, Joan of Arc faced death three times.

Joan surpassed these three deaths and became known as the miraculous saint.

And the first death was approaching in two days.

─May 7th, Siege of Les Tourelles Fortress.

Joan of Arc was sniped by an English archer, with an arrow piercing through her neck.

Despite the arrow fired by a longbow with a draw weight of 70kg piercing her neck, Joan washed the wound with olive oil and participated in the battle the next day, looking perfectly fine.

This was the first death the miraculous girl would face.

“Joan, be careful of arrows during the battle in two days.”

As I wrapped the bandage around Joan’s armpit, I warned her about the incoming arrow.

“Arrows?”

“Yes, an arrow will target your neck, Joan.”

Though Joan didn’t immediately believe me, simply being aware was enough.

Because blocking it is my job.

*

The Siege of Les Tourelles began with an attack by the French army.

“Charge! Charge forward!”

“Place the ladders!”

“Uaaaaah!”

Soldiers carrying siege ladders ran toward the wall as arrows rained down from above.

Joan of Arc waved her banner right in the middle of the battlefield.

“Don’t be afraid! We have the saint with us!”

“Waaaah!”

The presence of the saint boosted the French army’s morale sky-high. However, contrary to expectations, the battle turned unfavorable.

The soldiers rushing in using human wave tactics couldn’t place their ladders on the wall.

─Moat.

Because a deep moat filled with water was dug in front of the wall, they couldn’t approach it.

At the deeply and widely dug moat resembling a river, the soldiers had to stop.

As the situation dragged on, the priest assisting Bishop Cambrai said:

“Your Grace, we probably won’t capture Tourelles today.”

“We can only pray for a miracle from Christ.”

Even with the words that they wouldn’t enter Tourelles today, Bishop Cambrai smiled kindly.

He mentioned a “miracle.”

Upon hearing this, the assisting priest quietly stepped back.

Soon, French knights began charging into the moat.

Among them were many holy knights guarding Joan of Arc.

The English troops watching from atop the walls wouldn’t miss this opportunity.

“There’s an opening around the saint!”

“Aim for the saint!”

“Fire!”

With fewer guards around Joan, arrows rained down on her.

Most arrows fell short of reaching Joan, but some were threatening.

And one of them flew toward Joan at an alarming speed.

It was an arrow shot by an awakened individual hidden by the English side.

“Protect the saint!”

“Stop the archers!”

Startled knights turned to protect Joan, but it was too late to block the arrow.

Screeeech!

The magic-infused arrow whistled as it aimed for Joan.

Bishop Cambrai quietly observed the scene.

“Block it!”

The guards drew their swords to protect the saint.

In the critical moment…

The arrow seemed ready to pierce through the knights and impale Joan.

Clang!

However, the arrow never reached Joan. It deflected with sparks flying.

The late-arriving knights formed a sturdy barrier around Joan once again.

Clang! Clang!

Knights atop the wall collapsed like dominoes.

Clang! Clang!

Bishop Cambrai’s gaze turned toward the source of the noise.

“…”

There stood Choi Seo-Joon, wielding Napoleon’s Rifle, shooting down the archers atop the wall.