Shinji Matou At Your Service - Chapter 471: Red and Black Showdown - Semiramis's Strategy

God is Here With Me (Luminosité Eternelle!)

This is the flag that Saint Jeanne d’Arc holds in place of a sword. It is the holy flag that brought immense encouragement and upliftment to the soldiers who followed the saint in battle. It is said to have always protected the saint who fought on the front lines.

With the blessing of angels, it protects a 10-unit radius centered around this flag. It can convert EX-level Magic Resistance into physical defense to block enemy attacks. This is the legend materialized, where Jeanne waved the flag on the battlefield and emerged nearly unscathed.

It’s worth noting that this protection is not unlimited. The flag itself accumulates damage from enemy attacks, and once the damage exceeds its limit, the holy flag will be destroyed. Furthermore, while holding the flag aloft, Jeanne cannot make any attacks.

However, to save time and prevent the numerous dragon-wing soldiers from injuring the galloping Dun Stallion, Jeanne resolutely decided to use this Noble Phantasm, though it might be overkill.

Under the protection of the holy flag, all attacks from the dragon-wing soldiers, whether collisions or claw swipes, were blocked by an invisible barrier, leaving no trace.

Soon, Jeanne, with the posture that had led France to victory time and again, raised the flag high and crushed the obstruction of the dragon-wing soldiers.

Yes, crushed!

The dragon-wing soldiers blocking her path, like the dragon-tooth soldiers before them, were reduced to fragments.

Wait, wasn’t it said that Jeanne couldn’t attack while holding the flag aloft? How did these dragon-wing soldiers get crushed? Did they shatter themselves?

Exactly, they shattered themselves.

During the activation of her Noble Phantasm, Jeanne indeed had to remain stationary with both hands holding the flag. But her stillness did not mean Dun Stallion remained still. Moving at a speed exceeding 150 km/h, coupled with EX-level physical defense converted from EX-level Magic Resistance, Jeanne was now a more terrifying mobile fortress than Siegfried.

There was no need for an active offense; simply charging through was enough to crush all obstructing soldiers—this was, of course, part of Jeanne’s calculation. Don’t forget, she was the saint who led the demoralized French army to drive out the English and save Orléans. There’s no better place for her to excel than a large-scale battlefield.

“I will find that person!”

Having broken through the double blockade, Jeanne’s expression was resolute, and the determination in her eyes put immense pressure on Semiramis, who was watching the scene.

Semiramis, with a similarly resolute gaze, stared at the projection of the saint. She had never been so eager to stop a single person.

“I will never let you reach here, little girl.”

As the oldest poisoner and the Assyrian Empress who usurped the throne through schemes and ultimately ruled a nation, she was like her second Noble Phantasm—a cup of dazzlingly colorful poison.

She despised women—those lazy and weak women manipulated by men, she would show no mercy, even if they were gods.

She mocked men—for always bullying women while their minds were filled with lust, they deserved to be the ones manipulated.

This was her philosophy, her understanding of the world.

Thinking back, it was something from when she was born. Though the memory was very vague, she clearly remembered the silhouette of the woman who hurriedly fled to the river after abandoning her.

Her mother, Derikite, the fish goddess, had a daughter with an Assyrian man. That child was Semiramis.

“You are my shame,” she said. The child born with a human was her shame—she made this clear. What a foolish woman, Semiramis later thought. It was you who couldn’t resist the temptation of a man.

Her mother abandoned her, and her father was killed by her mother, who felt ashamed of the matter. However, her mother left her with one gift. Semiramis, who inherited the divine bloodline, had a natural affinity with the riverbank where she was abandoned. Not only that but hearing the baby’s cries, pigeons gathered to take care of her. Countless pigeons surrounded her, wrapping the shivering child in their feathers. They even held milk in their beaks and fed it to her.

Semiramis grew up drinking the milk fed by the pigeons who sheltered her from the elements.

Ten years later, she was found by a shepherd—thus, Semiramis entered the world of humans. However, her inner self was already complete. The dance and makeup skills taught by her foster parents were merely tools and techniques necessary for survival.

But the woman in the projection, the one named Jeanne, was different. In her life, in her eyes, there was almost no trace of negative emotions, even though she was slandered, humiliated, and cursed by everyone before being burned at the stake. This woman never harbored any hatred, like a clear spring, the complete opposite of Semiramis.

It was certain; this woman was entirely different from herself, an existence she could never understand or agree with.

She wanted to utterly crush this woman, not just physically, but also mentally, breaking her spirit, will, dreams, and everything else. She wanted to see what kind of despair this saint would fall into when everything collapsed, what her ultimate end would be.

She wanted to muster the strength of the entire court to crush this woman who was so incompatible with her.

Unfortunately, she couldn’t do that because her opponent wasn’t just Jeanne; there was also a disgusting mad dog. Although she didn’t want to admit it, that increasingly large and insane mad dog couldn’t be ignored.

Wait, a mad dog?

Her beautiful black pearl-like eyes turned, and Semiramis had an idea.

“Master.”

“Yes? What’s up?”

Shirou, who was watching Shinji and Achilles wrestle with great interest, turned his head and replied.

“Help me with something.”

Shirou was immediately intrigued. He slapped his katana and stood up from the steps in front of the throne.

“Is the situation bad, and you need me to take action? Great, I’m itching to fight. Tell me, who do you want me to go after? Black Berserker? Saber? Or Archer? Surely not Spartacus?”

“None of them. You don’t need to go anywhere; just sit here quietly.” Semiramis glared at her Master.

“Then what do you want me to do?”

“Order Archer to lure that mad dog to cause trouble for Ruler.”

I am the Assyrian Empress you call “the Serpent.” I have plenty of ways to achieve my goals without getting my hands dirty.