[color=c4df9b][b]B͏͠҉er̶̕ş̶e͝rk̀ę́r͏ ̶̧G̀̕í͟͝l̸le҉s̛ ̀D̷͢e̢ ͡Ra̷̡͞is̢͘
Foreigner's Lowlands[/b][/color][hr]

The sheer amount of rage he was experiencing was gone, as if switching off a lamp, when Gilles managed to finally defeat those two Lyaeus. There was only pain. Pain and the terrible realization of the memories flooding back, through Prelati's Encouragement of him during that mad moment. It seemed that his friend's encouragement brought him strength, but at the cost of reliving his live again and again, the memories vivid as if it happened just yesterday.

He collapsed upon the bloody field, left over by the severance of his men from him, the flames seemingly trying to consume his entire self now. 

[color=c4df9b][i]Thats... right.. The Maiden... Jeanne... she was burnt to death... I am sorry... 

Jeanne...[/i][/color]

[center]***[/center]

A lake of blood, knee deep, barely concealing the bodies strewn within. A hand, stretched out for help that never came. He stood alone in the lake, soaked in blood, soaked in the regret and pain of his victims. All these deaths... but what had they done?

[i][color=8882be]"You know very well what they had done! This fate, they brought it upon themselves!"[/color] [/i]The him that was from the future spoke, rising from the blood as if the blood itself had formed him. Anguish, rage, regret and most of all, sorrow, was apparent within his future self's features, even clad and partly hidden with the cloak he wore. [i][color=8882be]"To betray their own saviour, to turn upon one who hath sacrificed her all for them! Even abandoned by the very God she devoted herself to!"[/color][/i]

That was right.

For the very person he had thought to be the proof of God's existence, for that gentle smile, that hand that held the flag they fought under, for that brilliance to be snuffed by the ugly jealousy of the people. 

[i][color=6ecff6]"But yet... they were the reason you fought in the first place, wasn't it?"[/color][/i] A voice, from a young boy, wearing armor that looked a bit too big for him, and a sword that didn't look as if it was drawn for battle much. [i][color=6ecff6]"Don't you remember? You were just sixteen at the time, before you took up the sword for the first time against the English?"[/color][/i]

That too was right.

He was the boy before him, untouched by the blood, pale, tall, and scrawny. But he had taken up the sword for France. He was trying his best for the people under him, yet always felt inadequate, until she came. The Holy Maiden, Jeanne d'Arc, the flag bearer who turned the tides of the war. But her end... shook him to his very core. It was as if God had just abandoned them.

[i][color=a187be]"God may have abandoned her. But you did not! WE did not! Our loyalty lies with Jeanne! WE SWORE TO PROTECT HER!"[/color][/i]

[i][color=6ecff6]"That is right. We have not abandoned her. Nor will we abandon the world now. What will Jeanne say if you neglected the very people you fought to protect? This may not be France, but the people are the same. Mothers, fathers... children whose future still lies bright."[/color][/i]

The boy inhaled, before bellowing at him, a slight vein appearing on his forehead.

[i][color=6ecff6]"Are you going to abandon the people again, Gilles de Rais!? Will you turn a blind eye to everything Jeanne fought for!?"[/color][/i]

[center]***[/center]

[color=c4df9b]"UUUUUOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHH!!"[/color]

The flames seemed to gather in his hand as his cape rematerialized, seemingly made of some writhing fleshy material, still burning intensely with a strange purple flame. His hand held out, it materialized not his banner, but a horrifying staff of flesh, bone, and teeth, appearing out of the flames in his hand. Bringing himself to his feet, he held up the staff, the chanting and fluttering deep within him reaching a crescendo, as if angered by the mere presence of the Lyaeuses, drawing in energy from the other side. 

Several eyes appeared from the staff's top, jerking around as if glancing at everything, before each of the seven eyes paused, glaring at the different Lyaeuses nearby. Each one transfixed upon a different target, the staff channeled eldritch energy from the other side, a beam of brilliant light sparking from each eye upon their targets.

[color=c4df9b]"Masters!"[/color] Gilles bellowed. [color=c4df9b]"Servants! All those that would oppose these things, these creatures that would destroy us and the world! Let us strike upon its heart! Let us march towards the source!"[/color]

A cry for action, for them to march under his banner. Yet even if none came to his aid, he would march alone, full of convictions as Jeanne did. Even if he was to be deemed a heretic, even if he was to be burned by hellfire, this, at least he would do.