"Trash! Worthless! You're all utterly worthless! Driven back by a mere woman—what good are any of you!"
Meanwhile, things in England were going from bad to worse.
"And those rumors about Évigi's treason—where's the proof? You babble without a shred of evidence!"
"Your Grace, Duke Bedford," a bishop said coolly, "whether Duke Évigi is a heretic or not should be decided by us—the Church. Tomorrow, we'll depart for his lands. We'll see for ourselves whether he truly is a demon."
Hearing that, Bedford's fury finally cooled a little. He gave the bishop a curt nod.
"I'll leave it to you, then."
"Not at all. Punishing demons is the Church's duty."
No one noticed the brief flicker of gold in the bishop's eyes.
...
April was a peaceful month.
Laurent's overseas trade venture was finally taking shape.
He had merely proposed it to the crown—whether they approved or not was their problem.
Sipping his coffee, he enjoyed the rare quiet.
He'd already checked the front. Jeanne was doing well; at this rate, her next target would likely be Compiègne.
The past few months had been tranquil. With Jeanne's string of victories, England had withdrawn most of its forces, and he had done the same.
Soon enough, this war will end.
And after that, I'll disappear quietly.
They only knew Duke Évigi—the name, the title. No one truly knew Laurent himself.
When the time came, he would return to France and find Jeanne again.
Then propose.
He reached into his shirt and touched the ring that hung on a cord around his neck.
The jeweler hadn't lied—it really was a fine piece.
He tucked it back beneath his shirt, lifted his cup, and took another leisurely sip.
Knock, knock.
"Come in."
With trade expanding, messengers came at all hours; Laurent hardly found it strange anymore.
"Your Grace, someone's here requesting an audience."
"Someone? That merchant from last time?"
He set down his coffee, straightened his clothes, and stepped out.
His subordinate fell into stride beside him, reporting as they went.
"No, my lord. He says he's been sent by Duke Bedford. He asks to meet you by the seaside."
"Oh? Has the old man finally come around?"
Laurent had sent messages to nearby dukes about his overseas trade plans, but apparently their intellects hadn't kept up—they'd completely missed the point. He had decided it would be faster to show them results.
"Not sure, but they didn't mention trade. They said they wanted to meet you alone."
"Huh?" Laurent arched a brow. "They're not plotting something against me, are they?"
The soldier chuckled. "With your strength, Duke Évigi, I doubt anyone would dare."
"Fair enough. Let's go see what they want. If I can talk that old fool around, all the better. Military merit means little these days—the king barely remembers we exist."
He waved a hand, signaling for the soldier to lead him out.
"It's just north of here, by the shore."
Once given the directions, the soldier took his leave.
Laurent treated it like a stroll, heading out alone.
The weather was pleasant. With the fighting over and his governance in place, the people finally lived in peace. Villagers along the road bowed respectfully as he passed.
"My lord."
Laurent nodded in acknowledgment each time.
When he reached the spot, he paused.
It was remote—empty except for a figure in white robes standing near the lake's edge, back turned. A priest, by the look of him.
A white cross gleamed on the man's back.
Laurent's brow lifted slightly.
The priest spread his arms wide and exclaimed, "Ahhh, the mortal realm truly is a wonderful place!"
Laurent didn't respond. He quietly drew the ring from under his shirt, let blood envelop it, and absorbed it into his body.
He'd recently learned he could store objects within himself—safer that way.
What was coming next, he didn't want the ring caught up in it.
A faint smirk touched his lips. "The stench from you angels—I could smell it from a mile away."
"Is that so, bearer of Absolute Evil—Laurent?"
The man turned, golden eyes gleaming.
Laurent didn't answer. His gaze swept the area, calm and sharp. "Seems you've brought quite a few friends."
In the blink of an eye, a dozen more figures stepped from hiding—each with the same golden eyes.
"Your sins demand extermination. We cannot allow you to keep existing."
"I'm curious," Laurent drawled. "Where are your wings?"
The priest shook his head. "Not all of us can descend freely like Archangel Michael. We must act through devout believers."
"How ironic."
"I doubt you'll find it funny for long, Laurent."
The priest's voice grew solemn. "Let us count your sins. You've obstructed Jeanne's destiny, murdered three archangels and one angel, harbored Absolute Evil, and blasphemed against God."
Laurent listened, amused, as if enjoying a story. Surrounded as he was, escape wouldn't be easy—but that didn't seem to bother him.
"Is that so? What dreadful crimes indeed."
He sighed theatrically, feigning remorse.
The priest continued, his tone heavy with self-righteous certainty. "We angels cannot freely interfere with the mortal realm. We must borrow human vessels, as we do now. But don't get too proud. The world limits our power—it doesn't take it away."
As he spoke, every one of the golden-eyed men raised their right hands.
"[Descend—Boundary: Realm of Divinity]!"
Laurent's expression finally shifted.
Golden light exploded outward, swallowing the world.
BOOM—
The entire landscape vanished.
When Laurent's vision cleared, he stood in a vast white void.
Countless angels encircled him, wings unfurled, their golden eyes cold and merciless.
Then a great, echoing voice filled the heavens:
"Accept the judgment of the gods, Laurent—bearer of Absolute Evil!"
---
...
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This is a fan translation of 这辈子只单推贞德 by 不拿剑的剑圣 rights to the original work belong to the creator. Please support them by exploring their original work or sharing it with others if you can. Thank you for reading and supporting my efforts to bring this story to a wider audience!