In the Nasuverse (TYPE-MOON), I Created a Magical Family Lineage

The girl named Jeanne d'Arc first heard the voice of God at the age of fourteen.

That year, the English army had not yet begun its siege of Orléans.

That year, most of northern France had already fallen. The king was dead, and the crown prince had fled to Paris years ago.

That year, she dreamed of a burning angel, aflame with fire and oil, descending from the heavens. It told her that the English would suffer their first defeat on French soil since the war began.

From that moment, Jeanne's fame spread.

And from that moment, she began to see herself as a messenger of the Lord, destined to save France in accordance with His will.

She could hear voices others could not.

She possessed a perception beyond the reach of ordinary people.

Her invincibility on the battlefield, her ability to move and command freely, all stemmed from that power she received through divine revelation.

She had always believed the Lord resided in the heavens.

But upon first meeting Vic, her faith began to waver.

Because Vic looked too much like the angel in her dreams. And she had heard the nuns in her village say that the Lord created angels in His own image.

But it was only a suspicion.

One that soon faded during their daily interactions and easy camaraderie.

Vic was extraordinary.

But he could not possibly be the merciful Lord on high.

Vic knew nearly everything.

But he always called himself human.

If he were truly the Lord, how could she dare be so close to him? How could they become one another's eternal sword and shield?

During the Battle of Poitiers—

She confirmed her feelings.

And believed she had her answer.

But it was after that moment...

That the voice of revelation grew clearer.

As though she were getting closer to God.

The suspicion she had buried began to stir again.

Unconfirmed.

Or perhaps, unwilling to confirm.

Until now.

Until this battle of Normandy—this war wrapped in rebellion and fire.

She felt Vic's death and resurrection.

And the truth she had refused to face revealed itself.

Victoire—

Was her Lord.

...

[You watched as the girl stopped a few steps below you, full of reverence]

[You heard her words—they sounded like a question, but held certainty]

[She said you were the one who gave her revelation]

[You had long anticipated this]

[On the day you ascended in flesh to the divine]

[At the moment you achieved perfection on the side of Mystery]

This was, without doubt, a historical leftover.

It was something Lucan had investigated the very first day he met Jeanne.

Back then, in exchange for hearing the divine revelation she had received, he recreated the day she first heard it.

He couldn't hear the so-called voice of God that day.

But he had drawn one firm conclusion.

At least in this worldline—

The source of Jeanne d'Arc's revelation was not the omnipotent, self-existent deity worshipped by the Church.

Perhaps it was a Demon God.

But one lacking the scale and omniscience.

One sealed away, in decline.

Still—

Jeanne's revelations were real.

Her battlefield miracles were real.

To imitate God and bestow revelation—

Only one with a Demon God soul, like Lucan, could do so.

Add in the resemblance between the angel she described and his own appearance...

The scarcity of high-tier Mystics still active in France...

And Jeanne's lifetime of miraculous events—

Lucan had already pieced it together.

So, naturally, before this answer revealed itself...

He had rewritten her fate.

Thus, having changed her ending, he had to change everything else.

In a way—

Jeanne was right.

He was her God.

Not the first.

Not the only.

But that did not need to be said.

All he had to do was accept it.

That had always been his plan.

If sainthood couldn't be secured through the old system—

Then he would make Jeanne his Saint—the Saint of his Esoteric Church.

"Surprised?" Lucan looked down at the girl.

"A little… but not really."

Jeanne said seriously, "Vic has always been omniscient and omnipotent, hasn't he?"

"But now you won't even climb up to me." Lucan extended his hand. "Miss Jeanne d'Arc. Am I so unworthy?"

Of course not.

Absolutely not.

Whether or not he was her God, Jeanne's feelings for him—built through daily moments, and never fading—were real.

She didn't feel he had manipulated her life.

Because he had given her exactly what she wanted.

Revelation. Liberation. France.

And—more than all of that—him.

Hesitant, heart pounding with possible blasphemy—yet exhilarated, she reached out.

Lucan gripped her hand firmly and pulled her up.

Side by side, they looked out toward the city of Paris, once more brimming with life.

"How does it feel?" Lucan asked. "Standing beside a god."

Jeanne hesitated, then answered honestly:

"No different from before."

"Exactly."

Lucan smiled. "Before or after—I've always been human. I'll never forsake my humanity."

"So don't worry, Miss Jeanne d'Arc."

"Even if you can't read—"

"I won't mind at all."

"!?"

The illiterate Saint's face crumpled in shock.

Lucan reached over, smoothing her windblown hair.

Her face turned red immediately.

She realized the deeper meaning behind his words—

That he wouldn't mind meant—

"The earlier rebellion has proven that Charles—Charlotte lacks the ability to rule. She sent me a letter. She no longer wishes to be King."

"I respect her wishes."

"When the war ends, I will crown you. I will make you King of France."

As head of the French Church.

And as Lord of the Esoteric Faith.

Lucan would begin the schism of France's religious order.

"And after that..."

"We'll set a proper date... and at the Reims Cathedral where you are crowned—let's get married."

Everything he said before that was lost on Jeanne.

She only heard the last line.

She only heard—the rest of her life.

If this was the Lord's will.

If this was his will.

Then—

"I accept."

"I am willing, I desire it—"

"With all my heart."

...

On that day, a god descended to the mortal realm.

On that day, worldly evil became a ravenous evil dragon, devouring the corrupt nobility of France.

That year, that month—

The war ended.

The Saint of Orléans led the army.

And swept across France.

—The Hundred Years' War: Final Chapter

...

That was Fafnir—the Evil Dragon of the Age of Gods.

Summoned by Lucan, who, with his divine body, refined true divine ether through his magic circuits and opened a path to the Reverse Side of the Stars.

A gift—for the girl who would become King.

"When the noble class has decayed—"

"Then fight evil with evil—let the greatest dragon devour them all."