"Are you done yet?"
Standing in this vast white space, Xu Luo'ang stared impatiently at the large screen in front of him.
On it was a long list of historical figures. As a doctor who'd never touched anime in his life, to him they were just a bunch of great people from history.
Ever since arriving here, the voice kept nagging him to choose just one to "oshi." Completely baffling. Something about correcting irregularities in history?
Besides, he clearly remembered dying—losing his life saving people from that fire. Even now, he still had no idea why he'd come back to life in this strange place. Sure, it felt like those reincarnation scenarios from novels—but he had no intention of becoming the world's strongest sword saint or anything like that!
The last thing he remembered was staying behind after sending others out. Thinking back, he felt a strange peace. At least he'd saved them.
[Just select one.]
"I've told you over and over—I have zero interest in these historical figures. History's history, there's nothing for me to correct! Besides, why the hell would I want to single out King Arthur or these other dudes anyway?"
[Just select one.]
The same answer again.
"Look, why can't you just let me quietly rest in peace as a people's hero? I've lived a fulfilling life, no regrets, and no grand dreams of becoming some kind of god."
[If no selection is made, one will be randomly assigned in one minute.]
"You're insane, right?!"
Frustration surged up. Glaring at the names on the screen—Medusa, King Arthur, Miyamoto Musashi, Ushiwakamaru…
All these names either belonged to beefy dudes or mythical monsters—he couldn't pick any of them.
Then, suddenly, the name "Saint Jeanne d'Arc" caught his eye.
The Maid of Orléans, huh? Well, she certainly was legendary enough.
Looking left and right but unable to find anyone suitable, watching the countdown ticking on the screen, he helplessly tapped the name.
"Although I still have no idea what you mean by 'oshi,' if it's something like hitting on girls, I'd never do something so morally bankrupt!"
Besides, how could he, an ordinary guy, ever assist someone like the Holy Maiden?
[Selection successful.]
Unfortunately, no time was given for further thought. As white light faded, the voice echoed for the last time:
[Whether you act or not is up to you.]
---
1423.
In a rural village called Domrémy, located near the border between Champagne-Ardenne and Lorraine, France.
Laurent Moreau numbly swung his hoe, working the fields.
If he had to describe how he felt right now, it would be: "Fuck my life. Fuck it twice."
He'd been reincarnated into this world for eleven years already. Ever since becoming conscious, all he'd done was farm.
That so-called main god? After throwing him here, he hadn't said another word. Instead, he'd given him something resembling a system.
Unfortunately, it wasn't the leveling-up type he'd imagined, nor did it tell him anything specific about correcting history.
The system provided exactly two quests:
[Path of Heroism]
[Path of Evil]
He couldn't even access the "Path of Evil" yet. The Hero's path was available, though.
The quest description was ridiculously simple:
[Train your body. When the miracle descends, support Jeanne and fulfill everything.]
That's it. Nothing else.
How was a normal guy like him supposed to support Saint Jeanne?!
Besides, the Jeanne he knew right now was nothing more than an innocent twelve-year-old village girl.
And about this "train your body" thing—it said nothing about how or how much. All he could spare time for each day was barely jogging around the village.
Historically, Jeanne's village was surrounded by Burgundian territory. So what, after training, was he supposed to single-handedly fight off hundreds?
This system was clearly throwing him here to suffer.
Thwack!
Lost in thought, Laurent was suddenly smacked hard on the head.
"You brat! You even daydream while doing this? Jacques was right about you—you can space out anywhere, anytime."
The burly man beside him spoke roughly, shirtless and carefree.
"I'm watching you closely today, so don't even think about slacking."
"Heehee~."
Nearby came muffled giggling. Laurent didn't even have to guess—he knew it was the blonde-haired girl next to him who'd snitched.
Completely different from his imagined image of the Holy Maiden of France.
He remembered clearly from his history classes—and from the paintings—she definitely wasn't this pretty. Or maybe his past aesthetic differed from the French. Now that he was French himself, perhaps he had come to appreciate her looks?
Either way, historical paintings definitely hadn't depicted this vibrant young girl with flowing golden curls.
But reality was undeniable.
Jeanne d'Arc. That was her full name. He would never forget someone he'd specifically studied, though clearly the Jeanne before him was different from the historical figure he'd learned about.
Because his parents enlisted when he was very young, they'd entrusted him to Jeanne's family. Meaning, somehow, he'd become childhood friends with the girl destined to change France's history. Fortunately, his given name remained the same as his previous life, though his surname differed.
He sighed helplessly.
"I was just contemplating some philosophical issues."
The burly man snorted dismissively, and Jeanne's voice rang out:
"Uncle Norse, he's just trying to slack off again."
"Jeanne, I even shared my lunch with you yesterday. Was that not enough to stop you from selling me out? My God, is the God you pray to every day teaching you to be this ungrateful?"
Domrémy was surrounded, and villagers weren't exactly living comfortably. Jeanne often gave away her food to the poor, and Laurent had frequently seen her hungry. A few days ago, he'd even saved his lunch for her. Honestly, he still felt uncomfortable thinking about it—his food had indirectly gone to the poor.
Hearing his words, the girl looked a bit guilty.
"Next time I can share some of my lunch with you…"
"You mean bread with your saliva?"
He teasingly glanced at her. Jeanne's cheeks flushed slightly.
"I-I'll tear it off with my hands!"
The big man finally had enough. "Always finding excuses to slack off. The d'Arc girl wasn't wrong about your smooth tongue."
At this, Laurent put on an extremely wounded expression, staring at Jeanne dramatically:
"Jeanne, is this how you always talk about me behind my back?"
He theatrically clutched his heart.
"My god, my heart hurts so deeply."
But Jeanne didn't seem to mind at all—rather, she covered her mouth and laughed softly.
"But it's true, Laurent. Sometimes you really do leave people unsure how to deal with you."
"Shouldn't a future holy maiden from history gently smile and volunteer to do all my work for me?"
"You're saying weird things again."
Jeanne gave him a helpless look.
"You'd better hurry up, Laurent. Otherwise, your dinner tonight won't be as plentiful as usual."
"Yeah, yeah, I got it."
Desperately waving his hand, he went back to burying himself in farm work.
Jeanne stood nearby, hesitating slightly, as if she wanted to help—but ultimately didn't.
Just then, someone rushed over shouting urgently:
"It's terrible! Those Burgundians are here again! They said if we don't provide ten carts of food within three days, we'll regret it!"
Both Laurent and Jeanne turned immediately.
Laurent's expression grew even darker.
Historically, Jeanne's village was raided multiple times during her youth. One incident even involved a devastating fire, all before she turned thirteen. Now, she was exactly one year away from thirteen.
Demanding ten carts of food… Could this be that raid?
Damn it. There was no way they could gather that much food in three days. Clearly, it was just an excuse for extortion.
Outside the village, over a hundred Burgundians surrounded them. If he remembered correctly, historically, they were also devout Catholics. Would Jeanne—as the saint chosen by God—be able to persuade them through love?
Forget it. Love couldn't fill anyone's belly. Better think of a way to drive them off instead.
---
T/N: Jeanneeee my second favorite saber face...