The Saintess Legend

"You filthy witch… Better to die than suffer this humiliation! I'll show you the spirit of England!"

"Spirit of England, my ass. You're the kind of coward who won't even take a piss toward Ireland."

Hundreds of corpses carpeted the plain in every direction. At the center of it all stood a warrior in pure white armor, half-drenched in blood. A massive white banner-spear, equally spattered, was driven straight through the thigh of the fallen enemy commander sprawled at her feet.

"Well, well~ How's it feel to be the one getting stuck for a change, after doing all the sticking yourself? Kind of a new experience, right?"

"Gaaah… Stop shaming me and just kill me already! Have you no honor?!"

"Kill you? Why the hell would I kill you? And I'm a commoner, you idiot. One more thing you should know."

She paused. Her opponent looked up at her with a flicker of confusion.

"From now on, I'm taking you prisoner—and I'm going to fuck you like a dog."

Horror flooded his face in an instant.

Yeah. That expression. I've been chasing you nonstop since the first time I laid eyes on you at Beaugency, just so I could see it. You really think I'm letting you walk away?

The moment Talbot's eyes went wide with terror, a bright window bloomed before her.

"Ready? Welcome the Non-Virgin of Orléans. I'll have England's Achilles sobbing and whimpering all night long."

"Somebody save me."

Dozens of windows crowded the ultra-wide monitors stretched across the desk. Beside a keyboard and mouse smeared with unidentifiable stains, empty cup ramen containers and beverage cans were stacked in a precarious tower.

"Hehehehe… Once this is done I'm clocking out. Gonna buy a pork cutlet, hit the jjimjilbang, wash up, and crash in the salt room."

Manager Nam at the next desk was already half-gone, hammering his keyboard and muttering nonsense. When was the last time anyone here left on time? About a week ago, maybe.

The company he worked for was a four-person software shop—and as the scene made abundantly clear, it was a black-company hellscape of the purest grade. The CEO had taken on an absurdly overambitious contract, then vanished with a cheerful "I'll leave the rest to you." The remaining three had been living at the office for a week straight, grinding through the work one piece at a time.

Fuck… I'd rather go back to the army at this point…

A thought so unthinkable it should never have crossed his mind floated through his head. Then a warning flared on the monitoring tool open on his screen.

"Wh… What the hell is this…!!!"

The program he'd just finished and barely shoved out the door on time had glitched out and wiped every last base configuration value. No backup.

"Aaaaaaaah!!! No!!!"

He was pounding the desk, holding a brief memorial service for the departed data, when a crushing pain slammed into his chest.

"Hey!! Call 911!!!"

As he collapsed from his chair, one last thought flickered through his mind.

Even so… I can't go back to the army… Not twice…

His vision slowly went dark.

What… a hospital…?

Everything in front of him was pure white. Dead and in heaven? Or a hospital, where they'd covered him with a white sheet after he died and somehow he'd come back?

He braced a hand on the floor and slowly pushed himself upright.

"…Straw?"

He pulled the cloth off his face and looked around. The floor was a mat of musty straw. The walls were stone daubed with mud—classic medieval construction.

What the hell is going on right now…

His head was spinning, but assessing the situation came first. Information first…

Squish—

"Uh…?"

As he stood and brushed the straw from himself, something heavy filled his hand. The texture was familiar—but it was not a familiarity that should have been coming from his body.

Profound wrongness. That was the first impression.

"Breasts…?"

He looked down. His feet were completely invisible. All that filled his vision were two enormous masses of flesh.

G… No. J-cup at least.

At this point it was obvious, but there was still one thing he had to check.

He reached down—

"My… my thing!!! My temple!!! Nooooooo!!!"

Gone.

The vital something that should have been in its proper place was nowhere to be found. What he found instead was something familiar that was very much not his.

He sat down hard and thought.

Somewhere around the Middle Ages, by the look of it. He didn't know the face yet, but he had become a woman of rather… generous proportions. Women's rights? Not a thing in this era.

So what was he supposed to do in this situation? No idea.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

What could he do? No idea.

Did he even know where he was? No idea.

So what now? No idea.

What the hell is this.

Joan of Arc? The Maid of Orléans? What kind of situation is this supposed to be?

A blue dialogue window floated in the air before her eyes. The kind of thing you saw in webtoons and novels.

She swept a hand down it, and the text scrolled as if it were a screen.

She still had no idea what was going on, but the important facts were these: she had become Joan of Arc, and this incomprehensible notification window…

"So is this supposed to be divine revelation or something? Because it looks like a quest popup to me…"

Something about the whole setup still felt off, but gathering information properly was the priority. She looked around and found a basin of water.

"Whoa… holy shit."

The face reflected in the water was a blonde, blue-eyed, transcendentally beautiful girl.

But… wasn't Joan of Arc supposed to have black hair…?

The moment the question formed, the blue window appeared again.

"…Excuse me?"

Apparently something out there was watching, handing out quests…

What else was she supposed to conclude?

At this point there was a line every transmigrator was contractually obligated to shout.

"Status window."

…Uh… whoever's watching…? So basically, in plain terms, this is a "fuck them to get stronger" kind of deal…?

Until the moment she'd opened her eyes, she'd been a middle-aged programmer…

And of all the ways to grow stronger… of all things… sex…

She sighed and hung her head—and once again the water in the basin reflected her. No: reflected this body. The proportions were breathtaking even on a second look. Truly…

Without thinking, she lifted a hand and stroked her chest. The sensation was startlingly vivid—far beyond anything she'd imagined. She gave one breast a light squeeze and felt a mass so enormous that one hand couldn't possibly contain it.

Her hand drifted downward of its own accord.

"Ah…"

The first touch of a woman's body was disorienting, and she was about to surrender to the strange pleasure of it when—

"Hoo boy… Who knew a prize like this was hiding out in the sticks! Sergeant! Over here!"

A soldier in red, warhammer in hand, shoved the door open and stepped inside.

A warning window flared before her eyes—red this time, not blue.

Her mind snapped clear. The situation resolved into sharp focus.

If she got caught here, she'd be raped, beaten, and sold off somewhere as a slave. She needed a way out—now.

Even as she thought, the soldier was closing in with a greasy grin. The look in his eyes was already full of a single, unmistakable hunger.

She backed away, scanning the floor, spotted a short iron rod, and snatched it up.

"Gonna try attacking me with that? Heh heh heh. Why don't you put that down and give this brave warrior a little comfort instead?"

Even from several meters away, an unidentifiable stench was already rolling off him. She flung the iron rod at him and sprinted forward. He swatted it aside casually with his warhammer and looked back—only she was no longer where she'd been.

"Night-night."

She put everything she had into a punch to the jaw. The soldier crumpled where he stood.

Up close the smell was even worse, but she had to endure it for now.

"Ah… fuck… life is really…"

She shut and barred the door he'd come through, then dragged the soldier by the legs over to the thick bed of straw and laid him out. With effort she stripped off the chain-linked skirt and trousers. Higher rank than expected, maybe… but this was no time for idle thoughts.

"Ah… let me think about this one more time… Do I really have to…"

"When it has to be done, you do it. That's who I am."

She waved the window away and steeled herself.

She pulled out the soldier's cock, then couldn't quite bring herself to grab it bare-handed—so she took his own hand, wrapped it around himself, and pumped. Even unconscious, the stimulation brought him slowly to hardness. The moment she had been dreading had arrived.

"Hhk… mmmph…!"

She straddled him and sank down. An unfamiliar, blunt pressure began to fill the place that had never been there before.

"Hah… ngh!"

Experiencing this from the opposite side for the first time, there was something she hadn't considered at all.

Ah… fuck… trying to put it in dry really does hurt like hell…

Gritting her teeth against the stinging pain in her pussy, she spat on her fingers and slowly rubbed her folds. Beads of sweat sprang up across her body, glittering in the strips of sunlight that cut through the slats. Her free hand wandered over her breasts of its own accord.

"Haa… haa… I hate this so much… so why…"

When ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠she pulled her hand away, her entrance was wet enough that a thin strand of slick stretched between her fingers.

Please, for the love of god, don't wake up…

One hand clamped over her mouth, she put her weight into it and pushed down again. A sudden give—and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠fierce pain stabbed through her lower belly.

"Nngh! I… really… hate this… nn…"

Having started, stopping now would just make it look like she'd wanted it. There was no backing out.

When the worst of the pain eased a little, she began to move her hips in small increments.

"Hah… hngh… haah… I hate it… I really hate it… so why…"

Slap… slap…

The steady wet percussion of flesh on flesh, and the moans she smothered behind her hand, filled the little shed.

"It feels… so… nn… hah… ah… ah-ah-ahn—ngh…"

A thrilling current raced through her whole body. Strength settled into flesh still slick with sweat. At the same time, a sticky, unpleasant, and yet strangely erotic sensation welled between her legs—slick and seed mixed together.

She rose and looked down at the Burgundian soldier still sprawled beneath her, eyes rolled back. She licked her lips lightly.

"I don't know who you are, but your quest taste is garbage—your rewards, though? Those check out. So what's the next quest?"