A/N: Hey everybody!

It's time once again… Backstory for humanity once again… goodie…

Jeanne D'Arc

An icon of France's history, and its Patron Saint. Ask the common man, and he might name Jeanne as one of, if not, the finest female warrior in all of history.

But.

That was far from the truth.

In reality, Jeanne never entered as a warrior. She was a tactician first and foremost. But she had the heart of one.

France, 1420's

In one of their meeting halls, Jeanne was discussing with her fellow commanding officers, but what was discussed, was one that she was not in any way pleased with.

"What do you mean I am not meant to fight?!" Jeanne asks in anger, as she stomps a sabaton-covered foot on the desk. "This battle could very well decide the future of our people. I am just as hardworking as any knight in our ranks!"

"Please! Calm yourself my dear sister…" Pierre speaks as calmly as he could, holding his hands up in a futile attempt to calm his sister.

"No, I will not calm down!" Jeanne snarls, teeth baring. "Fight after fight, you parade me off as nothing more than a maiden, whose sole purpose is to inspire our men, but I am well more than that!"

"My dear, calm down…" John II pleaded. "While you know me as one who will always support your ideas and agree that this battle will decide the very fate of our future, this battle is much bigger than you think. We simply cannot risk anything as this point."

"Connerie, John!" Jeanne slams her hands down. "Have you forgotten that it was I who managed to convince the dauphin, Charles to aid us in our campaign? Therefore, it is only fair that I participate in the battle as an actual knight, rather than be yet another symbol, like those damn prostitutes that a lot of you so frequent."

Before anyone else could say another word, Jeanne storms off, slamming the door shut as she left.

Jeanne's Living Quarters

Angrily, Jeanne discards her armor, tossing it about carelessly throughout her room, with little care on where these pieces land, and if they break anything or not.

"Used as a morale boost… what imbeciles!" Jeanne grumbles, as she paces back and forth her quarters.

"Ah, having the usual troubles, I see?" a voice starts.

"Michael…" Jeanne starts, before she sits on her bed. "Stop yourself right there. I don't want to hear it…"

Michael manifests, revealing himself to be a handsome man, with shoulder-length, wavy, blond hair, wearing shining, gold armor over a blue tunic, and boots, with a white, ruffled base. Michael had a gold shield strapped to his left arm, while a sword was strapped on to his side. His wings folded around him like a cloak.

The Archangel

St. Michael

"Oh come now, dear maiden. You know as they say: everything happens for a reason." Michael begins, as calm as he could. Compared to the other saints, Michael was always the one who was the most tolerable of Jeanne's outbursts.

"I know." Jeanne answers, annoyed upon hearing this again. "But I am clearly capable of such much more. Young as I may be, I am still a worthy member of this army."

"And right you are," Michael affirms, nodding. "But as everyone knows, your strategies are what lead them to get this far. Losing you so soon would lead to a catastrophic downfall."

Jeanne groans, before standing up. "Urgh… you really know how to crack me, don't you?"

Michael simply smiles. "You're not the first one that I had to deal with, and something tells me that you won't be the last…"

The battle that came afterwards would soon be known as the Siege of Orleans, when the city of Orleans, France was under the English forces. In 1929, thanks to Jeanne's strategic planning, the siege was broken, and the city was liberated.

"Fight on, my men!" Jeanne commands, as her banner stands tall, radiating a powerful aura. "The city of Orleans will belong to the French forevermore!"

The French army roars in unison as they charge forward, with Pierre leading the charge.

Following the battle, Jeanne's fame grew, as her strategic planning soon led to more victories for the French army, still as a symbol of inspiration, boosting everyone's morale.

"My dear Jeanne," John II started. "While you may have never held a blade in battle, you truly are an inspiration to those who wish to fight for a better tomorrow."

For once, Jeanne did not protest, nor did she shout. Instead, she smiled, as she looked on the new recruits, training in the ways that only a Frenchman could.

"I suppose. I suppose you are right my friend."

In May 1430, she was captured by the Burgundian. On May 29, 1431, she was tried for heresy, with her claims of visions from God being nothing more buy a front for Satanic views. She was burned at the stake on May 30, 1431.

"Do you seriously believe that we would trust your claims?" Demanded a man wearing red robes, with a matching mitre. "You are nothing more but a heretic, who taints the minds of many with your so-called 'Visions from God'. Why, who are you to say anything when you dress like a man?! You are nothing more than a corrupted little girl, who has been tainted by Satan himself."

The Bishop of Beauvais

Pierre Cauchon (France)

Jeanne only looks to the Bishop, before she calmly says. "My visions have helped turn the tide of battle, allowing France to further itself, and even restore the throne. If anyone has been corrupted by Satan, it is you."

The visions sent by God, were the last things she saw, before she breathed her last, her body consumed by the flames, as the symbol of the Cross clutched her chest tightly.

Valhalla Arena

Jeanne is at heavy breaths, she was still willing to fight, but she felt drained of energy.

Artemis saw all of this. She smiled as she said "You really have proven your worth, haven't you?"

Hrist changes from a buckler, back to a lance, before Jeanne charges. Artemis is barely phased, before she summons another orb.

"Moon make: Beam!" Artemis cries out, before a strong beam of light shoots out, racing towards Jeanne. Jeanne leaps over the light, before she continues charging.

Another orb is conjured. "Moon make: Thorns!" the orb smashes into the ground, before rows upon rows of thorns rise up, racing their way towards Jeanne.

Jeanne sees this, and tries to make a sharp turn, but the thorns are way too quick, and soon shoot up, and tangle her up in a trap.

Artemis starts walking forward. "Do yourself a favor, and admit defeat Jeanne. You should be proud of your efforts."

"What a move! What a move!" Heimdall comments. "Artemis' moon magic proves too much for Jeanne to handle! This might be the end folks!"

"Oh yeah!" Nike yells out. "That's how it is! Artemis has this victory already within reach!"

"Yes! Yes my mistress!" Atalanta cheers, along with her fellow huntresses.

"Brilliant I say. Brilliant!" Chang'e applauds. "Only a moon goddess like you can handle the true power of the moon."

As the gods in the stands cheer, the humans suddenly start to lose hope, for they know that the end was near.

Zeus and Ares start to cheer wildly, knowing that victory for them was within reach. The Dagda and Bathala pat each other on the back, assuring each other of the victory.

"Well, if it's worth anything, that human is a strong one. But alas, only few can claim to best Artemis." Amaterasu says.

"Indeed. As much as I despise Artemis, her battle prowess is worth admiring." Aphrodite nods.

Back to Jeanne, she continues to struggle out, but every time she does, she could feel the thorns tightening, digging deeper into her own skin, despite the armor.

'Damn it. Is this… how it is? Am I truly nothing more than a servant of inspiration? Even when close to death I can't even fulfill that… I. I'm sorry everyone…'

Jeanne slowly closes her eyes, ready to accept her death.

"JEANNE!" A familiar voice calls out.

"Is that?"

"It can't be…"

St. Michael stands tall and proud amongst the crowd of humanity, his aura brighter than it ever has been, desperately yelling "If this is how you're willing to go, then you are not you! The Jeanne I know would've already planned for this from the start, and damn it…"

St. Michael then raises his sword in the air, as he declares "I AM PROUD TO HAVE BESTOWED UPON TO YOU MY WISDOM!"

The French army cheers grow louder to their famed tactician.

Pierre calls out. "Come on sister, FIGHT ON!"

From pity, humanity musters together, as they call on towards their champion, their cries storming the arena to a near deafening point. To the gods, humanity has truly gone insane at that point.

With a tug and a pull, Jeanne musters all of her strength, fighting through the pain, as the coils of thorns fight to keep their grip.

"WHAT THE- Is... Is… Jeanne gonna do what I think she's gonna do?" Heimdall asks in pure shock.

Jeanne screams a battle cry, as a new burst of flames engulf her, before flames set the trail of thorn on fire, before they burst into sparkles of light.

The flames explode around the arena, before they flash away, revealing Jeanne, still alive and standing tall, trails of where the thorns pierced her skin trailing around, with bits of her armor shattered, revealing her red tunic. Her eyes now flaring with a bluish aura

Renaissance: Héroïne Patronne's

Jeanne twirls her lance, before pointing it towards the goddess, her gaze towards her, a slight smirk forming.

"Apologies for the delay Artemis, but it will take more than that to beat me. Are you ready?"

Artemis can only smirk. "I'd be insulted if it was." She then readies her bow into position. "Well then, Jeanne. Ready when you are."

A/N: And we're clear!

Apologies for the delay folks, but work decided to be a demanding during this time, which meant writing had to be on hold for the time being.

That, and Jeanne's overall history felt like a nightmare to handle, which is why I had to shorten more than I wanted to…

Anyways, Round 4 concludes next chapter after so long.

Until then, BYE!