Saintess

Honestly, it was surprising enough that even Seneran and I—the ones directly involved—were caught off guard, so there wasn't a single person in our party who wasn't shocked.

Even the cultist bastards who had been charging at us full tilt were floundering in surprise, so it was safe to assume everyone shared a similar reaction—except for the one cultist who died without even a moment to be startled.

But I wasn't exactly overflowing with enough sensitivity to feel some sort of kinship over it, so I focused on retrieving the needle that had flown off somewhere I couldn't even see.

Thankfully, once I concentrated my senses, locating it was easy. The needle, retrieved at the same speed it had been launched, came flying back after punching a wind-hole clean through another cultist's shoulder on the way. And this time, Seneran and I focused on the fact that the reaction was different from the dramatic spectacle of the first bastard who had died.

To my eyes, the guy with the hole in his shoulder reacted exactly like someone who'd just been shot.

"Eldmia. Did you maybe pull something out when you retrieved it?"

"I did it exactly the same as when I launched it."

Since making even the retrieval process a threat had been the goal from the start, the needle moved at the same speed regardless of direction, spinning the whole time without distinction. I could guarantee it was spinning hard enough that if you held ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a blade against it, you could use it as a flint substitute.

"Then there's a high probability there was something different about the first one who got hit and died. Let's focus on finishing these bastards off for now."

When she'd been standing there dumbfounded, I'd found her endlessly unreliable, but seeing her snap back to her senses in an instant and make a sound judgment call started to restore my trust.

Fortunately, the cultists who hadn't grasped the situation properly couldn't pull themselves together enough to either flee or charge at us. Judging by the look of them, there was even a possibility they hadn't even considered that we had attacked them.

That was a good thing for me. Since things had already played out this way, I resolved to burn a little extra Magic Power and take them out fast. Once I pulled out the rest of the needles and sent them flying, the cultists dropped dead in a manner that could only be described as utterly helpless.

And so the last cultist also met his end in terror, but not a single one of them died the same way the first one had.

"Good god... what the hell did I just see."

Amid the snorting of horses suddenly bereft of their masters and fleeing in confusion, the first to open his mouth was, as always, Sen. And right after him, Mr. Gin stroked his chin beard and spoke up.

"That was wrapped up so easily it boggles the mind. And for something like that, you don't even look particularly tired."

"Well... that's how it goes, I guess. Though even I didn't expect the outcome to be this absurd."

While I answered, awkwardly scratching the back of my head for no real reason, Seneran wasted no time advancing toward the cultists' corpses. It was obvious she wanted to confirm ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠where the discrepancy in destructive power had come from, so I followed after her. Then Rellie came chasing after us, her eyes gleaming with an intensity that was somehow even more burdensome than before.

"That needle-like thing, was it a magic tool? The feeling of it was really fascinating."

"Yeah, well. I heard it was a collaboration between a dwarf craftsman and Seneran. But the feeling was fascinating?"

"Hardly any Mana was detectable, but there was this feeling, the same as when a bard's chant activates? But so faint you wouldn't notice unless you focused on it in advance... Ah, I wonder if I'm making any sense."

Wow. I didn't have a damn clue what she was talking about, but she picked up on it with zero information. Honestly, it was just as fascinating as the fist-sized hole punched through that cultist's chest.

Of course, fascinating was one thing, and the fact that the theory Seneran and I had predicted while designing the magic had hit the mark precisely was extremely satisfying. Now I had an excuse that would hold up no matter what, even if I openly manipulated Magic Power and launched needles in front of people.

"No, I understood. I met a chant user once when I was in the Empire."

"Oh my, really?"

"Yes. I remember she was from Bolta Bay. She sang while fighting, and I couldn't figure out what the hell kind of person she was supposed to be."

"Ahaha! If she's from that region, that tracks. There's a famous female warrior there known for her chant. It's fame that's practically infamy, but they say her skill is nothing to scoff at. In her home country they call her the Singing Spear, and her enemies call her Siren, or so I hear."

"...Hahaha."

Siren? The same woman who got one-shotted by Zeke and then lost to me—she was that famous?

I had a brief moment of cognitive dissonance, but I just laughed it off for the time being. It wasn't like the gossip from back then had spread all the way to Itisel, and if that was the case, there was no need to bring it up for nothing.

"Eldmia. I think I've figured out the reason."

"Oh? What is it."

As we arrived chatting about nothing much, Seneran pulled something from the corpse of the first cultist who had died and showed it to us.

"This."

"Even if you say 'this,' to my eyes it just looks like an ordinary scrap of iron plate."

"It's a magic tool with a protective magic enchantment. It protects the wearer from projectiles, and as you can see, it's a fairly high-grade one."

"...And what does that have to do with this bastard's spectacularly ridiculous death?"

I only let it slide because Rellie, who had followed along, was nodding in vehement agreement, but no joke, it was just a tiny iron plate that didn't even look half the size of my palm. I couldn't even tell where I was supposed to look to see that it was obviously a high-grade item. I didn't doubt Seneran's claim that it served as some kind of arrow-warding charm, but even believing that didn't make it seem connected to the situation we had witnessed.

"The cause is that your needle didn't pierce the barrier the magic tool deployed—it tore it apart."

"...I'm asking because I've never properly seen a bastard using one of those. Under normal circumstances, what was supposed to happen?"

"The projectile was supposed to be deflected. Or it should have fallen away together with the barrier as it shattered. Even if it pierced through, a magic tool of this caliber shouldn't have allowed any real damage to get through."

The magically constructed barrier had blocked my needle, but it hadn't stopped its charge. And before the torn barrier could even fully dissipate, the needle had punched through the user's chest and blown out a wind-hole.

Even hearing it secondhand, it was a completely absurd story, but Seneran concluded her explanation with confidence.

"Normally, the one with the hole in his shoulder here is about what you'd expect. Not that it changes the fact that its performance is utterly vicious, mind you."

She seemed to decide there was nothing else worth seeing, and after nearly tossing the iron plate she'd been holding onto the floor, she handed it off to Rellie, who was gesticulating wildly about wanting to examine it, and moved on to another corpse. Leaving Rellie, who was inspecting the iron plate, behind, I followed her. The wounds on the other corpses I examined along the way were certainly all roughly the same.

After we'd finished inspecting the wounds on the last cultist's corpse, we looted every one of their pockets and returned to the campsite. We weathered the barrage of questions from the rest of our party, and only after holding a secret lesson before dinner were we finally able to voice the topics we hadn't been able to discuss with Rellie present.

"It was definitely because of the Magic Power."

"The first one who died?"

"Yeah. A protective magic spell being torn apart—not even a ballista shot would do that. I'm certain it's a situation where ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠your Magic Power caused some kind of repulsive reaction in that brief moment."

"...Have you ever heard any stories about similar cases on the battlefield?"

Seneran rested her chin in her hand and fell into thought for a moment, then tilted her head with an ambiguous expression.

"I'm not sure. Now that I've seen that, there are a few things that make me wonder if they might have been cases similar to this one... but it's hard to conclude it's exactly the same phenomenon."

"Those guys are probably pulling some kind of trick with their weapons too, just like me, so shouldn't it be the same type of case?"

"...No, it's different. Didn't I say earlier? Whether it's magic cast with Mana or magic cast with Magic Power, the fundamental core is likely similar."

A hesitation I'd never seen before surfaced on her face, which until now had always been calm. After mulling it over for a brief moment, Seneran eventually let out a short sigh and looked me straight in the eye as she continued.

"No matter what you do to a weapon, in the end, it all comes down to an enchant. Even if we're talking about Demonfolk, they wouldn't be able to replicate the skill of cloaking a weapon in your own Magic Power and continuously making it spin, the way you do."

"...Excuse me?"

"I'm saying you're an unusual case. Not just because a human is using Magic Power, but in the way you operate that Magic ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Power as well."

What the hell was this out-of-nowhere bombshell? I had precious little to say in response to Seneran casually dropping that revelation.

"No, why are you telling me something that important just now?"

It wasn't like not mentioning it had caused any particular problems, but was there any particular reason to keep it quiet either? I barely managed to keep my eyebrows from shooting up toward my hairline as I waited for an answer, and Seneran made an awkward face.

"I considered it not especially important, actually. I can't use Magic Power, and I can't see it either, can I? I approached this assuming there might be Demonfolk somewhere out there that I don't know of who use Magic Power the way you do. Seeing that just now confirmed it for me. If Demonfolk capable of that were common, the kingdom's front lines would have been turned to scorched earth long ago."

She meant she'd only become certain it wasn't normal after witnessing the destructive power firsthand. Well, it was an obvious point—she was human, just like me, not a member of the Demonfolk. I'd briefly forgotten that the only thing that made her different was that she'd been so generous with her advice, giving her knowledge a bit more depth than most.

"So, what I'm asking is this. Do other methods of operation exist, like what you use with the needle? If they do, I'd like to learn about them this time."

And because of that, it was only when I saw Seneran's eyes gleaming with a scholarly fervor far calmer than her usual excitement that I belatedly realized I'd been making a pretty massive mistake.

This person had absolutely no idea that I could coat my sword in Magic Power and slice things up, or that I knew how to perform physical enhancement. Because there hadn't been an occasion to show her yet. If there'd been a fight, that would be one thing, but this was the first battle since she'd joined us, so the opportunity hadn't even existed.

I'd naturally assumed that since I'd been researching Magic Power, she'd know how I used it... but only after hearing her reaction and what she'd just said did I begin to suspect that I might have been operating under a huge misconception.

The Demonfolk I'd met in the abandoned dungeon had enhanced its body with Magic Power, so I'd assumed all Demonfolk used Magic Power to strengthen their body the way I did.

But was that really true?

If it was, then why had that bastard been pushed to the brink of exploding and dying, only to be forced to release his enhancement at the very end? Until now, I'd brushed it off as just some cliché you see all the time in comics—pulling out a power beyond your level. But was that really the case?

"Uh... I'm a sword guy, you know?"

Thanks to the questions suddenly surfacing, even opening my mouth became exceedingly cautious, almost without my realizing it. To be honest, an unsettling anxiety started creeping up on me—the thought that maybe I'd been living far too complacently about my own abilities until now.

"Right? Why?"

"Looking back, I think because you knew about my Magic Power, I just took it for granted and never mentioned it... but just like other people enhance their bodies with aura, I enhance mine with Magic Power too?"

"......"

"And using Magic Power to make the needle spin is only one part of it. I can also coat my sword in Magic Power, like plating it. And depending on the amount of Magic Power, the cutting power differs... quite a lot."

Seneran's expression after hearing my answer was a sight to behold.

It was like... the look a normal person gives someone who earnestly believes the earth is flat.

Thanks to that, I could tell from that expression alone that I'd been fighting in a way that had no goddamn foundation whatsoever.