Irreverence
Irreverence
After my teacher and Seneran left and only the order's people remained at the ruins, there was nothing particularly different.
The various trap-type magic tools Seneran had set up around the perimeter and the emergency funds she had left behind for unforeseen situations were the only changes that stood in for her. The order's people continued to begin each day with prayers offered in the same reverent manner, and they repeated a daily routine of investigating the ruins and loosening their bodies in preparation for battle in between.
Asilie didn't stay still either.
As if she intended to turn the entire forest around into a fortress, she had been building primitive traps and sniper positions almost every day, and every morning at dawn she woke me up and started showing me their locations.
"Isn't this too much?"
The traps were all so malicious that I could only describe them as filled with malice; I was surprised at when she had even made them, but even more unsettled by their unusual number, and when I reluctantly asked, Asilie instead shot me a sharp glare and asked back.
"In a sleeping forest against Demonfolk, there's no such thing as too much. Rather, isn't Eldi the one taking the enemies lightly?"
"To be honest, I did think they wouldn't be on the level of the Water Buffalo Horn I met at Levien."
Though there were those with such skills who had such misfit temperaments that they ended up on the fringes, there was no way they'd be dispatched here at such an absurdly perfect timing, right?
Even if the end of childhood that Epaga had spoken of had arrived, I thought it was probabilistically nonsense.
"But I don't think that's carelessness. If I ran into someone that strong twice in a row, it isn't because I was careless—it's because the world is twisted."
So this time I puffed out my chest confidently and spoke based on probability, but Asilie's response was far from pleased.
Not only Asilie, but once it became certain that there would definitely be attackers coming for us, Saintess Deoni's training approach changed drastically.
"If it were somewhere our help couldn't reach, I wouldn't know, but as long as we fight together, what's important now isn't defense. It's retribution against those who dared to insult the gods."
She threw away the defensive lessons that had been ongoing and completely changed the curriculum to focus on offensive Holy Arts.
The training, so intense that I almost thought I was placing excessive trust in the power of the divine dragon slumbering within me, which rose steadily like water from a healing spring, was enough to completely drain me, and just that made four days fly by in an instant.
Right then everything was going smoothly. Not to mention the procurement of ingredients, but the process of learning Holy Arts was the same. In the end, it seemed like offensive Holy Arts were the most suited to me.
By the third day, even the Saintess herself clicked her tongue at my adaptability and eventually added a remark.
"Even the high-flying inquisitors won't be able to use Holy Arts as diversely as Hero. Is it the Hero's power?"
"Uh... I don't know. It just comes easily to me."
Actually, contrary to my vague answer, the reason was clear.
Based on my firsthand experience over the past few days, Holy Arts were fundamentally based on imagination. The more concretely you pictured armor, a shield, or a barrier enveloping your body for defensive Holy Arts, the more solid it became; for healing Holy Arts, the more vividly you imagined your wounds healing, the better the effect.
Offensive Holy Arts were the same. Whether you created a shield and threw it, created a spear and threw it, dropped lightning, or imagined thorny vines that bound the enemy's feet and inflicted wounds, the more concrete it was, the more the effect resembled that image.
The imagination of a modern-day person who had lived a lifetime exposed to all kinds of mass media was transforming directly into an efficient weapon.
"In particular, I never expected the spear of light you just threw to explode. I'm delighted that I, too, can learn much from Hero through this training."
Magic existed, and there were madmen who could create craters just with throwing spears, but the idea of combining those was harder than expected. Even I wasn't creating something new; I was just referencing the plausible and easy things I had seen in comics, movies, or games to attempt attacks.
For now, my ability to draw on and use Divine Power was lacking, so the limit was clear, but it was obvious that as time passed, it would become a very great weapon.
◈
The mage who had repeatedly used spatial movement to track Seneran and the order's group opened his eyes, feeling a cold chill cover his face.
Because he had fallen asleep relying on poorly prepared camping gear and a campfire, his whole body ached. His haggard eyes, with deep dark circles etched in, seemed to speak for the fatigue he felt, but the captain, who had been leaning against the wall casually juggling two hand axes, sprang to his feet the moment he sensed his presence and asked cheerfully.
"Recovery finished?"
"Mm..."
Though his fatigue remained, his Magic Power had recovered, so the mage answered with a small nod.
One spatial movement required two days of rest. If they had stuck to exactly that and moved, there would have been no reason to become this gaunt, but members of the Human Race remaining at the arrival site after the spatial movement were the root of the trouble.
Because nothing had happened at the gate in the abandoned dungeon, they had let their guard down a little. If the members of the Human Race investigating the gate the orcs had used had reacted even a bit faster, the situation wouldn't have ended with just him becoming gaunt.
But the mage decided to think positively. Normally, he would have had to lie on the cold stone floor again without any camping gear, but thanks to the items the members of the Human Race had used, he could take a somewhat proper rest. A bit of the smell of blood was no issue at all.
"Alright, so where do we jump this time? Do we go straight into this so-called temple?"
"No. I'll tweak the coordinates a bit and drop us nearby."
"Why? Just do the same thing. It was fun."
The mage frowned at the captain, but soon realized he was speaking sincerely and erased his expression. Despite having caused a disaster by leading his tribe's combat forces like a detached force and clashing with Itisel, killing more than half of them, this guy's passion for battle remained unwavering.
Whether what lay ahead was a one-sided massacre, a close match, or being killed by an overwhelmingly powerful enemy, this battle maniac would clearly greet it with a smile. Wasting emotions on a guy with that kind of personality would only pile up useless fatigue.
"It's not that I'm disregarding your skills, but I don't want to take unnecessary risks. Even if we arrive nearby, I'll need another two days of rest to support you. You won't tell me to fight by throwing rocks, right."
"Hmm. That's true. We're short on numbers after all."
The only thing that had changed was a caution solely for completing the mission. For whatever contract he'd made, this madman who had laughed while slaughtering enemies even after driving his own tribe to their deaths had learned to precisely calculate for mission success.
To the mage, who had only assessed the opponent through documents with no direct connection, this was an inexplicable change and one he had no desire to understand.
Upper command had moved this pawn because his skills were suitable for the mission. That was enough.
"Let's move right away."
"You look like hell; you're not going to kick the bucket casting magic, are you?"
"Resting more won't make it better right now, and there's nothing wrong with the magic. It'd be better to move a bit faster, find a hideout, and rest there instead."
"If that's how it is, sure."
As if not needing to ask twice, the captain straightened up and clashed his axes together, and the other Demonfolk who had been sleeping all bolted upright.
"We're moving! Gather up! We'll have to rest another two days once we get there, so pack all the camping gear!"
There were no complaints. The subordinates moved quickly and gathered every bit of gear they could carry. Some even had the leisure to search the corpses' pockets and find a pouch of tobacco and a tinderbox.
The preparations were quickly finished, and the mage looked around at those gathered, then without any warning, activated the magic.
The bracelets on his wrists glowed blue and began greedily sucking the Magic Power flowing through his Magic Organ, causing the mage's brow to furrow involuntarily.
The sensation of his Magic Organ shrinking as the Magic Power drained away so rapidly was something he could never get used to.
Long ago, he had marveled at the magic tool that enabled spatial movement over quite a distance without a gate, and felt pride in the Demon King's Army that had created such a thing, but now it was nothing more than a faded memory.
"Here we go."
Unlike the memories of the past, amid painfully vivid agony, the space twisted with the feeling of his Magic Organ bursting. And before he could properly register the change, the surrounding scenery shifted, and the cave turned into a forest.
As soon as they confirmed the magic had succeeded, unlike the mage who collapsed, the Demonfolk, without waiting, tossed aside the gear they'd been carrying and spread out at regular intervals.
The captain looked with satisfaction at his men starting their search, then turned to the mage, who was half-sprawled on the ground panting, and asked.
"We came to the right place, right?"
"...Exactly right. If we move northwest from here, it's the temple."
Hearing the mage's answer, the captain smiled in satisfaction and took a deep breath.
"An ancient temple, where priests and a saintess meet their deaths. I wonder how Epaga will react."
He was also curious whether there was anyone there truly capable of opposing him, but that couldn't compare to the elation of committing a sacrilege of almost unprecedented scale at a historic moment.