The Bombarding Saintess (2)
I should start with a disclaimer, even if it ends up sounding like an excuse: I never once imagined things would turn out this way.
The moment I heard the word “bombardment,” the first image that sprang to mind was the magic that fit the term better than anything else.
That magic was Fireball.
Anyone who had never played Grand Fantasy would probably raise an eyebrow at the claim that Fireball was the spell most suited to bombardment. In most fantasy stories, after all, Fireball is basic magic.
Fair enough. But Grand Fantasy was different.
Fireball.
It would not be an exaggeration to call it the most frequently used spell in the entire game. It boasted the best firepower-to-mana ratio of any magic available. Yet the real reason Fireball cemented itself as the game’s signature attack spell lay elsewhere.
High-powered magic was normally classified as long-incantation, burning through several turns before it could even be cast. A Fireball that met certain conditions, however, delivered the raw force of those long-incantation spells while still counting as short-incantation magic.
In other words: excellent firepower you could fire immediately.
That is not to say every other spell was garbage. The developers of Grand Fantasy had deliberately built the game so that different situations demanded different magics. Even so, among short-incantation options Fireball simply hit the hardest, so players reached for it in almost every fight.
Given all that, picturing bombardment as a Fireball was hardly a stretch. I fully expected to gather holy power into a neat sphere and hurl it at a target the same way.
“Uh. Uh, uhhh?”
I had never imagined I would see a sight like this.
Blinking hard, I forced my brain to sort through what it had just taken in. The holy power that had clearly gathered into a sphere had been fired as a beam—wide enough to swallow one or two people without effort.
That was the first shock.
Then the beam punched clean through the training-ground wall and kept going as if the stone had never been there.
Second shock.
The thunderous roar that followed pushed me past shock and straight into pure terror. Beyond the gaping hole in the wall, everything the bombardment had touched was simply gone—swept away without exception.
All of it had happened in the span of a single breath.
I glanced back. The priest who had guided me here had collapsed onto the floor, legs apparently giving out under the sight. But I was in no position to worry about him.
“This is bad. This is really, really bad.”
Property damage was the least of it. The power was high enough that casualties were a genuine concern. Cold sweat broke out across my skin, and the hand gripping the Holy Relic began to tremble. Only then did reality start to sink in.
Couldn’t the status window have written things a little more clearly? This was not some ordinary shot. This was firing in the grandest style imaginable.
I rolled my eyes frantically, racking my brain for any way to salvage the situation, when the sound of running footsteps reached me. After causing a mess this size, of course people would come. In the end I chose the best option left to me.
I slowly set the Holy Relic down. Then I clasped both hands together. Finally I closed my eyes.
Goddess, please help me just this once. Can’t we pretend this never happened? Your saintess is one step away from becoming a criminal, you know? Please?!
“What’s going on! …Saintess? What in the world is this?”
Reality, however, was merciless. No amount of praying changed a thing. Only one method remained.
“I’m sorry. I did this. I never imagined it would have this much power. I really, truly messed up.”
I planted both knees firmly on the ground and confessed everything. Part of me wanted to claim temporary insanity, but a stubborn shred of conscience refused to let me.
So how did the whole affair end?
Fortunately—truly fortunately—there were no casualties. The Holy Knights’ training ground was designed from the start with every possible precaution so that people would not get caught in the destruction; no matter how sturdy you built it, the place was going to be wrecked regularly.
They also decided to construct an entirely new training ground just for me inside the Holy See. Of course I could easily imagine the repair bill for the old one plus the construction costs for my private range would be enough to make anyone’s breath catch.
Among the priests who had watched me obliterate the wall, a few wore especially dark expressions. I suspected those were the ones who handled the Holy See’s budget.
Still, no one had been hurt and I now knew exactly how powerful my bombardment was. Happy ending, right?
Naturally, bombardment itself was forbidden until my personal training ground was finished.
A few days later.
“That concludes today’s lessons, Saintess.”
“Thank you for your hard work.”
When I said so and bowed my head, the instructor in charge of my basic education immediately bowed back, determined not to be outdone.
“Not at all. Rather, the Saintess is so quick that the lessons finished without any real difficulty. At this rate we should complete the entire basic curriculum within a few days.”
Well, on the outside I was still a fresh young girl, but on the inside I was a guy who had already finished university.
“Then I shall take my leave.”
Watching the instructor hurry out while carefully gauging my mood, I could not help but sigh.
“It’s because of that incident, isn’t it?”
The day I cleanly blew a hole through the training-ground wall had spread to every single cleric in the Holy See. An accident of that scale simply could not be covered up, no matter how much anyone might have wanted to. Afterward, the priests who already treated me with awkward reverence because I was a noble saintess grew even more awkward.
“This is bullying!”
I tried shouting it out loud, but reality remained unchanged. In the end I decided to stop fretting over it. I had bigger problems to worry about.
Simply put, the ability I had received was badly balanced.
“The firepower is good. It’s good, but…”
It was too good—good enough that allies could easily get caught in it. On top of that, I could not freely adjust the output. When I received the Grace of Bombardment, all I learned was how to fire with the Holy Relic. Nothing about dialing the power down had ever been mentioned.
In a way that made sense. Common sense said you could not gently fire a cannon. Yet all of those issues were trivial next to the real problem.
“In the end, aren’t I just a glass cannon?”
What if someone dodged my bombardment and closed into melee range? I would simply have to take the hit. Why? Because I possessed zero techniques prepared for personal combat.
Even mages knew personal combat spells. Clerics at least had skills to protect their own bodies. Me? Nothing.
A big, beautiful beam weapon? Bombardment firepower so overwhelming it made your chest swell just looking at it? I loved powerful bombardment too. I was a descendant of the ancestors who built cannons and rocket artillery—jilryeopotong, balhwatong, jincheonroe, singijeon, hwacha, the whole lot.
Bombardment was good. I liked bombardment.
But a glass cannon that shattered the moment someone poked it was going too far. If I left this problem alone and the story kept moving, I could already see the future where I died without ever reaching the ending. And I had not the slightest desire to die.
“I need at least some self-defense techniques to protect my own body.”
So what should I do? The moment I asked myself that question, two options floated up in my mind.
The first was the one I desperately hoped for. If I could choose it, I would solve the problem without much hardship. But if the moment ever came when I had to pick the second option…
Just imagining it already seemed to bring cold sweat to my skin.
“…Goddess. Please.”
Please don’t make me choose the second option. Please. I really don’t think the second option is the way.
God is dead. If He were still alive, He would never have ignored a prayer that earnest.
Nietzsche. You were right.
I somehow managed to swallow the hollow laugh that wanted to escape from pure absurdity. Well done, me.
“S-Saintess. Are you all right?”
“…I’m fine. I’m simply ashamed that, as a saintess, I still cannot handle holy power this well.”
I said it while bowing my head to the priest who had tried to teach me a cleric’s self-defense skill.
“It was still plenty of help. May the Goddess’s blessing rest upon your devotion.”
“S-Saintess.”
Leaving the trembling-voiced cleric behind, I began to walk slowly away.
The first option—learning a cleric’s self-defense techniques—would have to be scrapped. Even if I had received the Grace of Bombardment, I was still a saintess, wasn’t I? How did it make any sense that I could not use a single technique available to ordinary clerics?
“I didn’t expect much, but I still thought I would be able to learn a few.”
Returning to my room empty-handed, I closed my eyes and began to think. In the end, did I have to choose the second option? The second option really did not feel right. Yet there was no other choice.
“I’m not in a position to be picky about cold rice or hot rice right now.”
I steeled my resolve.
Let’s go.
To the strongest Holy Knight.