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"Let's start with a spar right away."

Take it easy, since it'd been so long? That thought never even crossed my mind.

I needed to get my combat instincts back online, fast. My body had gone stiff from disuse, and I had to restore it to working order. I also needed to get used to myself with the new gear equipped.

"I think I'll need to go somewhere soon."

Everything else could be outsourced. But this one item — I had to go get it myself.

I picked up the Holy Relic and settled into my stance.

Of course, that alone wouldn't be enough for Andreus to accept a sparring proposal so readily. So I chose another option.

Threats.

"I'm sorry, but I'm going to threaten you with one thing. One week from now, no matter what happens, I'm leaving the Holy See. And I'm going to end up fighting a powerful enemy alone. No — I will fight."

In that instant, Andreus's expression changed. Even so, I didn't flinch.

"So please make me as strong as you possibly ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠can within a week, so I can come back safely."

Hearing that, Andreus simply stood there in silence. He said nothing — just remained still, perfectly calm.

I watched him for a moment without speaking. Then, on pure reflex, I swung the Holy Relic.

A thunderous crash rang out. A sharp jolt shot through my hands.

The massive staff that had been standing beside him was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠now gripped in Andreus's hands — and it was locked against my Holy Relic, unable to move.

"Having spent even a short time with you, Saintess, I believe I understand somewhat. Your stubbornness, that is. Even if I try to stop you, you will pursue what you desire."

"You know me well."

I was being pushed back. Andreus's strength was clearly greater than this — had he been holding back this whole time?

Even so, I had to endure. I shifted my stance little by little, ready to open distance at a moment's notice, yet careful not to let my form collapse.

And then—

"Very well. As the Saintess wishes. From this moment, I shall cast aside all restraint."

The moment Andreus's presence shifted, the spar began.

Andreus recalled their last spar. Then he overlaid it with the one unfolding now.

Different. Far too different.

It was hard to believe this was someone who had rested for over a month.

The sudden leap in physical ability was impressive, but that much fell within expected parameters. With the Goddess's aid, meaningful results were only natural.

What he hadn't anticipated was the change in her combat style.

Originally, the Saintess's approach had been to open distance and suppress with bombardment, then close in when an opening appeared, create a gap through melee, and fire again.

Now it was different.

First, her suppression fire had grown razor-sharp. There was no angle left to slip through — as if she had no blind spots at all. On top of that, the accuracy of her bombardment had risen to a startling degree. Combined, those two traits made ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it nearly impossible for even a skilled fighter to close the gap while dodging her fire.

Her movement had become far more agile as well. Even when he tried to close distance, she pulled away even faster.

And when she did allow an approach — in the past, she would have immediately entered melee, defending against attacks while either reopening distance or hunting for an opening.

Not anymore.

Defense with the Holy Relic was all but abandoned. At best, she caught attacks on her arms.

Under ordinary circumstances, taking a weapon blow on bare arms was little better than suicide. With luck, the arm would break; more often, it might be severed entirely. But the Goddess's Grace — the defensive power of the Holy Shroud — made that absurd feat possible. She could block at least once. That confidence was plain to see.

She would catch the attack on her arm, then without a moment's hesitation unload a point-blank bombardment into her opponent. A style of trading flesh for bone.

And the moment her opponent grew accustomed to that approach, she would switch straight into melee and throw them into confusion.

The flow of it all was natural. Organic. Seamless.

Experience earned from a single battlefield, combined with the new power granted by the Goddess — and she had grown this much. Without both effort and talent, such a result would have been impossible.

"A pity."

"…What is?"

"Had the Saintess been a Holy Knight, there would have been no need to deliberate over who should succeed me as Knight Commander."

The Saintess gave a hollow laugh.

"Saying that to someone who went down without landing a single clean hit isn't comforting in the slightest."

Of course, the winner of the spar was Andreus.

"I really thought I had a shot this time."

I'd adjusted my combat style slightly to match the new gear, which meant an information gap. I'd figured ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that alone should have been enough to land a few solid hits.

Not even close. There was a reason they called him the strongest Holy Knight.

Still, compared to the last spar — and to how I'd fought on the battlefield — I could feel the improvement myself. Remarkable growth. But the frustration lingered.

Well, since it's come to this, maybe I should set a goal for this week: make Andreus's knee touch the ground at least once.

I was thinking that as I finished my bath and was about to climb into bed when—

"Oh, that? It's nothing major. Just going to pick up one item."

"What choice do I have? The item has an owner. I'm going to have to take it by force, so fighting is inevitable."

There she goes again with the agitation and fabrication. I was about to fire back when the Bombardment Fairy spoke first.

"I've thought about it. But even if I want to, I can't."

Of course I wanted a peaceful solution. The problem was my identity. The item's owner hated the Church with a passion — even if I wanted to talk it out, it simply wasn't possible. No, they might fly into a rage even worse than I expected.

Unlike the Grand Fantasy where no Saintess existed, this world had one. Factor in the information I'd picked up during basic education, and—

"…I've got a bad feeling about this."

But that didn't mean I could skip the trip. Whatever else I left behind, this I absolutely had to obtain. It was the kind of item people called essential in Grand Fantasy. More than worth investing my time.

"Ah, I should at least inform the Holy See's leadership."

If I gave them advance notice, they could select Holy Knights for my escort, stock provisions, and make the various preparations. Opposition from the leadership? I had a trump card for that — the will of the Goddess. Of course, if I overused it, the effect might wear thin, and they might start to doubt me. So I planned to save it for when it was truly necessary.

"Alright. Strike while the iron's hot, as they say. Better tell them now."

I changed back into the Holy Shroud and stepped out of my room at once.

Late at night. The Holy See's council chamber.

A door that should have been locked stood open. Inside, the great pillars that upheld the Church had gathered — the Pope, the cardinals, the archbishops. To say their decisions shaped the future of humanity would be no exaggeration.

The sole officially recognized religion of the Empire. The only organization that possessed clergy capable of rapidly healing the wounded through divine power. And the Holy Knights under the Church's banner — called the Goddess's Sword — whose martial strength was indispensable to humanity's defense.

Whatever those who held such power discussed behind closed doors, it surely carried a weight ordinary people could scarcely imagine.

"It seems the Saintess has been steadily increasing the burden she carries of late."

Or perhaps not.

"It has not been long since she sustained grave injuries on the battlefield, and yet she appears ready to leave the Holy See once more and challenge a difficult trial."

At the Pope's words, the others' expressions grew grave.

The Saintess's overwork was not a matter to be taken lightly. There was precedent — a previous Saintess who, unable to bear the crushing weight of her responsibilities, had chosen death by her own hand. To prevent any such tragedy, the Church had a duty to support the Saintess in every possible way. Not merely material support, but spiritual as well.

"Is there no way to stay her path, even briefly? At this rate, she may reach her mental limit."

That a young girl who had never once set foot on a battlefield had gone to war was not something to be dismissed lightly. Continuously witnessing the deaths of countless people eroded the mind, whether one noticed it or not. Even for a full-grown adult, the battlefield was a merciless hell. The Saintess needed more rest — not for her body, but for her spirit.

That was the meaning behind the question. The Pope shook his head.

"The Saintess's resolve is exceedingly firm. Moreover, she invokes the will of the Goddess as her justification. Blocking her will be difficult."

Then one of the archbishops spoke up.

"What if we found her a companion of her own age?"

Every gaze turned toward him. Undeterred, the archbishop continued with full composure.

"Would not the mere presence of a peer she can talk to help her regain her stability?"

Come to think of it, the Saintess currently had no friends her own age. No — she barely had anyone she was close to at all. Aside from Andreus, there was virtually no one.

The Pope, the cardinals, and everyone present reflected on themselves. That they had failed to notice this fact was, they concluded, a shortcoming in their own spiritual cultivation.

But the self-reproach did not last long. Before dwelling on the mistake, they first needed to correct it.

"You are right. Then let us seek out someone suitable to serve as the Saintess's companion."

And so began the grand operation to find the Saintess a friend.

Of course, the person in question had no idea.