Second Round on the Battlefield (2)

There was nothing particularly remarkable about the letter.

It opened with the usual well-wishes directed at me—how are you doing, take care of yourself—then went on to describe how she was faring back at the Imperial Palace, and how she hoped we might meet again soon.

"No news is good news, I guess."

Even as I said it, a strange unease settled over me. Feint east, strike west. I'd figured the odds were high that they'd hit us from the inside the moment every eye in humanity was locked on the front lines.

Right now was when the capital's defenses would be at their most vulnerable, after all.

The Church knew that too, which was why—unlike usual—they hadn't committed the entire Holy Knight Order to the battlefield. They were probably sweeping the Imperial Capital and the Holy See for any sign of trouble with ruthless thoroughness.

But a full month passed without incident, and the demons had begun to pull back, little by little.

So then why launch a large-scale offensive in the first place?

"…Sugar. I need sugar."

My brain wasn't working. Living day in and day out with blood and violence for company had left my mind rigid as stone.

…She wasn't wrong, honestly.

Lately I'd been collapsing into sleep the second I got back to camp. More precisely, I'd gotten used to that routine.

And yet here I was, still awake and grinding through it—so of course a brain that already wasn't turning over was grinding even worse.

Right. If I was going to tear through the battlefield again tomorrow, early sleep was the correct call.

"Fine. I'll get some rest. In the meantime, do me a favor and think about what the Demon King's objective might be."

"I believe in you! My high-performance AI!"

I shut my eyes so fast I never caught whatever she said next. Eh—probably just grumbling.

The moment my eyes closed, the exhaustion seemed to rush in all at once.

…Good night.

Patricia, a newly inducted Holy Knight, was full of regret.

Ordinarily the Holy Knight Order never sent rookies to the front. Lack of experience was the stated reason.

Patricia, however, had pushed hard to go. Even when her seniors tried to talk her down, her resolve never bent.

There was only one reason. She had heard the story of how Saintess Maria had driven back one of the Four Heavenly Kings on her very first battlefield.

Everyone who had shared that field with the Saintess spoke with one voice: they had witnessed a miracle. They boasted of catching a glimpse of the power the Goddess herself possessed.

They said they were grateful to have seen that sight before they died. They said they owed their safe return from the battlefield to the Saintess's presence.

Patricia had been insanely jealous. It felt like she'd been shortchanged on half a lifetime. She was a Holy Knight too—so why had she never been allowed to see that beautiful spectacle?

She wanted to stand present at the moment a mountain was blown away, at a feat no human should ever be able to achieve.

So she would stake her life on it. Even if it cost her life, she would fight on the same battlefield as the Saintess.

Patricia had believed that was courage.

Now she knew better. That hadn't been courage. What she had shown everyone wasn't bravery—it was reckless folly.

"……Hah, hah."

To survive, she had no choice but to stick tight behind the senior Holy Knights. The instant she drifted away and found herself alone, it was as good as a death sentence.

A month. That was how long she had lived side by side with death. The knowledge that death crouched at your elbow ate away at a person's mind.

Why—why could the seniors fight with such fearless courage? She couldn't understand it. And still she had to move. She had to swing her sword.

Because the moment she stopped swinging, she died—and she had learned that the second she set foot on this field.

"Patricia!!! Move!!!!"

"Y-Yes!!!!!"

She wanted it to be over. She didn't want to die. Those two feelings existed side by side. If there hadn't been a corpse sprawled next to her—if her survival instinct hadn't been screaming—she would have given up on everything long ago.

How had she survived a whole month? How many times had she brushed against the brink of death?

It already felt like a distant past.

Survive. Just survive.

"……Huh?"

In that instant her body was flung into the air. Shock crashed through her a heartbeat later.

She had been caught in a demonic beast's charge.

She had held on this long. Apparently luck had finally decided it would go no further.

Her body lost the fight against gravity and slammed into the ground, bouncing limply off the dirt. Even so, she healed herself with holy power in the same breath and shoved herself upright—a rookie's response, but still the swift reaction of a Holy Knight.

And then she noticed the sky had gone dark.

"Ah."

She turned her head—and saw it. A massive demon, its enormous greatsword raised high overhead.

She couldn't win.

She couldn't block it.

This was death.

This was the price of her reckless folly. The cost she now had to pay.

"I don't—?!"

The greatsword came down before she could finish the words.

"Huh?"

And in that same instant, the demon's entire upper body was simply scoured away. Without so much as a death cry, the creature that had been death itself to her was gone.

The death was so hollow that Patricia's brain refused to process it. At the same time, the demons around her broke into a run.

She wasn't the target. Their ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠aim was a point a short distance from where Patricia stood.

Every last one of those charging demons was a named powerhouse. Each of them was a walking hell for the soldiers on this field.

And yet those same beings died, one after another, with absurd emptiness—without even leaving a corpse behind.

"……Ah. Aaaah."

Only then did Patricia register the person who had saved her life. She saw her.

"S-Saintess…!!"

Having swept the demons aside as if it were nothing, the Saintess spotted Patricia, ran over at once, and held out her hand.

"Ah—are you all right? If you can't stand, take my hand."

"I-I'm fine!"

She said it while scrambling hastily to her feet. A mere Holy Knight could not commit the discourtesy of leaning on the Saintess's hand.

But wasn't ignoring the Saintess's consideration also a discourtesy? For a second Patricia nearly spiraled into panic.

She wouldn't have, if she hadn't spotted the demon closing in on the Saintess from behind.

She snapped back to herself and reset her grip on her sword. She was just about to move, driven by the single thought that she had to block it—

The demon had approached from a perfect blind spot without the slightest hint of presence. That Patricia had even noticed it at all was pure luck.

But the Saintess turned as if it were the most natural thing in the world—lightly, elegantly, like a dancer—and casually knocked the blade aside.

"Fortunately, it doesn't look like you're badly hurt."

And once more a condensed cluster of light lanced out and swallowed the demon whole.

Naturally, not even a corpse remained.

It was a strength that left onlookers stunned. A strength so absolute that jealousy couldn't even take root—only awe.

How could a girl younger than herself possess power like that?

Patricia already knew the answer. Because she was the Saintess. Because she was the Goddess's incarnation. Because she was the one who received the Goddess's love in full.

But it hadn't felt real. Not until she saw it with her own two eyes.

"Please take care of yourself. Stay sharp. Protecting people is good—but you have to live first."

With that, the Saintess scattered a few more barrages across the surroundings, then ran off somewhere else. Probably to save people just like her.

Watching the Saintess's retreating back as she hurried on, Patricia gripped her sword tight.

Fear no longer existed in her heart.

"……Maybe I shouldn't have saved them."

"I know. I know, but ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠seeing it this directly just feels weird, okay?"

Who in their right mind would feel good about being told their worship was near-fanatical? I sighed and turned the new function over in my head.

"Three times a day, huh."

The usage limit was a shame, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠but the complete lack of demerits was a clear advantage. I could even stack it with Limit Release to push the firepower to the absolute max.

The real question was whether I could ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠control how much the firepower or range increased. If I could, it was an excellent function. Even if I couldn't, it still wasn't a bad one.

That didn't stop the disappointment from lingering, though.

"What I wanted most was a firepower-control function, you know."

Granted, I'd never once felt short on holy power while firing barrages. Even so, my current firepower was excessive—to the point it felt like a waste of holy power.

If I could just dial it down to something like a Fireball, I'd have nothing left to ask for.

Anyway. Time to test the new function once.

One shot for range, one for firepower. And the last one to check whether stacking it with Limit Release added the boosts or multiplied them.

"All right, let's give it a tr—?"

……Wait.

"The enemy is beginning to retreat!!!"

"We won!!!!!"

"There may still be a trap! The commander's orders are that pursuit of fleeing demons is forbidden for now!! Do not act rashly, all of you!!!"

…Huh? I haven't even tested the new function yet?

But the battle was already winding down.

While I was still struggling to fully process the situation, Andreus approached me.

"Well fought, Saintess. This Andreus has most certainly witnessed your gallant figure. ……Saintess? Saintess?!!!"

"Let go of me this instant! Andreus! You're just going to let those vile demons walk away?! They need three barrages! Three!! Just three shots is all I'm asking!!!"

No. My sandbags were getting away. Perfectly free, no-consequences sandbags I could blast to my heart's content—and they were pulling out of range.

Three shots. No—even one. Just let me fire one……!!!!

Unfortunately, Andreus did not let go of me for anything.

……God is dead.

You little—!!!