Private Training Ground (2)

“For today, as I informed you earlier, we will proceed with a mock battle in which bombardment is permitted.”

So the day had finally come.

“……Are you sure this is really all right?”

When I voiced my lingering worry, Andreus answered in a booming voice.

“Do not concern yourself! I am rather confident in my durability, so fire away without hesitation!”

Even if he said that…

I had already confirmed the firepower of my bombardment. This was not a problem that toughness alone could solve.

But my opponent was the strongest Holy Knight in history. He might still have some hidden ace up his sleeve.

“All right. Still, I’m worried, so I’ll say it. Don’t die.”

Hoping to shake off that last bit of anxiety, I said as much. Andreus grinned and answered with a sly edge.

“For the Saintess’s sake, I must never die.”

“Then here I go!!”

With those words I immediately leveled the muzzle of the Holy Relic at Andreus.

And without a moment’s hesitation, I fired.

Sacred power condensed in an instant and shot forward as a thick beam of light.

It was a bombardment with enough force to easily obliterate the walls of the training ground. Even Andreus would take a critical hit if this connected.

If it connected, that is.

Someone of Andreus’s caliber would easily dodge a shot fired from this distance.

I knew that from personal experience—having been on the receiving end of his strikes. His physical abilities were more than capable of it.

This ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠bombardment had been meant as a deterrent against his approach from the start.

The first move to seize the initiative of the fight.

So…

“Andreus?!”

I had never imagined he would take the shot head-on.

W-why?! Did he deliberately take it? Was he trying to show me it was fine even if he got hit, because I was fretting so much?

Then I fell into even greater confusion.

He was fine. Not a single wound.

Of course, the armor he wore was melted and shattered in places—a complete mess.

Yet even so, there was no injury on his body.

Only then did I understand where Andreus’s confidence had come from.

“I see. You healed yourself with sacred power the instant the bombardment hit you. I never expected the healing to be that fast.”

Recovery on that level was practically immortality.

While I was inwardly pouring out admiration for the strongest Holy Knight, Andreus opened his mouth.

“Saintess. It seems there has been some misunderstanding. I did not use sacred power.”

“……What?”

“When I took your bombardment head-on, I felt pain, yet my body suffered no damage whatsoever.”

“What?!!”

What the hell was that supposed to mean?!

The mock battle was halted at once. Instead, we began tests to properly understand the Grace of Bombardment.

After firing at various targets, the facts we uncovered were as follows.

First: when a person was hit by the bombardment, it hurt enough to kill them—but they did not die.

Of course, smashing someone with the Holy Relic itself could still kill them. Physical bombardment apparently did not share the same exception.

Second: any non-human being hit by the bombardment died. Animals and plants alike.

Third: inanimate objects struck by the bombardment were completely swept away. This included armor worn by a person.

As for human corpses… I had no idea. Even for a test, hauling in a corpse and blasting it felt wrong. It would be desecrating the dead.

And finally: what happened when a demon was hit by the bombardment? Still unknown.

I had never fired at a demon yet. Once I eventually reached the battlefield, I would be able to confirm it then.

“That’s about it for now. Still, this is a relief. At least I don’t have to worry about friendly fire wiping out allies.”

Of course, getting hit still hurt like death, so it was best to avoid ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it whenever possible.

In the end, both today’s mock battle and shooting practice were postponed entirely to tomorrow because of the tests.

I let out a long sigh and flopped onto the bed.

Yeah, it made sense when you thought about it.

Sacred power. The holy force the Goddess bestowed for the protection of humanity.

Sacred power manifested only in those of noble heart, who possessed a thorough spirit of service to mankind and deep faith in the Goddess.

And the stronger that spirit of service, the deeper the faith, the stronger the sacred power became.

So a Grace granted by that Goddess was a power that harmed people? Even a little thought made it strange.

But why had I never noticed the oddity?

“Status window.”

Well, of course—there was no related explanation in the status window.

That was why I had never even imagined there might be exceptions to the bombardment.

“Can’t you put some actual explanations in the status window? Did someone hold a knife to its throat and tell it to slap this thing together half-assed?”

It seemed I really shouldn’t put too much faith in the status window.

The amount of information it gave me was far too little.

In the end, the best method was simply to keep firing myself and figure things out one by one.

“If I keep shooting, something more might come out of it.”

Anything was fine—please just let something advantageous for me pop out.

I prayed for it with all my heart.

The next day.

I was alone in the training ground.

A sudden mission had fallen on Andreus. Of course, I had no real complaints.

If anything, it was strange that the Knight Commander of the Holy Knights had been able to oversee my training every single day until now.

“And there’s plenty I can do on my own anyway.”

Saying so, I looked toward the shooting range.

Right. Today I intended to get in some proper shooting practice—no, bombardment practice.

I reached back with my right hand, seized the grip of the Holy Relic floating gently behind me, and brought it up to my waist.

Then I fixed my gaze on the targets drawn across the range. They were shaped like demons.

“All right. Shall we fire?”

I could fire the bombardment a maximum of thirty times a day. Not insufficient, but not generous either.

So every single shot had to be fired with everything I had.

I drew in a breath and held it tight. Then I locked both eyes on the target.

Normally when shooting you close one eye.

But there was no mechanical sight here, so there was no real need to close one eye.

Finally, picturing myself slowly squeezing a trigger, I clenched my right hand hard to minimize the recoil as much as possible.

And then—

Light erupted. A roar thundered through the air.

I exhaled and inhaled. My heart hammered wildly. Third shot. This was the third bombardment.

A beam weapon I had never seen in my life.

A sight so shocking it drowned out even the sensation of the bombardment itself.

Compared to the first and second shots, which had felt unreal because of that, the third shot finally settled into something real.

The vibration in my hands. The heat of the bombardment. Even the trembling of the air.

I kept taking deep breaths, trying to calm my racing heart.

But it would not settle easily.

I slowly looked over the range. Unfortunately, it ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had not been a hit.

Steam rose in thin wisps from a spot just slightly left of the target I had aimed for.

Ahead of me: twenty-nine more of these.

I swallowed hard without meaning to.

“Yeah. There’s a fixed number of shots I can fire in a day, so not using them all would be a waste.”

Making that half-excuse to myself, I aimed at a smaller target than before.

And without the slightest hesitation, I fired again.

“……I already used them all.”

Firing thirty bombardments had taken no time at all.

Any more than this and even Memory Mud might not hold up. Stopping here was the right call.

Having reached that conclusion, I set the Holy Relic down.

My accuracy had been better than expected. Good enough that I almost wondered whether the Grace of Bombardment applied some kind of accuracy correction.

Even so, it fell short of the goal I wanted. I wanted to be able to hit a target the instant I fired, even while moving violently.

But accuracy was not what mattered to me right now.

An emotion welling up from deep in my chest slipped out of my mouth.

“Not enough…….”

I hadn’t felt it before firing, but once I actually shot, I understood clearly. Thirty times was nowhere near enough.

It didn’t even feel like I had fired properly, and it was already over. Like incomplete combustion—something left unfinished and unsatisfied.

“If I go to the battlefield, will I be able to fire as much as I want?”

……I must be out of my mind.

What kind of place was a battlefield?

Even now, countless people were dying there—dying to protect ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠humanity from the demons.

The mindset of I must go to the battlefield and the mindset of I want to go to the battlefield were vastly different.

I must go to the battlefield still carried a sense of the weight of war. I want to go to the battlefield felt like forgetting that weight entirely.

And the latter could, if one was not careful, become an insult to the blood spilled on those fields.

At least, that was how I saw it.

So snap out of it. At minimum, keep the proper mindset.

Thinking that, I sprang to my feet.

Run. Run and burn off this incomplete combustion.

I ran for well over an hour.

Yet even so, that half-burned, unfinished sensation would not easily fade.