Vatican City

The air force airfield was cold in the early morning.

Even with a thick blanket wrapped tightly around me, the chill still managed to seep in.

And yet… somehow, I felt good.

It was the strange sky where the light of the rising sun mixed with the colors of night, the sounds of a military base stirring to life for a new day, and the cool dawn air. My heart was racing with that fluttering excitement you only get on the early morning of an overseas trip.

"…It was Hangar 17, right?"

A silver-haired girl wandered alone through the air force base, dragging a suitcase while swaddled in a blanket.

It ought to have been an unusual sight, yet fewer eyes landed on me than I expected. In a military airport of 2050, only an Awakener would walk around dressed like this.

This place, once a U.S. Forces Korea base, had become Unified Korea’s largest air force installation—Osan Air Base. Most Awakeners heading out to battlefields around the world departed through here.

"Oh, so it’s a young lady this time? You’ve brought your Awakener certificate, I assume?"

"Yes. B-rank Awakener, Lee Haneul. Thank you for having me."

Thanks to that, I boarded the transport without any real suspicion. Sitting alone in a space that could hold more than thirty people left me with a strangely hollow feeling.

"Destination is Sicily Air Force Base. Correct?"

"That’s right. When do we take off, if I may ask?"

"Since the young lady has arrived, we’ll leave at once. Just wait about five minutes."

With that, the transport’s massive cargo doors closed. Left alone in the empty hold, I stared blankly out the window, waiting for takeoff.

That was when my second phone rang.

Not the ordinary phone Lee Haneul used for browsing galleries and watching shorts—the dedicated line belonging to Sword Saint Serena. Proof that this was no ordinary call.

Before I even checked the screen, my sharp mind had already sorted through the list of people who would contact me this way.

Maria? No. Maria had no reason to use this phone. The World Government was the same.

Uncle Mikhail? No—someone who hadn’t called for over half a year while sending Maria instead was hardly about to suddenly reach out now.

Which left…

"Haa…"

For just a moment, I resented Maria a little.

Was this why they’d put me alone on this enormous plane? Because communications security wouldn’t hold with other people around, so she could call as much as she liked?

But I couldn’t hang up either. If I did, the karma would come due about twelve hours later—and I would be the one settling the bill.

Pressing hard at my aching temples, I finally answered.

"Secure line. Far East Army Group A, 503rd Air Regiment. Codename ‘Sword Saint.’ Receiving."

No answer came. Of course not. The Saintess never liked being addressed that way.

Why was I being so stiff even knowing that? Hmph. My own petty little sulk. There was a debt to pay, and if you looked closely it was Maria’s debt, not mine. I was just being spiteful for no good reason.

But I couldn’t just keep staring at the growing ellipses forever.

I could almost see the sulky face she must have been making on the other side of the screen, and… well, I wasn’t exactly standing on solid ground myself.

I’d said I would contact her after the war, then completely went dark. I’d even cut off Maria.

Honestly, I had nothing to say for myself. After the war I’d lived without thinking at all. Living with the mindset of if I die alone, well, that’s just sad~ left me no room to care about anyone around me.

So… well…

"Sigh. It’s been a while, Lady Clara."

After murmuring that in resignation, I turned the volume down a little and pulled the phone away from my ear.

Exactly three seconds later, an excited voice came through.

Was this what people meant by words with ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠thorns attached? The way she stressed “very” made a corner of my heart sting for no clear reason.

From her voice alone she was a lively, cheerful nineteen-year-old girl, but underneath she was actually quite fragile. She had never been able to call first, always worrying she might be a nuisance.

That was why not a single call had come from her in over half a year.

"…I’m sorry. It was a chaotic period. I cut off all contact with the outside world."

A brief silence hung. Only then did I start to wonder if I’d said something wrong.

If she had been in contact with Maria separately, she would certainly have heard what had happened in the meantime. Why was she reacting like this all of a sudden?

Thoughts began chaining one after another when the other party spoke first.

"Ah…"

So that was the problem.

Hearing that uncharacteristically drooping voice made my thoughts start racing.

Lee Haneul—Serena Eustania—was a deeply contradictory person.

More than anyone, she wanted to be loved and cared for. She loved laughing and chatting. She loved sticking her nose into everything.

But when the other person tried to return that interest, she could never properly accept it. Not the viewers’ praise for being cute, not the admiration for being pretty, not even the concern asking if she was okay.

"That’s… I’m sorry. I’m not someone who deserves to accept that kind of kindness."

"Because I can’t be happy alone while leaving the people precious to me behind."

Fighting was always the act of throwing my own life onto the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠gambling table. Swordsmanship, the “Eye,” sharp instincts—those abilities were just buffs that raised the odds of winning.

Even a genius gambler would make a mistake once or twice. There was no way I wouldn’t either.

And every time, I survived by paying with the lives of people I held dear.

The family, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠comrades, and nameless soldiers who sacrificed themselves in my place now numbered over four digits. Counting only their immediate families, I had created a five-digit number of bereaved without even trying.

And I was supposed to be happy alone? I couldn’t do something like that even out of guilt. What would the people who died in my place think if they saw me lounging around in fine clothes, eating good food?

That couldn’t happen. Someone who had survived by grinding thousands of lives and leaving tens of thousands of bereaved families could not be happy. The world could not work that way.

That was why Saintess Clara was an uncomfortable, awkward presence to me.

Every time I saw her extending her hand, always promising blind love and a comfortable life, my resolve would start to waver.

It made me harbor those futile thoughts… like I saved a lot of people, so maybe it’s okay to be a little happy.

"Ah, the transport is about to take off."

"I’ll hang up now."

Beep————

Along with the tone announcing the end of the call, the transport began to take off.

The transport crossed the night and arrived in Italy. The Sicily military base I first set foot on had a rather unusual layout.

A peculiar installation where a naval port and an air force airfield sat side by side. Next to the fighter jets lined up on the runway, a single massive battleship was moored.

"Oh…"

Once the endless fighting between humans finally ended, the form of warships changed as well.

What was needed to face the endless numbers pouring from the Gates wasn’t the precise strikes of missiles, but the sustained firepower of massive cannons.

And so the world once again entered an age of colossal steel… and the result was that thing. The super-heavy battleship Roma, with a full-load displacement of 146,215 tons.

Five triple turrets. Fifteen 20-inch mana cannons in total that could allegedly level a mountain when they fired in unison. While I was lost in awe at the majesty of a giant warship I was seeing for the first time, a familiar voice came from behind me.

"What do you think? This is the shield that protects our Vatican City and Italy—Roma."

"It’s magnificent. If we’d had a battleship like this on our Siberian front, the casualties would have been far lower. It’s a shame, in a way."

I turned around while voicing my honest impression, facing a middle-aged man in black priestly robes.

"It’s been a while, Sword Saint Serena."

"Long time no see, Cardinal Veneto."

Vittorio Veneto—priest directly under Saintess Clara, and the cardinal of the Holy See who led the Holy Knights. Since he was one of the few people who knew I was the Sword Saint, he wasn’t particularly surprised to hear the title.

Honestly, I’d expected something like ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠this to some degree.

"Lady Saintess ordered you to bring me straight to her, I take it?"

"Haha. As sharp as ever."

I peeked past his shoulder and saw three Holy Knights in pure white armor. And beyond them, a small boat.

"Lady Saintess said she absolutely would not let this slide. Just what did you do?"

"Ahaha…"

I gave a faint laugh and averted my gaze. It was a topic I couldn’t exactly discuss with a clear conscience in various ways.

Fortunately, Father Veneto seemed to understand how I felt. Once we boarded the boat, he didn’t bring up anything else until the Holy Knights left the room.

And so, in the boat that had become a complete sealed room, Veneto asked quietly.

"So, what is it you want to say?"

"Oh my. Was it that obvious?"

"Haven’t I always told you? Everything the Sword Saint is thinking shows on her face."

It was a little embarrassing, but on the other hand I was relieved. Honestly I’d been wondering how to bring it up.

If I asked the Saintess directly, I’d have to pay the price with my whole body… and asking other cardinals I barely knew was also awkward.

So I seized this opportunity to ask.

With the Holy See’s intelligence network, they would certainly know things that even I, Maria, and Alice—the administrator of the World Government’s dimensional server—didn’t know.

"Eight years ago. During the Northern Psychic Research Institute bombing incident—I want to know what happened."