I'll Put This Gift to Good Use

"I never thought there'd be two of them…."

Judging by the size of the chest, I'd expected there to be a post-acquired talent inside. Still, I hadn't imagined there would be two.

…Whoever was supposed to receive these must have been carrying some serious expectations from Satan.

Even for an evil god, bestowing post-acquired talents came at a considerable cost. So what would happen if someone other than his cherished apostle walked off with them?

Well, it'd sting, that's for sure.

The whole point of those talents was to ravage the world through his apostles — and now a harmless girl like me was snatching them up instead. He wouldn't achieve his goal, and the losses would fall squarely on him.

As someone who just wanted a peaceful life, the last thing I needed was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠an evil god and his apostles running wild. So I decided to take them for myself.

Either destroy them or swallow them whole….

The fact that I could even see them meant I was somehow being recognized as an apostle right now. I hadn't formally contracted with Eru, so she must have simply acknowledged me on her own — leaving me in a temporary apostle state. Temporary or not, I could still enjoy an apostle's privileges.

Meaning I can acquire these post-acquired talents myself.

Whether you were an apostle of evil or just a regular apostle, once you were an apostle, you could use anything a god had given. Maybe because evil gods and gods were essentially the same kind of being at their core.

No reason not to have them.

I decided to make both of them mine. Destroying them would have been far too wasteful.

Stealth looks unimpressive if you only read the effect, but….

In practice, it was anything ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠but. Stealth erased every sound produced by your actions. With the skill active, I could jump around, thrash through underbrush, even shout at the top of my lungs — and none of it would make a sound. It was incredibly useful for hiding and launching ambushes.

And Night Vision is just plain versatile.

Places like dungeons tended to be dark. Light magic or a light magic crystal usually solved the problem — but they also had the drawback of exposing you to the enemy.

Light is visible from a long way off. The enemy can't help but notice you're there.

Personally, I held ambushes in very high regard. Even a losing fight could be turned around if you struck first. For someone like me, a talent that let me find the enemy first in the dark was more than welcome.

…I was going to have to clash with the dwarves soon anyway. Perfect timing.

True to their work in a mine like this, the dwarves were creatures well accustomed to darkness. That meant this mining dungeon forced you to take the first hit whether you liked it or not — and that opening strike was so powerful the difficulty had been set at C-rank.

Flip that around, though, and if we can just land the first strike ourselves, they're nothing.

I picked up the two black orbs and swallowed them one after another. Digesting a post-acquired talent took less than a second.

Anin, who had been quietly following behind the whole time, was thinking.

We'll be running into the dwarves any moment now.

Mining mithril was one thing, but the hardest part of this dungeon was getting back out through the entrance. To leave a dungeon with anything you'd obtained inside, you had to exit through the designated way out. The problem was that the dwarves were standing guard right in front of it.

And they're holding powerful shields and spears forged from mithril, no less.

Dwarves had small, stout bodies — smaller even than humans. That didn't mean they could be underestimated. They were as strong as people, if not stronger, and more importantly, they used their heads well.

A mithril shield won't break under ordinary attacks.

The dwarves knew that perfectly. The moment they spotted an enemy, they would lock their shields into a tight wall and charge straight ahead — with spears already thrust through pre-drilled holes.

In the end, you either smash the shields or keep falling back.

But if you keep retreating, you eventually run out of room. The dwarves had cunningly crafted shields that covered the full width and height of the mine tunnels. So the only real way out was to break through those shields.

Not an easy task.

It might be different if someone could cast overwhelming magic — but for Reina and Ceryll, who fought with bow and spear, it was a tall order.

If they use Mana Reinforcement, they might just manage it.

Except there wasn't just one shield. And Ceryll wasn't in any condition to maintain Mana Reinforcement for long.

Anin looked at Reina.

I don't believe you suggested coming here for no reason. If the Hero truly recognized you, then show me the skill to match.

Expectation filled Anin's eyes. And at last, Reina began to move.

"I'm putting out the light."

With that, Reina simply extinguished the light magic crystal. The moment the light vanished, darkness rushed in. Ceryll sounded flustered.

"R-Reina? I-I can't see anything."

"It's fine. I can see."

Was that a bluff, or the truth? Even Anin could see nothing in this darkness.

"Can't we turn the light back on? Not being able to see is making me nervous…."

Ceryll said, but Reina only answered,

"I'll turn it back on. Just wait a little."

Wait? What exactly was she planning to do?

Anin couldn't see, but she still had her ears. She cast a spell to enhance her hearing and focused on Reina's movements.

Footsteps.

She could hear Reina walking.

Is she planning to take out the dwarves in this darkness?

Eliminate them before they could form their shield wall. If that succeeded, the fight would become dramatically easier. The problem was—

Dwarves have pretty good night vision themselves.

They weren't stupid enough to just sit there and take an ambush.

And among them, the dwarf chief has especially sharp ears.

The dwarf chief was a notoriously infamous monster — the kind that could hear incoming arrows or magic from a distance and block them. More than that—

The dwarf chief's body isn't ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠fragile enough to be pierced by something like an arrow.

Even if an arrow landed, it wouldn't kill him in one shot. Which meant the ambush would be meaningless.

Anin expected Reina to fail.

…If they notice the ambush and start moving, I'll have to step in and help.

Thinking that, Anin prepared to intervene at a moment's notice. But no matter how much time passed, the need never came.

Why isn't she shooting any arrows?

There was no sound of an arrow in flight — and that should have been the signal for everything to begin.

Then, a few seconds later, a sound finally reached Anin's ears.

"Ghk!"

It was short but heavy — a death rattle. Unmistakably a dwarf's. And it wasn't just one.

"Ghk!"

"Grk!"

"Guh!"

They came one after another in rapid succession. Only then did the sound of arrows being loosed finally reach her ears — along with the click of Reina's tongue.

"Three seconds really is too short."

Three seconds? What on earth was that supposed to mean?

While Anin was still puzzling over it, the surroundings brightened again. Reina had rekindled the light magic crystal.

"Ceryll. You can see the dwarves, right? Take them out."

Reina tossed the magic crystal toward the front, and one by one the dwarves that had been lurking in the dark began to emerge into view. The moment Ceryll confirmed them, she charged straight at their position and started cutting down dwarves who hadn't even managed to raise their shields properly.

Anin couldn't close her mouth.

"Ceryll's amazing, isn't she? Just mowing the dwarves down like that."

Reina said. But that wasn't what Anin was marveling at.

…The dwarf chief is dead.

Cause of death: an arrow through the head. And that arrow—

Killed him in a single shot.

The sharp-eared dwarf chief had died in one blow without even reacting to the arrow. Anin counted the arrows she could see, then let out a hollow laugh.

I only heard five shots.

But there were eight arrows embedded out there. Meaning Reina had fired three more arrows that made no sound at all — and she'd done it while deceiving Anin's ears, which had been straining to catch every single thing.

No. I wasn't the only one fooled.

The same went for the now-corpse of the dwarf chief and two other dwarves. They had died with arrows through their skulls without ever realizing anything was flying at them.

Not only does she shoot without making a sound… the power far exceeds an ordinary arrow.

The arrows she'd fired were made of mithril, true, but—

A dwarf chief's hide can withstand even a mithril blade.

Knowing that, Anin could only conclude that Reina had done something extra. She didn't know what that something was. But at the very least, it was skill worthy of a hero.

Judgment, caution, ability — all of it excellent.

Anin smiled. So this really was a child who would become a hero. To become the teacher of a child like this — she was truly fortunate.

"I am truly glad to have met you."

Anin said, resting a hand on Reina's shoulder.

Even watching the dwarf chief drop in a single blow, I wasn't surprised.

I erased the sound with Stealth, so of course he couldn't react. And as for the power… there was no way it would fall short.

The arrows I'd just fired were made of mithril. Mithril was a light yet hard and powerful metal, and arrows crafted from it packed a serious punch. And that wasn't all.

Arrows fired from a holy artifact deal bonus damage to monsters. And if you hit a weak point, that power doubles.

Holy artifacts were items so outstanding they were practically called broken. And the truly terrifying thing about them was that they grew stronger over time. Either way, the bonus damage they currently provided was nothing to sneeze at.

Just landing the attack is enough to deal double damage.

So of course a mithril arrow with a holy artifact's damage boost wasn't going to fail to one-shot something like a dwarf chief. Expecting that, I hadn't hesitated to use the remaining time to kill other dwarves as well.

Of course, once Stealth wore off and sound returned, they noticed me. But with their chief dead, they were thrown into enough confusion that I bought myself about ten seconds and managed to fire another five shots or so.

There were still dwarves left, but—

Ceryll will handle them.

The dwarves' strength came from their tactics built around those mithril shields. Individually, they were no match for ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Ceryll. The dwarf chief might have been a different story, but he was already gone.

Either way, I decided to leave the rest of the glory to Ceryll. Showing her in action would make Anin even more interested in her. So I'd said something to boost her up, and then—

"I am truly glad to have met you."

—Anin suddenly put a hand on my shoulder and said that. On top of which, that was the exact line Anin used in the original story when she fully acknowledged the protagonist. So why was she saying it to me?

She shouldn't have been able to see what I did in the dark, right?

Anin didn't have particularly good night vision. And even if she had seen, it shouldn't have been a problem. The arrows I'd used were mithril, after all.

Weapons are part of skill, sure, but Anin doesn't care for that kind of thing.

Anin was the type who believed a true hero should be able to take down enemies with a kitchen knife. In other words, if I'd taken out the dwarves with mithril arrows, far from praising me, she'd have been the kind of person to scold me — saying that with arrows that good, of course I should have managed it.

And yet here she was, looking only at me with a mature woman's gentle, almost wistful smile. It left me feeling strangely unsettled.

She must mean she's glad she met Ceryll, not me.

Yeah. That's how it has to be.