Spring Subjugation - 2

Jerome watched the girl before him grow conspicuously flustered.

The same girl who had worn an expressionless face with only a faint blush on her cheeks, who had moved with the practiced, restrained grace of a noble young lady and overwhelmed him the entire time, toying with him at will—now she could no longer hide her emotions.

That could mean only one thing.

The Saintess and the Hero had successfully escaped.

Even setting that aside, something had clearly gone wrong on her end, so overall it was excellent news.

All he had to do was silently deflect, dodge, twist, and block that girl’s attacks.

Simple enough, wasn’t it?

In an instant, the aura surrounding the girl shifted.

Her will to end this quickly pressed down with crushing intensity.

Overall it might have been good news, but for him personally it seemed to have become a fire hazard.

Well, nothing was actually on fire, but still.

The fact that jokes like this kept slipping out so freely meant he was probably near death.

Blood from his split scalp clouded his vision, dyeing everything red. It felt as if his ribs had broken and a sharp awl were stabbing into his lungs, stealing the air from him. His armor was dented and looked pathetic. His sword had chips all along the edge, had lost its keenness, and was cracked so badly it seemed ready to snap at any moment.

A situation where dying would not have been strange, an opponent far stronger than him by entire ranks, the worst possible environment, and stress pushed to its absolute limit.

Perfect conditions for a Superhuman to be born.

Jerome saw a cluster of light flickering before his eyes.

If he could just reach a little farther it seemed he might grasp it, yet it kept slipping just out of reach, endlessly receding.

Then the light vanished from his sight, and what appeared before him was the girl’s face.

There was no cute little girl’s face to be found; expressionless, she charged straight at him.

A mage crudely engaging a knight like him in close combat—was she looking down on him? His pride stung, but she was not an opponent he could afford to stand on pride with.

So this was the end.

I still haven’t protected anyone,

I still haven’t saved anyone.

A thoroughly unsatisfying end, one might call it.

A hollow laugh seemed ready to escape.

As the world slowed to a crawl and death closed in second by second, a pillar of light erupted from the ground.

It was the Hero, Ain.

One—no, two humans bursting out of a massive hole among the tree roots that carpeted the floor made for a tremendously reliable reinforcement.

The sight of the Saintess covered in slime and cradled in the Hero’s arms would have been quite stimulating for any ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠man, yet having just clawed free of a life-or-death crisis, Jerome felt only the extremely simple emotion of relief.

At that same moment the Saintess turned, the light pillar at her back, and looked at Spring, who had dodged aside.

She was so beautiful that one unconsciously thought, Pretty.

A beauty the game’s crude graphics, modeling, and concept art could never have captured.

And she was both the benefactor who had shown her the Saintess’s past and made her realize what the Pope had done to her—and her enemy.

So now it was time to repay the debt.

I’ll kill her.

The first strong murderous intent she had harbored since coming to this world.

Fortunately she found a pen, a dagger, and paper still dry inside an intact leather pouch.

Glad these didn’t get wet.

For some reason the enemy simply watched them in silence.

Hoo. Time to write.

"Yes, it’s possible."

He answered without the slightest hesitation.

The power of the Holy Sword he had shown earlier, and everything else—yes, this Hero had definitely regressed.

Judging by this level of strength, probably after the Summer Subjugation, or just before it.

If he was going to do a second run anyway, why not see the ending first? Damn it.

In any case, the only one she could trust right now was this Hero.

As she looked at him, the Holy Knight suddenly shouted at the top of his lungs.

"Um, that is… I can’t move for one hour."

…What the fuck is this.

No. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Calm down.

She wrote the words on the paper and held them up toward him. Somehow he managed to read them from that distance and answered.

I wrote it small on purpose just to mess with him.

"I… I used the Scales."

"In exchange for receiving the power to endure, I can’t move my two legs for one hour."

Useless bastard.

No. Stop getting angry.

Hoo—

Let’s stop doing things that eat away at my lifespan.

The more I get angry, the more I lose.

After slipping free of the Hero’s arms she walked slowly into position.

A three-person party that was effectively two; one member was out of the fight.

The priority target would of course be her.

But a vanguard still had to exist.

Therefore the Hero had no choice but to send him forward.

Survive somehow on her own.

As she was writing those lines the Hero approached and seized her wrist.

He looked faintly angry.

Why?

"Saintess, you need to take better care of your own body."

"First purification, and treatment for him over there."

Ah. Right.

The Holy Knight’s ragged breathing quickly steadied, and the filthy pink slime clumps clinging to her clothes vanished without leaving a single trace.

Now soft and clean, she picked up the pen to offer the Hero her thanks.

Then a voice rang out.

"Are you ignoring me right now?"

"Even if—even if I’m the lowest seat, still."

"Trash like you aren’t people who get to ignore me—!"

Right. That bitch was still here.

With those words she charged them in an instant and simultaneously set the cherry blossom tree in motion.

As expected, her personality hadn’t changed one bit.

When the situation favored her she was endlessly leisurely and careless; the moment that leisure vanished she became emotional and her patterns turned simple.

As the writhing roots tore through the castle walls one after another, places to stand began to disappear.

The Holy Knight could not move his legs for an hour.

But there was a loophole in the Scales.

It wasn’t the kind of bug exploit people usually talked about; it was simply twisting the wording.

He could not move his “legs”—not that he could not be moved from that spot.

In other words, if someone else moved him…?

The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Hero dashed forward and caught Spring’s kick on the Holy Sword.

She herself sprinted out, scooped Jerome up under one arm, and lifted him.

Ugh, way too heavy.

At first he flailed in panic, but soon Jerome seemed to grasp the idea and let himself be carried without resistance.

Yes—set him down far from the collapsing sections.

Like placing a knight piece in chess to plug a direction that needed blocking, then turning attention to other threats or destroying the objective.

Clang—

Zzeong—!

Crack.

Tu-kwang—!

Crazy. How do you even fight hard enough to make sounds like that?

She herself had once fought with her mind gone after her Erosion Rate exceeded fifty percent, but realizing the real thing was this intense made her newly afraid.

Was she actually going to die to the Hero?

She would have to be even more careful not to get caught.

Hoo. She carried Jerome to the intended spot and set him down.

He had fallen back out of the line.

Now, before the castle walls finished collapsing, she only needed to reach the cherry blossom tree and purify it.

The boss fight had changed enormously from the one she remembered, yet purifying the cherry blossom tree by touching it would still restore everyone to their senses—that much was certain.

The Hero was still locked in combat with Spring.

What was certain was that since he had not finished Spring, the Hero had definitely not yet reached the Superhuman realm.

He had not touched the stars.

Even giving him the most generous reading, a draw was the absolute limit.

She had to purify quickly, rejoin him, and kill the Disaster.

If that catastrophe erupted on the front lines, at least one party member would die for sure.

With her body enhanced and faintly glowing with starlight, she ran toward the cherry blossom tree.

The collapsing floor cracked open.

She could see it and dodge.

Trust myself.

Drip—

Blood ran from her nose and eyes.

Even with the Erosion Rate fixed, her original body being frail seemed to be innate.

Damn it, hold on.

Hoo—

Tak—

At last her hand settled on the cherry blossom tree.

Spring, thoroughly flustered, whipped around in a panic.

"Where do you think you’re—!"

The Hero did not miss the opening; he swung the Holy Sword in the same breath.

Spring was fully rattled, yet as expected of a mage called a Disaster she kept her inertia and launched herself straight at the Saintess.

The sword of light barely sliced through her dress.

Damn it—this won’t be too late, right?

I believe.

With that, white light flared and the cherry blossom tree vanished. The sky that had been dyed pink recovered its blue.

As the roots disappeared, the castle walls that had been gnawed hollow from within began to crumble.

The ground beneath her feet shuddered and her body staggered for a moment.

Pink flower petals, wrapped in a single hue of color, came rushing toward her.

Spring’s movement skill.

She must be getting impatient.

Puhat.

Ahaha.

Laughter welled up inside her.

Eat shit.

Spring was probably so desperate that, with the Imperial Capital raid already a failure, she intended to kill her out of spite.

But she had missed something important.

The Hero is faster than you.

A mage acting without manners—who said you get to do close combat?

And before she knew it the Hero who had already closed the distance behind her swung his sword.

At that exact moment the collapsing castle wall stopped.

…What.

The air is trembling?

No—the airflow is rising upward.

What the hell…?

Ah, seriously.

Isn’t this a little too much?