Flashpoint
In the distant past, when humanity had yet to receive the grace of the heavens and lived no better than beasts, an evil god descended upon the earth, hungering for the world's ruin. It is said that this god poured its own malice into the world and birthed the Ma—a force that devoured life itself.
And the twisted abominations that resulted when that Ma warped living flesh beyond recognition were the demonkin: servants of the evil god, born steeped in demonic energy, condemned to a lifetime of destructive impulse.
"Ah, goddamn it. Don't those bastards ever get tired?"
...Recalling her father's words, Princess Roberta of the Kingdom of Venice let out a sigh so deep it seemed ready to sink into the earth.
The reason was simple.
The fortress of Portogruaro, where she currently stood, was under assault by those very demonkin.
And it had been going on for a full week.
"Mage! Do something already! Those fuckers are throwing magic at the walls!"
"That bastard died yesterday! If you want to stop them, go shoot a bow yourself!"
"Shit. What good is an arrow against bastards wrapped in barriers...!"
Thanks to all of that, the situation inside the fortress was pure chaos.
Hiding behind walls that inspired little confidence, they were steadily bleeding manpower and supplies. Morale among the soldiers had long since collapsed, discipline was a complete mess, and their precious mage had been snuffed out by a demonkin attack.
Still, thanks to decent peacetime preparations, they still had some leeway with food and arrows—but nowhere near enough for a true prolonged siege.
"Surrender! Surrender and we will spare your lives!"
"Fuck off! Do I look like enough of a moron to believe a word from the likes of you?"
But that didn't mean they could just surrender to those horrific monsters either.
Princess Roberta of the maritime kingdom of Venice, echoing the colorful curses she'd learned from the seamen, firmly rejected the demonkin's offer of surrender.
It wasn't even worth considering.
If it had been some other breed of demonkin, she might have at least pretended to entertain negotiation. But the ones surrounding the fortress right now were none other than the Kin of Gluttony—cannibals who had failed to control their appetite and even eaten a nation's king. Surrendering to them was the same as begging them to eat you.
"Fight like you're ready to die, you cowards! Stop pussyfooting around like you're rolling around with your wives!"
So Roberta decided to boost the garrison's morale with a stream of rich, filthy curses.
Soft, land-bound noble brats would have turned pale and called her vulgar, but a true man of the sea was supposed to have his guts hanging outside his belly no matter the time or place.
Of course, she was neither a sailor nor a man—but when you were staring down horned cannibals, that sort of detail hardly mattered.
Venice, a port city crawling with pirates year-round, had never been a suitable place for refining the character of highborn children.
"Aigoo, some of us haven't even gotten married yet at this age...!"
"Hey! You green-faced bastard over there! Her Highness says ugly bastards like you aren't her type! How about going and getting that mug of yours remodeled first?"
"Puhahaha!"
And since it wasn't only Roberta who had spent her childhood in that port city, most of the soldiers simply snickered and enjoyed the highborn lady's stream of abuse.
It was a little strange, but at least it was working exactly as she intended—morale was climbing.
"Hah. These damned livestock...!"
...Until the laughing enraged a demonkin enough that it began gathering mana with enough force to smash the walls.
But that much, she could handle herself.
"Jake! Bring the hand cannon!"
Poor Jake scrambled to the armory and hauled out a heavy lump of iron. While he was gone, Roberta found a suitable stick, turned it into a torch, and the moment Jake handed over the iron lump she jammed the burning tip into it.
A hand cannon.
Still closer to a cannon than a proper gun—a crude early powder weapon. Accuracy was terrible, rate of fire was pathetic, and the recoil was monstrous. A defective piece of junk in almost every way... except that the sheer quantity of powder it used made its raw power undeniable.
"Taste some fire."
With a heavy boom, the solid shot tore through the air and slammed into its target.
Thanks to the miraculous accuracy that could miss even when carefully aimed, she failed to blow the thing's head clean off—but the shot shattered one of its legs and cleanly interrupted its mana control.
"...Tsk. This still won't last long."
But it was only buying time.
Unless they somehow broke through the demonkin encirclement and lifted the blockade, every trick they pulled would only delay death.
And the other side knew that perfectly well too.
Roberta kept a triumphant look plastered on her face while her mind raced.
It had already been a week since the demonkin attack had trapped them in the fortress.
By now either her father or that insufferable eldest brother would have grasped the situation. The Kingdom of Venice was the front line of the northern Italian Peninsula against the demonkin. If the battle-hardened royal guard arrived here, crushing the encirclement would be nothing.
If only the homeland would send reinforcements.
Food for three weeks. Arrows for five. No idea how long the walls will hold, but at this rate the people will definitely be wiped out.
And so Roberta was certain.
Reinforcements were not coming.
The demonkin were cruel, not stupid.
The fact that they were surrounding the fortress and forcing a war of attrition meant they had already prepared to cut down any relief force that came running to break the siege.
The kingdom would have realized that as well, so instead of rushing out with only the royal guard they would be scraping together a proper army for a real fight.
And the larger the army, the longer it took to march.
"Damn it."
So if they simply waited for reinforcements here, they would definitely be destroyed.
They couldn't break the encirclement themselves, and trying to negotiate with slaves to appetite was completely pointless.
In the end there was nothing to do but hold on and hold on—and if they did that, they would all starve or be eaten long before the capital even finished mustering its army.
Think, you idiot. Keep thinking!
What should she do?
How could she avoid the worst?
What order could she give right now that would let even one more person return home alive?
Originally this wasn't a problem she should have had to wrestle with, but with Baron Duran dead, the overall commander of the fortress was none other than her.
So she had no choice.
As princess of the Kingdom of Venice, Roberta had a duty to do everything in her power for the soldiers' survival.
"You seem to be in rather difficult circumstances. If you don't mind, would you allow us to offer a little assistance?"
The unfamiliar girl's voice reached her around then.
Roberta reflexively turned her head to identify the speaker, then tilted her head, unable to make sense of what she was seeing.
It was a face she had never seen before.
It had already been a full week since the demonkin attack had trapped her in Portogruaro fortress. She had long since finished cataloguing everyone trapped here with her, and the number of children who couldn't fight could be counted on one hand.
She had never heard a single word about a black-haired, golden-eyed little girl wandering around in a black nun's habit.
And yet this kid was standing on the wall as if it were the most natural thing in the world, asking if they needed help.
An outsider had simply popped into existence in a place surrounded by demonkin and sealed off by humans, without the slightest warning.
"Who are you?"
"I am Asty, Saintess of the Vesta Order. I heard that the princess of the Kingdom of Venice was in danger and came running."
She had been trying to cut through the confusion and dig out at least a little information, but the girl stopped Roberta's thought process cold with an introduction even more shocking than her sudden appearance.
Then she glanced down at the hand cannon resting on the ground, clicked her tongue, and began an incomprehensible conversation with yet another outsider.
"Rebecca unnie. That lot—how many can you handle at once?"
"Demonkin, and specifically the Kin of Gluttony... In theory I could wipe them all out right here, but this is the first time I've actually seen them, so I can't be certain."
"Oh. Then would you mind capturing just one for me first? Preferably without using divine power."
"I'll bring one right away."
A truly incomprehensible conversation.
At that point Roberta finally managed to grab hold of the thread of reason that had flown away.
And she became certain she had to stop these two.
Of course their identities and how they had entered the fortress were still mysteries, but at least it was clear they considered the demonkin enemies.
Yet they were talking about capturing demonkin and looking ready to charge out of the fortress, so if she wanted to save those precious lives she had to stop them somehow.
"Um, if you go down now—"
But Rebecca didn't even listen. She leapt from the wall,
turned one demonkin into a pulp in the blink of an eye, casually picked it up, and returned inside the fortress.
"Well done. Now then, let's have a little chat with this friend for a moment."
While every human and demonkin alike froze at the surreal sight, the self-proclaimed Saintess who had caused it all was cheerfully poking the pulverized demonkin with a bright smile.
What the hell was this?
Roberta felt her common sense collapsing like a house of cards.
Unfortunately, this was only the beginning.