Flash Point
I was lucky.
When I heard that the princess of Venice had been attacked by demons and left isolated in Portugrua Fortress, the first thought that rose in my mind was nothing else.
Relief.
And exhilaration.
Not rage at the wicked demons, not gloom over the lives I had failed to protect—only the pure satisfaction that the board had been laid out with such artistic perfection that it scrambled every thought in my head.
It was a filthy, ugly way of thinking no one could ever call befitting a Saintess. But for this one occasion, at least, it was the right answer.
Because the gains I could extract by intervening in the siege of Portugrua Fortress were truly limitless.
A live combat test for Sister Rebecca while collecting data on the demons; official recognition as Saintess at the kingdom level; even the chance to lock down a fat share of interests. And perhaps—just perhaps—an opportunity to win the goodwill of the entire Italian peninsula.
Besides, the demons were already enemies of our order. I could slaughter them to my heart’s content without worrying that the grudge would fly off in some inconvenient direction.
…Of course, given that our Goddess found it difficult to intervene on the surface world, I would still have to refrain from anything too eye-catching.
So Sister Rebecca and I raced straight for Portugrua Fortress, and—
“We’ve captured the enemy commander!”
“Whooooah! I don’t know what just happened, but that was incredible!”
“Whoever that is, they’re the best!”
Sister Rebecca had thoroughly beaten the demons’ commander into submission and dragged him back, pulling every scrap of aggro on the entire battlefield.
Why, of all people, did it have to be the commander?
I had only meant for her to knock down some random underling and take the edge off the fighting. At this rate it wasn’t “reinforcements have arrived”—it was “I’ve come to end this war.” Every last pair of eyes was locked on us. What was I supposed to do about that?
“I have captured him as ordered. As expected, even demons are nothing special.”
I couldn’t very well shift the blame onto Sister Rebecca. Strictly speaking, the fault was mine for never specifying exactly which one to bring back.
“Um… this demon’s teeth are dangling.”
“Ah. I smashed them just now when I hit him. These pathetic demons have weak teeth as well.”
“A normal person would die from a beating like that…”
Fine. Whatever. When had anything ever gone according to plan?
A mistake of this size could still be salvaged.
The first impression had been a little over the top, but I hadn’t openly used Divine Power, so if I carefully steered things from here—
“Aaaargh! Arrow in my leg!”
“I’ll treat it right away—just hold on a moment!”
Swift first aid is the foundation of saving lives.
Quickly disinfecting a wound and applying pressure to stop the bleeding can snatch someone back from becoming a cold corpse. And the people of a harsh region like this would never have received tetanus vaccinations, nor was there any way to obtain a shot. So instead of alcohol swabs I had to carefully sterilize the wound with Divine Power.
Cauterizing with ordinary fire is an extreme measure that can kill a healthy person rather than save a dying one. But our Goddess’s flame is a sacred fire capable of precise power control and friend-or-foe discrimination. In this era, everything that would be vaguely lumped together as “impure”—bacteria, viruses, foreign matter—could be singled out and burned away while cell regeneration was accelerated to halt the bleeding. First aid complete.
All that remained was proper rest and sufficient nutrition.
“I’ve treated the wound for now, but there may be aftereffects. Absolutely do not overexert yourself, and rest thoroughly somewhere safe. Understood?”
“Ooooooh! The wound is completely gone! This is a miracle!”
“That gently glowing, warm flame… then could that child be…!”
“Ah.”
Right. I wasn’t supposed to use Divine Power here.
“…Saintess? Weren’t we still supposed to keep our power hidden from the demons?”
Then why did you use it?
Indeed. Why on earth did I do that?
“Ahem. Ahem. The patient’s condition was critical. I had no choice.”
“It was only a single arrow.”
I quietly averted my gaze and offered a plausible excuse. Sister Rebecca answered with pure nonsense and scolded me.
Good grief. “Only a single arrow”?
In this era, bows and arrows are by no means weapons to be underestimated. Of course, taking one arrow is a lighter injury than having a limb hacked off by a sword or your torso pulverized by a cannonball. But if arrows lacked killing power, they would never have become a mainstay weapon in the first place.
The true value of a bow reveals itself after the shaft is buried in flesh. The arrow itself causes pain that restricts movement; depending on the location it can inflict serious damage to internal organs; and then there is the continuous bleeding and the ever-present threat of infection. Divine Power can solve all of that, yes—but that does not change the fact that it is a serious wound…?
“Uh… um. I’m sorry.”
“I am fine. I was only worried it might disrupt the plan.”
“Ahh, if that’s all, then it’s fine. I was planning to reveal myself to these people anyway…”
I already had a method prepared for moments exactly like this.
“Those things—they were definitely the kin of Gluttony, correct?”
I spoke to the person standing beside me, both to confirm the demons’ affiliation and to make the question sound natural.
Bright wine-colored hair, an appearance of pure and delicate beauty, and a waistcoat that looked borrowed—clearly the wrong size. This lady was the key figure of the entire mission: Roberta, princess of Venice.
“Th-that’s right? Or should I say ‘that is correct’? But using honorifics with someone so much younger than me feels a little…”
The princess began rambling idiotically to herself. Whatever title she decided to give me was unimportant.
“Then are they beings bound by gluttony? Bound so tightly that the instinct to eat overrides reason?”
“Probably?”
What mattered was the mindset of those demons.
Including my previous life, these were an alien race I had never seen before, and even their appearance was peculiar. The arrangement of paired arms and legs and facial features was roughly human, yet their bluish, corpse-like skin and pitch-black horns made it unmistakably clear they were not human. The area around their mouths was a mass of wounds, as if proving they were slaves to their own appetite—that detail was especially striking.
I looked at the demon commander Sister Rebecca had brought back, hoping that fact would prove useful… then lowered my head at the completely pulverized state of him.
Yes. Sister Rebecca really had beaten him too hard. She had mashed his face like a clay doll.
“Sister Rebecca. Is your claim that you can wipe out those demons alone still valid?”
“Depending on the circumstances. If those ragtag remnants who have lost their commander choose a frontal confrontation, I can annihilate them easily. However…”
If they lost the will to fight and scattered, she would not be able to chase them down one by one. Conversely, if they simply chose a direct fight, she was confident she could erase them completely.
“Perfect.”
That was more than enough.
I had a trump card that would force them to choose a frontal confrontation.
“Brave and righteous warriors of Venice—at last the Flame of Benevolence has returned to this land.”
I climbed straight onto the ramparts and began the show.
If the performance had drawn no response at all it would have been a total humiliation, but Sister Rebecca—who had no idea what I intended—thoughtfully added a halo effect, and every eye on the battlefield locked onto me.
So I could turn my back on my own side, face the demons, and spout empty words with complete confidence.
Toward the demons, not the soldiers.
“She did not wish for you to fall like this. She did not wish for your flesh to become a meal for those dreadful fiends.”
Why was I delivering a speech while staring at the enemy instead of our own troops?
Because the goal of this speech was not something as simple as raising ally morale.
It was to provoke the demons into fighting Sister Rebecca head-on.
A Saintess’s dignity made it awkward to openly attempt conversation with demons, so I merely borrowed the form of a speech. The ones I was truly addressing were the demons beneath the walls.
“And so I have come to this place.”
Therefore the words leaving my mouth right now were not particularly important. I was simply babbling whatever came to mind.
What I truly wanted to say, I would convey through sign language.
“As the proxy of the infinitely merciful one, I pay tribute to your struggle—and to lead this battle to victory!”
I drew a small dagger from my robes and sliced open my palm.
Then I stretched my hand beyond the battlements and let the blood drip free.
The blood of a Saintess directly blessed by the Goddess.
For beasts that lusted after human flesh, there could be no more effective bait.
And Rebecca had already assured me their massacre was possible. If those slaves to appetite surrendered to impulse and charged me, she would cast those man-eaters into the very bottom of hell without fail.
So this was the final mercy I offered them.
Would they choose rational retreat and live, or remain faithful to instinct and die as beasts?
The choice was entirely theirs.
“Grrrrr… can’t hold it…”
“J-just one bite. Let me taste just one bite…!”
And the beasts chose death.
It was nothing particularly surprising.