The Saintess Opens Her Eyes

A wash of white light closed around her whole body.

And then—

"—?!"

The cold hit all at once. Eila thrashed, her body jolting against the sudden drop in temperature. It was not only the temperature that had changed. Something heavy was wound about her, dragging at every inch of her, and little by little her body was being pulled down.

"...?!"

No sound came. More precisely, none of it made it out. She ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠drew a breath, and something frigid poured in through her nose. Bubbles churned and fled past her eyes.

Water?

Eila let the strength go out of her body. At once she began to sink, drifting steadily in a single direction.

The sword.

The Holy Sword across her breast was bearing her under. It was heavy. If she cast it off, she could rise without so much as a stroke.

Eila set her teeth. She could not forgive herself for having thought, even for a heartbeat, of throwing the Holy Sword away to keep her life. Abandon the Hero's keepsake? For Eila, that was a thing more terrible than death.

Calmly, she turned her face toward the opposite of the way she was sinking. A faint light glimmered there. She bent her knees and kicked upward with all her strength.

FWOOM!!

Water burst apart in a dull detonation, and air rushed into her lungs. She cracked her eyes open. What filled them was no longer light bent and broken by the water, but light itself. It was bright.

It did not last. The water she had driven back came surging in to reclaim its place and began to crush her all over again.

"This much won't stop me—!"

She threw her whole body into motion once more. This time she used her arms as well.

KA-BOOM!!!!

The blast was beyond any comparison with the last. Her body shot into the sky—a fierce, weightless lift, and then the shock of impact.

"Cough—! Cough!"

Water spilled from her with every cough. Droplets pattered down onto green weeds—

"...Plants?"

Eila's eyes flew open. She lifted her head and looked around.

Brown, green, blue, white, pink. The grass beneath her feet, and far off, trees and flowers.

Alive...?

No. Impossible. The world had ended. There was no such thing as a living creature left, and who would know that better than she did? Theirs had been a pilgrimage through a land where there was not even grass to pull and eat, let alone animals, and they had pressed on by eating the flesh of monsters. Everything had dried to the bone. The only voice of life had been the cries of beasts waiting for a chance to tear out their throats.

Truly?

"...It's damp."

Eila dug her fingers into the earth. It was moist, and soft. Her hand itched; she gave it a light shake, and a tiny insect came into view, wriggling.

A living thing.

Water fell from her eyes. Eila wiped them with her sleeve and got to her feet.

"...Hm?"

Something was off. Her balance felt wrong, if that was the word for it. Her vision was strange as well. Here and there, her body felt oddly light.

"...Am I imagining it?"

Eila bent to pick up the Holy Sword lying on the ground.

"Huh...?"

Something was wrong. She broke into a run straight for the lake.

The water was clear. It had been nearly four years since she had seen a lake so clean. But that was not what mattered. Eila looked at the face reflected on the surface.

"...This can't be."

She froze where she stood.

Her neck. Skin a curse had rotted away had been made whole again. Her left eye. The eye a monster's venom had eaten down to ruin had been restored. Her hair. The straight locks she had grown to her waist ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to suit the Hero's taste now fell only to her shoulders. Her chest. It was smaller. And her face.

"...My face. From when I was young."

To be precise—ten years ago. Seventeen. Her face from the day she had summoned the Hero.

"Wh... why."

She could not make sense of it. What had happened?

"...Did time turn back?"

It was the first possibility she could reach for. The great magic the Archsage and the Archmage had researched with their heads bent together. She had thought it a failure. Had it succeeded?

If so—she might be able to save the Hero.

"...Map."

She spoke the words of activation under her breath. A portion of the mana circulating through her body vanished, and a translucent window opened before her eyes. The magic had answered as it should. It was a spell that gave shape, in the form of a map, to every place she had been; she had learned it because it was useful for searching the inside of a Gate, and for travel.

Eila stared at the window that had appeared.

"Something's wrong."

Aside from the very spot where she now stood, the map was marked entirely black. A map was meant to display every place she had ever gone. In the last moment, as she went to fight the Demon King, every place had been marked upon it. She had walked the whole of the world—to save whatever survivors might remain, and to find the Demon King.

This place was not on the map.

How could that be?

Eila let out a long breath and looked up at the sky. Not ash-gray. Blue, and clear. Clouds, and wind, and the sun.

"...The sun?"

Eila was struck dumb. A sun hung in the sky. Not suns. A sun. Not plural. Singular. The Lord was looking down upon this world with only one eye.

"Two suns..."

It rose in her as vividly as if it had happened yesterday. A day she could not forget. The day she met the Hero. The day she met the person she loved.

"The place I lived. There was only... one sun."

Yes. Just like now. One sun.

Her legs gave out beneath her. She could not stay standing.

A world she had never set foot in. A world with only one sun. And the Hero Summoning Circle, blazing with light. Every fact gathered and pointed toward a single truth.

Why. How. Not the Hero. Her.

"Ah, aah... uwaaah...!"

I'm sorry.

That hometown you had wanted so badly to return to.

I'm sorry. Forgive me, for dragging you into this because of us.

I'm sorry.

Back then, she should have found a way somehow and sent him home.

I'm sorry.

"...I'm sorry.... I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."

The droplets would not stop falling. The sky was clear.

The sun stood at its highest.

Eila rose with a dazed look in her eyes.

"Lord. Please answer me, Lord..."

No matter how she called, there was no answer. She knew. Her prayers no longer reached. A laugh escaped her. Could a saintess who had lost her prayers still be called a saintess?

A weight rested at her hip. The Holy Sword. And with it came the Hero's last words. I want to go home. I want to see my family.

She touched the necklace. The Hero's gift. Aside from the clothes on his back, the only personal possession he had carried when he was summoned. From what she had been told, it was a present from his family. For the Hero, this necklace must have been the one thread still binding him to his homeland. That was why receiving it had made her so happy.

"..."

Now, it was far too heavy.

Eila lifted her head. She still did not understand why it was she, and not the Hero, who had come to this other world, but there had to be a meaning in it. It was none other than the Lord's will.

Then what she had to do was—

"There are people here too, aren't there."

She sprang upward. Wind raked across her face. When the wind died, she looked around.

"The sea? Or a lake...?"

She could not see the horizon. Did that mean this was an island? She looked more carefully.

"...A building."

Far off, near the place where water met land, something tall rose into the air. She could not be sure it was truly a building, but a shape like that could not have formed on its own.

Her thoughts were quick, and her body quicker still. Eila kicked off the air itself and shot forward. The wind rose, and the ground drew near. The moment she could no longer run through the sky, she landed. And just as she gathered herself to leap once more—

HONK—!! BEEP!!

"Whoa?!"

A tremendous noise burst out behind her.

"Hey! What the hell are you doing in the middle of the road!!"

...A road?

This black ground was a road?

"You deaf?!"

A man was shouting at her. A person—the first she had met in years. By rights she ought to have offered a prayer of joy, but this was no moment for that.

So this really is the Hero's homeland.

She had heard of them. Horseless carriages. Then was that tower she had seen earlier an apartment building? No. Before that—

"If I step aside, will that do?"

Eila moved aside. The man spat once and climbed into the car. With a heavy rumble the automobile pulled away, and then—

"Hm?"

It changed direction and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠came driving straight back toward her. The car stopped directly in front of Eila.

"...Something wrong?"

"Pardon?"

"What are you doing out in the middle of this mountain valley at this hour?"

"What time is it now?"

"You don't even have a watch?"

It's five. He said it in a tone of pure disbelief.

Even the way they keep time seems to be the same. Well, the Hero did say as much...

"So what are you doing out here alone at this hour?"

"I was on my way to a village."

"A village? Where?"

"O-over there. The village by the water."

"You're walking all the way there at this hour?"

The man let out a sigh.

"If you don't mind, want a ride?"

"Would that really be all right?"

"Well, if you're fine with it..."

No need to refuse a kindness, is there? The magic worked just now. If it comes to it, I can fight back.

Eila opened the rear door and got in. It was not so different from opening the door of a carriage. The inside, however, was nothing like one.

The car pulled away. The ride was smooth, and remarkably comfortable. Was it because the road was so even?

"So why were you out there in the first place? Get lost or something?"

"...I might have."

Lost. Was there a better word for what she was now? She had lost the way, lost the person she loved, and been thrown into this world without knowing what she was meant to do. If not for the stories of home the Hero used to tell her whenever he was bored, she would have wasted a good long while without even knowing what any of this was.

"Just get home already. There's enough talk as it is, what with the dungeons..."

"I don't have a home."

"...Then what are you going into the city for?"

Why. Why. She had already finished that story, all of it, on the mountaintop.

"I'm looking for someone."

"Someone?"

"Yes. A person."

The world the Hero should have come to. The world where he should have returned, and spent a happy future with his family and his friends. It was not a world she was meant to enter, and yet, for reasons she could not grasp, the one who had come was her.

So then—at the very least, shouldn't she bring word to the people who had been waiting for the Hero? Shouldn't she tell them what a wonderful person he had been, and how many beautiful things he had done? If she did that, perhaps she could go to meet him with her head held high.

"I'm looking for the precious people of someone precious to me."

The man wore a look that plainly asked what kind ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of bullshit she was spouting. Eila did not see it.

"Thank you for the ride. As for payment—"

"Don't need it. We were going the same way anyway."

"...Thank you."

The car drove off. Eila prayed in silence. May the Lord's blessing be upon you.

"Well then."

If she meant to find a person, an adventurers' guild or a government office would be the fastest way.

"He did say there was no guild here..."

She was still turning over what to do when a man's voice cut in.

"You there! What do you think you're doing?! Didn't you hear that civilians are supposed to evacuate?!"

"Pardon?"

The man had appeared out of nowhere. He seized Eila by the wrist and tried to drag her off somewhere. She sensed neither ill will nor malice, so she chose words over resistance. There was something that needed correcting, besides.

"Wait, please let go of this first! And what do you mean, a civilian?"

Yes. Not a civilian. A Saintess. Clinging to the title even now was strange, but she had no choice. The Hero had died to save the Saintess. So she had to be the Saintess. That was the meaning carried in what she said, but it seemed to reach the man a little differently.

"What? Then you're in the same line of work?"

His eyes ran over her from head to toe. The look stopped at one point. Her waist—more precisely, the Holy Sword.

"Sword at your hip and everything... so you are one of us?"

"The same line of work? First, if you would explain..."

"Explanations on the way! We don't have a second to spare!"

The man took off running. The sudden turn left Eila standing there in a daze, and his shout came back at her.

"Hurry up! People are going to die at this rate!"

Die. The moment she heard it, Eila ran after him.

"Oh, whoa... you're fast."

"Please explain. You mean someone might die?"

She had already drawn up right beside him. The man answered between ragged breaths.

"The dungeon's on a different scale. This isn't D-Rank. At this level, it'd be C-Rank..."

A dungeon? D-Rank? Both were words she was hearing for the first time, and neither mattered much to Eila. What mattered was what the man muttered next.

"Everyone's in bad shape. We have to get there fast."

Danger. Strength gathered in Eila's body. Saving people. That was what a saintess did.

"Let's hurry. Which way?"

"Straight ahead, and then..."

"Please hold on tight."

"What? W-whoa!!"

Eila caught the man up in her arms and shot forward. Her speed was like a shaft of light.