Additional Feature (3)
Having gone through the tutorials for every skill I'd acquired so far, I'd come to a realization: these tutorials seemed to operate on a slightly different concept than the tutorials in a typical game.
The tutorials I knew were the kind that taught you how to take your first steps — like explaining the concept of addition and subtraction in math. That's the easiest way to put it.
But these tutorials, gifted to me by Lady Armadi, all proceeded on the assumption that I had already honed the fundamentals to a considerable degree. It was way too much.
The very first one I experienced — the Master of Shields tutorial — was like that from the start. It was structured to help me use the skill better on the premise that I already handled a shield decently well, not to walk me through each function one by one from scratch.
The other tutorials were similar.
The Iron Wall tutorial, for instance, proceeded on the premise that Iron Wall could already render judgment faster than my own voice could. And the Divine Mace Arts tutorial was outright impossible to clear unless you could properly wield divinity.
The reason for those prerequisites was obvious, too.
If you couldn't surpass the prerequisite, there was no way you'd clear the tutorial at all.
A tutorial you could only clear once you'd grown somewhat accustomed to the skill — the more I thought about it, wasn't this less a tutorial and more an advanced course?
That said, I had no complaints.
No — complaining wasn't even in it. I found myself genuinely grateful, over and over.
I'd learned all sorts of things working through the tutorials.
And the process of completing them, itself, had been genuinely enjoyable.
Particularly the Divine Mace Arts tutorial — that one was the best.
It had me fight some young paladin, and his technique was so refined that outthinking him was a real puzzle-box of fun.
What I loved most, though, was his reaction whenever I provoked him. It was *chef's kiss*.
By the end, I honestly couldn't tell whether I was running the tutorial for the Mesugaki skill or the one for Divine Mace Arts.
Grandpa told me to wrap it up, so I did — but if he hadn't, would I have deliberately kept the poor guy alive just to play with him a little longer?
Well. Anyway. Grinding through the tutorials like that, the end arrived before I knew it.
With the exception of skills like Fear Overcome and Hero's Mettle, whose prerequisites I hadn't met, I had completed the tutorials for every single skill.
I felt no fatigue whatsoever, but what could I do? There was simply nothing left to do.
Oh. Wait, hold on. The Mesugaki skill was still a skill, wasn't it? Doesn't that mean it should have a tutorial too?
'I want to do the Mesugaki skill tutorial.'
I was sitting in Practice Mode when I murmured it half on a whim — and a window popped up right in front of me.
Prerequisite 1. Acquire the Necklace That Held a Miracle (ACHIEVED!)
Prerequisite 2. ??? (UNFULFILLED)
So even this one had a tutorial. Guess a skill born from a mod is still a skill after all.
But why was acquiring the necklace a prerequisite for the Mesugaki skill tutorial?
What did that even have to do with the Mesugaki skill?
I tilted my head, but tilting it produced no answers. I knew absolutely nothing about the necklace, after all.
In any case, it looked like this one wasn't runnable just yet either.
Aaagh. Seriously, how much longer is my body going to take to adapt to divinity?
I've done everything there is to do — couldn't you let me wake up soon?
My body's practically itching to test everything I learned in the tutorials out in the real world.
'Grandpa. Grandpa.'
"What is it now."
'What kind of changes happen while the body adapts to divinity, that it takes this long?'
By my internal clock, at least half a day had to have passed already. Why on earth was the process still not finished?
What kind of earth-shattering change required this much time?
"It varies from person to person, but the young grew, and the old regained their youth. The body is aligned with its prime. For one's rank to rise like this..."
'...Grow?!'
Grandpa's answer had been fairly long, but only a single word from it lodged itself in my ear.
Grow.
My body would change to match its physical prime.
Which meant... could I finally escape this itty-bitty-toddler life?
Could I break free from a life where I had to crane my neck upward to look everyone in the face?!
I'd honestly wondered whether I might never grow an inch my whole life — but finally! FINALLY I was going to get taller!
How much, though? Given my current height, there was bound to be a dramatic, eye-catching difference.
Five centimeters? Or maybe ten?
Aaah, this is tricky. If I suddenly shot up ten whole centimeters, adapting to it would be a nightmare, wouldn't it?
My field of vision would change completely — I might have to relearn how to walk from scratch.
And growing that much would change my arm length and hand size too, so I'd have to rework the way I swung my mace.
I'd need an entire new wardrobe made from scratch, too.
Ugh. The more I think about it, the more it's nothing but hassle, isn't it?
Maybe it's better if I just don't grow at all.
Heheh. Heheheheh.
"Now, I say this only because it might occur to you — do not set your expectations too high. As I said, the change differs from person to person."
'Ugh, Grandpa. I know all that. Don't worry about it.'
I have a conscience too, you know.
I'm not even hoping for ten centimeters.
But eight would be nice.
No wait, even five would do.
Really, compromising as hard as I possibly can — surely I'll grow at least three centimeters, right?
"...And later on, no matter how it turns out, you'll have no complaints about it yourself, I trust?"
'Of course not. You're worrying over nothing.'
The night of the day Lucy had suddenly collapsed. Phoebe still stood vigil at her side.
Her condition remained stable. Someone who had trained her body as relentlessly as the young lady had recovered quickly — her flesh knitting itself back together at remarkable speed.
Her drained divinity, too, was refilling rapidly, so before long she would surely reclaim her usual warmth.
By every measure of her body, there was nothing strange about her waking at any moment.
"So why can't she wake up?"
Though Phoebe murmured the words without thinking, no one answered. The only ones in the room were Phoebe herself and Lucy, sunk too deep in sleep to rise.
"The Apostle of the Art Cult told me. That what the young lady is experiencing now is nothing to worry about."
The Apostle of the Art Cult — Frete — had appeared only hours after Lucy collapsed, and the moment he did, he had demanded to see her.
She was the one who had masterminded this whole plan, and so, he said, he wished to give his explanation in her presence.
'The young lady collapsed?!'
But that had proved impossible. Even then, Lucy remained sunk in a deep slumber.
At first he had been flustered, peering at Lucy's peaceful, slow-breathing face with her eyes gently closed — but Frete's panic had melted into relief in an instant.
'Ah, so it was merely her divinity ascending in rank.'
'Her divinity... ascending in rank?'
The one who had seized on that relief with a question was Johann.
He had thrown the question out as though he simply could not make sense of Frete's words.
'Yes. I am quite certain. I have experienced it myself, and I have once nursed another through the process at close hand. It cannot be a mistake.'
Johann was not ignorant of the phenomenon of divinity rising in rank.
It was an exceedingly rare occurrence among those who served the gods —
the god bestowing greater love upon their faithful, drawing them closer to the divine.
How could anyone who served a god fail to know of the thing every one of them had dreamed of at least once?
'But the young lady serves the Chief God.'
And yet Johann had still harbored doubts, for a simple reason:
In the entire history of the Church of the Chief God, there had never been a single recorded case of one who served the Chief God rising in divine rank.
'What does that matter? If Lady Aln becomes the first case, then she becomes the first case.'
'...Well. Yes, that is true, but—'
'In any case, she will rise on her own given time, so I shall return to Burrow Territory to attend to my work, and come back once the young lady awakens.'
Phoebe had been standing nearby while that conversation unfolded, and she had caught every word of it — Frete's and Johann's alike.
"But still, I simply can't put my mind at ease."
Even so, she could not sit back and simply wait for Lucy to wake.
In all her years living as a Saintess, she had never once witnessed the phenomenon of divinity ascending in rank.
Who knew what might occur during the process of ascending?
What if something went wrong with the young lady?
What if the Apostle of the Art Cult had simply judged wrong?
So Phoebe, gazing at the slumbering Lucy, could not settle the anxiety churning in her chest.
"I know the great Chief God loves her, and that nothing ill can befall the young lady because of it. But if I let myself think that something might happen to her, then I—"
Phoebe broke off, let out a long sigh, and studied Lucy's peacefully sleeping face.
Aside from dozing at her desk during Academy lectures, this was the first time I've ever seen you sleeping in a bed.
Even back on the field exercises in the forest, you always volunteered for night watch every single time.
I remember exactly what you said then — that there was no way you'd trust the sentry duty to useless hacks like us, because it made you anxious.
Come to think of it, that's right, isn't it? Even back then, the young lady took the burden upon herself. Pretending so hard to be strong, all for our sake.
Lost in old memories, Phoebe suddenly realized her eyelids were sinking.
She had risen in the small hours of the morning and crossed an endless stretch of dangers to get here.
Having failed to sleep properly the night before, it was entirely natural for exhaustion to catch up with her.
Ordinarily she ought to have returned to her own room and prepared for bed, but instead Phoebe smacked her own cheeks.
She wanted to keep watch at Lucy's side until the moment she woke.
She wanted to be there to help if the worst should happen.
And she wanted to greet the young lady with a smile when she finally rose from that long, long sleep.
But for all her effort, Phoebe's head kept nodding lower and lower.
Her utterly spent body was steadily winning the war against her will.
No. Phoebe. You can't sleep.
Slapping her cheeks again and again, dozing off and jerking awake, dozing off and jerking awake — until at some point, Phoebe blacked out into sleep as though she'd fainted.
When she surfaced from that sleep once more, it was to the sound of something rustling near her ear.
She had fallen so deep that she hadn't even known she'd fallen asleep at all. She opened her eyes sluggishly — and realized a blanket had been laid over her shoulders.
Huh? What's this?
Groggy, still half-submerged in sleep, she looked blearily around — and the moment she saw the empty bed, she shot upright out of her chair.
D-did I fall asleep?!
When?! Since when?!
No — now's not the time to worry about that!
Where did the young lady go?!
And she's not in her bed, which means—!
"Heh heh. And there I am, all dressed up and ready."
Phoebe whipped her head toward the voice — and froze solid on the spot.
Eyes of a sharp, vivid crimson.
A smirk so infuriating it was impossible to truly hate.
Fair, immaculate skin, white as winter snowfall.
Long, trailing red hair.
A small frame that belied her age.
Every feature the voice's owner possessed was unmistakably Lucy's.
Except for one thing — the aura around her, the single thing that left Phoebe reeling in confusion.
That captivating presence, the kind that pulled your gaze toward her against your will, had not existed in the Lucy of before.
"God, you really are a hopeless perverted lolicon of a Chief God, aren't you? This body suit your degenerate tastes, does it? It's so-o-o disgusting."
...
...Hearing you say something that blasphemous, I suppose it really is you, young lady.