Second Semester Finals (7)

Before the door leading to the third room, Phoebe offered a prayer to the great being above — a blessing for everyone gathered in this place. As the priestess who had served a god since the day she was born clasped her hands together, divinity spread outward around her.

Standing in the center of a warm, radiant light, Phoebe looked so utterly sacred that no one, whoever they might be, could ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠have denied that she was a Saintess. Arthur and Joy, of course — and even Frey, who could never stay still for a moment under ordinary circumstances, found themselves standing meekly before her prayer.

How long did her prayer carry on? At some point, the warmth that had filled the dark cavern settled into the bodies of the three of them. A softness that invited the thought: how comforting. Vitality radiating from somewhere deep within. Bodies grown lighter than they had ever been. And a mana that moved with a courtesy unlike its usual unruly self.

His body so transformed as to be beyond comparison with before, Arthur let out a wry smile. Receiving the Saintess's blessing was hardly a novelty, and yet every single time, he couldn't help but marvel. The first time he'd ever been blessed, the change had been so dramatic he'd barely been able to move properly. Even now, having more or less adjusted, if someone asked whether he could truly handle his changed body, he couldn't honestly say yes. He wasn't a genius like Frey or Lucy, after all — just an all-rounder of middling talent in every respect.

Look over there. Frey, who had been hopping up and down, was already tilting her head this way and that. She'd already gotten a feel for how she needed to move, it seemed. Haha. Now that was a genuine, proper genius. Someone like himself, middling in every respect, deserved to be called merely a jack of all trades.

Just as Arthur was feeling bitter about his own talents, Phoebe opened her eyes.

"The blessing is complete."

"Thank you, as always, Saintess."

Having offered his thanks to the beaming Phoebe, Arthur soon turned his head toward Frey.

"Ready?"

"Yep. Perfect."

"Joy. And you?"

"I finished preparing ages ago."

"Good. Let's see what we can do."

At his signal, all four of them leapt through the door in one motion, and the scenery around them transformed. A vast, empty plain, bare of so much as a single blade of grass. And swarming across it, golems shaped like demons.

Ordinarily, the first order of business would have been identifying which of them bore the mark — but Arthur's party boldly skipped that step entirely. It wasn't because they had a way to instantly pinpoint the golems ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠they needed to fell. They had simply judged that there was no reason to go hunting for the mark at all.

"Let's go."

Just as planned — while Joy prepared a grand-scale spell targeting the entire plain, and Phoebe constructed a barrier of divinity against any unexpected danger, Frey left behind only those words and sprinted forward.

Perhaps the golems thought the Frey charging toward them was prey. Several of the ones without the mark rushed at her. A coordinated assault from roughly a dozen of them. Frey, meeting their charge, swept her sword lightly with a perfectly blank expression, as if she felt nothing at all — and in the next instant, clean cut surfaces appeared across the golems' legs, their bodies separating from their limbs mid-charge and toppling forward.

Arthur watched the scene with stilled eyes.

If my hypothesis is right, the golems won't rampage. According to what they'd confirmed earlier, the condition for a rampage was damage to a golem's core. Which meant now, with only the legs cleanly severed, there was no doubt about it.

"It worked."

Confirming that no rampage had occurred, Arthur grinned and clenched his fist. If this held, there was no need to waste time distinguishing the marked golems. And that wasn't all — they could wipe out the incapacitated ones in a single stroke and dramatically shorten the time it took to clear the third room.

Delighted that his plan had become reality, Arthur was about to draw his sword to help Frey when—

"Third Prince. Stay put."

Frey blocked him.

"These are trickier than you'd think. You can't handle them, Third Prince."

"It's true that my swordsmanship falls short of yours, but surely this much—"

"Watch."

Cutting Arthur off mid-sentence, Frey swung her sword at a golem. The movement clearly aimed for its legs. The moment Arthur saw the trajectory her blade traced, he didn't doubt for an instant that she would hit her mark.

But that was Arthur's mistake. Just before the blade could connect, the golem suddenly twisted its body. Twisting so that its core, not its legs, would be severed.

"This is what happens if you don't pay attention, see."

As if she'd predicted it all along, Frey stopped her sword midway. As a result, the golem's twist ended up opening a gap in its own guard instead, and her blade moved a second time, shearing through the golem's arm and leg and disabling it entirely.

"So stay put, Third Prince. I'm more than enough on my own."

At Frey's usual indifferent tone, Arthur gripped his sword hilt hard — then let it go. His feelings were unsettled, certainly, but separately from that, he had acknowledged that Frey was the right person for this job.

"Very well. I shall stand by in case of emergency."

"Yep. Thanks."

Not long after Arthur took a step back, Joy completed her spell — a miracle wrought by weaving together the four magic circles she had drawn around herself. One of the greatest spells Joy was currently capable of manifesting.

"Lady Kent!"

"Got it."

Barely had Joy called Frey's name than the Frey who'd been raging out on the plain arrived beside the party, and as if it had been waiting for her, Phoebe immediately wrapped the group in a barrier of divinity.

"We're ready, Joy!"

"Understood! Everyone, close your eyes and cover your ears!"

Like the calamity that had once fallen far in the distance on a rainy day, its mere sound enough to strike terror into all living things, the spell came crashing down upon the plain as if to judge the demons. An overwhelming volume of light that reached them even through closed eyelids. An awe-inspiring shockwave transmitted through the barrier. A roar that threatened to erase hearing itself.

And after all of it had swept across and passed over the plain — nothing remained. Only the scar where lightning had scorched its way through, and nothing else that could be found anywhere.

"I wasn't expecting quite this much power."

Taking in the landscape Joy's spell had produced, Arthur gave a hollow laugh. I did ask her to clear the plain, but isn't this excessive? Half this power would have been plenty. Turning his head to give her a piece of his mind, Arthur saw Joy's ashen, drained face and understood the situation at once.

"Joy. Don't tell me you didn't anticipate this level of power."

"...It's a rather difficult spell, you see..."

"And on top of that, you got swept up in your own spell and burned through every last drop of your mana."

Why, why does this girl always slip up at the critical moment?! At this rate, won't you transform into dead weight for the entire day?!

Seeing Arthur's lips tremble, Joy drew a fan from her breast and covered half her face, then slyly slid her gaze over toward Phoebe above it. It was a childlike glance begging for rescue — but Phoebe, unlike her usual self, put on a stern expression.

"This time, the rest of us nearly ended up in danger too. Joy."

"...Oh no."

"I know your skills have improved, but..."

At the scolding that began from the very person she'd looked to for deliverance, Joy shot a desperate glance toward Arthur. You're seeking salvation from the man who was raging at you mere moments ago? Ha. It's so pitiful I don't even have the heart to say anything.

"Saintess."

"...Ah. My apologies, Third Prince. I was so caught up in the thought that Joy must be disciplined."

"No, I was going to say you're doing splendidly. Do lecture her until the girl comes to her senses."

"Ahh. Then I will gladly take you up on your kindness."

At Phoebe's smile, the corners of Joy's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠eyes twitched.

"P-Phoebe? I'm in an exhausted state right now, so—"

"That's quite all right, Joy. You can rest in whatever position is comfortable. All you need to do is take my advice to heart."

And so, after Joy departed to spend a thoroughly enjoyable time being lectured by Phoebe, Arthur frowned and turned his thoughts to what lay ahead. The girl who was supposed to serve as the party's artillery had become useless, which meant pushing the dungeon any further today would be difficult.

Time to think of an alternative. Given the nature of every dungeon Lucy Aln had created so far, the fourth room, too, would place more importance on the ability to identify and analyze the gimmick than on raw skill. If they dug in for clues here and completed the analysis outside, they'd move slower, but they wouldn't fall dramatically behind.

Having reached that judgment, Arthur waited until Phoebe's long, long lecture finally ended and the soul-drained Joy returned alongside a somehow refreshed-looking Phoebe — and then the party headed for the next room.

"...Isn't this the corridor that stood at the very entrance of the dungeon?"

The fourth room of the dungeon resembled the corridor they'd seen upon first entering. The carpet laid across the floor. The gloomy lighting. The color of the walls. The only difference, if any, was that all the various objects that had decorated the original corridor had vanished without a trace.

"Joy, the analysis... I suppose that's out. You've spent all your mana."

"...I'm sorry."

"It's fine. We can treat this as experiencing firsthand whatever lies in wait."

Arthur's party resolved to press forward to the corridor's end, just as they had when first entering the dungeon — but regrettably, they failed to ever see that end. No threatening enemies appeared along the way. No life-threatening traps either. The path didn't branch into several forks, leaving them unable to tell which was which.

The corridor simply did not end.

"Stop walking. Let's search for clues."

Judging that advancing any further was meaningless, they scoured the corridor here and there, straining to turn up some hint of a lead. They dug through the carpet. They examined the walls and floor for anything that might be a hidden mechanism. They even went so far as to attack the walls, the floor, and the lights — but Arthur's party could not find a single clue of any kind.

The situation was so utterly opaque that Arthur would almost have preferred some wolf-like monstrosity to appear instead. He knit his brow.

Lucy Aln. Knowing her personality, she wouldn't have made a maze with no answer at all. The second room was proof of that. She had deliberately packed it full of details that would strike someone as strange — so they'd realize the wolves were illusions. Surely this room held some clue too.

"I'd like to go back and look ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠at that corridor from the beginning. If there's no clue here, then without fail, the clue will be there."

Come to think of it now, why on earth did I overlook that? Meticulous as Lucy Aln was, there was no way she'd have created that corridor for no reason at all.

"Though for that, we'd have to escape the dungeon."

Arthur was agonizing over whether he'd have to resort to self-harm to break out when — as if it had heard his voice — a single sheet of paper materialized before his eyes.

She even prepared an escape method, anticipating a situation like this? As expected of Lucy Aln. Such were Arthur's thoughts as, half hoping against hope, he examined the back of the paper. Knowing what a mischievous little wretch she was, there was a chance she'd left some clue hidden in precisely such an unexpected place.

Arthur crumpled the paper in his fist, crushed it again and again, then burned it to ash with his fire magic — silently vowing that he would, without fail, one day bring Lucy to her knees in humiliation.