Homecoming

The Blessing of Fortitude was breached.

Watching the pillar of light fall short by a paper-thin margin, Shiron slowly steadied his breathing. He needed to heal a body wrecked by continuous combat. Sacred power radiating from his heart transformed into a restorative force.

"You've got to be kidding me."

Shiron shouted, packing every ounce of irritation into the words. For a moment, it felt like his mind had short-circuited.

"Still... it wasn't completely broken through..."

He muttered, dusting off his sleeves.

—Kyaaaaah!

"This thing just won't die."

From within the pillar of light, the screaming never stopped.

Tough. Real tough. He said it without a trace of tension, but Camilla Rodos ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was more than a formidable opponent. She had shrugged off even the mind control cast by Seira — a mage who had once faced the Evil God himself — and then layered her own mind control over him while ignoring Latera's Blessings entirely.

And more than that—

She had taken Seira's Aurora White Night head-on and still refused to die.

Worse, she was trying, ever so slowly, to close the distance. Had she grown used to the pain? The glare made it hard to see, but he had the distinct impression she was still staring him down.

At last, the light went out.

"Guh..."

Camilla lifted her head. Reeking smoke poured off her as she glared with blood-red eyes, and not so much as a speck of beauty remained in her.

Shiron discarded the Black Iron Sword and drew the Holy Sword. In hindsight, drawing it from the start might have been wiser — but then he never would have lured Camilla down from her nest on the top floor to the first.

For all that she was beloved by the Evil God, Camilla was a coward.

That character trait had been plain enough in Reincarnation Sword God. Run into her while moving across the field and she would freely unleash mental attacks, forcing the player to fight her inside her nest — her domain.

But in Phase Two, Camilla stopped using mental attacks altogether. She shed the coward's skin, revealed the imposing majesty befitting a vessel chosen by the Evil God, and fought with raw physical force.

And right now, Camilla was about to enter Phase Two. Hairline cracks spread across her charred black flesh, and a red light began to seep out through the gaps.

What the hell?

Camilla glared at Shiron, breathing hard. In truth, it wasn't Shiron she was glaring at. Her eyes were fixed on the sword in his hand, wreathed in pure white light.

Every time that pure white radiance struck her eyes, Camilla wanted nothing more than to squeeze them shut. But her eyes would not close.

Why...?

Camilla hurriedly ran both hands over her face. For a second she wondered if her eyelids had been burned away — but her face was intact.

If there had been a mirror, she would have been whole in it. Skin like white jade, not a hair out of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠place... and yet the face her fingers traced was nothing like the one she knew.

It was disorienting.

Red light continued to leak along the cracks — but the disorientation was already fading. What swelled in her chest instead was a raw hunger to kill that hateful Prien right this instant.

Perhaps every useless emotion simply vanished in combat. That was the only way she could make sense of it.

Camilla's face began to twist into something hideous.

But first, there was something she had to check.

She lifted her head and looked at the ceiling. A gaping hole. A violet speck. She focused. A white light began ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to flicker.

...Which one do I kill first?

Her head was spinning. The human with the white sword. The unidentified light falling from above. She decided to keep it simple.

Which was more of a threat... either way—

I have to kill them.

Shiron thought the same.

He had to cut her down before she crossed into Phase Two. In the brief instant Camilla hesitated — before she could drape herself in concentrated demonic energy, right now, while the metamorphosis was still underway—

Shiron's body shot forward. Camilla bent her legs deep, preparing to leap.

Not a chance!

The Holy Sword came crashing down. White flames flickered along its path, tracing a trail of light. Thud! The blade, swung with every ounce of strength he had left, buried itself in that hideous neck.

But the Holy Sword stopped halfway. Sacred light tried to cleave through her throat, yet a single stroke was not enough.

Camilla seized the half-buried blade in a death grip. She shouldn't have. The fingers that closed around the Holy Sword dropped to the floor with a soft patter.

"Hup!"

Shiron kicked Camilla's legs out from under her with everything he had. She staggered — and in that moment he pulled a spear from his coat.

Whoosh!

A spear of fire punched through Camilla's heart and drove into the floor.

"Guhhhh!"

Shiron wrenched the Holy Sword's hilt with all his strength. Shhk — the sensation of cutting transmitted through his fingertips. Certain the head had separated from the body, he snatched it by the hair and flung it far away.

The body collapsed to the floor and crumbled into ash that drifted into the air. Hands, feet, extremities turning to ash and vanishing — that was the mark of an Apostle's complete death.

And when even the hair clenched in his fist crumbled to ash and disappeared, the tension holding Shiron's body together finally snapped loose.

Gritting his teeth, he drove the Holy Sword into the ground and used it as a cane. Every time he tried to brace himself, the sharp edge bit deeper into the earth — until, at some point, even that stopped.

"Kid! You all right?!"

Seira dropped from the sky and ran to his side. When she took his shoulder to steady him, he was soaked through with sweat. She didn't find it repulsive in the least.

"Man... I almost actually died."

Shiron lifted his head and looked at her. The blood trailing from the corner of his mouth, the sweat-soaked hair plastered to his face — it all told Seira just how desperately he had fought to resist the mind control.

"Look at this. How many fingers am I holding up?"

Seira waved her spread fingers in front of his eyes.

"I'm fine. There's a hole in my back, but it's the kind that fills itself in pretty quick."

"...Maybe you should lie down first."

"Wait. There's something I need to check."

Shiron dragged his trembling legs toward the burning spear. Nothing had come out of the severed head, so he had to check the torso where the spear was still lodged.

There it was — a black orb reflecting the firelight.

Shiron grinned and sank to one knee.

This was nothing like some scrap of a wicked god. It was proof that an Apostle had been slain.

An Apostle's seat has been erased.

Only one — but it was a major step forward. Because he had killed her with the Holy Sword, Camilla's seat was gone forever. Glenn, still fighting hard in the Demon Realm, would not have another burden added to his load.

Shiron picked up the black orb and slipped it into his coat.

Seira Lomer watched in silence. Unlike when she had been floating in the sky, she could see the situation clearly now.

"...You almost got eaten. Why didn't you draw the Holy Sword first? No — better yet, why didn't you just let me fight alongside you from the start?"

"If you hadn't stayed far away, this damn woman never would have left her nest."

Shiron looked up at the gaping hole in the ceiling. Red blood was dripping down with the pull of gravity.

"Camilla Rodos scatters that liquid through the air to attack. Blades of blood float in empty space, and you never know when a spear will shoot up from a pool on the floor."

"Okay, okay. This was the best way."

Seira decided to drop it. Keep arguing and the conversation would never end. She had faced plenty of enemies and explored more than a few labyrinths, and every single time Shiron had known exactly what the enemy would use and where the treasure was.

Again... he's talking like he's lived through it himself.

This would be no different. Seira still found it hard to believe Shiron was a prophet, but she believed he was seeing something — somehow.

She let out a long sigh and lifted the liquid flowing across the floor into the air. Narrowing her eyes, she studied it.

A dense concentration of demonic energy radiated from the liquid.

Even though it wasn't the main body, it called to mind that monster from the depths of the sea. Demonic energy of this caliber was something Seira hadn't encountered in centuries.

"How about you rest a little first?"

Seira said, speaking over her shoulder to the Shiron on her back. He had asked to be carried because he couldn't walk — and now he was fidgeting, scribbling something furiously.

"If you've got that much energy left, you could walk on your own—"

"Quiet. I almost forgot."

Shiron pressed his temple and replayed the fight with Camilla in his mind.

This battle had taught him a great deal.

Unlike the cultist rabble, he had crossed blades with a blood-demon swordsman who had properly trained in swordsmanship. He had also taken the strongest mental attack he had ever faced with nothing but his bare will.

My mental strength went up a little, right? Adaptability was working at full capacity, so it must have...

"We're here. What now? Should I call someone?"

"No. It's way too ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠late."

Shiron slid down from Seira's back. After a little time, walking felt manageable again. He took a running start and vaulted the wall.

The wall he cleared was the western boundary of the estate grounds — the direction that led, after a short walk, to the annex.

Five years away, and nothing's really changed.

A faint nostalgia stirred in him as he walked toward the annex in silence. It was a strange feeling. He had spent more time away from the estate than living in it, and yet somehow it felt like coming home.

Is Lucia still living in the annex?

Old memories from before the possession rose up, vivid and unbidden.

He had come home after finishing his military service only to find his family had moved without a word. Had Lucia gone to the main house where Siriel lived? She was a soft-hearted kid under the surface — maybe she had.

Shiron climbed up to the second floor of the annex, onto the terrace attached to his room. Seira followed quietly behind him.

Creeeak—

The window was unlocked and open. Well — what kind of insane thief would try to rob Hugo Prien's estate?

In the darkness, a pair of golden eyes flashed.

Shit.

"Jesus—"

"Shiron? Is that you, Shiron?"

The golden eyes drew slowly closer.

Snap — and the room flooded with light. A red-haired girl came into view. Shiron narrowed his eyes, watching the girl approach.

Her appearance was exactly that of the Lucia Prien from his memories — the one who had killed him more times than he could count.