I Was Not Wrong 2
“Hah… hah… hah…”
Hero Elise gasped for breath, her body covered in wounds. She was nearing her limit. Though she had managed to dodge the strikes aimed at her vital points, the smaller cuts and gashes she sustained in the process were unavoidable. Worse still, the assassins’ weapons were laced with poison. Even with a hero’s natural resistance, the accumulated toxins were rapidly draining her strength.
Despite everything, she had slain three of her attackers with her remaining power. Yet two more remained, while her body teetered on the brink of collapse.
Damn it… If only the Holy Sword… if only its light would return, these wretches would be nothing!
Ever since she first grasped it, the Holy Sword had responded to her magic with a radiant golden holy power. But now, the blade in her hands emitted no light at all. No matter how much mana she poured into it, the sword remained silent. The realization struck her harder than the poison ravaging her body, and the opening it created nearly cost her everything.
It was as if the sword itself were declaring that she was no longer the chosen one… that God had abandoned her.
No… no, that can’t be. God would never abandon me. This… this must be a trial. A hardship meant to test my faith!
The excuse sounded hollow even to her own ears, but she had nothing else to cling to. The Holy Sword’s light had been proof of her divine selection, the symbol that her actions aligned with God’s will. Its absence meant her every deed was being called into question. The very foundation that had sustained her spirit was crumbling, and Elise could not—would not—accept it.
“A… aah… Aaaaaah!!”
With the last of her strength, Elise forced every drop of mana she possessed into the Holy Sword. It was a reckless gamble; she should have been conserving her power to fight the remaining assassins. But cornered both physically and mentally, she had no other choice.
“Please… I beg you, O God! O God!!! Please!!”
Her desperate prayer rang out as she poured her mana into the blade. The sheer intensity of her plea, bordering on madness, made the assassins hesitate for a moment.
Then—
Flash!!!
“!”
“Ah!”
The Holy Sword suddenly blazed with light. Elise’s face, twisted in anguish moments before, lit up with radiant hope.
“Ha… haha… Yes… of course! There’s no way… no way God would abandon me! Something so absurd could never happen!”
She burst into laughter at the sight of the glowing blade. But the assassins felt something was wrong. The light looked ordinary at first glance, yet it was blindingly bright—pure white flames flickering with traces of violet, not the golden radiance that symbolized divine power.
“Huh?”
“What?”
Before they could fully register the anomaly, the light vanished. The hero collapsed to the ground, unconscious from the strain of forcing the sword to ignite.
The two assassins exchanged glances, wondering if they had imagined the strange glow. They moved to retrieve her unconscious form as planned.
At that moment—
“Quite the rare sight, isn’t it?”
“Guh!”
“Wh-who’s there?”
A voice echoed from the shadows. The assassins turned toward the sound, their faces hardening in shock.
“Wh-what? Y-you… why are you here?”
“Oh? If you recognize me, then this will be quick. Withdraw now, and I’ll overlook this incident. But if you resist… I’ll be forced to act, though I’d rather not.”
With those words, a figure stepped forward—an elf woman in priestly robes, her black hair neatly arranged and her green eyes calm and composed. There was no mistaking her identity. She was Freeder, the Grey Saint of the Elf Holy Kingdom, one of the highest-ranking clergy on the continent, capable of hearing God’s voice alongside the Pope. She was also a member of the Hero Party.
The moment she appeared, a chilling wave of holy power swept through the area.
“F-Freeder…”
“Th-this is a misunderstanding. We were merely—”
“A misunderstanding? Then explain it to me. If it’s something you can openly declare before the many guests at the banquet hall, I’ll gladly listen.”
“Khh…”
The two fell silent. Freeder flicked her sleeve lightly, and a massive scythe materialized in her hand, its blade wreathed in cold holy energy. The warning was unmistakable. Realizing they had no choice, the assassins gathered their fallen comrades and vanished into the night.
Once the area was clear, Freeder approached the fallen hero.
*
A throbbing headache greeted Elise as she slowly opened her eyes.
“Damn it… what the hell happened…”
She found herself in a familiar room. At least she hadn’t been dragged off to some unknown location. That small relief was enough to ease her mind slightly.
Then—
“Have you awakened?”
“!”
The familiar voice made her turn. When she saw who stood before her, her eyes widened in surprise.
“F-Freeder? H-how… Did you save me?”
“In a manner of speaking, yes.”
Freeder had disappeared right after the expedition ended, claiming no interest in the victory banquet. The party had assumed she’d gone off to some rural orphanage, as was her habit, and hadn’t given her much thought. Now, learning that this same woman had rescued her, Elise spoke with a hint of relief.
“Thank you. I was in real danger back there. I owe you my life.”
“Protecting one’s comrades is only natural. Think nothing of it. More importantly, who were those people?”
“I don’t know exactly. But if they could orchestrate something like this in the imperial capital, they’re no ordinary criminals.”
“And if they could bring down the wielder of the Holy Sword, they must be formidable warriors as well.”
“Mm… I suppose so.”
Elise couldn’t bring herself to mention that the Holy Sword’s light had gone out. Especially not to Freeder.
She helped me, but she’s never approved of me. There’s no need to give her more reason to doubt.
The sword’s light had returned, even if only temporarily. The cause remained unsettling, and Freeder, as a saint, might have answers. Yet Elise chose to keep silent. It wasn’t just to avoid complications—there was still an undeniable distance between them.
Freeder had been the only member of the Hero Party who had believed in the Demon King until the very end. Like Elise once had, she had thought peace with him was possible and had warned that slaying him would bring greater chaos. She had opposed his defeat to the last, and after the party eliminated him anyway, an unbridgeable rift had formed between her and the others. Even now, the awkwardness hung thick in the air.
“In any case, I’ll be taking my leave. Please refrain from mentioning me to the others if possible.”
“…Understood. Be careful on your way.”
With that, Freeder cast a spell, opening a spatial gate with her holy power. Her figure vanished cleanly.
Left alone in the room, Hero Elise—
“Hah… hah… hah…”
—finally let her tension unravel, her breathing ragged. Tears welled in her eyes as the memory of believing she had been abandoned by God surged back, choking her. Trembling, she turned her gaze to the Holy Sword resting beside her.
Freeder’s aid had restored her body enough that drawing the sword and channeling mana into it should have been effortless. But Elise couldn’t bring herself to try. Fear gripped her—the terror that the light might not return, just like before. Shaking at the mere thought, she curled up in bed without ever reaching for the blade.
It’s fine… There’s no problem. God hasn’t abandoned me. I’m still… the chosen hero.
*
The one who hears God’s voice, the Grey Saint Freeder, knelt alone in a small chapel. Hands clasped over her chest, she offered a quiet prayer.
Gratitude to God. Compassion for the suffering. And… an apology for the guilt that weighed on her own heart.
For months, she had repeated this prayer daily, yet she could not be certain whether it truly reached its intended recipient. The one she sought forgiveness from was an existence often said to have no place with God. She didn’t even know if it was right to beg for absolution in God’s name on his behalf.
Still, she continued to pray. Whether he resided in heaven or hell, she hoped her voice might reach him, even just a little.
“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry… Demon King.”