The Paladin's Humble Plea: A Strategy Born from Contrition
With a dry rasp that echoed like distant thunder, the black dragon of his right hand roared through the hollow air.
I am, after all, a man who had long ago erected a wall between himself and any form of religion.
If a God truly existed, why had this wretched world turned into such an absolute ruin? Why had my family been forced to leave us so cruelly? And… why had the one person I held dearest been taken from me in such a merciless fashion? These questions had never found satisfactory answers.
For that reason, I held not the slightest belief in the existence of any deity.
Nor had I ever once lifted my voice in prayer to them.
Of course, the vague sense that someone—or something—had summoned me into this world, or that a vast, unseen hand still issued quests in regular cycles, had occasionally crossed my mind.
Yet I had never been willing to brand that influence as an absolute God.
It was true that I had been granted the Paladin class and wielded the power of Holy Power, but that was simply the setting of this game world; nothing more.
Within my heart, there remained not a single spark of belief in some omnipotent being who dwelt in the flesh of this real world.
And yet here I was, at this very moment, bellowing meaningless gibberish at the empty space before me—half hymn, half prayer, I could not say which.
Even as the words spilled from my lips, a wave of utter bewilderment swept through me.
Whoa… what the hell is this even? It’s no different from the middle-school rants of those otaku who think they’re special!
Of course, it had been necessary to test the hidden skill I had just acquired.
But at twenty-something years old, having survived military service and still clinging to an extreme form of atheism, the act felt indistinguishable from shouting the dramatic line “Grrrrr! My right hand is unleashing the black dragon!!” straight out of some cheap manga.
The real problem is that I now have to do this in front of countless people… I wonder if I can actually pull it off…
Feeling that familiar sting of humiliation, I decided to verify just how greatly the skill had improved.
Yet…
“…”
“?!…”
Immediately after I turned my head away in distraction, a figure materialized in my line of sight.
General Franklin.
The instant her face entered my field of vision, the single word that flashed through my mind was:
…Shit.
Of all the scenes I would have preferred to die before anyone witnessed, I had chosen this one—right in front of the one person I least wanted to see it.
Heat flooded my face as a heavy wave of mortification surged through my chest.
“W-well, General? This… this is, um…”
But…
“Forgive me. It appears I unintentionally interrupted a precious moment of communion between a Paladin and God.”
“Y-yes?”
Her tone remained perfectly calm, almost indifferent, as she simply turned away and gave a brief parting remark.
“Once you are finished, please come to the briefing room. We have a strategy meeting to conduct.”
“Ah… yes. Understood… ma’am.”
“Then.”
Her departure was as cool and unflappable as ever.
Watching her go, I felt the first genuine confirmation that this truly was a fantasy world.
…Ah, of course. Since holy power and magic are treated as ordinary forces here, such behavior would be perfectly natural to anyone living in this realm.
Considering the grand speeches and holy incantations I had once performed before battle, my own little “hymn to God” hardly seemed strange anymore.
Though a lingering sense of personal awkwardness remained, at least I no longer had to worry about onlookers.
Thank God. If I had been judged so harshly, I might never have mustered the courage to attempt it at all…
With that worry lifted, I turned my attention back to the skill whose worth I had been testing.
God’s Earthly Representative.
According to the description, it was said to increase every skill’s efficiency by 300%.
But to know whether it was true… I had to try.
300% improvement… meaning four times the effectiveness? Then even the basic recovery and defense skills…
A power that could shift the very balance of an entire battlefield, both materially and psychologically.
So I activated it, letting the overwhelming aura that coursed through every fiber of my being surge forth.
*
“Ah…”
After leaving Cromwell’s side, Franklin had deliberately withdrawn from the scene.
Yet right now, in the quiet of her quarters, the memory of that earlier scene refused to leave her mind.
I knew from the beginning that he possessed an extraordinary ability… but I never imagined he could hide power of that magnitude.
The intensity that had struck her even while she stood merely nearby was almost unbearable.
It felt as though she had witnessed the very manifestation of God—sacred, holy, and overwhelming in a way no one had ever described.
Not even the Emperor’s own Paladin, whom she had once served under, had ever radiated anything close to this.
And from that realization came a single, unavoidable conclusion.
…Does that mean Captain Cromwell has been concealing his strength all this time? Perhaps he has been working toward some greater purpose—fulfilling God’s will itself…?
In Franklin’s heart, Cromwell had already climbed to the heights of worship.
The sight of that man unleashing holy power at such terrifying levels only deepened the transformation of her feelings.
I can’t ask for details yet… but one thing is certain. There is something far greater than ordinary talent behind him. Perhaps the reason he left the Empire and joined us wasn’t merely betrayal… but something higher—something divine.
Of course, the true nature of it would remain unknown until Cromwell himself explained.
Yet at this critical juncture, mere days before a decisive battle against such a formidable foe, she had no trouble guessing the role his sacred power would play.
The details will become clear once we begin preparing and fighting. Whatever the plan, I will simply follow Captain Cromwell’s orders.
*
The Rebel commanders were gathered in the war room to discuss battle strategy.
With General Gates absent, the position that should have belonged to him was now filled by Franklin, the fortress commander, alongside her subordinate Cromwell and the other officers under her command.
Benellita Arnold and her staff, who had been assigned to command the left and right wings, also occupied seats around the table.
“As I outlined earlier,” Franklin stated calmly, pointing to the map, “General Gates will lead the central main force of four thousand troops to defend this Stanwix Fortress. The remaining five thousand troops under our direct control will be divided between the wings.”
Benellita nodded once, her voice steady. “Five thousand… assuming the main force stays put, that means we must defeat an enemy force of roughly thirteen thousand elite troops.”
“That is correct. The silver lining is that additional militia are already arriving from nearby villages that have switched sides. The longer this drags on, the more advantageous the situation becomes for us.”
Franklin glanced at Jane McCree, the representative of the newly joined militia, before continuing. “Thanks to your efforts, the Empire is now gradually isolating itself in this region. That alone has greatly weakened their position.”
Benellita’s tone sharpened slightly. “That may be true. But the Empire isn’t stupid. They won’t drag this battle out for long. Besides, having many friendly settlements nearby means we’ll have to defend a much larger territory. If the Imperial army decides to lay waste to those settlements, things could become far more complicated.”
“…”
Of course, if the Empire responded with the kind of mass civilian slaughter that would spark a total backlash, victory would become impossible.
Yet with the Empire currently holding a numerical advantage, they would inevitably try to force a full-scale battle on ground of their choosing.
After a moment of heavy silence, Cromwell raised his hand.
“…If it’s not too much to ask, may I offer a suggestion?”
Both Franklin and Benellita turned their attention to him at once.
“Please,” Cromwell continued in the same calm tone, “I would like to present a strategy I have devised—one that reverses the tactics originally employed by the Imperial forces in the original timeline.”
*
Inside the cramped tent, General Neto sat with a scowl, his wrists locked in special restraints that nullified even magic.
“How… how did it come to this…?”
He paced the tiny space, teeth gritted, replaying the endless questions in his head.
What do I do? If I stay like this, I’ll be sentenced and executed… What should I even do here…?
Then, from behind him, a soft voice whispered.
“General.”
“Mmm?”
Neto spun around. The man standing there was…
“C… Clara?”