The Girl Who Wields the Sword (2)
Lydia sprinted across the rooftops of the shopping district with Morgan slung over her back. Each stride carried her several meters at a leap, her golden hair streaming behind her like the tail of a comet. Tap-tap-tap—! The height of the buildings meant nothing; she cut through space itself like a bolt of light.
“?!”
Morgan’s head spun. “Ugh…!”
Her vision whipped back and forth in a nauseating blur. The wind slapped her cheeks with brutal force. If arrows had eyes, this must be what they felt like. Her skull felt ready to burst. Morgan finally screamed.
“Kyaaaaah—?! Blech— Lydia, please, slow down…!”
“Shh. No talking. You’ll bite your tongue.”
“Mmph…!”
“We cannot slow down now. If you truly cannot hold it, just vomit on my back. It’s fine. It happens all the time on the battlefield.”
“You—!”
Like hell I can do that, you idiot—!!
Morgan’s lips trembled as she squeezed her eyes shut. Beneath the sound of Lydia’s footsteps came another set— the Gallia knights’ stragglers, still chasing after them.
Tap-tap-tap—!
“...”
Mave had kept her mouth clamped shut for a while now. She simply followed Lydia with a grim, resolute expression.
Lydia glanced back at her once, then faced forward again.
“...We’ve arrived.”
They were now close enough to count the Skeleton Rider’s teeth. The two black stakes driven through its spine in a cross shape stood out clearly as well.
The skeletal horse it rode blazed with blue fire. In response, skeleton soldiers erupted from the ground like weeds.
Clatter. Clatter. Clatter.
Lydia scanned their surroundings.
“...”
This was where the Sun God’s temple should have stood. Around the Skeleton Rider, the area was packed with skeleton soldiers exhaling blue ghost flames. Hundreds of them— armed with crude spears and swords— covered the shopping district like a surging blue tide.
Clatter. Clatter. Clatter.
-Kikik—!
-Kikiki….
-Kyahaha…!
Hundreds of skeleton soldiers invading the domain of the sun. It was the second coming of a nightmare. The place felt less like a city and more like the dark realm itself.
“...”
As I thought, the black stakes doubled, so the minion-summoning pattern got strengthened too…. At this quantity, game knowledge is basically useless.
Dozens might have been manageable, but hundreds of monsters became a disaster simply by existing. The city would collapse just from their footsteps. The academy itself might end up isolated….
“...Hah.”
That bastard Albert had played his hand well. Even if I put off the main objective, he’s succeeded in making a complete mess of things. To think he could cause this much chaos even earlier than in the original story….
That was why he had been so disgustingly persistent in the latter half. Before things got any worse, she would have to expose his true nature and kill him.
Lydia made up her mind.
Morgan, staring at the scene, muttered, “It’s over. This city is finished. Soon there will be more skeletons than people.”
“...”
“Hundreds of soldiers guarding the boss’s front and rear, endlessly spawning more skeletons from inside the alley…. Even if we break through, we’ll just get surrounded. We’d be soaked to the bone by a drizzle that never ends.”
It was a cold assessment. And an accurate one.
Mave spoke bitterly. “Unless the country bumpkin sweeps them away in one strike with the Holy Sword… the three of us alone won’t be enough.”
“...”
She was right, of course. But not entirely.
What they needed now was strategy.
Lydia quickly analyzed the layout of the surrounding shops.
“Hm.”
A straight path led directly to the academy. The skeletons had completely blocked that single route. The Skeleton Rider had chosen to isolate itself, yet it remained ready to flee toward the academy at any moment.
“...There is a way.”
“?”
“?”
Just then, a crowd of people appeared in the distance. They were the elite students of the Swordsmanship Department who had reached the Fluid Realm, along with the holy knights who had refused to join Raoul.
⊳ Lucian leads the vanguard
⊳ Swordsmanship elites in Fluid Realm
⊳ Holy knights who rejected Raoul
“Prepare the ranks! Elite students to the front—!”
“Yes, Sir Lucian!”
“Charge—!”
“Brothers! Charge beneath the sun—!”
Lucian led from the very front, radiating blue energy as he smashed forward. The skeletons that collided with his broad shoulders shattered completely. He charged like a blazing bear cleaving a river.
Crunch! Crack!
“Halt the charge! Scatter the skeleton soldiers where you stand! I will become the shield of this formation—! Holy Department students and holy knights, guard each other’s backs—!”
“Yes, Sir Lucian!”
Lydia nodded.
“So Senior Lucian is the anvil. Extremely solid.”
“...?”
Mave didn’t understand, but Lydia continued.
“Then I must prepare the hammer.”
“A hammer…?”
“Do I not have a lovely hammer riding on my back?”
Morgan, still clinging to her, peeked her head out from behind.
“I’m… lovely…? Really…?”
Mave frowned. “That’s what you react to?”
“...Hmph.”
Lydia ignored their exchange and gazed toward the Sun God’s temple. Countless skeletons had sealed the entrance tight.
If only we had enough holy water….
She quickly conveyed her plan to Mave and Morgan. Both of their eyes widened.
“Mixing holy water with my water magic and raining it down… It’s a bit crude, but it should work. Having fewer people on this side will actually help.”
“That’s right…! If we can drag the Skeleton Rider down, it’ll become much easier.”
“Indeed. Then let us break through to the temple immediately.”
“Yes!”
With the wind whistling past their ears, they leaped down into the shopping district street shrouded in blue ghost flames.
Taht!
Lydia and Mave drew their swords in unison. They leveled them at the dozens of skeleton soldiers blocking the temple entrance.
Srrrng—!
*
“Die—!!”
In a single instant, the Holy Sword slipped from Arty’s grasp.
“...!”
Arty’s empty fist twitched.
Raoul’s roar still echoed in his ears.
Without the Holy Sword, you are nothing—!
And the blade drawing steadily closer.
“...”
Indeed… it was true.
Until just a short while ago!
Now, love and faith burned together in his chest.
【Wield your will.】
Even if he was not the Hero, he could still fight as ‘Arty.’
I can still fight!
Arty clenched his fist. The emblem of the Holy Sword glowed blue upon it. Sacred power condensed, slowly taking the shape of lightning.
Crackle!
What rose in his mind was the meaning behind the prayers he offered every day. Preparation at dawn. Reflection at dusk. The stepping stones that allowed humans to move forward.
“O Sun—!!”
Grant me the strength to advance.
Blue lightning surged across both of Arty’s fists. It was a divine spell used by priests— the power granted to those who understood the will of the gods.
Crackle—!
Arty thrust a fist wrapped in swirling blue lightning and blocked Raoul’s blade. The praying man’s fist was not cut by the heretic’s sword.
Clang!
“?!”
Raoul’s eyes slowly widened. Arty struck again. Instead of the Holy Sword, he charged with his own two fists.
“Haaah—!!”
“...!”
Fist and blade. Two wills collided once more. Blue lightning burned away the shadows as it raged.
BOOM—!
With a brilliant blue flash, the shadow of the collapsing chapel trembled for a moment.
“Kgh…?!”
Raoul frowned and withdrew his sword. Every time that madman’s divine spell— that blue lightning— struck him, his entire body suffered a stinging, numbing pain. It was the pain of being reminded of a truth he wanted to forget.
The truth that he had been rejected by the Sun God.
The truth that he was being treated like a heretic after an entire lifetime of service.
I… am receiving divine punishment? Me? I who have served as a holy knight my entire life? I who have slain the Church’s ‘enemies’ for my whole life?
Raoul ground his teeth. Trembling with betrayal, he blamed everything except himself.
“Everything is wrong…! This world, the sun— all of it!”
If so, he no longer needed the sun.
“I will take… only Aria!”
The black stake embedded in Raoul’s chest read that thought. It vibrated violently, spewing shadows.
It welcomed his ‘fall.’
Tremble…!
Beyond the dark realm, a demon spread its arms and whispered.
Your soul is now completely mine.
Raoul’s veins writhed. “Kwaaaaaah—!”
The black stake pulsed like a heart, spraying black shadows like a fountain. The shadows seemed to be the physical manifestation of the ugliness within him. In an instant they swallowed Raoul whole.
Crack—! Crunch!
They broke, twisted, and swelled. What finally emerged was a knight encircled by cursed shadow thorns. It was the shadow of ‘arrogance’ that sought to dye everything in its own color.
That ‘arrogant abomination’ screamed. It was the sorrowful cry of a ghost that had lost even its final shred of will.
Arty panted heavily. The black energy flowing from the shadow thorns was unbearably repulsive.
“Huff…!”
The enormous evil vibrating before his eyes terrified him. He wanted to turn his back on those shadows and run. But he did not.
“I… will protect the Saintess— Aria—!”
Because he had chosen to.
Arty brought his hands together and drew up blue divine power. He offered a prayer that drove away the surrounding shadows.
“O Sun! Grant me the strength to protect my will—!”
A blue barrier formed around Arty.
[Grrrrr…!]
The abomination looked his way. It gripped the sword in its swollen right arm tightly and spat out a voice steeped in hatred.
[Holy… swordsmanship… divine punishment—!!]
A monster that still believed itself to be righteous. Black lightning surged from its cursed shadow blade.
Rumble—!
It struck the blue barrier. Arty’s blue divine power desperately pushed back, but the black lightning slowly eroded the wall, staining it with shadow.
“Kwaaah…!”
Arty clenched his teeth. If he yielded here, Aria would fall into that thing’s hands…!
At that moment, a voice called from the side.
“Hero—!”
“?!”
Arty looked back. There stood Aria.
“Saintess…?!”
“Now it is my turn to protect you.”
A silver head of hair shimmering with blue energy swayed. Aria held the Holy Sword Danan in both hands. Her stance was perfectly steady, as though she had wielded a blade for years.
Arty’s eyes widened in shock. The Holy Sword— which would scatter like smoke if anyone else tried to grasp it— rested firmly in Aria’s hands.
“H-How can you hold the Holy Sword…?”
“I will protect you now.”
Not as the Saintess.
“As Aria.”