Soft Spear, Hard Fist
What the hell is wrong with this guy...?
There was no spare moment to be surprised by the sight of the Saintess of the Silver Light parrying my sword aside with her spear. The weapon was already sweeping in horizontally, and I had to tilt my blade at an angle just to catch it.
CLANG—!
The blow carried a crushing weight behind it, and I skidded backward across the floor.
...So she knows how to use a spear too?
My palm tingled. The way she'd brushed aside the strike I'd thrown to kill Cassian, and the sheer mass and speed riding on that spear just now — neither was anywhere near ordinary.
...Now that I think about it, Clarice called her not the Silver Saintess, but the Silver Holy Spear.
From what I'd heard in passing, she was said to always stand at the very front whenever the Church marched into the Demon Realm to hunt down demonic beasts. I'd dismissed it as propaganda cooked up by the Eris Order and thought nothing more of it.
...I'd been so buried in my own plan that I'd been missing information right in front of me, interpreting everything through a narrow lens. That was a flaw I needed to fix.
"Hey. What's your deal, huh? I asked you a question."
Beatrice spun her spear in one fluid circle and leveled its tip at me. There was nothing remotely ordinary about the pressure rolling off her.
She's strong. I can feel it without even crossing blades. Far stronger than Leonid.
If Beatrice stood in my way, killing Cassian would not be easy.
But I didn't revise the plan. If anything, the conviction that Cassian had to die here, no matter what, only hardened further.
Because a warrior of this caliber would be an immense asset — and I could not afford to lose her.
"Saintess Beatrice. I am Kael, the Hero of the Justitia Order."
"...The Hero, you say?"
At my words, Beatrice's brow furrowed and she lowered the spear tip a fraction.
"That's a bit much for a greeting between Heroes, don't you think? And what's the story with you turning our Leonid into a bloody rag?"
"......"
"Oh? Chewing on my words like they're delicious, are we?"
"Stand aside."
What was I supposed to say here? No matter how I turned it over, nothing suitable came to mind, so I ignored her bait and simply demanded she move.
"And if I step aside, what — so you can kill the bastard?"
"Yes. I will kill him."
At my flat answer, Beatrice made a face of pure disbelief.
Well. Fair enough.
She had no way of knowing what kind of man Cassian was, or what he would go on to do.
In her eyes, I must have looked like nothing more than a thug who'd barged in out of nowhere, swinging a blade and declaring his intent to murder the Order's Hero candidate.
"You got any actual grounds for that?"
"I do."
The fact that she asked so coolly — did that mean there was room for negotiation?
"Then let's hear it."
"That, I cannot tell you."
But I couldn't explain my reasons. To minimize the variables, the fewer people who knew the future, the better.
"Haha, what is wrong with you? You ate something bad somewhere and it cooked your brain? Fine — I'll let it slide this far out of respect for Clarice's face, so get the hell out. Now."
"If you will not stand aside, then I will have no choice but to hurt you."
"This son of a—"
And this bastard doesn't listen to a single word I say either. Is ignoring other people a passive skill the Holy Empire breeds into them or something?
Beatrice muttered her complaint in a low growl. Living alongside holy knights in the Demon Realm must have coarsened her tongue. Or maybe that was just her personality all along.
She let out a thin sigh and shifted her gaze to Leonid, sprawled unconscious on the ground.
"Hey. Leonid."
"...Nnngh."
At her voice, the fallen knight groaned and stirred.
"You alive?"
"...Sis, does this... look alive... to you right now...?"
"Your mouth works, so yeah, you're fine."
Beatrice turned her head toward Cassian. Then she heaved a sigh so deep it seemed it might sink the ground beneath her.
"Dropping your sword is one thing, but you close your eyes when a sword strike's coming at your face? You are genuinely hopeless."
Cassian hung his head, unable to say a word under the weight of her exasperation.
"And the most hopeless one here is you, jackass. You waltz into another Order's grounds, skewer their vice-commander, and then try to murder their Hero candidate?"
Beatrice's eyes finally settled on me, her voice dropping into a low growl.
I know the future.
And I had witnessed with my own eyes what became of that proud, powerful woman.
I slowly closed my eyes.
"Ahh, Beatrice, that woman? I really liked her — that pretty face and that obscene body of hers. And the way she spat defiance right up to the end. A perfect woman, honestly."
I remembered it. A conversation from the past — or rather, from the future — moments before I came to blows with Cassian, when I stormed into the Eris Order turned den of demons.
"Even with Lady Lilith's curse devouring her, squirming and writhing beneath me, she clenched her teeth and cursed me to the very last. And in the middle of all that, calling on the name of Goddess Eris to hold on... Honestly, I wanted to see her completely broken, so I tried everything I could think of — but she never once submitted. Quite the vicious woman, that one."
Cassian had snickered, low and vile.
"Well, later on I figured I'd have her bear a monster's whelp, so I threw her to the beasts of Lust — and after that she was so thoroughly ruined she stopped being any fun. What a shame. Like watching a beloved toy break, you know?"
"You son of a—! And you still dare call yourself human?!"
Kael's eyes, shut tight, flew open.
The rage he had felt then was as vivid as if it had happened yesterday.
Worse — he had seen, with his own eyes, the Beatrice he'd pulled out of Cassian's clutches refusing all food and drink, barricaded in her room, until in the end she committed a sin no priestess ever should have—
And it was precisely because he had seen that wretched state firsthand.
"Saintess. Are you truly not going to step aside?"
"Hey, do I look like I'm planning to step aside to you right now?"
Beatrice raised the lowered spear tip again and pointed it at me.
"Hah... my apologies. It seems I'll have to get a little rough."
So it had come to a fight after all.
I re-gripped the sword I'd let droop toward the floor and drew in a long, deep breath.
To fight a spear, I had to close the distance first. With that thought I moved to slip inside her reach — but before I could take a single step, a prickle of danger ran down my spine and my sword came up on pure reflex.
CLANG—
"Kgh...!?"
Fast.
I'd assumed she'd answer my attempt to close in with a thrust, and I'd planned to knock it aside and press forward — but there was no room for any of that. Even when I barely deflected the spearhead, the next thrust was already surging in before I could reset my stance.
CLANG—
"Ugh!"
In the end I had to give ground backward, absorbing the thrust on an unstable footing. The gap between me and Beatrice hadn't shrunk by a hair.
"Huh. You're actually better than I expected? Leonid's no pushover either, so I guess there was a reason he got torn up like that."
"...You are strong. I cannot afford to hold back against you."
Those few short exchanges had made it certain: to break through the Saintess before me, I too would have to pour out everything I had.
And so I raised the divine power granted to Heroes alone.
The Starlight Divine Power.
"...Wow, you're even busting out divine power? You serious right now?"
"Yes. I am serious. One last question, Saintess. Will you not hand over Cassian's head?"
"Nope."
Silver-white divine power rippled across Beatrice's body. Two divine auras slammed into each other with violent force, whipping a rough gale through the quiet training grounds.
"Cassian. Take Leonid and fall back."
Cassian scrambled over at once, dragged the bloodied Leonid by the collar, and retreated. The instant Leonid was clear of the battlefield, I kicked off the ground and lunged at Beatrice.
Cloaked in Starlight, my speed was incomparable to moments ago. It was a swiftness that had once drawn open admiration from the Knight Commander of Justitia, a man raised to the rank of a Saint. I was certain that, at most, she would manage to react.
But that certainty lasted only a heartbeat.
A chill shot down my spine.
"...!?"
Time slowed to a crawl. Was this the egoless state warriors reached mid-battle? No. It was instinct, sensing death, forcibly dragging my perception of time to a standstill.
Keep going like this and I die. My feet ground to a halt at the instinct's screaming warning — and the forced stop made the bones and ligaments of my knees grind and shriek in protest.
But that wasn't what mattered now.
SHHHK—!
The air tore apart. What I barely managed to catch within the decelerated world was a single streak of light — a spearhead ripping toward me like a flash of lightning.
CRANG—!
"Kgh...!"
Instinct alone had turned that strike away. Taking it from such a wrenched posture sent a pain like my grip tearing apart washing over me. Worse, the recoil of barely holding the blow threw both my sword-arms up above my head.
My entire body, wide open.
I scrambled to reset my stance and drive forward — but Beatrice was not about to allow it.
CLANG— CLAK!
Another vicious thrust came flying. I caught it, barely, but my body couldn't withstand the impact and I was shoved skidding backward.
She's a master of fighting at range.
Her meticulous distance control — never once conceding the sword's measure — left me helplessly batted about, and cuts and bruises began blooming across my body in seconds.
What makes a spear's thrust so dangerous isn't only its reach. The greatest difficulty lies in the fact that it is a point attack. Unlike a slash, whose arc traces a line, an incoming thrust concentrates entirely on a single point.
For the defender, the attack's final destination remains impossible to gauge until the very instant before it lands — which is precisely what makes it so fiendish to handle.
But even that is, in truth, manageable. Read the twitch of the opponent's shoulder muscles, the angle at which the arm extends, and even a difficult thrust can be answered. At least, that was true of every spear art I knew.
And yet...
...I can't read the trajectory of her attacks.
Trying to track her shoulders and arms and respond accordingly was pointless, because a trajectory that shot out in a dead-straight line would suddenly bend like a serpent mid-thrust. And her speed besides — so terrifyingly fast that all I could catch was the faintest afterimage.
"Kgh!"
A spear strike I failed to evade raked deep across my shoulder, and blood sprayed with a wet shlack. I staggered back several paces, retreating clear of the spear's reach, and clutched the burning shoulder with a suppressed groan.
"How is it? A little different from what you imagined?"
Beatrice's voice reached my ears.
"Is it because I'm a woman, or because I'm a Saintess? At first, everyone came at me just as carelessly as you did."
She twirled the spear with fluid grace and rested it casually against her shoulder, one corner of her mouth curling up.
"And every single one of those idiots made the exact same stupid face you're making now."
"...I will admit it. You are strong."
Yes — Beatrice was stronger than I was.
But I had felled demons stronger than me more times than I could count. For me, clawing and thrashing from the edge of a losing cliff was far more familiar than standing above an opponent and crushing them.
With my current skill, I could not punch through that thrust unscathed. Which meant there was only one way.
Split the distance with a heart ready to be torn limb from limb.
BOOM—
I kicked off the ground and charged — and fixed my eyes unblinking on the spearhead flying at me.
My skill could not fully track the spear's trajectory. So I would watch it to the absolute end with everything I had, then twist my body in the final instant, take the blow with my flesh, and survive it — and the moment Beatrice stepped inside my sword's measure, victory would come to me.
THUK—!
"...Hey, are you insane!?"
Shock flooded Beatrice's face. It figured — she'd never imagined anyone would drive the distance closed at the cost of letting a spearhead punch through their shoulder.
Now. Entirely inside my range.
"It's over—"
SWSSH—
The instant I swung my sword in certainty of victory, a dull impact cracked against my jaw — and the world spun.
Strength drained from my whole body in an instant, and I nearly dropped the sword mid-swing. I barely kept my grip and averted that disaster, but the sensation of my brain rattling in my skull sent me staggering back several steps, and—
CRANG—
I barely deflected the thrust that seized on the opening, and was driven skidding back once more. The distance I'd clawed shut at the price of my shoulder had been pointlessly torn open again.
...What just happened?
I couldn't make sense of it. Inside the sword's range — the distance where a spear should lose all its power and turn useless — what on earth had struck me?
"Hey, are you out of your mind? If I hadn't twisted my spearhead, there'd be a hole straight through your neck right now."
Beatrice's voice buzzed through my skull like it was echoing out of a cavern. It felt as though consciousness would leave me at any moment.
No. Whatever it took, Cassian had to die here.
Gritting my teeth, I clung to my drifting awareness and dragged my divine power higher still. Thanks to the Hero's transcendent body and the blessing of Starlight, I recovered from the blow with remarkable speed. My shoulder was still ragged, but I could hold and swing a sword.
If I stopped here, I would simply bleed out and die. The distance had to close again. Even that unpredictable, serpent-coiling thrust was slowly growing familiar to my eyes.
"...Wow. Did you eat something wrong or what?"
Beatrice made a face of open disgust at the sight of me burrowing back inside her spear's arc, but I barely heard her. I simply kept my guard up as best I could and desperately absorbed the downpour of thrusts.
And then—
Now!
The instant an opening appeared, I beat the spearhead aside hard and closed in again, eyes wide and locked on Beatrice. Unless I uncovered the truth behind that strange, inexplicable strike from before, I had no chance of winning—
She's closing the distance first?
The moment I drove forward, Beatrice took a step toward me. Voluntarily entering the sword's range — an act tantamount to suicide for a spear-wielder.
No... this is—!
She stepped in the same instant I did, collapsing the gap to half. And this distance was no longer the sword's measure — it was—
BANG—!
"Ghhak...!"
My vision flashed white. A beat later, I understood: Beatrice had extended her fist and slammed it into my temple. My consciousness blacked out for an instant before snapping back, and the brain-rattling pain that followed wrenched a final scream out of me.
Martial arts — she has body techniques too!?
WHAM—
Her leg swung around in a kick to my abdomen, and with no capacity to answer it, I took it square. I was sent bouncing across the dirt, rolling a good many times before I stopped.
"Ghh... ugh..."
It was like wandering through fog. Gnawed at by fog I couldn't grasp, flailing desperately to close the distance — and the moment I did, she turned into a hammer of solid stone and came down on me.
The yielding spear art, combined with the hard fist art. I could see no way through it. Yes — this woman stood on a plane far, far above mine.
I forced myself to rise, but my legs had already given out and refused to obey. My swaying body finally collapsed onto the dirt. All I could manage was to drive my sword into the ground and hold my upper body up — barely — so as not to fall completely.
Tap. Tap.
With unhurried footsteps, a shadow fell over my head.
"So? Feeling a little more level-headed yet?"
I lifted my head, and there was Beatrice, looking down at me with an expression of idle indifference. Her breathing hadn't been disturbed in the slightest — perfectly calm.
I can't stop. Cassian has to die here.
Move...! Move, damn you, MOVE!
I whipped myself inwardly again and again, but my drained divine power and my wrecked body betrayed my will. In the end, I laughably face-planted back into the dirt.
While Kael's heart bled defiance and desperation, Beatrice's was running on a rather different frequency. Namely:
Wow, this crazy son of a bitch is actually serious.
He'd come barreling at me out of nowhere screaming about killing Cassian, and I'd somehow ended up flattening him on reflex. My plan of just parrying along at a reasonable pace had long since flown off to Andromeda the moment this lunatic charged in with his eyes rolled back.
My fist throbbed where I'd hammered him a few times. A Hero's body wreathed in Starlight was hard as a hunk of iron.
That aside, though...
What is wrong with this guy...?
The Hero of the original story I knew was not this kind of bastard.
A dull ache bloomed through my skull in an instant.