Shield
The Spiroe Kingdom siege defense was an Infinite Dungeon that recreated events from before the Immortal Cretus had even been born.
The people of that era would have possessed far fewer skills than those of us living now, and the number of researched builds that went by the name of "secret arts" could probably be counted on one hand.
Even so, I wasn't worried.
They really are on a different level…
Only six knights had managed to soar into the sky. Every one of them looked like a powerhouse who had cleared level sixty at the absolute minimum, and the sight drove home just how much of a bunch of greenhorns the participants of the Knight Tournament had been.
Part of it was that the kingdom's finest had gathered from every region with annihilation staring them in the face — but even accounting for that, the gap was absurd.
Do they just know this instinctively?
The flying monsters, thrown into confusion by the sudden intrusion of enemies, scattered. The knights, reading that movement in an instant, switched tactics on the spot.
They stopped hacking away at random and instead sliced through the wing joints of the bulkier monsters — the griffin-types. Creatures whose wings had been crippled, unable to fly properly, instinctively veered toward less crowded airspace to avoid colliding with their own allies. Those instinctive paths became sky-bridges, footholds for the warriors who had lost their bearings in midair.
So that's another way to use a Knight's Mount skill…
Griffins were intelligent enough that some of them caught on and chose to dive instead. And there were those who dropped squarely onto those griffin backs — Knights who possessed the Mount skill. Using rope they had brought just in case, they fashioned makeshift reins in a heartbeat and looped them around the griffins' necks.
The creatures' high intelligence kept the Mount skill from taking full hold, but three seconds of control was more than enough to reshape the battlefield.
A roar of wind — fierce enough to hear even at a distance — followed by a crushing impact. The griffin slammed into a cluster of flying monsters and died on the spot. In the instant before the crash, the Knights leapt free, curling their bodies tight and spinning like tops. From the heart of that whirlwind, razor-sharp slashes tore outward.
Blades whirling at impossible speed, carried by bodies rotating just as fast. That was no longer human technique.
Damn. That really is something to watch…
I had once dreamed of becoming a Knight, eyes shining as I watched my grandfather perform feats of horsemanship. There had been a time, too, when I watched my father train for war alongside a dozen knights and decided, utterly entranced, that I wanted to be a Warrior.
The longing I had carried in my chest back then was unfolding right before my eyes.
Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.
By contrast, what I was doing required nothing as fancy as Flesh-Carving Bone-Breaker. Just simple work — smashing the skulls of half-dead monsters that had already been wrecked by the fall. The Guardian build ranked in the top three most broken once completed, but even standing at the peak, I would never pull off movements that dazzling. Guardians received a low Agility modifier from their blessing, after all.
In a way, it almost looked pathetic.
"Wow… the knights are incredible…"
"That's why they're called knights. You think they get named masters of the battlefield for nothing?"
"Yeah, fair point."
The low-level Rangers who had been laying down covering fire decided even support shots would only get in the way and lowered their bows. They stood with arms crossed, trading idle chatter — until their eyes met mine as I methodically crushed monster skulls with a blank expression.
"Hey— hey! What are you doing?! Go pick up arrows!"
"R-right…! Yeah! Come on, grab the arrows!!!"
They gave me a quick bow of the head and hurried off to their own tasks.
Yeah. That's the right call.
For the actors shining on stage to stand out, there have to be people working quietly where no one can see them. Even if those hands go unnoticed, the moment they stop, the brilliance on stage can't be recreated either. Everyone has a place where they can shine. That was what a siege defense battlefield was.
The sun's still high.
The knights' ghostly silhouettes tearing through the sky had flipped the tide of battle. Flying monsters were as cowardly as they were intelligent — the moment they judged the fight was going against them, they began to flee. Day One of the siege was wrapping up far faster than it ever had in the game.
Which meant…
Even a Guardian has room to go help other sectors now.
Even a slow-footed Guardian could run and reinforce another zone.
"Rangers rank three and below — collect arrows! Clerics, use this window to tend the wounded! Mages, prepare to reinforce other sectors!"
Sir Paulo, catching on to the same reality, quickly brought order to the scattered ranks. I nodded to him, then looked up at the sky. I was a little worried someone might still be falling.
But that didn't seem worth fretting over.
Past sixty and they really do transcend the human…
They were using monsters falling from different heights as stepping stones, bleeding off their descent speed as they dropped toward the ground. At first it had been practically freefall, but the closer they got to the earth, the gentler the fall became. And the moment they nearly touched down—
They slid down the earthen walls like a playground chute, landing without a scratch and returning to the field. Then, faces full of confidence, they snatched up their weapons and let out a roar.
For the first time, we who had been forced into nothing but defense were the ones pushing the enemy back.
Thanks to Sir Paulo's swift judgment, we split into three groups and moved out as reinforcements. The Knights on warhorses — the fastest among us — each rode for distant fronts. The remaining forces split in two to support the two nearest battles.
With the flying monsters that had tormented the siege the most now driven off, and our reinforcements joining the fray, the tipping scales of war began to right themselves.
All good — except now game knowledge is going to be a lot harder to leverage.
After the fighting, I peeled off my armor and checked the back of my hand. Marks signifying level thirty-two had appeared there.
Seven levels in a single day…?
That was experience you normally only earned well into Day Two. Apparently scavenging the fallen grain had been even more effective than I'd imagined.
From here on, I need to use Impact Dispersion aggressively.
Until now I had treated my shields as consumables, hoarding even my barrier capacity. But past level thirty, I needed to lean hard into Impact Dispersion if I wanted to learn the next skills. That was the only way to be ready for Day Three.
In that case…
I pulled out the pack I had shoved into a corner so it wouldn't get in the way of combat. It had been buried under rubble brought down by the mages' fire support, but the bag was enchanted — the contents were unharmed.
I hauled out the food and liquor packed inside. Soldiers who had been catching their breath over strips of dried jerky all turned to stare.
A gulp. Whose throat was that? Probably more than one or two.
"Sir Paulo! I'll leave this in the hands of our commander!"
I called him over and handed across the food and drink.
"Where did you find this much provisions…? No — more to the point, you mean to share all of it?"
"It's more than one man could finish alone, so don't trouble yourself over it. If it truly weighs on you, a few potions for restoring mental fortitude would be welcome."
"Those I can certainly spare. But still…"
I raised a hand and shook my head.
"When battle ends and rest comes, notched blades must be sharpened, arrows gathered, and dented armor hammered back into shape. But equipment isn't the only thing that needs maintenance, is it?"
The soldiers' eyes gathered on me one by one.
"Torn wounds need bandages. Grave injuries need a Cleric. And for a weary body and spirit?"
A bold-looking man among the soldiers shot to his feet with his hand raised.
"Liquor, meat, and women!!!"
Sir Paulo's sharp gaze snapped toward him, but I nodded to signal it was fine.
"There you have it — grant them leave. If only for the sake of morale."
"If you put it that way… I suppose I have no choice."
Sir Paulo distributed the provisions I had given him with efficient care, and as a fine commander should, he did not forget to warn them against overindulgence. I held out a cup of liquor to him.
"We are at war — I shall accept only the sentiment, Sir Edwin."
"I am at war as well, so I shall not press further. Think of it as my regard, and take just one mouthful."
Sir Paulo hesitated a moment, then let out a small sigh and held the cup toward me.
I poured. And poured. And poured.
"…Did you not say one mouthful?"
"I measured it by my own frame."
Sir Paulo looked at me for a beat, then his shoulders began to shake with laughter.
"Haha! Well then, what choice do I have!"
We clinked cups and drained them in one go.
"Pwah! Hahh… it sinks straight into the soul!"
Sir Paulo dropped into a seat and took combat rations as his side dish.
"Truth be told, the moment the western wall fell, I had steeled myself for death. I never imagined we would come this far."
He murmured it, then sighed softly.
"Had you not appeared, I would surely have died."
If a player followed the soldiers' cries and fell back behind the earthen wall, Sir Paulo died holding the fortifications. I had seen that scene play out in the game's guides more times than I could count.
"So I shall bury my curiosity about you in my chest."
His gaze flicked, just for an instant, to the back of my right hand. Cretus had been born after the fall of the Spiroe Kingdom. A Guardian's blessing could not exist in this era, and Sir Paulo — knowing nothing of it — had every reason to wonder.
"What does a man's true nature matter? An honorable knight named Edwin, who holds to an unshakable conviction no matter the circumstance, and who never shirks even the meanest labor — that is all I need to know."
I think he's got the wrong idea here…
Sir Paulo seemed to regard my scavenging as dirty work. I could say without hesitation it had been the most rewarding and enjoyable thing I'd done all day.
No need to correct him.
Even if they were remnants of the past, these were heroes who had staked their lives to evacuate as many civilians as they could. Sharing a cup with such heroes was a rare privilege. For anyone born to a knightly house, what greater honor could there be? No point in spoiling it with the wrong words.
"Raise your cups, all of you! If they're empty, fill them!!!"
Sir Paulo, having downed a generous measure, refilled his empty cup and called out.
"One cup — for the Spiroe Kingdom!"
— For the Spiroe Kingdom!
They drank.
"Another — for the comrades already gone!"
— For the comrades already gone!
They drank.
"And the last…"
Sir Paulo caught my hand and pulled me to my feet.
"For the honorable knight Sir Edwin, who brought about every one of these miracles!"
— For Sir Edwin!
Ah…
Something warm stirred in a corner of my chest. I had thought of this as nothing more than a recreation of the past. Even so, I didn't want to dismiss the people laughing in front of me as mere phantoms.
Until the very end—
I will be the shield.
I resolved to keep the oath I had sworn to Cretus.
Before the gate that led into the Divine Providence, the faithful of the Church of Cretus had gathered.
Most who challenged the Divine Providence returned before sunset. Yet noon of Day Two had already passed, and Edwin had not come back.
"He still has not returned?"
"He has not. Even so, the Great Warrior will be unharmed."
If a challenger's life was cut short, the dungeon born of Divine Providence would vanish. That the dungeon still stood was proof Edwin continued to fight the trial.
"Ah… so Sir Edwin truly was the Great Warrior chosen by Cretus…"
Those who had reached Day Two within the Divine Providence could be counted on one hand. Unlike gamers who entered with guides in hand, every situation was new to the people of this world. Those who had weathered Day Two under such conditions were all judged great heroes whose names would be written into history — and after death, some left behind miracles in the form of skills.
A great hero who would stand shoulder to shoulder with them was being forged now in the flames called Divine Providence.
"Ah…"
The Saintess knelt before the Divine Providence and offered prayer.
"Saintess?"
The faithful of the Church of Cretus called to her, but she was receiving a revelation and could not answer.
Not every moment was visible. Only fragments of Edwin's deeds flickered past as brief, scattered scenes.
The sight of him holding a collapsed wall alone. The sight of him throwing his body forward to save a soldier surrounded and on the brink of death. The sight of him, while everyone else could only stare helplessly at the sky, using a flash of wit to create a battlefield where allies could shine. And the sight of him taking the lead in the meanest labor without ever stopping his steps.
The small feast unfolding before her eyes was a miracle that Edwin had made.
Ah, how could he be so gallant…
At the deeds conveyed through the revelation, the corners of the Saintess's mouth kept twitching upward. But no one could see it. By the order's rules, her face was entirely veiled.
Please return safely, Great Warrior…
— For Sir Edwin!
The cheer that had risen inside the Infinite Dungeon reached her, faint and distant. She had sworn before the god that she would favor no one — and so the fact that she was praying this desperately for one particular man's safe return was a secret that must never be known to anyone.