The Goddess Shall Discern

The battle began with Amon's preemptive strike. Clang! Amon's sword clashed against the bare hand of the scarred man, resonating with a sharp ring. The man gripped the blade and shouted,

"I'm Balaam! I'm here to teach you the truth—"

"Deus Vult!!!!"

"Let me talk!"

Without hesitation, Amon swung the sword from his other hand the moment it was caught. The man who called himself Balaam easily dodged the strike aimed at his throat. Even so, he kept trying to talk to Amon.

"So—!"

But Amon ignored him completely and pressed the attack. Balaam, who had been purely on the defensive, finally gave up and went on the offensive.

"You need to calm down first if we're gonna talk... guh!"

With a thunderous shout, he stomped the ground, flipping the pavement. The shock sent Amon's body airborne. Balaam swung his fist at Amon floating in the air. But Amon stepped on empty space, evading it with ease.

"Tch."

Amon clicked his tongue as he landed. One of his trump cards had been revealed far sooner than expected—without drawing out a single one from his opponent. It wasn't fatal, but it stung.

Let's at least force him to play one card.

Amon put distance between himself and Balaam, then pulled the trigger on his crossbow. The bolt sliced silently through the darkness, aiming for Balaam's forehead. But Balaam blocked it effortlessly and charged at Amon. Amon responded by widening the gap again. Balaam read Amon's obvious intent.

"Fine. Have it your way."

Smirking, he swung his arm through the air. The afterimage of his rapidly whipping arm grew longer and longer. Before Amon could figure it out, he instinctively defended.

Clang!

Only after blocking did he realize it wasn't just an arm—his nails had extended. Amon calmly checked the distance between them.

Long-range won't work.

The nails were about 10 meters long. His crossbow's range was longer, but firing from farther would obviously give the enemy time to react and dodge.

His reach is longer anyway.

Amon immediately scrapped the kiting strategy and closed the distance. Balaam freely extended and retracted his nails, clashing with Amon.

"A punk who can't even handle Mystic Power properly!"

"It's Divine Power, you blasphemous bastard!"

"What's the difference?!"

The two fought fiercely. The pink-haired woman, who had been watching silently, pulled out a multiple rocket launcher.

"Eh, they'll sort it out."

With an indifferent mutter, she aimed at her comrade. Just as her finger tightened on the trigger, she suddenly shifted and unleashed a barrage of rockets. The moment Sonia saw the launcher turn toward her, she stopped sniping and dodged.

Boom!

Despite the explosion right beside her, Sonia's eyes stayed locked on the pink-haired woman. She masked the gunshot with the blast and fired. A silent armor-piercing round targeted the pink-haired woman's head. The woman's gaze followed the incoming bullet. Just before it hit, she grinned.

"Ahhhn~!"

She caught the bullet with her teeth. Smiling at Sonia, she pulled off an impressive show to seize the initiative. At least, that's what she thought.

But contrary to her expectations, Sonia's reaction was lukewarm. By the time the pink-haired woman sensed something off, her mouth grew ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠warm.

"Ah."

Bang!

The bullet in her mouth exploded. In the meantime, Sonia had chambered the next round. It was expensive per shot, prone to malfunctions, and could only be loaded one at a time—but its effect on a direct hit was unmatched, which was why Sonia favored it.

As Sonia swiftly loaded and aimed the next round, a scream like a banshee's wail erupted from the pink-haired woman.

"Kyaaack! My hair! Do you know how much effort I put into styling it?!"

For someone hit by a high-explosive round to the head, she was unbelievably fine. Aside from slightly singed hair and some scratches, there was no real damage. Her voice was raspy from vocal cord damage, but surviving with just that was far from normal.

Sonia didn't panic and fired again. This time, not at the woman's face, but her rocket launcher. The loaded rockets detonated along with the explosive round. From the smoke of the blast, the pink-haired woman leaped out, half her face burned.

"Gyaah! You shot me again, you crazy bitch!! I was gonna spare you since they said bring you alive!! But you! I'm gonna kill you!"

Her eyes bloodshot, she charged at Sonia.

She won't die even from that?

Tongue clicking at the woman's toughness, Sonia widened the distance. Getting touched by that brutish body would leave no bones behind. Sonia backpedaled while firing. But the pink-haired woman wasn't just durable—she was fast. Despite Sonia's efforts, the gap closed.

Just as her hand reached for Sonia's hair, Sonia drew a new weapon.

Splat!

"Eh?"

With a sound like meat bursting, the hand grabbing for her hair vanished. In Sonia's hand was a custom dwarven sawed-off shotgun. It sacrificed recoil control, accuracy, and range for pure power.

The pink-haired woman froze, slow to process. Realizing her left hand was gone, she let out a piercing shriek.

"Kyaaaaack!!!"

Sharper and more grating than any before—even the stoic Sonia winced.

Does this woman need to scream to speak?

Sonia mentally renamed the nameless pink-haired woman "Screamer." She broke open the shotgun, ejecting the spent shell, then loaded two new slug rounds and aimed at Screamer.

Of my weapons, this is the only one that can hurt her.

But the shotgun had drawbacks. Focused solely on power, the burden on her body was immense. She could absorb recoil, but there were limits—and this exceeded them slightly. As the dwarf craftsman had said, its power put it beyond personal firearms.

—"At this caliber and output, it's meant to be mounted or vehicle-fixed, miss."

As warned, Sonia's hand trembled faintly after one shot. But...

I can handle it.

Her muscles were just startled—no cracks in the bones. With her recovery, it was manageable.

Sniping's out for a bit, but...

She could pull the trigger a few more times. She advanced on Screamer. No longer trusting her overwhelming defense, Screamer was no predator. Their roles reversed—Screamer the prey, Sonia the hunter.

Of course, Sonia wouldn't survive being grabbed either. But the shotgun's barrel was longer than an arm. Unless moving at superhuman speeds like Amon or having extendable arms like his opponent, Sonia had the edge.

Aware of that, Screamer erupted ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠with massive Divine Power. Her speed surged—likely her strength too. But it was still within Sonia's range. She pulled green and blue ampoules from her thigh holster and injected them into her left arm. Her physical abilities boosted across the board, nerves accelerating.

Five-minute limit.

Bracing for the headache, Sonia engaged. Screamer was faster, but not Amon-level. Recalling Amon's priorities, Sonia targeted her thighs to cripple mobility, then the arms shielding her head. Finally, aiming at the kneeling Screamer's head, the woman smirked up at her.

"I was doubtful at first, but now I'm sure. You've come back, haven't you?"

"...What're you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb. After what happened in the Holy City, you still serve the Goddess? At this point, it's not deep faith—your head's broken."

"..."

Sonia's lips pressed thin. Screamer pressed on, knowing she'd hit a nerve.

"Ditch that silent god and join us?"

"Weren't you gonna kill me earlier? Now you're begging?"

"Yep."

Clean admission—pride doesn't save lives. But Sonia's response was icy.

"I know who you're talking about, but you picked the wrong girl."

"What?"

"Believe it or not, I'm pretty grateful to the Goddess."

Sonia slightly lifted her combat nun habit, revealing her bare leg. Screamer's eyes widened at the smooth skin.

"No way... that whore...! Pretending to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠be pure..."

Bang!

Sonia fired without hesitation. Screamer's headless body toppled forward. Muttering to an unhearing gaze,

"Only I get to badmouth that woman."

With Screamer handled, Sonia straightened her clothes and looked to Amon. His fight was wrapping up too.

"For my mother!!!"

Amon had severed the man's limbs, neutralizing him. After the fierce clash, he grabbed the torso—now just body and head—by the hair.

"I told you. I'm throwing you into the furnace."

Furnace meant smelter. Amon set the limbless Balaam aside and contacted the car's AI. Before it arrived, Balaam spat blood and grumbled.

"What kind of brute... can't even use Mystic Power right..."

"Divine Power. Speak properly."

"No matter how much you scream to her, she won't answer. It's all pointless, idiot."

Twitch.

A vein bulged on Amon's forehead. But Balaam sneered and bit down on poison in his molars. Before Sonia could cast detox, he grinned wide.

"See you in hell, Judas."

With that, his eyes closed. Silence fell. Then broken by Balaam's dumbstruck ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠voice.

"Huh? Why?"

Panicking, he saw Amon pull out a spherical device. An EMP bomb.

"Brought it just in case, never dreamed it'd be useful."

Nebbil Pharma attackers kept failing suicides with poison, so he'd prepped it to fry their brains electrically. Kashi said EMPs wouldn't yield info even on them, so it'd gone unused. (She'd stopped precog since, but Amon kept it anyway.)

Cold sweat trickled down Balaam's forehead.

"Impossible..."

"Death isn't an escape, heretic."

Amon gagged him. Amid wretched muffled screams, he dragged Balaam away.

The scene shifted to somewhere in Europe. In a dark room, holograms of twelve people appeared. All wore masks, robes, and filters obscuring even gender. But they shared one trait: an inverted pentagram tattooed somewhere on their bodies.

The unidentified group's meeting began.

"Balaam and Zagan are down."

A figure with the pentagram on its shoulder spoke. The remaining eleven reacted variably: shock, anger, indifference. One raised a hand to silence them.

"This is video from Naberius's vision."

With a gesture, a video played in their views. It recreated Amon vs. Balaam from a third-person perspective. Watching, the one with a magic circle on its head muttered,

"That guy's a beast."

Another agreed.

"Am I seeing wrong? Looks like just basic Mystic Power."

"You saw right. Only physical enhancement."

"How? The boost is insane, and the duration even more."

"Theoretically possible."

"What, is his Mystic Power an ocean?"

"Not an ocean, but nuclear plant level."

Some sighed. Undoubtedly blessed. One muttered,

"I'd love to recruit him."

"Forget it. This says impossible."

The meeting leader skipped ahead. Now Amon hooked the limbless Balaam and lowered him into the smelter. Balaam screamed. But Amon prayed over it.

In agony as flesh burned, Balaam screamed. Worse: Amon hadn't submerged him—just held him above, roasting in the heat. He prayed unceasingly till death. One robed figure muttered to its apparent adjutant,

"To me, he's Satan."

"At least not human."

All agreed. Recruiting Amon was silently scrapped.

"Orobas'll have it rough."

The video-sharer muttered, proceeding with the agenda: European Region Large-Scale Corruption Plan.