The world is dyed in a brilliant silver light.
The places swept by the waves of starlight uniformly lost their colors. Deprived of both saturation and momentum, all things gradually slowed down.
Eventually, everything comes to a stop.
In this monochrome vision, in this vacuum of power, only I am catching my breath.
A burning pain is felt in the retina. Golden mana surges, inscribing unfamiliar information into my sight.
Countless trajectories and spatial straight lines.
Until now, what I have seen of the world is merely a small portion. The virtual trajectories and thin threads of space I have observed during battles were only preludes to perceiving this landscape.
Yet even this understanding is only superficial.
The true nature of the world lies beyond this. With a sound like something interlocking, the space begins to rotate entirely.
I feel someone’s gaze.
An innumerable yet singular existence looks down upon me. Before long, endless void surrounds me.
What can this even be called?
It is a realm where even a mere creation such as myself does not dare to look up at. An endless torrent of boundless power whirled, birthing all kinds of calamities.
Earthquakes, tsunamis, hurricanes, and other natural fury too overwhelming for humanity to endure.
It is incomprehensible. The more my senses expanded, the more I was forcibly made aware of how insignificant my existence is in the world.
My breathing becomes rough.
Where am I? Who am I?
The overly sensitive senses comprehend the entire world as one. In that understanding, my existence cannot be seen, heard, or felt.
Before long, I am looking down on myself.
One of the countless gazes aimed at me is my own. Consciousness drifts further and further away from my frozen body.
I am brushed away.
An instinctual sense of danger flashes in my mind, but I stand there not knowing what to do. My instincts as a living being collapse, and what used to feel so natural now feels strange.
How do muscles move?
How do I control my breathing? How do I differentiate the world from ‘me’?
There was no single truth that held. The flow is relentless but moves without cause. A new observation repeatedly destroys and recreates the self.
Even the sound of breathing is becoming vague now.
The ocean of truth churns indifferently. My consciousness shakes utterly with its ebb and flow, something impossible for the mind of a mere human to bear.
Suddenly, a sense of powerlessness overwhelms me.
If I close my eyes like this, it all seems like futile struggling.
And then, all of a sudden,
“…Do not collapse.”
A whisper seems to brush past my ear. My fading consciousness is immediately startled back to awareness.
Where? Where did that voice come from?
My vision returns. I am standing amidst a colorless world.
Crowds numbering in the tens of thousands, the judges high upon the cliffs, and even the Lady Virgin Saint and the Saint stand motionless in a land of stillness.
Behind me stands a man.
His golden eyes filled with fatigue and indifference are now fixed upon me.
“Can you withstand it?”
My eyes turn once more to the world behind.
I immediately understand the man’s warning not to be swept away. Just one glimpse would surely cause one to lose oneself and become part of this current.
Honestly speaking, it’s not easy to summon courage.
The hand gripping the sword’s hilt trembles. The convulsion spreads throughout my body.
It hurts, it’s painful.
Is this truly the path I must take?
I want to cry and complain. But I cannot give in here.
I reaffirm my resolve.
An unwavering mindset is the foundation for shaping the imagery.
The silver aura that swept over the world begins once again to radiate brilliant light. Fragments of stars gather in the void, guiding my sword.
Just before aligning my sword tip according to this guidance,
A lingering trace of unease remains. I glance backward slightly and ask,
“…Which way should I go?”
For a while, no answer comes.
The man silently stares at me with inscrutable eyes, then lets out a faint sigh.
“Take one step forward first.”
The moment I take that step,
“Afterward, don’t fight the current.”
The world fades to darkness.
Even the trite metaphors of gale or light rays seem inadequate. The sword turns into a single beam of light, piercing through the body of the Saint.
Before I know it, I’m gasping, my knees hitting the ground.
And once again, the world regains its colors.
Splash —– the sound of blood and water gushing out.
“…The Saint is bleeding!”
Amid screams of horror shaking the entire mountain, the after-effects of the sword strike begin to squeeze my muscles.
Even groaning is difficult.
I forcefully swallow the blood rising up my throat. Even with blurred vision, I grit my teeth.
Cut.
My sword, glowing with a silver aura, is equipped with the potential to slice steel like pudding. Yet, the sensation of striking the Saint feels too shallow.
Can flesh and blood be harder than steel?
I must get up and prepare for the next clash.
I feel a hand tentatively caressing my cheek from somewhere.
My eyes slowly turn to the front. As my vision clears, I feel droplets falling onto my palm.
It’s the Lady Virgin Saint.
Her pale pink eyes are continuously shedding tears as if her tear ducts have broken. Her throat, from which no proper cry emerges, emits suppressed moans.
“You’ve worked… so hard.”
It’s strange. Even though my body aches and I want to scream from pain, I want to quit crying, but…
At the sight of the Virgin Saint’s tears, all my struggles seem like nothing.
I just want to embrace her, her head lowered as tears drop from her eyes.
“Why… why… huh… why did you do this…?”
With all my strength drained, I could barely breathe, let alone give an answer.
Seeing my state, the Virgin Saint’s tears deepen.
“Ah, it hurts… it’s painful… I wanted to give up long ago… why… whyaaaahhh…!”
The questions they were holding back overflow.
Perhaps it’s the Virgin Saint’s unfiltered true feelings.
A wailing lament erupts.
“I… I’m nothing! I’m just an orphan girl who got carried away and thought too highly of herself! For my sake… it wasn’t necessary… anywhere…!”
“I believe in you.”
The Virgin Saint stiffens at this, startled.
Then, with a trembling voice, she counters,
“Because I’m the Virgin Saint…?”
“Because it’s you.”
I faintly smile, signaling her not to worry, and firmly declare.
The blood that was surging in my throat settles. My breathing is heavy, but my voice is strangely calm.
It might be a mere pretense.
But I truly trust the woman in front of me. I believe in her upright will, her sincerity toward the weak. If someone were to ask me now if I believe in the Heavenly Deity, I might not be able to assert it.
I believe in one human being.
And I believe in the miracles humans can achieve.
“Anything is fine. Whether you’re the Virgin Saint or the teary-eyed orphaned lady… aren’t you her?”
As another veil of tears gathers in her pale pink eyes, the Virgin Saint soon collapses and begins to sob. I look down at her pitifully for a moment, then struggle to rise once more.
I’d like to share more moments with her.
But my opponent is too strong to allow that.
I must grip my sword tightly and tense all my muscles.
Amidst the murmurs and noises, an explosion erupts.
“Uhahh… fu… hahaha… hahahahahahaha!”
The laughter shakes and resonates through the air.
The ground trembles, dust clouds rise, and the crowd numbering in tens of thousands scream in chaos.
Rising mana creates swirls of hot air. Between the melting scenery, pale eyes stare down at me.
The flickering gaze momentarily fills my vision before disappearing.
With this level of intimidation, I already have to forcibly calm my trembling body.
The Saint turns to look at me.
The side of his robe he wears is shredded and tattered, testifying that blood once stained his body where there is no longer any trace of the wound.
A voice filled with excitement and joy echoes.
“Truly, the Lord’s creation is endlessly wondrous! How did you do it, brother?! How could you escape this servant’s eyes?!”
His ragged breathing and bloodshot eyes express the Saint’s excitement.
His face is filled with excitement.
