Somehow, the Pope, whose clothes were covered in dirt from breaking through the barrier and entering, seemed to be the same man I had seen in the conference room. Back then, he appeared to be a tired and weary old man. Now, however, he looked like an excited child on Christmas morning, curious about the gifts in his socks.
“Ah…! As I suspected, the extraordinary aura surrounding you since our first meeting was no coincidence…”
I still remember how he stared at me as if to ask, “How did this naked barbarian get in here?” Yet now, his attitude had flipped so quickly into praise that it made me feel nauseous.
“…Saint?”
More importantly, I wondered what this talk of being a saint was all about. Why were they trying to attach such an embarrassing title to me? All I received from the goddess was some strange writing etched onto my greatsword.
I’ve never performed any acts of kindness, and if we’re being honest, I’ve killed countless humans. So why are they calling me a saint? I’m neither holy nor particularly feminine.
Well, I am female, but… Still, while Myungho might treat me as a woman, I didn’t want to be regarded as such by others. In my opinion, only Myungho should address me that way.
The Pope, realizing his mistake in assessing my knowledge level, hurriedly explained what a saint was—a girl who receives a mission and blessing from the goddess once per century, if even that often.
So, I’m not a saint, right? It wasn’t me who was chosen but rather my weapon that was blessed. Even the mission I received was something I would have done anyway. The goddess just stepped in and urged me to act faster because it suited her interests.
Besides, I’m far too grown for the title of “girl.” After persuading the Pope with some less-than-honest rhetoric, he initially resisted but eventually seemed lost in thought, clearly a sincere man of faith.
If he had ulterior motives or deceptive intentions, I could have simply driven him away with force or chased him off with threats. But this old man seemed genuine in his religious fervor.
Too devout to dismiss easily, yet too powerful to ignore. I knew meddling with him could complicate my life significantly. Having experienced firsthand the suffering of being surrounded by hostile humans, I could only hope he’d tire himself out and leave.
“Indeed, that is correct. The goddess’s blessing was not upon Alterra herself but her weapon, making the term ‘saint’ inappropriate. Her noble attitude in accepting her divine mission is commendable, though it seems she harbored these intentions before the goddess commanded her… And she is too mature to be called a girl… Hmm… There must be a reason the goddess descended…”
Even after understanding the situation, the Pope continued pondering, wondering if there were other reasons for the goddess’s descent.
At one point, he referred to me as a hero, but since I hadn’t come from another world nor received any blessings, he quickly abandoned the label and fell silent.
Though my soul may indeed be from another world, it’s a secret I’ve kept from everyone. If it doesn’t need to be revealed, perhaps it will remain buried with me.
While I don’t know the goddess’s true intentions, perhaps this spectacle was staged to instill false hope in humanity—that I would protect them. Maybe it was a way to bind me to their cause.
Though it might be overthinking, since I shouldn’t encounter the goddess again, I decided to let her interpretations stand. Regardless of what the goddess says, I still need to eliminate the demon tribe hidden in Landekrihen, and the markings on my sword might help me slay my father.
As a divine agent, I suppose I do possess holiness. However, the reason to kill my father has become unclear. My mother, who couldn’t truly be called family, and my father, who wronged her—both left me with ambiguous justification.
My father also has reasons to kill me. If he moves against me, I’ll fight to survive. But if he ignores my existence…
Perhaps living peacefully with Myungho isn’t such a bad idea. Though I won’t make promises about the future, if things turn out that way, maybe there’s no need to risk my life fighting.
“How about Holy Swordsman then? You aren’t a hero or a saint, but you do wield the holy sword, don’t you, Lady Alterra?”
Persistent. Religion felt unnecessarily complicated to me. Did I really need a specific title? I’m just myself. But refusing might lead to more trouble, so I agreed and helped dust off the Pope and his guards.
You came through that wall with a big hammer, didn’t you? Such crude methods. When the dust settled naturally, the Pope examined his body in amazement.
“Though not the power of the goddess, it is certainly wondrous and formidable. To wield it so precisely… It’s fortunate to have you on our side, Lady Alterra.”
Of course. More praise, please. Your disdain for dragon bloodlines should have disappeared by now. I briefly considered having a statue made on the spot until the Pope’s next words erased my desire for adoration.
“Then… Since the goddess descended today, let us hold a festival. The main celebrant shall naturally be Lady Alterra…”
It took over thirty minutes of persuasion to explain that I couldn’t revel while soldiers die on the battlefield. Despite the Pope’s insistence on celebrating the goddess’s arrival, I no longer wanted to be glorified.
It wasn’t sudden compassion for the dying soldiers but embarrassment. Being praised by a few people is fine, but thousands? That’s overwhelming. Plus, the noisy atmosphere makes me uneasy, and being surrounded by humans feels unsafe.
After returning to the inn, it took less than an hour and a half to prepare my armor and return to the battlefield.
—
“We don’t need to step in either.”
It was a straightforward observation. Clad in black armor, Alterra was once again performing the absurd feats she had shown in previous battles.
Running straight toward a machine gun nest, she stepped on landmines repeatedly without a scratch or dent on her armor.
“No, Myungho. There are things only you can do. Though you can’t run around the battlefield like Alterra…!”
From behind the walls erected by Alterra, Yuna fired arrows at the machine gun nests bombarding Alterra. An explosion caused a cloud of dust to bloom on the stone-built position.
“I guess saying ‘we’ was incorrect. I don’t seem to have a role either…”
Even Akashi, positioned further back, was contributing by summoning hailstorms over the minefields cleared by Alterra and providing cover for advancing soldiers.
I can do nothing. Black magic can’t be used in front of people, so all I can do is use my brush to instill courage in trembling soldiers.
Or rather… forcibly engrave it.
“Don’t be too disheartened. Alterra said she has a task for you. Something about interrogating commanders?”
Alterra already seemed to have entered enemy lines, judging by the screams and severed limbs rising beyond the trenches.
We’re still struggling through the uneven minefield. Isn’t that overpowered? Outside, flying heroes tremble at bullets and mines, and mages can’t even enter.
Akashi, technically a book, does what he does. Come to think of it, every member of our party contributes more than their share, except me.
I suddenly felt utterly insignificant.
Though I know it’s nonsense, I began to wonder if Durandino’s suggestion to care for mentally afflicted soldiers from the rear might have been better.
Do I really need to be here? Even now, as I hide behind the wall, Yuna is dismantling the last stand of surviving soldiers with just a few shots.
Would you believe that the battle ended faster than it took us to get here?
Surprisingly, it’s true. The march of the soldiers was halted not by Akashi’s hailstorm but by the mine-laden no-man’s-land that remained.
Is this war meaningful for the soldiers?
