The Paladin of the Sacred Kingdom Part I

Chapter 1 | Evil Emperor Jaldabaoth

1

The Sacred Kingdom Roebel was situated on a peninsula southwest of the Re-Estize Kingdom.

Ruled harmoniously by influential shrines and a holy king wielding powerful faith magic at the top, the Sacred Kingdom was a deeply religious country—though not to the extent of the Slane Theocracy.

The realm of the Sacred Kingdom had two unusual characteristics.

One was that its territory was split north and south by the sea. Of course, the two parts weren’t completely cut off from each other, but the land’s shape resembled a sideways horseshoe—and right in the middle was a giant bay stretching approximately twenty-five miles north to south and a hundred and twenty-five miles east to west.

This gulf is so great that some people distinguish between the northern Sacred Kingdom and the southern Sacred Kingdom.

There was one other notable thing.

A massive wall spanned the mouth of the peninsula, running over sixty miles north to south.

The purpose of the barrier was to prevent invasions from the various subhuman tribes who made their homes in the hilly area to the east that was situated between the Sacred Kingdom and the Theocracy.

The sheer thickness of this formidable wall, as well as the amount of time and national power devoted to its construction, spoke volumes about how much Roebel had suffered and mourned at the hands of its neighbors.

The gap in innate ability between subhumans and humanoids is vast.

Certain races like goblins could be considered an exception.

Goblins are significantly smaller in stature than humans. They are often inferior in terms of physical ability, intelligence, and number of casters born in the population.

But even goblins could prove a troublesome foe if they took advantage of their night vision and ability to conceal themselves—for example, lying in ambush under the cover of darkness in the forest.

As a matter of fact, most of the various races in the region were far more muscular than humans. Quite a few were born with arcane powers as well. If the Sacred Kingdom allowed an invasion to occur, the blunder would surely be paid for with a terrible amount of blood.

Which was why its people went to such lengths just to strengthen its defenses.

To prevent subhumans from setting so much as a foot in its territory.

To show them this land belonged to someone else.

To make sure all its enemies knew that any who dared to trespass would be in for the fight of their lives.

These were the reasons why the wall had been raised. Unfortunately, there was a problem.

Fully maintaining the fortifications required a vast number of soldiers. On one occasion, the Sacred Kingdom’s leaders estimated how many soldiers would be required to defend against a subhuman invasion.

The result of their investigation showed that the nation would collapse long before the invaders ever mounted an attack.

It wasn’t economically feasible to have so many soldiers on standby at the walls. At the same time, everyone agreed that they had to man the defenses to a certain degree.

The worst encroachment in the history of the Sacred Kingdom—that took place after the wall had been built—was an attack that came with rain that kept up for days.

This raid was conducted by the srasch, a race with suckers on their limbs and long tongues that could cross great distances to deliver paralyzing venom. Some elite members of their kind could even change the color of their skin and achieve an effect similar to the Camouflage spell.

These were the invaders who scaled the wall and pushed westward.

Multiple villages fell victim to their predations. The tragedy was so great that rumors of srasch lurking somewhere inside the kingdom persist to this day.

With the past weighing heavily in their minds, the leaders of the Sacred Kingdom wanted to make sure they had enough soldiers to prevent a repeat of those dark days. The concept was simple in theory, but manning the walls using standard methods would have been too great a strain on the country. The solution was a series of forts, established at fixed intervals along the length of the wall, which were in turn supervised by larger regional fortresses.

The smaller forts were garrisoned with only enough soldiers to delay the enemy. In the event one came under concentrated attack, their main responsibility was to immediately light a signal fire to request backup from nearby fortresses. There were also companies that regularly patrolled between forts that could be used as flexible reserves in a pinch.

Once these new measures were in place, the subhuman tribes stopped attacking the wall.

Despite this improvement, the leaders of the Sacred Kingdom remained obsessively cautious. The string of bastions wasn’t enough to give them peace of mind.

A massive fortress that might intimidate a human was hardly a threat to races double their size or those who could fly. No matter how durably built, no simple stronghold could provide total security against the special abilities of other races.

The holy king at the time was a decisive ruler who wasted little time before starting work on a policy for what to do in the event invaders scaled their great wall. And so the National Mobilization Order was born.

The decree codified the conscription of the Sacred Kingdom’s citizens. Upon coming of age, everyone, regardless of sex, would undergo training as a soldier and have their turn at a post somewhere along the wall. With this system in place, there was supposed to be enough soldiers to defend the land if the subhumans ever attacked.

Furthermore, settlements that grew past a certain size were fortified. This was both so the residents could hold out until the royal army arrived and so the locations could also be used as logistic bases. Thus, the villages and cities of the Sacred Kingdom were strengthened to an unparalleled level, essentially functioning as military bases.

•

Three large fortresses anchored the kingdom’s line of defense. There were only three gates in the huge, sixty-plus-mile wall, and these imposing bastions defended the critical entry points. They also functioned as barracks for the troops that would reinforce the smaller forts in case of attack. If subhumans attacked in force and the National Mobilization Order was invoked, the large strongholds would also become the marshaling points for the massive armies of citizen-soldiers who would try to pin down the invaders for follow-up pincer attacks.

One of these forts served as the central base.

As the sun sank behind the distant horizon, the reddened earth gradually surrendered to the color of the advancing dusk. With his foot up on the battlement, a man frowned as he stared out at the red earth—specifically toward the hills to the west—before setting his leg back down.

He was a brawny fellow.

Sturdy neck, a bulky chest (obvious even beneath his armor), and muscular arms coming out of his rolled-up sleeves. No matter what part of this man was being described, the only appropriate word was
thick
.

His face, resembling a boulder exposed to the elements for years, had a feral look about it, perhaps in part due to his heavy eyebrows and stubble. Some might say his tough demeanor was in harmony with his rugged physique, but his eyes ruined that balance.

His beady eyes were those of a small animal, and the stark difference between them and the rest of his body was downright comical.

He craned his head up.

Wispy clouds blew by at a surprising speed. He could spy the starry canopy peeking out from behind the thin veil covering the sky, but it was hardly bright enough to light up the ground.

Breathing in the chilly, early autumn air—mixed with a hint of winter’s scent—made the coming of night feel closer, more immediate. Only a few lingering holdouts of sunlight still colored the horizon as the violet of evening rapidly expanded its holdings.

Turning his back to the hills, the man looked over the faces of the soldiers nearby. Those gathered around him, who believed in him, were all veteran warriors. Yet, even their expressions were slightly slack.

That was only natural. After all, it was the end of a long day of work.

“—Hey, any of you know what the weather observer’s forecast is for the night?” His voice had the depth to match his robust body. The question he raised caused the soldiers to exchange glances. Eventually, one spoke up for all of them.

“Apologies, Your Excellency. It seems like no one here has.”

The burly man—Orlando Campano—sat at a rather low rung as far as rank was concerned.

In the Sacred Kingdom, the ranks of the army were, from lowest to highest: trainee, soldier, soldier first-class, squad leader, company leader, and commander. Of course, depending on each person’s role, there could be less intuitive pecking orders, but this was how the regular soldiers were generally organized.

The rank of squad leader certainly wasn’t high enough to warrant being called “Your Excellency.”

But the soldier who addressed Orlando wasn’t mocking him. It was clear from his attitude and tone that the title was a sign of respect. And that sentiment was shared by all the soldiers present, a group of warriors that exuded power and experience.

“Ah, all right, then.” Orlando slowly stroked his stubbly chin.

“Your Excellency, if you give me the time, I can go ask right now.”

“Hmm? Oh, that won’t be necessary. Our work is done. The rest is up to the next crew.”

Orlando Campano…

A man awarded one of the prestigious Nine Colors by the previous holy king on the merits of his strength alone.

Why was someone of his standing stuck as a lowly squad leader? This boiled down to two problems.

One was his penchant for going his own way—the man truly hated taking orders.

The second was his imprudent focus on strength above all else.

The intersection of those two issues manifested as
If you want to give me orders, then first you’ll have to put my rump on the ground
. Moreover, whenever he spotted someone strong, he would say, “You look like a tough customer. Let’s see who’s stronger,” and go at it until one of them was down for the count.

As a result, Orlando often and sometimes literally bashed heads with nobles and superiors. He also frequently got demoted—a whopping ten times so far.

An army has no need for people who can’t take orders—they’re pests. Anyone else with his record would either be reformed or thrown out. The only reason that didn’t happen to Orlando was because he was strong. Also, certain people were drawn to a man like that.

Apparently, the rough guys dissatisfied with being ordered around by feeble nobles found Orlando’s way of life an utter delight, inspiring them to also grasp what their hearts desired with the strength of their own two hands.

His troops consisted of people who admired that sort of ruffian.

It was a large squad, too. There were enough members for a full company, and they were all strong—albeit not as much as their leader. Though infuriating for his superiors, the immunity Orlando enjoyed allowed him to essentially establish a rank not subject to the rules of the system.

Orlando’s eyes shifted, and when he saw the approaching man, a smile spread across his face that wouldn’t be out of place on a carnivorous beast about to pounce.

This man was as thin as Orlando was thick. But he wasn’t thin like a twig. Perhaps it was best described as slim like steel. This was the ideal lean body that was the product of training until all excess had been cut away, as if it had been built with a specific purpose in mind.

And a sharp gaze emanated from his tense eyes that made it seem as if he was about to strike. Combined with the fact that they were small and dark, there was no helping how disreputable he seemed. At best, people would assume he was an assassin. At worst, a serial killer.

“Speak of the devil. Guess it’s time for your appearance, Mr. Night Watch? Thanks as always.”

The man who had appeared without a sound and walked while cloaked in silence was outfitted quite differently.

Orlando and his men were equipped with the gear of the Sacred Kingdom’s powerful soldiers. Their heavy leather armor was made of several layers of hide that came from the magical beasts called ranker oxen. Each of them also had a small round shield and a single-edged sword. Incidentally, Orlando was the only one wearing two of those swords.

In contrast, this man was clad in enchanted light leather armor. Inscribed on the right side of his chest was an owl, and on the left, the Sacred Kingdom’s coat of arms.

“…Orlando. I haven’t gotten a report from your group. And what kind of tone is that to take with a superior? The nerve. How many times do I have to warn you?”

“Sorry, Commander.”

When Orlando finally raised a lax salute, his group followed suit. It was sincere in a way his men would have shown a random noble or someone merely higher in rank. This was a sign of genuine respect.

“Haaah…” The newcomer heaved a conspicuous sigh. He wasn’t satisfied, but he also understood that it was pointless to say anything further.

Sorry, sir, but my personality’s been like this for as long as I can remember, and it isn’t likely to be fixed anytime soon.

The reason Orlando showed what passed as respect among his group was because this man had defeated him.

I don’t want to quit without beating you at least once. On your turf. You understand, right, Commander Baraja?

The man—Pabel Baraja—was also known as the Night Watch. He was also a recipient of one of the Nine Colors, like Orlando.

The huge, sturdy bow on his back glowed faintly, as did the quiver at his hip. As his equipment implied, he was an archer—and an expert who many said could nail a hundred shots without missing a single one.

“I think all the time how hard it must be to work at night. Most subhumans aren’t fazed by the dark; it’d be rough enough just to find them, never mind fight them.”

“That’s why we’re here. Unless you were born with magic or special powers, there’s no way to get the same vision as subhumans without extensive training. And that’s exactly what we’ve been through.”

“Yeah, yeah. That daughter you’re so proud of has, too, right?”

Pabel’s cheek twitched, and Orlando regretted his remark the moment it was out of his mouth.

Pabel’s face never cracked, even when they went out drinking; the only exception was when his wife or daughter came up in conversation. If that happened, one critical flaw was immediately noticeable.

“Yes, she’s quite an outstanding girl.”

—Here it comes. Here it comes again.

Pabel continued with no regard for Orlando’s regret. “That said, I have no idea why she wants to be a paladin. She’s weak. But if you think that strength is everything— She’s the kind of girl who cries that caterpillars are scary— I know I said that strength is everything, but that’s excluding my wife…although my wife is a bit like that— My daughter looks just like me, which is so cute, though I guess I pity her for resembling me— But it’s too bad our girl has no aptitude for the sword. Still, she’s handy with a bow. She should really just keep working on her marksmanship, but instead, she’s all worked up about becoming a holy knight—”

Orlando let the rambling go in one ear and out the other, occasionally grunting in response, but it seemed he had been found out.

“Hey, are you listening?”

The predictable question had already come.

…Nope, I’m not. Probably not since the third time this happened.

By the fifth or sixth time Orlando was forced to listen to the same story, he would normally have replied grumpily,
No, why would I be?
But reacting that way to Pabel in this situation would be a big mistake—because Orlando knew from experience that the response would be
Okay, then, I’ll say it again
.

The right answer lay elsewhere. “Yes, yes, I hear you. Your daughter really is precious, isn’t she?”

Pabel’s expression changed immediately. His face looked so monstrous that even Orlando braced himself, but that was just how this man blushed.

Orlando had to seize this moment where Pabel briefly paused his own boasting to savor the fact that someone else had praised his daughter. Without drastic action, he would miss his chance to escape hell.

“So…” There was only one topic that could trump Pabel’s daughter: work. “Doesn’t working at night mess up your internal clock? Your body doesn’t get thrown off?”

Pabel’s expression changed from completely deranged killer back to run-of-the-mill mass murderer.

“…How many times have you asked me that? My answer will never change. It doesn’t bother me. But why are you so obsessed with that point? What are you really trying to get at?”

Orlando had expected the dramatic shift, but he still couldn’t help his eyes popping a bit.

Who are you, and where is the Pabel from a second ago?
he wanted to jab, but he wasn’t interested in jumping into the grave he had just climbed out of.

“…Hmm. What do you mean, sir? That’s a strange question… I can’t have the guy who defeated me wearing himself out for some lame reason and retiring early. Once I beat you, I won’t care, but…”

When Orlando had first been assigned to this fort, he had been so full of himself that just recalling it was embarrassing. As more tough guys gathered around him out of admiration, his inflated confidence got even greater, and eventually, he found himself sparring with Pabel.

Orlando was skilled with a sword, specializing in close-quarters combat, while Pabel’s talent was archery—specializing in combat at range.

If the two of them were going to fight, the distance between them would be critical. But Pabel offered to fight at close quarters.

And then Orlando lost.

That was why Orlando respected Pabel. But at the same time, he openly stated his desire for a rematch and his intent to defeat his rival. He wanted to give Pabel the distance that would suit his specialty and win anyway.

“Oh. You want to fight me? In my prime, when there’s nothing wrong with a single part of me?”

The sharp, beastly grin on Pabel’s face stirred something in Orlando’s breast.

Yes, exactly. You understand, right? I want to fight you. I want to fight to the death. But I’m sure we can’t go that far. Still, I want to rush to the very brink, where one of us might end up dead. That’s the kind of battle I want to have.

But Orlando couldn’t say anything—because he felt the beast that had appeared before him suddenly flit away. And the next thing Pabel said only confirmed his intuition.

“But sorry. I’m sure you understand. There are only a handful of people who could beat you in hand-to-hand combat now, and I’m not one of them.”

The words
Then let’s fight at range
never reached Orlando’s tongue—because he knew they would be an insult to a man he respected.

Knowing Pabel’s prowess with a bow, he wasn’t confident he could evade those attacks and close the distance.

Not yet anyway.

“Anyhow, if you’re done chatting, then let’s have that report.”

“There’s no need to hurry, is there, sir? It’s not time to change shifts yet. The bell hasn’t even rung.”

There was still quite some time before the scheduled chime that signaled the guard change.

“There are still preparations to be made, things that need to be done before the bell rings. We need to be ready so that the moment it’s time, we can get straight to work.”

“There’s still time, though, right, sir? Let’s chat a little more.”

“In that case, why don’t I give the report to your aide, Commander?”

It was one of Orlando’s men who spoke.

“Good idea. You’re the best! Does that work for you, sir?”

“
…Sigh.
You’re really stubborn today. There must be something specific you want to talk about, right? I wish you would just come out and say that like a normal person.”

Unfortunately, that was impossible for Orlando.

Some chose to confide in people they respected, but Orlando was the type who couldn’t possibly go to someone he admired with his concerns. He wanted to be seen as a man’s man.

“I’m impressed as always, sir. Always on top of things.”

“
…Sigh.
So what is it? If it’s something stupid, I’ll make you regret it.”

“Right.” Orlando removed his helmet and scratched his head. The cold air on his flushed face was oddly comforting. “Actually, I’d like to undertake a journey to train myself. May I have permission to go on leave?”

He heard people around them gasp. But the face of the man in front of him didn’t move a muscle.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you’re the man I respect the most in this country. If you won’t stop me, then I have no qualms about leaving.”

“You aren’t a regular, right? If your conscription period is up, I can’t stop you.”

Due to the Sacred Kingdom’s extensive conscription system, distinguishing draftees from career soldiers was often achieved by referring to the latter as regulars. Pabel and his subordinates were all regulars, while Orlando’s group was a mix.

“So you mean it’s fine if I quit?”

This was the first time Orlando ever saw Pabel’s face move aside from when his wife or daughter came up. The change was so slight that picking it up took all the powers of perception that Orlando had honed as an exceptional warrior; it was doubtful anyone else had noticed.

This man who Orlando regarded as steel was moved by an action he took. A stormy mix of joy and sorrow roared in Orlando’s breast.

“…The law gives you that right. There’s nothing I can do… That said, losing a man of your caliber leaves…quite a hole. You could have gone training earlier. Why now?”

In the last six months or so, the subhuman tribes had stopped attacking the forts. Prior to that, dozens of them would regularly mount attempts once or twice a month.

Though these raiding parties numbered in the dozens and not hundreds or thousands, subhumans were physically superior to humans. And many of them had special powers. Even with relatively low numbers, it wouldn’t have been strange for such an attack to wipe out a whole garrison.

Consequently, during most of the attacks, Orlando or Pabel had been dispatched with their crew to reinforce the frontline troops.

“It’s not like I enjoy killing subhumans. What I like is fighting strong guys and getting stronger myself.”

“But you don’t care about the Mighty King?”

“Oh, that guy…”

“Not just him. Demon Claw, the Beast Emperor, the Ash Lord, Elementria, Screw-Spear…”

Pabel rattled off a list of notorious subhumans, but none of them inspired Orlando as much as the first.

The Mighty King…

He was the king of a race of subhumans, sometimes known as the Breaker Lord.

The name came from his skill with weapon-breaking arts and how his combat style centered around that unique ability. This nemesis of the Sacred Kingdom had defeated many a warrior. Orlando had fought him before in a battle that ended in the destruction of not only his sword but also his reserve dagger and hatchet, plus the ax he used to fell trees.

Though all of Orlando’s weapons had been destroyed, the fight came to an end when the Mighty King withdrew upon the arrival of reinforcements dispatched from the nearby fortress. In the sense that he had held out until help arrived, it was Orlando’s victory, and many praised his valor. But since he wasn’t an enemy worth the Mighty King taking on a risk to eliminate, Orlando himself had felt somewhat defeated.

“I do want to fight him again someday, but…I probably can’t beat him yet. You probably have to be what they call a hero to take down that guy. Which is why—oh, sir, you heard, right? That the great warrior Gazef Stronoff fell in battle?”

“So you heard that as well. The higher-ups are discussing how it will affect the countries in the region.”

The death of the strongest warrior in the Re-Estize Kingdom was a major topic among Sacred Kingdom soldiers and really anyone who was decent in combat.

“Do you know the details?”

“I’ve heard the gist. Apparently, a caster known as the King of Darkness defeated him in single combat. To be honest, I struggle to understand how a caster could fight solo.”

Orlando agreed.

But the term
caster
encompassed a wide range of people. If a faith caster boosted their strength with magic, they could easily be more than a match for a half-baked warrior. Plus, holy warriors in this country liberally used magic. In a broad sense, they could be considered casters, too. It wasn’t impossible to imagine a caster in single combat.

“…I heard this King of Darkness also wiped out an entire army and summoned giant goats or sheep or something.”

“That’s news to me. Giant goats…? Sounds like a weird guy.” Hearing about goats reawakened Orlando’s defeated feelings. He knew they couldn’t be regular goats if the caster had summoned them for battle. “Well, that weird guy is just another reason…”

“For what? I don’t follow.”

“Just like how when you beat me, sir—I always ignored projectiles and magic. I thought I could just force my opponents to their knees with my sword. So when I heard that the captain of the Royal Select was killed, I realized maybe I had underestimated those elements of combat.”

“So?”

“I want to retrain.”

“Don’t tell me you’re going to challenge one of the people in our country you can’t defeat.”

“I won’t.”

The people Orlando couldn’t beat were a handful of the Nine Colors.

Deputy commander of the marines, Enrique Belsué the Blue.

Leader of the Paladin Order, Remedios Custodio the White.

Pabel Baraja the Black.

A merman of the sea, Ran Tsu An Lin the Green.

And though he wasn’t one of the Nine Colors, the elite priest Kelart Custodio.

In other words, they were all people of rank, so fighting them would cause a huge commotion. Even if sparring between members of the Nine Colors were somehow permissible, a bout with naked blades would never be allowed.

Unfortunately, that level of sparring wouldn’t be enough.

Fighting with practice swords was totally different from fighting with real weapons—so different that it might even affect the outcome of the duel. Many people did not perform the same in exams as they did in actual combat. And being strong meant being strong when it counted. If he couldn’t gain any useful experience, it wouldn’t count as training for him.

“Good…but then where are you planning to train?”

“We were just discussing the Nation of Darkness. I think I’ll try going there. By the sound of it, the place is home to some pretty powerful undead.”

The Nation of Darkness, Ainz Ooal Gown…

Appending his full name to the country seemed to show just how self-aggrandizing the king was, but Orlando wouldn’t dismiss the idea. Besides, it meant the king was influential enough to make it happen.

“I’ve heard the name from the merchants who travel between here and that kingdom.”

The teachings of the shrines had permeated Sacred Kingdom society, so most citizens felt only hatred and repulsion toward undead. Pabel was probably no exception.
Then again…
Orlando thought about it for a moment.
Pabel doesn’t hate them as enemies of the Sacred Kingdom but as enemies of his wife.

But he didn’t bring that up. The commander wouldn’t lose his head quite as much as when he talked about his daughter, but it would still make the conversation much longer than it needed to be.

“The official stance is tacit acceptance, I think? It’s probably no problem if someone from the Sacred Kingdom wants to go there…right?”

No matter how one spun it, the Nation of Darkness, with its army of undead, was a foe the Sacred Kingdom couldn’t coexist with. After hearing about the plight of the people in E-Rantel, which the king had made his home base, many people in the Sacred Kingdom were already calling for soldiers to be deployed. But the Sacred Kingdom was busy dealing with the threat that the subhuman tribes posed, so until the hills were cleared, there was no way it could take military action against another country.

Regardless of what the masses desired, the government was content with simply directing passive criticism at the Nation of Darkness.

“A trip to the Nation of Darkness…? If you ask the higher-ups, you could probably stay with the army and still go. That place comes just after the subhumans on their list of priorities. Apparently, they’re thinking of establishing a united front with the Theocracy.”

“Oh, really? But won’t our differences in faith make a mess of it?”

“Yeah, I’m sure they will. Anyhow, if you stay in the army, then you’ll be able to get support from the country, and there shouldn’t be any obnoxious border inspections…at least as far as I know. It’ll also be timely, since the higher-ups want to know more about the inner workings of the Nation of Darkness.”

“That’s not a bad idea, sir. But then I can’t just smack whoever I choose, though.”

“The fact that you’re not joking is…problematic.”

“I’d feel bad for you if I caused an international incident.”

A cold evening wind whipped by. Pabel, his expression unchanging, was silent for a moment. Then, looking disgruntled as always, he murmured, “Well, it’ll be lonely without your dumb face around here anymore.”

Orlando smiled. It looked like the grin of a ferocious beast, but this was an uncharacteristic sign of bashfulness. Pabel didn’t say not to go, but he didn’t say to go, either. He also tried to give Orlando a place to come home to.

“Well, I am sorry about that… But I’ll get stronger and come back. By then, I’ll be able to teach you a lesson or two!”

“That’s some big talk.”

When Orlando flashed him an easy smile, Pabel returned it. It was as fierce an exchange as two beasts growling at each other.

Just then the bell rang.

Time to change shifts? I guess we chatted a bit too long; I might get a warning later.
But Orlando’s thoughts scattered as the bell continued to ring.

When Pabel whipped around to face the hills, Orlando did the same.

This bell meant subhumans had been sighted.

For over four hundred yards out from the wall, there was nothing to obstruct their view. In the past, there had been hills and trees, but when the wall was built, clearing and flattening a large swath of the surrounding land had been a part of the public works project. The only light at this hour came from the stars. Across what was essentially a big meadow, toward the hills where there was more cover, shadows crossed the darkened ground.

“Sir.”

It was impossible for Orlando to see them at this distance in this gloom. That was why he called out to the man with better eyes.

“No doubt about it—those are snakemen.”

The response was instant.

Snakemen were humanoid creatures covered in scales, with heads and tails like cobras, a race thought to be closely related to lizardmen. Their cobra heads produced a potent venom, which they also daubed on their crude pikes. If possible, it was best to avoid close-quarters combat with them.

That said, Orlando and his men had trained their bodies to the point that they had a good chance of resisting the effects of the venom. The scales provided some defense but not enough to repel sharpened metal. Snakemen also employed their tails to great effect in combat, but those could simply be considered another weapon. Finally, due to their snakelike senses, these creatures had the upper hand in the dark, but that disparity could be managed.

Will we be the vanguard? No, Pabel’s team will probably feather them all before they make it over here.

Snakemen loathed anything cold, so they didn’t have metal armor. That made it easy for first-rate archers like Pabel’s troops to take them out.

“How many, sir?”

Most raiding parties would number fewer than twenty.

“…Sir?”

The lack of an answer gave him pause. When he looked at Pabel, what he found instead of the expected blank expression was one of obvious confusion.

“What is it, sir?!”

“…Their numbers are still growing. This could be trouble! Other races have showed up. I see armats, ogres, caven…”

“Seriously?!”

All sorts of subhumans lived in the hills, but it wasn’t as if they all got along. On the contrary, there were often conflicts over turf. Aside from goblins and ogres, who often cooperated, and races who enslaved others, members of different races usually weren’t seen working together.

There had even been cases where one race would attack the Sacred Kingdom because they had been forced out of their lands by another race.

Was it possible that was the driving force this time? If not…

“Is this a major invasion?” Someone spoke up. They may have meant to murmur it to themselves, but the comment sounded strangely loud.

“Orlando. There’s something I want to ask you.” There was an indescribable tension in Pabel’s voice. Given the situation, that was expected.

Demographics, culture, religion. Observations of the many countries largely made up of people of the same race demonstrated how difficult it was to unify a nation. That task became even harder when multiple races were involved. Bringing together the myriad subhumans in the hills seemed an insurmountable challenge.

But if they had managed to achieve that somehow, it would mean the beginning of a battle that would decide the fate of the Sacred Kingdom.

Orlando trembled.

In order to bring such diverse races together, there would need to be a clear source of power. For humans, wealth or knowledge could be that source, but for subhumans, physical strength was most convincing. In other words…

There could be someone crazy strong out there…

“Answer on your instinct as a warrior. Why do you think they showed up at this, our most heavily defended fort? Either they’re a detachment attacking as a feint so that another group can break through a weaker area or—”

“They think they can smash through the front door. They want to obliterate one-fifth of the Sacred Kingdom’s fighting power right here, right now.” Though he felt Pabel’s sharp gaze on his profile, Orlando continued. “At the same time, they can establish a bridgehead at this fort. They would also lower our morale while boosting their own to boot.”

“…The National Mobilization Order might be invoked.”

“Ha-ha! A war this big was only supposed to happen once in Roebel history. Can’t believe we’re gonna get another one in our lifetime…”

“…I’m going to report this up the chain. Come with me.”

“You got it, sir! Boys, this party’s about to get started! Go grab your spare weapons!”

The larger the enemy army, the longer it would take to get into position. And it would take all the longer if it was made up of various races. But the same could be said of the Sacred Kingdom’s side. It took time to prepare an army. Even on the front lines.

There were an astonishing number of things to do. They had no time to waste.

Orlando set off running after Pabel.

2

As the enemy army took up its position, Pabel felt his throat begin to burn.

The longer it took them to attack, the more soldiers could be concentrated at the fortress and the more time the Roebel Sacred Kingdom’s government would have to activate the National Mobilization Order. The military leadership seemed to welcome the delay, but Pabel felt differently. Some subhumans had intellects that equaled or even surpassed human intelligence. There was no way the leader of this army was an unenlightened imbecile; they would surely understand that giving their enemy time to prepare put them at a disadvantage. And it was the middle of the night. Subhumans had the advantage in combat now, even if the humans lit bonfires and other sources of light.

Pabel stared out at the enemy encampment four hundred yards away.

The host was gathered in groups by race that didn’t seem to take into account what sort of weapons, tactics, or similar racial characteristics they had.

They probably weren’t united under a single banner. If they were, there should have been a more logical way to form ranks. Or perhaps it was a polyarchy, some sort of subhuman alliance where each race had equal authority.

“I can’t see very well, sir. Can you spot the general?”

“No, so far I haven’t found anyone who looks like their leader.”

And none of Pabel’s subordinates had reported that they had seen someone like that, either.

But there had to be a commander. Without one, even getting people to form ranks was a challenge.

“They can’t stay hidden forever. I’m sure the leader will show up on the battle line.”

It was subhuman nature for the ruler to possess great strength and to publicly demonstrate their might.

And that was the perfect timing for Pabel to do his job.

He clenched his bow.

It was a composite longbow enchanted with magic effective against subhumans. Not only that, he had also been issued a Cape of Shadow that allowed him to melt into the shadows and conceal himself more easily, Boots of Silence to erase the sound of his footsteps, a Vest of Resistance to boost his defense, and a Deflection Ring to protect him against ranged weapons. It was clear how much his country valued him.

“Be ready to go at any time, you guys,” he instructed his subordinates lurking in the darkness.

If their opponents were human, war was sometimes a noble affair with an exchange of messengers and declarations, but neither the officers at this fortress nor the people of the Sacred Kingdom felt like negotiating with subhumans that hailed from the hills. If anything, they might pretend as a ruse to buy time. Pabel and his troops intended to shoot as soon as they located the enemy commander.

“…Shouldn’t you head back to your own unit?”

“All right, I will. Take care, sir.”

“You too.”

Watching Orlando go, Pabel felt slightly anxious.

Some of the special abilities subhumans had were fatal for their victims.

Like the gaze of the gigabinocs.

These subhumans had eyes so large the proportions of their faces were bizarre. They possessed two types of dangerous gazes. One was Charm, which would lure its victim into approaching unconsciously, despite the danger. Yes, even from the top of the wall, anyone affected by Charm would attempt to reach the gigabinoc via the shortest route.

Normally, magic items were equipped to boost resistance against such unique abilities, but Orlando hadn’t been issued any, so with bad luck, one attack could be the end of him.

When Pabel closed his eyes to calm himself, the image of a woman appeared in the back of his mind.

One of the Nine Colors, she of White.

She makes me nervous in a different way. She’s liable to cause trouble with her ignorance. And it’ll be Pink cleaning up after her… Why does my daughter want to work with her? She could just meet a good man, fall in love, and settle down like a regular civilian, but instead— Agh, can’t be doing this now!

He shook his head to clear it of the spiraling worries about his daughter.

He turned to look at the subhuman camp again, partially to switch his mind’s gears.

It was unclear how many of them lurked beyond the hill, but there were many banners flapping in the wind. The sole tier-three caster at the fort had flown into the sky and confirmed they weren’t fake banners.

There really were that many enemies out there. It didn’t seem likely to end as a staring contest.

Pabel performed his usual ritual.

From his breast pocket he removed a wooden doll and he gave it a kiss.

His daughter had made it for him when she was six years old. It was a strange-looking doll, four limbs jutting out of a circle, but apparently, it was meant to be her daddy. He still remembered vividly how she had cried when he complimented her on her “neat monster”—and the kick his wife had given him.

It had been rubbed so often, it was wearing down, and the indentations that had been carved for the eyes and mouth were smoothing out. She had grown so much since that time, and he would have liked her to make him a new doll that resembled him better, but perhaps she wouldn’t understand his feelings—it didn’t seem like she would be working on a new one anytime soon.

Maybe it was because he hardly saw his wife or daughter due to his long hours on the job. He felt like a gulf was growing between him and his girl with each passing day. She used to run and jump into his arms the moment he arrived home, but at some point, even when he got to go home, he didn’t get a hug anymore.

She’s outgrown her daddy
, laughed his wife, but to Pabel, it was a serious matter.

If I could get a couple of months off, it would be great to go camping together like we used to.

When he shared his ranger knowledge, his daughter had looked at him with admiration and respect. That’s what his plan was centered around, though he realized it probably wouldn’t be so easy.

Pabel tucked the doll back into his pocket.

His daughter was aiming to be a paladin, so she wasn’t at home. Even when he finally got to go visit, she was often away.

Yeah, it would have been better—well, at least a little, and I really mean a little, just a teensy little bit—if she had married a man near home.

Life as a paladin was the last thing his daughter was suited for. He’d been watching over her all her life, so he knew it was a mistake.

She chose that path because she looked up to her mother, who was once a paladin. But that didn’t qualify her to be one, too.

Only a knight who could realize the justice they believed in could become a paladin.

While he never said so, mostly because he was scared of his wife, Pabel thought paladins were fanatics.

Does my girl understand that…? I don’t really want her to…

“There’re so many of them.”

Hearing his aide, short of breath and murmuring as he gazed out at the enemy encampment, brought Pabel back to his senses.

“Yeah, there are. But don’t be afraid. All you have to do is support me.” Those words helped his aide—and the rest of his unit—relax ever so slightly.

Yes, that’s fine. Nerves are a sharpshooter’s worst enemy.

Just as he cracked his emotionless face—though that’s not how he thought of it—into a faint smile, he noticed movement at the enemy position.

A single subhuman slowly came forward.

Despite the huge numbers of their force, this envoy didn’t have a single escort. Either they didn’t need one, they were vain, or they were a messenger of such little value that it didn’t matter if they lived or died.

“Should we shoot?”

“Hold. But line up a shot. Then wait for my order.” When he gave the instructions in a lowered voice, his subordinates fanned out briskly like a scattering of shadows.

Pabel stared, trying to figure out if it was the enemy general or a lowly messenger.

What kind of subhuman…is that even? I’ve never seen one like that before… What’s with those clothes? Some kind of folk costume? And that mask?

Whoever it was, they definitely weren’t a human. Pabel spotted a tail or something trailing behind them.

The most notable thing was the outfit. He felt like it was in the realm of possibility that this was some kind of traditional outfit, but he could tell even at a distance that it was incredibly well tailored—on par with the craftsmanship a human could achieve.

Subhumans with advanced cultures can only mean trouble for us here…

It wasn’t just Pabel—all the soldiers on the wall observed the subhuman’s every move with bated breath. While tension filled the air, the envoy had come within fifty yards of the wall.

“Stop where you are! This is the Sacred Kingdom territory! You subhumans aren’t welcome here! Leave this instant!” That cry came from the chief of the fort, one of the Sacred Kingdom’s only five generals. The man in dull, battered full plate armor shouted in a voice that resonated in the pit of Pabel’s stomach.

The reason only a single staffer was near him was probably so that in the event of an attack, they wouldn’t risk losing all their military planners. Instead, several soldiers with tower shields were standing by behind him to jump out if anything happened.

In contrast, the subhuman’s voice was pleasant and easy on the ears. It had a deep timbre that slipped right into a person’s heart, easily reaching deep within Pabel despite the distance.

“I’m well aware of that. Now then, who might you be?”

“I…I’m the general charged with the protection of this fort! Who in blazes are you?!”

You’re under no obligation to give out that information!
Pabel frowned. But he knew this general wasn’t talented at finessing things, so there wasn’t much to be done about it.

“I see, I see. Well it would be rude not to answer when I’ve been asked my name. Pleased to meet you, subjects of the Sacred Kingdom. My name is Jaldabaoth.”

“Really?!” The one who screamed was the staffer next to the general. “The Great Demon Jaldabaoth? The one who led demons on a rampage in Re-Estize’s capital?”

“Ohhh, I’m honored that you’ve heard of me. Yes, I’m the one who held that much-applauded party in the Re-Estize Kingdom. But ‘Great Demon Jaldabaoth’? That’s a rather sad title… How about you call me Evil Emperor Jaldabaoth?”

Pabel rolled the words
Evil Emperor Jaldabaoth
around on his tongue.

It was an awfully arrogant thing to call yourself, but given all the subhumans standing ready behind the demon and the stories of the disturbance in the royal capital, he felt like perhaps it was appropriate.

“Do you mean to assault my country like you did Re-Estize?”

“No, not quite. In Re-Estize, I met a terribly powerful warrior…” Jaldabaoth shrugged his shoulders helplessly. The motion was so elegant, Pabel almost felt like he was on par with a human noble. “But, well, I’ll take the liberty of omitting those details.”

“So why have you come?! Why have you led these subhumans here?!”

“I came because I want to turn this country into hell. I’d like to make this place a fun sort of nation where shrieks, curses, and wails echo without end. But when millions of humans are involved, I can’t take the time to toy with each of you individually. That’s why I brought the others. They will lower you human weaklings into the swamp of despair up to your necks, drawing out sobs of grief and supplication on my behalf.” He sounded so amused.

This was the moment Pabel learned the meaning of evil. When the ordained clergy shouted about “the evil subhumans,” it was mere propaganda meant to raise morale. Absolute nonsense. Broadly speaking, the usual subhuman attacks were about the utterly natural business of obtaining feeding grounds.

A primal fear assailed Pabel, making his skin crawl. But at the same time, he was fiercely determined.

This country was the home of his wife and daughter. How could he let this demon enter the Sacred Kingdom?

The hand gripping his bow tensed.

If Jaldabaoth or whatever his name intended to threaten them, he’d made a big mistake. Humans weren’t cowardly. This demon would learn how foolish it was to underestimate them once they mounted a formidable counterattack.

The soldiers on this wall would defend the Sacred Kingdom with iron resolve. Even if it appeared to have rusted in recent years, their devotion to their homeland remained strong.

“You think we would allow that?! Hear me clearly, foolish Jaldabaoth!” the general roared.

Yes, he really roared.

“This is the Sacred Kingdom’s first line of defense! And its last! We won’t let you trample the peace of our people!”

Primed by his shouts, the nearby soldiers raised a battle cry. “Rrrraaaaagh!” That was the moment their morale blazed brightest. If Pabel hadn’t been concealed, he would have screamed with them. His subordinates, shivering slightly, must have felt the same.

But a mocking applause dampened their mood. After clapping, the demon spoke. “So you’re the dogs guarding the cradle? How delightful. It’s very important to have something to protect. I think I’ve taken a liking to you fellows. Any prisoners we take here will be given my finest welcome.” He laughed as he spoke, sounding truly pleased.

Jaldabaoth wasn’t talking very loud. So from where Pabel was standing, he shouldn’t really have been able to make out every word. But strangely, he could hear them all quite clearly. It sounded like the demon stood right behind them.

Nothing to worry about. It’s probably magic.

There were spells and enchanted items that could magnify voices. There was a good chance the demon was using something like that. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was creeping up on him.

“I won’t accept surrender. Please do your best to entertain me. Now then, let’s begin.”

Pabel gave his men the order to shoot to kill.

He didn’t wait for a signal from the general. He was authorized to act on his own discretion. When aiming for the enemy leader, that’s how it had to be. If they had to wait for permission from a superior, they would miss their chance.

Pabel stood.

His subordinates followed.

They only had a moment to aim. To Pabel, fifty yards was point-blank range. He drew his bowstring with the intent to kill without hesitation—and felt his eyes meet Jaldabaoth’s behind his mask.

I’m not giving you time to flee or defend. You’ll regret being arrogant enough to come to the front line alone!

“Loose!”

At the sound of Pabel’s voice, fifty-one arrows flew.

Enchanted missiles launched from enchanted bows.

Fire arrows trailed red; ice arrows, blue; lightning arrows, yellow; acid arrows, green, Pabel’s holy arrows, white—all racing across the void.

Having been loosed from strings drawn to their limits, they flew in straight paths, none of them arcing. All stuck their target, Jaldabaoth, without fail.

Pabel’s shot was particularly powerful. Boosted with arts and skills, its destructive energy matched that of an overhead blow delivered by a heavy warrior. Even a man in full plate armor should have gone sprawling.

But Jaldabaoth endured all fifty-one arrows without so much as flinching.

Then something happened that made Pabel doubt his eyes.

The arrows that should have pierced his body all fell to the ground.

What?! Some defensive ability against projectiles?!

As he prepped his second arrow, he frantically tried to figure out how Jaldabaoth managed to defeat the attack.

Some monsters had abilities that made them immune from certain attacks. For example, lycanthropes could hardly be hurt at all unless the weapon was made of silver.

So perhaps Jaldabaoth had a similar ability. In that case, what sort of attack would pierce his defenses?

The arrow Pabel had just shot was made of iron and imbued with holy energy, which was effective against evil monsters. A demon should never have been able to fully protect itself from that, but the irrefutable truth was that he had nullified it. Finding the path to victory now depended on trying different sorts of arrows to gather information and rip off the veil to uncover Jaldabaoth’s weakness.

The next arrow Pabel nocked was silver. It was also blessed with holy power.

“Very good. Allow me to make my first move as well. It’s not a very exciting present, but I’d be happy if you’d accept. Tier-ten magic: Meteorfall.”

Pabel sensed something coming from overhead at a speed that was impossible to evade. When he looked up, he saw a ball of light.

A giant red-hot boulder—but even bigger.

As the light enveloped his entire field of vision, he saw, for a moment in the blinding brilliance, his wife and daughter.

He knew it was a hallucination. His daughter was old enough to choose her path in life, but he saw her small, held tightly in his young wife’s arms.

No, if I don’t say she’s still young even now, she’ll ki—

•

The meteor that fell on the wall through the tear in the sky caused a massive explosion. The thunderous sound was enough to echo in the pit of every single person’s stomach. The huge blast swept everything away and shattered the fortifications.

As the dirt that had been blown in the air fell back to the ground, the obscuring cloud gradually settled.

Once the dust cleared, the first notable sigh was of the crumbled wall—it couldn’t even be called ruins.

As for the fate of the soldiers, one look at the gouged-out wall was enough to know.

There was no way for mere humans to live after being subjected to such a cataclysm.

Of course, Demiurge knew better than that. There were humans who could survive. The fools who had set foot in the sacred land created by the Supreme Beings, the Great Tomb of Nazarick, had been such people. But he had done his due diligence and made sure no humans like that were here.

“Now then, I think that’s more than enough.”

Demiurge brushed his suit off. He hadn’t gotten very dusty, but perhaps a few motes kicked up in the impact had floated his way. And maybe he smelled a bit earthy. No, even if he didn’t feel that way, he probably still would have made sure his clothes were clean. This suit was a precious gift from his Creator.

Naturally, Demiurge had plenty of other outfits, but that didn’t make it acceptable to neglect taking care of this one.

The thought of his great Creator made him smile with joy beneath his mask; then he turned to face the humans in their shameful state.

If he launched a follow-up attack now, his enemy’s confusion would only deepen, and if he then sent the subhumans in, a complete collapse of the defenses would be a simple matter. But that wasn’t why he had used magic just now.

Demiurge had an extremely limited repertoire of spells. On tier ten, there was only one other he could use. His true value lay in skills; he had cast the spell to save energy, but the scene before him was already quite pitiful.

No one attempted to counter—they were desperate to gather information and reorganize.

I didn’t even kill their commander… And this disarray doesn’t seem to be caused by them finding it strange that I didn’t try to cripple their chain of command… Are they all right over there?

Demiurge turned his back to the humans and started strolling back toward the camp his slaves were building.

He wasn’t even on guard against an attack from behind him.

He already had the information he needed; that was why he could be so relaxed.

Demiurge was strong.

Among the floor guardians, he may have been near the bottom, but he was confident he would win in a fight—because he understood that fighting should only start after victory was assured. Unless he was ordered otherwise, he knew better than to fight if he wasn’t absolutely sure he would win.

There was only one person Demiurge couldn’t win against—in other words, he wouldn’t be able to prepare a scenario where he could definitely come out on top. That being was the ultimate, the apex, the one who held everything in the palm of his hand, he who possessed a greater intellect than Demiurge, who could conspire in unimaginably crafty ways, and whose foresight seemed to stretch into eternity.

The highest ruler of the Great Tomb of Nazarick, Ainz Ooal Gown.

Yes, the only one he couldn’t best was the Supreme Being to whom he had devoted himself.

Creating a huge number of undead is part of his scheme. Once that plan is in place, Lord Ainz will be untouchable. What a terrifying being. And everyone else must surely understand the joy of being ruled by one such as—

The thud was the first unexpected thing that had happened so far, and Demiurge turned around to see what had caused it.

A man was slowly rising to his feet. He must have jumped off the wall.

“He’s dead! The man I wanted to defeat is gone!” the man said, drawing a sword with two hands.

Demiurge searched the data he’d collected based on the man’s appearance. The answer came up instantly:

Threat Level: E—
a worm
.

Chance of Miscalculation: E—
none
.

Importance: E—
guinea pig
.

In other words, he was trash. But since he was one of the powerful Nine Colors—not that all of them were strong—Demiurge thought he would be useful as experiment material if taken prisoner.

“Rrrraaaghhh!”

The man charged at him with a battle cry.

How slow. Far too slow. If this is all the speed you can muster, shouldn’t you use your head a bit more? Maybe try casting Silence and approach quietly to close the distance a bit…

The man came running—at a leisurely pace—across a distance Demiurge’s colleagues would have closed in the blink of an eye.

According to the data he had gathered, this dim-witted man had a skill that enabled him to land a blow many times stronger than his usual attack whenever he broke a weapon. That was why he held one sword in his hands and had more on his hip.

How should I kill him? Since I’ll be taking him back, it would be better to do it neatly— Oh, he’s finally here?

After taking care to stay back far enough to avoid getting spattered even if the man’s blood spurted, Demiurge issued an order.
“Slit your throat with that sword.”

There was a thudding noise.

The eyes of the man who had sliced his own neck open were filled with confusion. When the light faded from his eyes, leaving only cloudy glass marbles—that was when he collapsed with a thud.

Screams of grief could be heard from atop the wall.

Demiurge approached the man, hooked a pointer finger on the back of his collar to lift him up, turned on his heel, and went back to his camp.

Upon his return, the representatives from each race—though none of them held any authority—gathered before him.

Demiurge had mentally divided the subhumans into two categories.

On one side were the bloodthirsty types who fed on humans. They willingly submitted to power and followed him out of positive emotions. On the other side were those who followed him out of negative emotions such as fear.

The ones he chose were from the latter group.

“You assembled rather slowly.”

And then he grabbed the shoulder of a random subhuman from the group. It was a zerun. He tore its shoulder skin right off. Though Demiurge was one of the least powerful floor guardians, he was still capable of this sort of feat.

With an incoherent shriek, the subhuman who had lost its skin (and a chunk of flesh) fell to the ground in agony.

“All right, please begin your attack. Don’t cause too much damage. The real fight begins on the other side of the wall.” Demiurge’s demeanor suddenly changed, and now he spoke to them kindly.

The kindness he showed to members of Nazarick was genuine. He was tenderhearted when dealing with his friends. But the kindness he showed outsiders was the sort of care that a useful tool would receive.

Having received their orders, the subhumans rushed back to their groups. The one who had fallen was no exception.

They had been told that a happy outcome awaited only those who obeyed Demiurge’s orders and got excellent results. And they’d also been told that those who achieved the opposite would find an appropriate future awaiting them.

With a gentle smile, Demiurge watched them set off.

“All right. I suppose it’s time to move on to the next order of business. Demons.”

He activated one of his skills and summoned a large number of disposable demons. To him, they were an extremely weak variety, but summoning stronger ones would mean not being able to field as many. In this case, the most important thing was that the Sacred Kingdom soldiers would spread the word that they were being attacked by demons. For that, he needed numbers.

“Listen up. You’re to support the subhumans. And drive the humans off in a clever way. Don’t do anything stupid like killing every last one and leaving none to return home.”

The low-level demons nodded and flew into the air.

Though summoned monsters shared the knowledge of the summoner to some extent, it was never terribly detailed. Only assuming they could perform basic tasks like differentiating between friend and foe was the best bet. For that reason, it was important to give orders at the time of summoning.

All right…I hope the chips fall where I want.

Demiurge had employed his intellect to plot out various scenarios, calculate dozens of potential developments, and prepare contingency plans that would achieve his aim. He had anticipated things might go slightly awry. But sometimes a real idiot would show up and do something utterly unexpected.

Someone as wise as Lord Ainz can probably predict even a fool’s moves, but…I’m not quite there yet. I do hope Lord Ainz enjoys this…

The thought made his pulse quicken. What would he do if this show he had spent so much time planning for the amusement of his supreme master failed to please?

People of the Sacred Kingdom, I beg you from the bottom of my heart: Entertain Lord Ainz—with your pathetic lives. That said, I wonder how I can tweak this plan in order to get the best results.

Like a student waiting for feedback from a professor he admired, Demiurge’s breast blazed with anticipation and excitement as he smiled.

I study Lord Ainz’s actions to improve and devote myself even more fully to him. What joy!

To Demiurge, who was born to serve the Supreme Beings, there was nothing more fulfilling than doing his best for his master.

“Ahhh, I can’t wait…”

3

News quickly spread that an allied subhuman army—a huge one—had defeated the largest, sturdiest, most well-garrisoned central fortress. Word that they had gotten past the wall raced throughout the entire Sacred Kingdom.

The commander of the subhuman alliance was Evil Emperor Jaldabaoth.

He was the demon who had gone on a rampage in Re-Estize, and now he had ripped through the Sacred Kingdom’s defenses with his devastating magic like it was so much as paper.

The subhuman alliance was made up of sixteen races, and their total head count was estimated to be over a hundred thousand. Their great war host had run into difficulties breaking down the wall and destroying the fort, so its advance had stagnated.

Upon hearing that, the highest authority in the Sacred Kingdom, the Holy Lady, invoked the National Mobilization Order.

Since the Sacred Kingdom extended north and south sandwiching a bay, when it mobilized an army, it necessarily raised two: the northern army and the southern army.

The armies gathered at their respective strategic hubs—the cities of Karinsha in the north and Debonay in the south. Meanwhile, they observed the enemy’s actions for several days.

Then the scouts observing the wall reported something that made the situation more tense.

The subhuman alliance army is advancing west in full force.

Estimating arrival at northern fortress city Karinsha in a few days.

“I see. So this will end up being the battlefield.” It was the Holy Lady, Calca Bessarez, who spoke.

She was quite a few steps down the line of succession—and it was usually males who took the throne—so she never should have become the supreme holy ruler, but she received the crown for two reasons.

One was her physical beauty. Her blooming features, sometimes praised as the Roebel’s greatest treasure, combined formidably with both her charm and her determination. She also had a reputation for her long hair often likened to shimmering golden thread. It practically looked like an angel’s halo graced her head, and not a few people who caught sight of her gentle smile spoke of her as a saint.

The other reason was her high aptitude as a faith magic caster. After being recognized as a prodigy who acquired tier-four spells by the age of fifteen, she became ruler with the backing of the previous holy king and the shrines.

And in the ten years since, though some complained she was too soft, she had reigned over the kingdom without making any mistakes serious enough to be called mistakes.

But her rule was not, in fact, uncontested. Coals were smoldering.

“I understand your sorrow, Your Holy Majesty. But the people who live in Karinsha knew what was at stake. Even back…er, ahem! This city has been the main battleground before, once in a previous conflict. It boasts a stronger wall than anywhere else.”

The one comforting her was a woman with brown hair.

Though she had the same regular features, the steely glint in her sharp eyes imbued her with a chilly atmosphere. She wore silver full plate armor and a white surcoat. Both were historic items passed down from the commander of the paladins. And there wasn’t a single person in the Sacred Kingdom who didn’t know the name of the sword at her hip.

It was one of the famous Four Holy Swords, Sacred Sword Safarlissia. Those four blades of legend were counterparts to the Four Swords of Darkness said to have been possessed by one of the Thirteen Heroes, the Dark Knight: Evil Sword Humuris; Demonic Sword Killineiram; Canker Sword Coroquedavarre; and Death Sword Sufiz. Incidentally, the other Holy Swords were Justice Sword, Pure Sword, and Life Sword.

Anyone gifted with such a weapon would have found it tempting to rely on its strength and slack on the fundamentals. For that reason, this woman didn’t carry this sword around very often. She wore it now because she knew she would have to face the impending fight with indomitable resolve if there was to be any hope of victory.

Her name was Remedios Custodio.

She was Calca’s close friend, and as the commander of the paladins, said to be strongest in all their history, she provided military backing for the Holy Lady’s authority. She was also White of the Nine Colors.

“Right, right. Plus, we had all the noncombatants evacuate, so they won’t be in danger. The only issue after the war is who will pay for it all!”

The source of an unsavory “oh-ho-ho-ho” was a different person.

The slant of her eyes and the shape of the corners of her mouth were a bit different, but she bore a strong resemblance to Remedios. Still, those subtle distinctions resulted in a dramatic change in the impression she made. She seemed like she had a hidden agenda—to put it unkindly, like she had some scheme up her sleeve.

This was Remedios’s sister, two years younger than her, Kelart Custodio.

She was a high cleric and head of the clergy.

Her magical ability allowed her to use up to tier-four faith spells—or rather, that was her cover story.

The public had no idea of her true ability; those close to her knew she could cast tier five as well.

Incidentally, she was not one of the Nine Colors. Though she was subordinate to both the influence of the shrines and the Holy Lady, due to various considerations for the balance of power, the country thought it politically wise to avoid bestowing a color on her.

Together, these two were known as the genius Custodio sisters, the right and left hand of the Holy Lady.

Since many nobles suspected that Calca, despite being a woman, had ascended to the throne thanks to the Custodio sisters working behind the scenes, unfavorable remarks were often aimed at all three of them.

They had cleared plenty of bad rumors, but there was one—that since they were all unmarried and had never even gone around with men, they must have been in some inappropriate relationship together—they couldn’t get rid of no matter how many times they denied it, which pained Calca.

“Hearing that makes my head hurt. It’s really just a lot of trouble if we win and don’t stand to gain anything.”

“But there are reports that the subhumans are well outfitted this time. Couldn’t we sell their gear or something?”

“Exaaactly…is what I’d like to say, but I can’t agree, honored sister. You say we could sell the gear, but to whom? You aren’t thinking this through. We’d have to sell them to another country, and no one will want to pay premium prices for subhuman gear. Plus, we should avoid furnishing the armories of our neighbors until we finish rebuilding the battered section of wall. I especially don’t want the Nation of Darkness flooding in.”

“Oh? You’re against the Nation of Darkness? I never heard anything about that at court…”

“None of the priests like them. Do you feel differently, Your Holy Majesty?”

Calca thought for a moment. As a person of the cloth, as the holy ruler, she hated it. But as the head of a state…

“A sovereign’s job is to care for subjects. And to give them peace. If their king is capable of that, then why should I mind?”

The sisters exchanged glances in front of her.

“Care for people? A thought like that would never enter an undead’s mind.”

“I agree with my sister. I hardly think an undead could have compassion for the people the way you do, Your Holy Majesty.”

“You’re both so harsh. You mustn’t bad-mouth someone you’ve never even met.”

The two of them, at a loss, wore nearly identical expressions.
Yep, they’re sisters
, Calca thought, and she suppressed the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth to speak in a more solemn tone.

“What do the staff officers have to say? Tell me about our plan to counter Jaldabaoth, Kelart.”

The Holy Lady had been visiting the base to raise the soldiers’ morale, so she missed the war planning meeting. The Sacred Kingdom’s soldiers had better training than those of other countries, but they were still a levy army. Maintaining morale was crucial.

“Yes, Your Holy Majesty. There’s a debate about the various scenarios we can envision—if the subhumans surrounded the city, if they pass us by, if they veer south, if they split their forces into two or three groups to go after multiple objectives, and so on.”

This was the sort of moment where Calca recognized that although the sisters resembled each other, they were quite different. If she had asked the elder of the two, she would only have been able to get a frustratingly meandering report that never got to the point.

“I see… And which scenario do they believe to be most likely?”

“Given the way the subhumans tend to conduct raids and what has happened so far, they feel that an encirclement is most likely. But there’s one problem this time.”

“Yes, there is, isn’t there?”

“What’s that?”

Remedios had been escorting Calca, so she hadn’t attended the planning meeting, either. But the fact that the Holy Lady understood immediately and she didn’t stemmed from different issues.

“…Honored sister. The demon who rampaged in the capital—Jaldabaoth. I don’t know what kind of intellect he possesses, but demons tend to be quite crafty. He may have some stratagem we’re not prepared for.”

“Oh… That makes it tough for the staff officers who have to plan the operation, then, huh?”

Calca had a thing or two she would have liked to say to the commander of the paladins, but she held her tongue.

“…This is a real pickle we’re in. So what will we do if the subhumans surround us? We have plenty of provisions, but what I’m scared of is what happens if morale falls among the defenders. The planners took that into account, right?”

“Yes, Your Holy Majesty. Normally we would only have to hold out until reinforcements from the south arrived, but there are reports that Jaldabaoth uses mysterious powers and is capable of breaching our wall with a single attack. That’s making everyone rather nervous…”

All three of them furrowed their brows.

Considering what had happened at the border wall, anyone’s face would go cloudy. But Calca knew better. Remedios was only imitating her and Kelart.

Remedios didn’t use her head. And she was stubborn. If it were only that, they would merely be personality flaws, but those qualities were also what made her capable of dispensing absolute justice.

Thinking about what justice actually is complicates things significantly. For instance, say there are two children. One is human; one is subhuman. Since they are both pure and innocent, they become friends, but adults discover the subhuman and capture the child. The human child begs them to have mercy. But if they let the subhuman go, the child could grow up and one day return to take revenge on them. Would killing the subhuman child be just or not? There is no easy answer to the question.

Calca would hesitate to take a life in such a situation.

But Remedios would kill without a second thought. She had the unwavering belief that it was the right thing to do. Anything that could give the people of her country joy was something she agreed with.

When she assumed the throne, Calca told her two friends that she would “bring joy to the weak and make this a country where no one cries,” and in response, Remedios swore to “uphold justice” as her ardent supporter.

She had taken that vow further than anyone, and the fire in her eyes was similar to fanaticism.

If that was all there was to the woman named Remedios, she would have been a dangerous individual. However, Calca had never felt the need to steer clear of her. It made sense to be fond of goodness that loved people, loved peace, hated evil, and wanted to help the helpless.

And due to that personality, she had no hidden motives. Since she never used her head all that much, it was clear that everything she said and did came from the heart.

Organizations, especially those that had existed for many years, often grew inflexible over time as obligation and ceremony mounted. And in the same way, blood grew cloudy.

It was only natural that siblings should quarrel over ascension to the sole seat that rested at the pinnacle of authority. And the race continued out of suspicion, envy, fear—right up until a life was taken.

Calca had been freed from that fate early on—because she had been able to acquire the most powerful magic of any holy king in history. Once people obtained something to be proud of, they usually rested easier. Thus, Calca had been prepared to give up on becoming holy king. Her siblings, however, were not.

The only blood relative she could trust now was an older brother, Caspond.

Because she’d lived in such a simple way, Remedios was an oasis for Calca’s heart.

“Hmm. That’s unbelievable power. It reminds me of the evil spirits that show up in stories.”

“Honored sister. Not even the evil spirits were that powerful. It’s possible that Jaldabaoth is superior to them!”

“…Well, that’s no good. How can we beat him?”

“What are you worried for, Your Holy Majesty? I hear that in the Re-Estize Kingdom, an adamantite adventurer drove him off. Don’t you think we should be able to handle him?”

“…Hmm. Yes, if an adventurer on par with us was able to, then… The question is whether Jaldabaoth can use that wall-crumbling power multiple times in quick succession.”

“The staff officers feel that since he only used it once when he struck the wall, he must not be able to use it again immediately.”

“That makes sense. If he could cast it often, that was an opportune time to do so. If he didn’t, that means he can probably only use it once.”

Calca and Remedios agreed. There was little apparent reason for him not to continue blasting the wall apart if he was capable of it.

Calca was of the same mind. She lightly touched the crown on her head; it was a magic item, the focal device of the hereditary great ritual spell of the Sacred Kingdom, Last Holy War.

“Well, high-ranking adventurers familiar with hunting down monsters have obeyed the National Mobilization Order and joined the military. I’m sure if we bring all our power to bear, Jaldabaoth wouldn’t be impossible to defeat. After all, we have the precedent of him being driven off at least once.”

The Adventurers Guild had vehemently protested the drafting of adventurers as soldiers, but Calca refused to make exceptions to the order. Of course she didn’t. It would be the height of folly to divide their strength during a national emergency. And the Adventurers Guild in the Sacred Kingdom didn’t have the influence it did in the neighboring kingdom. Forcing it to obey was a simple matter.

“Right. But not getting the details about what happened with him in the kingdom was a screwup.”

“My apologies.”

“Oh no, Kelart. I don’t blame you. I should have prioritized gathering information from abroad.”

“No, Your Holy Majesty. It’s actually Kelart’s bad.”

“Honored sister…”

“Hey! It’s definitely not my fault! I was busy guarding Her Holy Majesty Calca and exterminating monsters! I did
my
job! I do what I’m best at!”
Heh-heh.
Remedios puffed her chest out.

She was right. What she said was correct, but there was something wrong with it.

“…Could the people vanishing from their villages be related to Jaldabaoth somehow?”

“Maybe…”

It had happened a while ago; all of a sudden the population of several villages simply disappeared. They weren’t able to find any clues to lead them to a perpetrator, but maybe Jaldabaoth was the one behind the incident.

“Then before we kill him, should we interrogate him about that? But if that’s the case…dang. If only the Kingdom had slain him when they had the chance. Gazef Stronoff didn’t fight him?”

Kelart shot a quizzical look at Calca.

It must have meant,
You haven’t told her yet?
So Calca replied perfectly with a tired smile.

In words, it probably would have been something like,
Of course I did. I told her how Jaldabaoth attacked the capital, how he was repelled by the adventurer, and how other demons showed up, and how the captain of the Royal Select drove them off… It either went in one ear and out the other or was pushed out by newer information…

“…I feel bad for your deputy commanders, honored sister.”

“Huh? What do they have to do with anything?”

Kelart massaged her temples with her fingers instead of answering.

Since Remedios didn’t use her brain, she needed people to clean up after her—her two deputies.

Kelart understood their pain all too well. But because Remedios was so naive—or to be blunt, rather stupid—she was a healing presence for a tired heart, so things more or less balanced out.

“
…Sigh.
I don’t know all the details, but apparently, he was fighting other demons, ones with scales.”

“Ah. None of this would have happened if he could have just defeated him for us. I can’t imagine that adamantite adventurer is stronger than Gazef.”

“I don’t know, but I wouldn’t rule it out.”

Remedios made a sour face.

She must have been displeased at the idea that someone she considered strong could be inferior to a stranger.

“Well, yeah, he can only wield a sword. If he had attacks for countering demons like I do, it might be a different story.”

In terms of pure combat ability, paladins were a notch below warriors, but against evil beings, they performed extremely well. What Remedios said was right, but Kelart emitted a little sigh.

Just then, Calca thought she heard the faint ringing of a bell.

Remedios leaped into action. She was always the one to move first in these situations.

She pushed the window open.

An early autumn breeze rushed in, forcing out the air inside that had been somewhat warmed by the trio’s body heat.

Carried on that bracing gust was indeed the sound of a bell—proof that the earlier noise hadn’t been her ears playing tricks on her. How much she would have preferred it to have been a figment of her imagination…

At the same time, a set of footsteps could be heard as several people pounded down the hallway.

“Holy Lady Calca, get behind me.”

Remedios stepped forward, drawing Sacred Sword Safarlissia, and took up a position between Calca and the door.

The door banged open.

“Your Holy Majesty!”

She recognized the man who was first through the door—the chief of staff.

“What is it? What a racket you’re kicking up!”

Scolded by Remedios, the man answered as he tried to catch his breath. “There was no time to leisurely stroll over! Your Holy Majesty! It’s Jaldabaoth! He’s inside the city! And multiple demons are tearing through the streets! The subhumans are also on the move—they’re probably advancing on us!”

“What?!”

“The subhuman army was spotted on the outskirts of town. I have no idea how they slipped past the patrols, but we had the wrong info! I have no doubt they’ll mount an attack in no time!”

It was so much news at once Calca couldn’t take it all in, but that hesitation only lasted a moment. With the face of a queen, she gave orders. “This is not what we anticipated, but the fight against Jaldabaoth starts now! Prepare to battle the subhumans while we keep Jaldabaoth busy! Pass on my orders to the adventurers, too!”

As she listened to her subordinates acknowledge, her doubts returned:
Are we sure we’re not underestimating him?

She certainly didn’t mean to underestimate a demon who had broken their nation’s great wall. But was it a mistake to even think they could win? Would it be better to flee until they gathered more intelligence?

No
, thought Calca, crushing the apprehension that had sprouted inside her.

If they didn’t fight now, then when? Intelligence was important certainly, but there was no better chance to bring their powers into play. As the war went on and resources dwindled, it would only become more difficult for the Scared Kingdom to muster its full strength.

And fleeing while collecting intelligence would mean allowing the people and land of the kingdom to be ravaged.

There was no telling how many of her subjects would be harmed if that happened.

“…Bring joy to the weak and make this a country where no one cries, right?”

“Yes, Holy Lady Calca!”

Remedios met her private comment with a resounding reply.

Boy, I was naive when I was younger. I could hardly have set more impossible goals for myself…

“Hmph! He’s all full of himself because they got past the big wall! He even waltzed right into our midst completely alone!” Remedios barked in anticipation.

But is that true? Well, it’s what I’ll have to believe.
But she couldn’t get the feeling that they were making a serious mistake out of her head.

“…Still, don’t let your guard down. You should approach him with the understanding that he’s more than powerful enough to do terrifying things on his own.”

“Of course, Holy Lady Calca. Please consider me fully guarded! I’ll present you with his head after I cut it off with the Sacred Sword Safarlissia!”

It’s no good. Getting her to calm down is beyond my power.
Despite that thought, Calca wasn’t worried. Remedios was like a completely different person in combat.

“Ahhh, a severed head doesn’t do much for me, but I’m very glad to have your loyalty. Chief of staff, please work according to the plan to defeat him and…buy us time?”

“Of course. I’ve already sent out a vanguard.”

Calca felt a dull pain in her heart. The order just now essentially meant
Send them to die
. She was telling him,
Take soldiers who have no chance of winning and throw them at Jaldabaoth to slow him down.

A ruler’s job was to abandon a minority to save the majority.

She had no right to complain. Soldiers would die as a result of her order, so to honor them, she had to play her role to perfection.

She had to act the part of the supreme ruler, Holy Lady adored by all.

“All right, everyone! Let’s go!”

The moment she clapped her hands, everyone leaped into motion.

4

Clutching her holy sword, Remedios cut down a demon; one of her deputies had told her what they were called, but she couldn’t remember. Imbued with holy energy, the sword delivered terrible damage to evil beings—an effect worthy of its name.

The rampaging demon tumbled to the ground emitting something like steam from its wounds and disappeared.

After only a few seconds, there was no trace that a demon had been there at all. But the victims of its violence remained.

“What have they done?!” Remedios exclaimed upon seeing the soldiers—not the vanguard but ones who had been patrolling the city—strewn upon the ground.

One’s leather armor was split, and the hand pressed desperately against his abdomen was stained bright red; pink intestines peeked out from beneath it. His face had gone past pale to bone white.

Remedios didn’t have any medical training, but she knew from experience: There was no time to take him to a surgeon. He needed immediate magical healing.

The reason this man wasn’t dead was neither a coincidence nor due to superior skills. It had to be exactly what the demon intended to do. Not that Remedios had any idea why.

Still, that didn’t mean not saving these soldiers—abandoning them—was an option. Who could forsake those brave troops who were out there fighting for their country to buy their comrades time? Above all, she was a holy knight of justice.

“Treat him!”

She was working with a team of elite paladins, but they also had a few priests with them. The order was directed at the latter.

A deputy was in her ear whispering immediately. “I think it might be better to take him to a surgeon in the rear. If the priests use their powers now, they might run out of mana in the fight against Jaldabaoth. That might be why the demo—”

“You talk too much! My order stands! Heal him to the point that he can move on his own! And—” She looked at her deputy. “I can’t hear you mumbling through your helmet! Speak clearly!”

“Uh, er, never mind…”

“Good!”

Healing magic patched the soldiers up instantly. Of course, they weren’t completely mended. It was tier-one magic—it couldn’t bring half-dead soldiers back to full health. But it helped them enough so they could move. If they were no longer on the brink of death, there wasn’t any more magic to spare for them. Remedios remembered how insistent her little sister had been about the judicious use of resources.

“Brave soldiers, listen to me. Your wounds should have been healed the minimum amount necessary. Fall back and have a surgeon take a good look at you.”

The pain of walking would surely bring tears to their eyes. But she didn’t have time to listen to whining like that. She had to reach Jaldabaoth within the allotted time.

The troops must have grasped the meaning in her gaze, because they agreed with no objections.

“Good! Then farewell!”

Remedios sprinted off in the lead. Her metal armor was lighter and easier to move in than it looked. That plus her muscular strength meant she could run faster than anyone else, but her sister, Calca, and her deputies had told her over and over not to go charging into a fight on her own, so she slowed her pace to match the others—suppressing the feeling that they had to hurry to make up for lost time.

Before too long, they arrived at their destination, a certain corner of the city.

The streets looked utterly normal, but they had already been evacuated, so there wasn’t a single soul to be seen.

“Commander! We turn right on this avenue and head straight down it. Then it’s just one more right, and we’ll come out onto the square where Jaldabaoth should be waiting. Shall we go ahead ourselves just to confirm?”

“No, we’ll wait for Holy Lady Calca and my sister, as well as the adventurers. Once everyone is here, we’ll do the final checks. Raise the flag!”

Following her order, one of her knights attached a flag to a building a short distance away. That was the signal to the other units that Remedios’s elite squad of paladins had arrived.

There were about five hundred paladins who belonged to the order. Most of them could hold their own in a fight against monsters of difficulty level 20, but some were so tough they could take on 60s. The best twenty-five of those most elite paladins formed the core of Remedios’s unit.

Incidentally, the other three hundred or so paladins she had brought to this city were headed toward the wall to prepare to meet the advancing subhuman army.

Normally, it might have been better to have all the groups work together and avoid the risk of being picked off one by one, but Jaldabaoth had that mysterious, wall-shattering, area-of-effect attack. To avoid giving him an easy target, they were operating separately. Along the same line of thought, the flag they had raised earlier was kept slightly away from the unit in case Jaldabaoth aimed for it.

“…Do you think he can use that power he broke the wall with more than once, Isandro?”

The Paladin Order had two deputy commanders.

One was a mediocre swordsman who was valued for other reasons: Gustav Montagnés. He was leading the knights headed for the city wall.

The other was next to Remedios: Pink of the Nine Colors, Isandro Sanchez.

“If he could use it as many times as he wanted, I don’t understand why he wouldn’t be using it right now. I believe it’s safe to assume there is some sort of condition that has to be met or that it will be some time before he can use it again.”

“Right. Maybe I was worrying too much, splitting us up like this.”

“No, not at all. He could be conserving some vast power. We can’t let our guard down.”

“Ah, true. Got it.”

Remedios ended the conversation. She really wasn’t one for using her brain.

Politics, especially, gave her a headache. In particular, she didn’t understand why the nobles frowned and complained about there being no precedent for a woman being holy king.

Calca’s title was the greatest proof of that discontent.

As a female holy king, people called her the Holy Lady. That’s what was decided on when they refused to give primacy to a female title by calling her holy queen or changing the title to something else.

In that sense, Remedios found it simpler to just think about things in terms of strong and weak.

“Commander Custodio. The flags from the priest and the adventurer groups have also been raised.”

“And Her Holy Majesty Calca?”

“Not yet.”

“I see… But go ahead and start casting defensive spells that will last. Once Holy Lady Calca arrives, we’ll make first contact with Jaldabaoth. We’ll distract him as bait. Steel your resolve and be ready for his special attack.”

Her troops responded with a brave cheer.

“He hasn’t moved from the square?”

The initial unit had already been wiped out. If their target had moved, the adventurers scouting ahead should have notified them. If there was no report, it meant that Jaldabaoth hadn’t gone anywhere.

“This demon is going to be sorry if he’s underestimating us! He probably thinks if he kills us all here that he’ll have no trouble conquering the whole kingdom.”

“B-but Commander. He could be buying time. If Jaldabaoth pins us here, the subhumans will have an easier fight.”

“…Aha. That could be it… This Jaldabaoth guy is pretty smart.”

“He’s a demon so I suppose he’s devilishly intelligent.”

“…Hmph. I’m gonna thrash this cocky demon and make him cry.” Remedios vowed to the gods, and as if it had been waiting for that moment, the last flag rose.

“Deputy!”

“Yes, ma’am! We’re ready to go!”

“All right! Follow me!”

Remedios ran, determined to stick her sword through that ridiculous demon’s face.

She turned the corner, sprinted, and turned another corner.

Then, in the middle of the square dyed red with the blood of scattered corpses, she saw a strange figure. He wore a mask, and a tail curled out from his backside.

He looked just as the soldiers who had escaped said he did.

No bat wings or curved horns—the only thing that pointed him out as a grotesque was his tail. Seeing him like this gave the impression he was just a man with a mask on.

But…

“So you’re Jaldabaoth?!”

“I rolled out the red ca— Oh?”

As she stepped into the square, the pungent stench of innards and blood hit her nose, and a chunk of flesh squished beneath her foot. But she wasn’t aware of any of that. All she cared about was charging in and bringing down her sword.

When he dodged her attack so easily, she became even more uncomfortable and raised her blade again.

And he evaded once more.

Remedios knew that even if she spent hours and hours studying, she couldn’t get good results. That’s why she had put all her time into raising her fighting power. It was clear that she had some aptitude in that area. And that’s how she became known as the strongest warrior in the country.

Paladin Remedios Custodio’s instincts screamed at her.

It’s no accident that Jaldabaoth is dodging. He only appears relaxed because he’s that skilled. There are only a handful of humans capable of keeping up with the battle that is about to unfold. I need more magic support.

And at moments like these, Remedios’s instincts were never wrong.

“Take cover! You guys need to find shelter! No—give us a wide berth! This demon is strong!”

As she said that, she took some distance like her subordinates did. Her troops shifted back a lot, but she didn’t go quite that far—four yards at most, so she was within striking distance if she took a running start.

Jaldabaoth’s shoulders slumped. “You’re like a bull, huh? What? Did someone wave a red cloth?”

Ignoring the demon’s comments, Remedios noticed the soldiers led by Kelart and Calca out of the corner of her eye.

They were rushing over, surprised that Remedios had already engaged.

The demon turned his entire body to face Calca, leaving his unprotected back open to Remedios. But she knew that he was waiting for her to attack him from behind, so she didn’t move.

“You guys, he’s strong! If you don’t have the soldiers fall back, they’ll die for no reason!”

The two listened to her shout and acted accordingly. Only Kelart and Calca approached.

Remedios maintained her distance from Jaldabaoth but circled around to stand in front of the other two.

“Remedios, please don’t try too hard.”

“Listen to her, honored sister. Isn’t this the sort of adversary we should all take on together?”

Though registering their nagging behind her, Remedios never took her eyes off Jaldabaoth. He could use the power that broke the wall at any second. The instant he seemed like he was going to try it, she intended to attack.

But she didn’t get any sense of that from him.

His leisurely air made her nervous.

I’m definitely—no matter what—going to make you crawl in the dirt!

“So you’re Jaldabaoth, are you?”

The way he shrugged his shoulders in response to Calca’s question offended Remedios even more. Every single thing he did annoyed her.

“That is correct… Your slave attacked without even waiting for my reply. What was she planning to do if she had been mistaken? Though I am impressed to find nonverbal barbarians in the Sacred Kingdom. Oh, just in case, let me confirm: You’re the current holy king?”

“That’s right.”

“You don’t need to introduce yourself to this villain, Holy Lady Calca!” Remedios thrust the point of her sword at Jaldabaoth. “If we know this is Jaldabaoth, all that’s left is to kick his ass back to the demon world. No need to sully our tongues with conversa—”

“U-uh, Remedios, wasn’t the plan to see what he had to say…?”

Remedios cocked her head in response to Calca’s confusion.
Is that what we decided?

It seemed that Kelart had cast a spell from the rear—a blaze of warmth spreading inside her brought forth a surprising amount of power. Her previous attacks had been dodged, but now she was confident she could hit him. That’s when she realized:
Ohhh, listening to him was about buying time.

“—But I’m generous, so we can talk a little bit. Is there anything you want to ask?”

Jaldabaoth had his hand pressed over his mask on the spot between his eyes. It was the same gesture she often saw from Kelart, Calca, and her deputies.

“…Please take all the time you need. You can prepare in desperation, but a power greater than you will trample and rob you of your lives. And those who look on will despair even more. What a delightful scene.”

“I would never allow that to happen!”

“Sorry, Remedios. Could you be quiet for a second?” Calca spoke somewhat firmly, and Remedios closed her mouth. Her tone of voice changed only slightly, but Remedios knew from experience that it meant she was annoyed.

“Remedios, let’s back up a bit.”

“B-but if I back up any farther, I won’t be able to strike if he does something…”

“Oh, that’s all right. How about we say that I won’t attack until either our conversation is over or someone from your side attacks first?”

“Why would I take what a demon says at face val—?!”

“Remedios!”

“Fine.”

When she followed the order and fell back, Kelart whispered an explanation in her ear through her helmet. “Holy Lady Calca wants to get some information out of him. No matter what he says, control yourself.”

Remedios grunted her disapproval.

They were up against a demon, so they should consider anything he said a lie. Slaying him at once would be easier since it required less brain power. But upsetting her master’s plans wasn’t a very loyal thing to do. She had to sit tight and tolerate this.

“Now then, Evil Emperor Jaldabaoth. There’s something I’d like to ask you. What is your purpose in coming here? If you want to overrun this country, why aren’t you operating alongside the subhumans you had with you when you broke our wall? Could it be that—?”

“Yes, you can stop right there. I know what you’re going to say. It seems you’re operating under a misunderstanding. It’s not as if I came alone because I want to negotiate.”

From behind her, Remedios heard Calca murmur a disappointed “Oh, I see.”

“There are two reason I came alone. One is that you being crushed by me alone is more despair inducing than if you fell in battle against an army of subhumans. The second is to avoid making the mistake I made in the kingdom. I never imagined a warrior with strength on par with me existed in those lands. So I came to investigate whether there was someone like that here or not.”

“There might be!”

“I can say with certainty there is not. I gave you this much time. If such a person existed, they would surely be next to you, the most important person in this country. But I don’t see anyone who matches the description. Not even among those sneaking around like rats.”

“Hey! Are you saying I—we’re not as strong as that warrior?!” Remedios shouted, unable to hold herself back; that was a comment she couldn’t ignore. She had forgotten half of what Calca and her sister had told her, but she at least managed to keep herself from attacking.

“That’s exactly what I was saying, but did you not understand for some reason? Is that all you want to know, Your Holy Majesty?”

“There was one other thing, but no matter—angel unit, forward!”

Calca’s determined shout filled the square, and the angels hidden among the guards and priests forming the perimeter behind her all spread their wings and flew into the air.

Five flame archangels—armed with swords of flames and summoned with a tier-three spell. Twenty angel guardians summoned with a tier-two spell. And a single principality peace that Calca had been summoning with a tier-four spell the whole time on their way over.

Remedios didn’t remember what sort of powers the angels had, but she knew that the principality peace that Calca summoned could cast low-level faith magic and had skills that allowed the angel to smite evil, grant some protection from enemy attacks, purify ailments, and more. She had seen her summon it any number of times.

Soaking in the crackling energy around her, Remedios realized she didn’t need to hold back any longer and charged. Normally the priests would launch attack spells to support her, but there weren’t any this time; perhaps they were saving their mana to summon angels.

Remedios used a skill from one of her classes, evil slayer, that boosted the holy energy in her Holy Sword.

Suddenly, five adventurers appeared behind Jaldabaoth. They must have been using a spell to go invisible and close the distance. Remedios had no idea why they abruptly showed themselves—because while she was aware that Invisibility existed, she had no idea what kind of spell it was or why the effects might cut off.

Jaldabaoth showed no signs of intercepting the suddenly visible adventurers. No, he didn’t even appear to notice them.

Was the threat she had sensed from him an error? Or was this a phantom or a double instead of the real thing?

No
—she rejected the latter thought. That couldn’t be. Her instinct, her nose for evil, told her that Jaldabaoth was here.

The adventurers panicked and attacked. Just as their weapons should have connected, strange wings sprouted from Jaldabaoth’s back, skewering the adventurers behind him like knives.

Their chests penetrated, blood must have flooded their lungs.

Coughing up bloody foam, a single adventurer mustered the last of his vitality to bring his weapon down again.

But even though the hit landed cleanly on Jaldabaoth, it didn’t seem to hurt him in the slightest.

The fact that they were here meant they had to be capable adventurers. Surely, they had armed themselves with consecrated weapons as part of their preparations. If they still couldn’t harm him, Jaldabaoth had to be one high-level demon.

As the situation continued to evolve rapidly in the space of a few blinks, Remedios had closed their distance and swung her Holy Sword down diagonally.

Jaldabaoth jumped aside and used his tentacle-like wings—
Or maybe they really are tentacles?
—to hurl the bodies of the impaled adventurers at her.

She had no interest in catching them.

Removing her left hand from the hilt of the sword and punching them aside, she simultaneously used a martial art—“Flow Acceleration!”—to swoop in. Then she lunged.

The Holy Sword she’d thrust toward his throat was parried with nails that had lengthened instantaneously—

“Holy Attack!”

The moment her sword connected with the claws, her power flooded into him through the blade.

This skill paladins gained early on was really supposed to be used when their sword cut deep into their opponent’s flesh, but it was still possible to use even with a glancing blow. The holy energy would bubble away on the surface of their target’s body, so the damage wasn’t terribly high, but the reason she used it anyway was that her instincts as a paladin—“animal instincts,” her sister called them—screamed at her to prevent a fall in morale by demonstrating they still had a way to fight Jaldabaoth even after all those adventurers were killed.

“I see…”

The angels positioned themselves between Jaldabaoth, who had jumped back farther, and Remedios.

Floating at nearly her height, they attacked Jaldabaoth.

Tch
, Remedios clicked her tongue.

The high-pitched metallic noise that had rung out when her Holy Sword clashed with Jaldabaoth’s claws told her how hard they were. And though her form hadn’t been perfect, the fact that he could easily parry her boosted attack spoke to his physical strength.

Only a handful of the strongest could fight an opponent so powerful. Angels summoned with tier-two and -three spells were fine for exterminating regular old monsters, but in this fight, they were only in the way. The angel shoes dangling right in her field of vision were especially maddening.

“Penetrating Magic: Holy Ray!”

Her sister loosed a spell. But it disappeared before Jaldabaoth as if it had been repelled.

“Twin Penetrating Magic: Holy Ray!”

Calca shot two rays. She must have hoped that at least one of them would get through Jaldabaoth’s magic immunity ability, but unfortunately, both of them ended up just like Kelart’s.

He must have quite high defense against magic. Which means…I have to do everything I can!

She roared with even more spirit. “Please use your brains and make the angels fight smarter! This is pointless!”

And in fact, despite the angels occupying an advantageous overhead position, and the soldiers surrounding him, Jaldabaoth was still composed. But that made sense. Despite the number of opponents encircling him, no one had managed to land an effective attack yet.

Adventurers raced over to recover the bodies of their fallen comrades lying on the ground near Remedios. The fact that they didn’t so much as twitch must have meant they were dead, but maybe the living were choosing to have faith in slim possibilities.

“…What a pain. Even puny worms are irritating when so many gather up in one spot.” Jaldabaoth was completely at ease.

And if he was immune to the spells being cast and could evade every physical attack, then he probably thought he had an overwhelming advantage. But…

You think I’ve never fought someone like that before?

Unless the caster specialized in summoning, the summoned monsters would be weaker than the caster themselves. So it wasn’t unheard of for the attacks of angels to be ineffective.

The optimal way to use angels against a powerful opponent—

The angels swooped down to attack Jaldabaoth all at once. Not slashing with their swords, but tackling.

—was to stop them in their tracks.

That was effective.

Perhaps he was feeling some pressure? Jaldabaoth transitioned to offense and sent several angels back to the void with a single swipe of his claws.

But the gap made by any angel that had been cut down was simply filled by another that continued the assault.

That was the true horror of summoned monsters. They were beings for whom death didn’t count as death, so they could use their abilities to the fullest.

Remedios’s eyes widened as she watched the waterfall-like hammering of angels and the way Jaldabaoth handled them as if he were working an assembly line. However…

He’s letting his guard down!

After approaching quietly, she waited for Jaldabaoth to be critically distracted by the onslaught of angels and then leaped into range.

“What?!”

“Ahhhrraahhhh!”

She activated a skill and struck a mighty blow with her Holy Sword using a martial art.

Her instinct whispered to her that it wasn’t time to unleash the sword’s greatest reservoir of power that could only be used once per day.

On the receiving end of her second most powerful attack, Jaldabaoth went flying in what seemed like a horizontal flight path. Then he ducked into a shop on the opposite side of the square.

Remedios stared down at her sword hand.

“Crap!”

“Honored sister, you did it!”

Kelart sounded so happy, but Remedios yelled back at her. “Not yet I haven’t! There’s no way he’d go flying like that.”

“I think it’s possible given how insanely strong you are…”

“No, he flew away on his own!”

Yes. Not only had she let him slip through the encirclement, she’d given him the opportunity to hide in a building.

The only reason they’d had half a chance against him was because they had him surrounded and forced him into a fight of one against many. Combat in a cramped house would be too dangerous for Remedios.

And maybe Jaldabaoth had decided that playtime was over and would change up his moves.

“Remedios! What should we do?” Calca cried out to her.

Usually it was Remedios asking the questions and Calca answering, but this time it was the reverse. Apparently, when it came to combat, Remedios was still more likely to arrive at the correct answer than the other two.

“Destroy the building without getting anywhere near it!”

Following her directive, the priests began casting attack magic.

The building came tumbling down bit by bit, but it was hard to imagine Jaldabaoth dying under a pile of rubble. With her enchanted armor, even Remedios wouldn’t die from something like that unless she got awfully unlucky. And besides—

Remedios eyed her clean blade.

Did he really absorb that powerful blow just by flying away? Did he use a martial art like Fortress? Or was it a special demon ability? There were lots of possibilities, but if she couldn’t figure out the answer, they were in serious trouble.

With great cracks and pops, the building was completely demolished by the area-of-effect spells. Remedios found herself having a coughing fit in the cloud of dust it kicked up.

“Hey, Remedios, why isn’t he coming out?”

“…Honored sister, do you think he could have teleported away already?”

That arrogant demon? I doubt he would unless he were injured…

“…It’s time for a fire attack. Let’s pour oil over this and burn it. And then could you bless it, Holy Lady Calca?”

“A Holy Flame Rite, honored sister? Should a paladin really use that to damage an opponent…?”

“I don’t mind. If Remedios thinks that’s our best option, I’ll do it. No, it’s what we
must
do. If he’s a demon, there’s no way it won’t hurt him.”

Many demons had resistance to fire, but a Holy Flame had both holy and fire attributes, so resistance to fire would only block half the damage.

“All right, Holy Lady Calca, let’s prepare for the ceremony…”

“There’s no time. Can you do a simplified version?”

Looking at Calca, she saw her sister out of the corner of her eye as she said, “Um…”

Simplifying the Holy Flame ritual magic put quite a large strain on the caster. This wasn’t the sort of proposal someone entrusted with her safety should have been making. But they couldn’t afford to give Jaldabaoth time.

“If you say that’s better, then let’s go with that plan. But if I cast it alone, I won’t be able to give you any more support afterward. Please remember that… So will you light it for me right away?”

“Understoo—”

“Hoh-hoh-hoh. That puts me in quite a pinch.” Jaldabaoth’s voice suddenly came to them from beneath the rubble.

“Honored sister!”

“I’m on it!”

Remedios stood in front of Calca and held her sword at the ready.

Apparently, the demon really was trapped beneath the rubble. And if he was talking to them now, it must have meant that Holy Flame was the correct attack. Surely he hadn’t been knocked out by the impact of the rubble.

“It seems I’ll have to actually start putting some effort into this fight.”

“Ohhh? You could have done that a long time ago. I’ve been waiting, so won’t you show me what you’re capable of…? Holy Lady Calca, Kelart, get back.” She instructed the pair in a lower voice.

At the same time, Remedios backed up and left a wall of angels between her and Jaldabaoth.

“Hmm. Then please take some distance. It wouldn’t be much fun if you were killed in the shock of me getting up.”

The pile of collapsed bricks and wood rose. And as the debris fell away, some sort of giant slowly stood up.

“…Jaldabaoth?” Remedios murmured in spite of herself.

The being standing before them was something altogether different from the Jaldabaoth of a few moments ago. She wondered if he had switched places with another demon. But there couldn’t be that many demons this powerful out there.

There was no doubt in her mind: This was Jaldabaoth; it was Jaldabaoth’s true form.

Wings of flame whooshed open. The tip of his long tail was also burning. Even the ends of his terrifyingly thick arms were on fire. His sinister face was rage incarnate.

“Priests! Have the angels charge!”

Following Kelart’s order, the priests sent their angels forward. Jaldabaoth didn’t even counter when the angels attacked with their weapons—he simply took the hits in silence. Being surrounded and assaulted didn’t seem to bother him one bit. It was like a paladin in full plate armor being pummeled by a child.

“This is my true nature.” Jaldabaoth spoke in a deep, weighty voice that seemed to come from the pit of his stomach. Then he took a step forward with a massive leg, forcing the angels back.

Ignoring the angels’ attacks entirely, he clenched a fist enclosed in flames. Fire blazing, it was red-hot like a volcanic bomb.

“You daft, flying insects—be gone!”

With a bang, the angels that should have been shielding Remedios vanished.

Even her sharp vision only registered a momentary afterimage of Jaldabaoth swinging his fist at great speed. The resulting blow had demolished the wall of angels that had been protecting her.

This was the real Jaldabaoth.

Slaying several angels at once so easily. In the face of such overwhelming power, Remedios swallowed hard and gripped her Holy Sword. She broke into a sweat and could sense the clothing beneath her armor changing color.

Can I win? Eh—

“Daaaaaagh!” Remedios charged with a roar—to shake off her fear. Perhaps it was a reckless move, but if she didn’t advance now, her mind would have been forced to acknowledge her defeat. Clenching her sword, she raced forward.

Jaldabaoth neither defended nor dodged.

He repelled her so simply it was laughable.

“—Huh?”

Her sword, forged of an unknown metal as hard as adamantite, glanced off Jaldabaoth’s skin.

When she looked up, his gaze wasn’t even directed her way—just like how a human wouldn’t look down on bugs crawling in the dirt.

“It’s a chore to fight you unarmed… Oh, wait, I have a good weapon.”