>

“Probably not.” Even Yukinari had no choice but to admit it. However great his personal strength might be, alone he would be defeated by sheer numbers. In particular, he would be defending, and it wouldn’t be enough just to put the city behind him. They could come from all sides, and he wouldn’t be able to respond.

“Geez... What do they enjoy so much about doing this?” Yukinari muttered angrily, letting out a sigh. “If they want to believe in God, then they can go ahead. They’re welcome to pray—by themselves. But no, they have to force others to believe, too.”

Veronika frowned as she looked at Yukinari, as if surprised at the suddenness of this.

“I hate the Harris Church, it’s true. But I don’t particularly want to destroy other towns or expand my territory or whatever. Why can’t they just leave us alone?”

“Because they think they’re right, I suppose,” Veronika said, almost a murmur. “And they want everyone to acknowledge they’re right. Because there’s only one truth.”

“There’s as many truths as there are people,” Yukinari said.

“I agree, but that’s not what their doctrine teaches. Their God is truth incarnate, the manifestation of justice. Their God is the only one in the whole world, and all others are demons spreading evil teachings. So truth and justice are one, and they acknowledge no others.”

Yukinari looked at Veronika, his eyes narrowed, saying nothing.

“Everyone wants certainty. They want to believe they’re correct. So they refuse to admit the existence of things that run counter to their ideas or beliefs. They try to eliminate them, if possible.”

“...I guess so.”

“When two people confront each other, if they don’t want to resolve things peacefully and so long as a more powerful third party doesn’t intervene, they’ll settle the issue by force. And usually, the defeated side loses everything. So you keep building your own power, making yourself stronger, in case there’s an enemy out there you haven’t seen yet. I’m sure it seems logical to them. Whether or not we think so.”

“That’s a blunt way of putting it... Although I understand what you’re saying.”

“Moral good and evil have nothing to do with it. If you want to protect your principles and convictions, you have to get stronger. It isn’t a question of whether you want to or not. But then others see you as a threat and take it as a reason to arm themselves...”

From that perspective, the True Church of Harris might well perceive Yukinari as a threat to their very dogma. He might be living quietly in the country now, but there was no guarantee he wouldn’t one day come at the Church with his fangs bared.

“In other words, just having power makes you part of that dynamic, whether you like it or not...”

At this point, it didn’t matter whether Yukinari had initially been pursued by the Church or not. The Church would never see someone with his power and his wish for autonomy as anything but a threat.

“Yukinari, whatever your personal ideals might be, if you don’t want to be buried by other people’s choices and beliefs, you need strength. At least as much as the enemy you’re facing, or else you’ll be swallowed up.”

So he needed to mobilize all the combat strength he could find in Friedland, whatever it might be. But that would mean sending Berta, Fiona, and the other residents of Friedland to war.

“That’s really not what I want to do...” He gave a long sigh and hung his head. Perhaps it had been too much to hope that he could ignore the future when he had slaughtered members of the True Church in revenge for Jirina. But now he had no urge to go out and kill anyone. All he wanted was to protect those around him.

But Veronika said curtly, “It doesn’t really matter what you want. If you don’t, someday, someone is going to get the better of you.” Suddenly an edge entered her voice, the sound of a wounded young woman. “I should know. That’s how I lost my father, and my home.”

Yukinari couldn’t argue. In his previous life, he had keenly felt his own helplessness all too many times. He didn’t know what had happened to Veronika, but whatever it was, it hadn’t kept her from surviving to this day.

Veronika said dispassionately, “If you want to try talking to them, first make them come crawling to you. Otherwise, you can never expect them to listen to what you say.”

●

Tension lay thick on the town of Aldreil.

Two of the three units of the Missionary Order stationed there were preparing to move out. They obviously weren’t going on a civilizing expedition. They were going to war. They had clearly found an enemy and were getting ready to move against them. And if two units were going together, many casualties could be expected.

Two of the three statues of the guardian saint that loomed in the town square were undergoing maintenance so they could come to the battlefield. The people of Aldreil observed this with a mix of horror and resignation, hurrying by with their eyes downcast.

“The Eighth Missionary Brigade will attack Friedland directly from the front.” With the statues towering behind her, Angela Jindel was addressing the assembled Ninth Missionary brigade. “As for the Ninth Brigade, we’ll take a roundabout route past the mountains to catch them in a pincer movement. In addition, as Captain Bateson hasn’t yet recovered, I myself will command on the field. Any objections?”

The knights of the Ninth Missionary Brigade were silent. Some nodded in allegiance to Angela as she looked around the unit, but no one shook their head. She was the vice-captain anyway, and she was the one who had brought back word of what was happening in Friedland. With her knowledge of the situation, there was no one better suited to command—and no one who wanted to be out front in a battle whose purpose was to clean up the Sixth Brigade’s mess.

“In that case, I’ll give you the detailed orders. Starting with First Squadron...”

With one satisfied nod, Angela pointed to a map open on the desk in front of her and began to tell each squadron in her brigade what they would do.

●

Friedland appeared to remain peaceful, at least outwardly. Or anyway, to Berta’s eyes, it looked the same as always. Fiona had decided that changing too much would create anxiety among the townspeople, so she ordered most of the inhabitants to stick to their normal routines, even as she spread the word about the possibility of an impending attack from the missionaries.

Hence the farming and the development of the fields went on as before. If they abandoned the farms, then it wouldn’t matter if they stopped the invaders; there would likely be a famine. At the same time, however, they temporarily ceased any relatively complex work where Yukinari would have to give instructions.

As preparation, they introduced a group of people—the young men who had formerly been the town’s volunteer safety force—to Veronika, who divided them into groups and began instructing them in various things that would be helpful in combat, like the use of guns, how to move as a unit, and how to communicate between units. As we’ve said, though, she did this quietly, to allow people to continue their lives and not unsettle them.

Yukinari set about using his powers as an angel to produce bullets for Derrringer and Durandall. He also set up some traps they could use if the missionaries showed up with a statue, which they likely would.

And Berta? She was doing as she had done so many days recently: she was up on the observation tower, practicing sniping.

But neither Yukinari nor Dasa was with her. They, of course, were busy getting things ready in town, and Veronika was training the young men. So Ulrike had come along to keep her safe, just in case.

Finger on the trigger—pull.

A hit. Pull the trigger again. A hit.

Open the gun, eject the spent rounds, load in the new ones she held in her left hand, close the gun again. And then pull the trigger, and then again.

She repeated this for a long time. Even she thought she was getting better.

She was probably the best shooter in Friedland when it came to Derrringer. Some of it may have been talent, and she had an affinity for the sniper rifle. Incidentally, the gun Berta was using was the first one Yukinari had produced, the one she was most used to—even if Yukinari claimed the later guns were no different from this one.

Shoot. Shoot. Tilt the gun and eject. Load. Return the gun.

Shoot. Shoot. Tilt the gun and eject. Load. Return the gun.

Shoot. Shoot. Tilt the gun and eject. Load. Return the gun.

The target was already much reduced in size, but Berta could still hit it. Berta felt at one with Derrringer. She didn’t feel like she pulled the trigger so much as the gun let her pull the trigger, and perhaps that was why she did so well.

Berta knew nothing about difficult military matters. But Veronika said that if an opponent came to Friedland with a large army, they were likely to do so from two directions. Because the missionaries would probably bring their statues of the guardian saint, they would have to take a road that could accommodate the huge wagons that carried the statues.

Of course, they might well split up to encircle the town, but that probably wouldn’t be until they were closer. There would be no point to splitting their forces while they were still far away, spreading part of their army across the trackless countryside.

It was most likely, Veronika said, that the attackers would comprise two of the missionary brigades. In other words, Friedland would fundamentally have to be on the alert in two directions at once.

As was obvious from the fact that Yukinari himself had passed by the sanctuary when he first arrived, one of those directions would be the one in which his sanctuary lay. That meant this observation platform would be a superb sniper nest. Berta had already been practicing for several days, so she knew how the temperature changed around here, had a sense for how the wind would blow. From this position, she was likely to score plenty of hits.

But...

“Oh...”

Looking through the scope, Berta let out a noise. Her concentration faltered, and the hand that held Derrringer shook. In the wobbling field of view, there was a lone rabbit.

She didn’t know if it was the same one as before. But she focused her attention and lined up the sights with the animal, willing herself to pull the trigger.

But she couldn’t shoot. When she tried, she put too much force into her hand, and the gun trembled. The one-ness was gone.

“I can’t do it,” she groaned, taking her eye away from the scope.

Pathetic.

She finally had a chance to be helpful to Yukinari. He had seen something in her, a talent, an ability, something she could do better than anyone else. This was her chance for Yukinari to see her worth, for her to repay him for saving her life.

And yet she couldn’t shoot one wild hare.

If this was how she acted with an animal, it didn’t suggest she would be able to kill a human.

It was pathetic. She always stumbled, whatever she did. She didn’t seem able to do anything.

“I’m... I’m so...”

“How is your training proceeding? According to plan?”

Berta almost jumped at the voice, and turned around. “Lady... Lady Ulrike...?”

She felt a little strange saying it. The girl in front of her was Ulrike, there was no question about that. But now she looked so different from her usual self that she was almost like another person. Her aura was sterner.

Ulrike seemed to have picked up on Berta’s hesitance.

“Are you afraid?”

“Er, yes... I’m sorry, forgive me.”

This earnest apology brought a smile to Ulrike’s face; she shook her head. “Pay it no mind. I’ve simply deemphasized Ulrike’s personality a bit.”

Although it was Ulrike’s body standing before her and speaking, the way it spoke indicated that it was the plant-based erdgod Yggdra talking. Normally, Ulrike’s human personality was front and center because that made it easy to get along with Yukinari and the others, and her words and actions would reflect that. But now, Yggdra’s consciousness was taking precedence.

“Can you not kill?”

“Er... Oh.” It seemed Ulrike knew what was happening. “Oh, uh... I’m sorry...”

But Ulrike actually looked at Berta with compassion. “It is well understandable. You are a girl with a kind heart. Yukinari surely knows that. He does not believe you will fight in the way he does.”

“You mean...”

So he really didn’t have any hopes for her, after all.

Or perhaps...

“Part of him is conflicted about whether it is right to make you do this thing. But there is no room for soft-heartedness now. Our backs are, as they say, against the wall.” Suddenly, Ulrike’s face went expressionless. “If I could fight enough for both of us, then there would be no problem.”

“Lady Ulrike... I mean, Lady Yggdra? But this is Friedland’s battle...”

“Most likely, if Friedland falls, Rostruch will be next,” Ulrike said quietly. “It is even possible my city was their target all along, given that Friedland is already nominally home to the Missionary Order.”

The reason there were three missionary units in Aldreil wasn’t because it took that many of them to keep the place under control. It was so they could send two of the units to points more remote. Aldreil was just a way station, and two of the units were just stopping over. It wouldn’t be surprising if their ultimate destination was Rostruch.

“What Veronika said is not ideal, but it is the truth.”

“What...?”

“Thus I will resist as I am able. That’s all.”

When she finished speaking, Ulrike looked at the ground below the platform. Berta followed her gaze and found that a dozen or more human figures had gathered there. At first she thought they were Friedlanders, but when she looked closer, she didn’t see anyone she recognized.

Not only that, but from their heads grew horns—or rather, branches—much like Ulrike had.

“They are my familiars, as Ulrike is.” This was certainly Yggdra, the force behind Ulrike, speaking.

“Have they come to help protect this town...?” Berta asked.

If so, there could be no more encouraging ally. Yukinari had told Berta that Yggdra was far more powerful than the erdgod that had previously ruled over Friedland. Yukinari had been able to defeat that deity with ease, but in the fight with Yggdra, he had been hard-pressed. He had even said that if the situation had been less favorable to him, he might have lost.

In other words, this god was as powerful as Yukinari, or maybe even more. And she had sent several of her familiars, her hands and feet. But...

“They may not live up to your expectations,” Ulrike said with a frown. “At root, I am a plant who cannot move. Though I can use my familiars to send my power to distant places, the farther they are from my body, from Rostruch, the weaker my power becomes. I’ve placed my ‘children,’ sprouts from my own body, as intermediaries, but they are still growing, and I fear they won’t be ready in time to stop the missionaries’ attack.”

“But... That means...”

Ulrike—or rather, Yggdra—was proposing to fight at a disadvantage. It was Friedland that would be under attack; if she wanted, the god could choose to abandon the town, save her strength, and fortify herself in Rostruch.

“There is no question. If I do not fight here, I will lose him.” Yggdra looked back at Friedland as she spoke. “My friend, Yukinari.”

Berta was startled.

“Yukinari is the erdgod of this land and a traitor to the Church. When the missionaries learn that, I cannot imagine they’ll let him live. You others might be spared if you convert, but Yukinari will surely be killed.”

“No—!”

Yukinari would die.

The possibility hadn’t occurred to her. Even given his powers as an angel, he was not so different from a human of flesh and blood. He was soft and warm to the touch, he ate and drank as Berta and the others did. He was, really, a living thing with blood flowing through his veins—or to put it another way, if his heart were pierced, his head cut off, he would die.

“I... I hadn’t... hadn’t even thought about that...”

“If you cherish Yukinari, then protect him with your power. If you do what you can do, it will naturally protect him.”

So saying, Ulrike patted Derrringer’s barrel.

●

There was no telling when the missionaries would come from Aldreil, so Yukinari paid particular attention to their likely invasion routes. Specifically, he set up shop at the town gate in the opposite direction from the sanctuary and the observation platform, so he could respond to a threat at any time.

This gate opened onto the wide main road and was the largest of Friedland’s entryways. It could be considered the town’s main gate.

“However...” Yukinari said, looking at his partner.

“What?” Dasa asked, cocking her head.

She was at Yukinari’s side as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He had suggested she stay at the Schillings mansion so she would be out of immediate danger if a battle started, but she showed no sign of listening. Indeed, carrying Red Chili in one hand, she seemed determined not to stay anywhere but with Yukinari.

“Waiting is the worst,” Yukinari said.

“That’s because you need the patience—the strength of spirit—to keep your anxiousness under control.”

The reply came from Veronika, dressed for combat. Her wounds weren’t fully healed yet, but she insisted she could still fight, so she was there too. Behind her were several of the town youth she had trained, standing with Durandalls in hand. They had long helped with public security, handling fights and petty crime, but they had never been anything more than a community watch. They had no experience in fighting unit to unit or wielding deadly weapons, and it wasn’t clear even now that they really understood what would be demanded of them. Veronika had only had a few days to train them, but went ahead on the supposition that something was better than nothing.

Yukinari had had no choice but to use them; he simply didn’t have enough people.

“When the battle starts, we’ll get the fieldworkers into the town. At the same time, the runners will go alert the other fifty members of the community watch, who will go to where either Yukinari or Ulrike is waiting.”

She had trained nearly eighty people, but because there wasn’t spare time or resources to create enough Durandalls or Derrringers, let alone enough bullets, only about half that number would be able to fight with gun in hand. The rest would handle support, communications, and distribution of resources.

Yukinari and Dasa had set traps along the two routes most likely to be used for an invasion, and if they worked, they would slow the enemy down somewhat. It would be ideal if they frightened the knights enough to send them running home, but Yukinari wasn’t expecting it.

“Yukinari.”

He turned around to find Fiona standing there. Since an attack might come at any time now, she was going around and warning people. Those working in the fields had been informed, as had the hunters and charcoal makers who were out in the vicinity. If any of them spotted hide or hair of the missionaries, word would come quickly.

“I’m pretty much done letting everyone know.”

“Good. Thanks for your help,” Yukinari said. Then he sighed. “I didn’t want to worry everyone if I could help it, but there was no other choice.”

“Yukinari...?” Fiona frowned, looking puzzled. “Something’s been bothering me.”

“What is it? If you’re concerned about anything, now’s the time...”

“You... You don’t really think that you can or even should face the Missionary Order alone, do you?”

For an instant Yukinari failed to understand; he said nothing. Actually, that was what he thought, or at least what he wanted. He was in the role of the protector-god of this town, even if he hadn’t asked for it.

“If nothing else, I think that if I destroy the statue of the guardian saint, they’ll lose the will to fight, just like Arlen and his friends did. If everyone else can help stall until I do that—”

She cut him off angrily. “That’s not what I meant! I’m saying I think you might be underestimating them! Each unit of the Order has a statue, so wouldn’t two units mean two statues? Even if you destroyed one, what would you do about the second?”

“Ah, that’s why I’ve got Ulrike out there.”

Granted, they were so far from Rostruch that Ulrike couldn’t use her full power. But even so, there was a significant forest near the observation platform. As the familiar of the plant-based erdgod Yggdra, Ulrike should literally be able to use the terrain to her advantage. And the familiars had physical abilities far exceeding those of normal humans. They might well be able to throw off the missionaries.

“But the missionaries here won’t know what’s happening on the other side of town, will they?”

“Er... Y-Yeah, but...”

“So even if you destroyed their statue, they’ll think they still have a lifeline left. How can you be sure they’ll stop fighting?”

Yukinari was silent.

“Yuki...” Dasa touched Yukinari’s hand, concerned. He had always fought alone—or rather, together with her. They had defeated their opponents as if batting away sparks: as long as they protected themselves, that was enough. As long as they brought down the enemy in front of them, that was all they had to worry about. There had been no need to look past the enemy to what came next. Until now.

“We need you to destroy the statue of the guardian saint,” Fiona said. “That’s the one thing we can’t do, no matter how hard we try. But we can’t know if that will be the end of it. If the missionaries don’t lose the will to fight, the townspeople are going to have to join the battle. Including me and Berta!”

He still said nothing. He couldn’t. Fiona was telling him, in essence, not to try to do everything himself. Yukinari had really seen fighting as his job. The townspeople, everyone else, was just helping.

That was why he always felt, somehow, apologetic. If he were more overwhelmingly powerful, he wouldn’t have to put them in danger, ask them to do such awful things.

Berta couldn’t shoot a rabbit. And there were surely others who, like her, hesitated to fight. It wasn’t something as contemptible as cowardice, though. Indeed, Yukinari thought it was the right way to feel as a human being. That was exactly why he hated this situation where those people were compelled to fight. He felt something like guilt.

“Don’t lose heart, O mighty god,” Fiona said, looking him in the face. “You’ve done everything you can for us, and you’re still doing it. Gods give blessings to their believers, right? But the believers owe something to the gods for those blessings. We aren’t just little birds that open our mouths to be fed. Nothing in this world comes without a price. We want to do what we can to help you and to protect our town. We can’t help if you’re holding out on us.”

Yukinari was silent.

“I think she’s got you there, O Yukinari, god of Friedland,” Veronika said with a wry grin. He looked at her and found that the young people behind her were all nodding. All of them looked afraid—but at the same time, resolute.

“I understand,” he said. “Thank you. I’ll remember that.”

And then—

“They’re heeeeere!”

A cry broke out, almost as though it had been waiting for a beat in their conversation. He looked and saw several townspeople in farm clothes rushing toward the gate. They didn’t even have their tools; they looked panicked.

“All right.”

Yukinari and the others nodded at each other.

“Yukinari, be careful,” Fiona said.

“I will,” he said, and then Fiona and the runners set off into town to warn everyone that the battle was beginning.

●

Berta spotted something portentous from her perch on the observation tower. Coming down the road that swept lazily around the forest, she saw first one and then another mounted, armored figure appear. They formed a long, thin column, never ceasing in their advance toward Friedland.

“...Erk...”

They were frightening, Berta thought. She no longer felt anything in particular when she looked at Arlen and the other knights who lived in town, but these missionaries coming from the far side of the woods—they were dressed the same, yet they left her feeling intensely pressured. They were still quite some distance away, but she found herself frozen in place. The terror was like a bladed weapon at her throat.

It took her a moment to realize that what she was feeling was the collective hostility, the murderous intent, given off by the approaching enemy. Berta had been present at several of Yukinari’s battles, but most of those had been against xenobeasts or demigods, and it was Yukinari that they had been focused on.

But now it was she herself who bore the brunt of their hatred, even though they probably didn’t yet know she was there. There was nothing different about the opponent. But Berta now faced them with the intent to fight them, and as a result she suddenly felt something she had never felt before, was sensitive to the hostile aura as she’d never been.

“I— I...”

Can I do it? The anxiety welled up in her chest once again. Could she shoot at them? She didn’t know. But if they weren’t stopped, they would certainly destroy the town. Even worse, Yukinari would be killed.

Berta felt a thin line of sweat trickle down from her forehead. She gripped Derrringer so tightly her hands started to hurt. It seemed so much heavier than it had when she was practicing. This weapon was designed to unilaterally take the life from another person. She was setting out to kill.

She was silent. She wouldn’t shoot yet. There was no point shooting until they were close enough to hit, she told herself. Almost like an excuse. As if anything would change if she delayed the act by a few seconds.

Some seventy missionary knights had appeared from the woods. Behind them, a massive horse-drawn wagon rumbled along. Twenty people walked alongside to guard it. A cloth was draped over the cargo so it couldn’t be seen—but most likely, it was a statue of the guardian saint.

And then...

“You shall go no farther—halt!”

A voice thundered out. In front of the confused knights stood a young girl and several followers, blocking their way.

It was Ulrike and other familiars of Yggdra. They were young and old, male and female, but their hair was green, and each had horns growing from their head. But the strange shape of the horns meant that at a glance, someone might assume they had simply dyed their hair and that the horns were hand-made ornaments.

Berta was far enough away that she couldn’t see exactly what was happening, but she could make out the dubious faces of the missionaries.

“Who or what are you?” the mounted knight at the front of the column asked in a loud voice. “This is no place for children. Out of our way!”

Of course, Ulrike was nowhere near as far away from the knight as Berta was. They could easily have heard each other without shouting. Yet instead the knight spoke loudly enough for Berta to hear every word, presumably in an attempt to intimidate Ulrike. Her position at the head of the group of familiars made it obvious that she was leading them. No doubt the knight thought that since she was just a child, he could scare her away with a little shouting and she would let him through.

He didn’t know what a mistake he was making.

“Quite a noisy one, you are. What do you think? That if you shout loud enough, I will move?” Ulrike herself spoke loudly as she said this. This was probably out of consideration on her part, so Berta could hear what was going on. In a taunting tone, she continued, “Which of us is more childish?”

“You impudent brat!”

The knights’ attitude got prickly in a hurry. Apparently, they couldn’t endure being mocked by a child.

“Ah, listen to these young wolves howl about impudence,” Ulrike laughed, and then all the familiars laughed with her.

Did the missionaries notice? Notice that they were all laughing with exactly the same cadence? What they were confronted with was not what it appeared. Even Ulrike had actually been born centuries before. She could very well consider the knights to be nothing more than children.

“I am Ulrike, the most ancient familiar of the erdgod Yggdra.”

“What? What did you say...?!”

Confusion began to spread among the missionaries, and it was understandable. An erdgod like Yggdra was very unusual. She didn’t look anything like erdgods as the missionaries usually pictured them, which was basically as overgrown xenobeasts with their fangs bared, lusting for human flesh. Some might have surprisingly human-like faces, but they had never seen an erdgod that appeared as an actual human.

“Allow me to enlighten you, you ignorant cohort. We are both the erdgod Yggdra and her familiars. We are individual in unity, united in our individuality, and we live by a different law than you!”

“An erdgod?!”

The missionaries’ amazement was clear even from where Berta was watching. However, they were a group whose primary mission in new lands was to exterminate the local erdgod. They didn’t break ranks, but the men out in front retreated a little, solidifying the column.

“Her? An erdgod?”

“So maybe the Sixth Brigade really was ambushed...?”

Apparently, they took Yggdra to be Friedland’s erdgod and assumed it was she who had attacked and destroyed Arlen and the others. Ulrike was careful not to speak of Rostruch.

“I do not recognize your right to set foot upon this land,” Ulrike said, once again in her most commanding tone. “If you depart swiftly, I shall overlook this offense.” Perhaps she was hoping to intimidate the enemy, drive them away if possible, and if not, then to buy time with talking.

“An enemy...”

“An enemy...!”

“Enemy!!”

But her words seemed to have the opposite effect. Berta could feel the hostility spreading through the missionary unit. Even as they shouted, they started moving quickly, getting into formation—preparing for battle.

It didn’t look like there was any more time for talk. Perhaps Ulrike realized this, too, because she took a step back. The missionaries must have taken it as a gesture of fear, for they appeared inspired; someone who seemed to be their commander shouted, “Draw swords!”

The other knights all did so. Their silver blades glinted in the sun. Next to the trees with all their greenery and life, the swords looked cold and deadly, out of place.

Battle cries could be heard among the knights:

“Smite this freakish monster!”

“Let the light of knowledge shine in the world!”

“For our God!”

All hesitation and fear had vanished from them. Their opponent might be a child and unarmed, but once they saw her as an enemy, they would strike her down without question. All of it justified in the name of doctrine—the strength of the knights of the True Church of Harris was their ability to let circumstances dictate what was and wasn’t sinful.

Ulrike’s party, on the other hand, had no weapons to ready. Because the familiars hardly knew what a weapon was, it only made sense.

“May your foolishness be on your own heads!”

Ulrike, who had been standing calmly, now produced a tool of some kind—Yukinari had told Berta it was called a “sacred branch”— and spun around once, as if she were dancing.

In that instant, several of the knights pitched forward, along with the horses they were riding.

“Wha—?!”

All they had done was charge forward, yet the casualties were immense. The ten men up front had been thrown from their mounts, a serious fall when covered in armor. Bruises were the best you could hope for; the unlucky got broken bones. And in some cases, their horse fell on top of them.

None of the knights who had fallen got up, but lay on the ground groaning.

“What the hell?!”

“She’s got some strange magic—!”

The next group of knights had just managed to avoid being thrown, but now they were anxious. Looking closely at the ground for traps, they might have noticed—half-hidden by leaf mold, something was knitting itself together. Vines.

No one vine was very strong, but several together were enough to trip a horse. Ulrike and the others had planted the seeds ahead of time, and now they were being made to grow quickly through Yggdra’s power.

On top of that, something began to sketch a circle around Ulrike before bursting through the ground. They were wooden clubs. They were large, long, and covered in spikes. They had handles, but they weren’t two separate pieces; the entirety of each appeared to have been carved out of a single tree trunk.