Chapter 6: Saint Lena①

Reading Settings

Translator: Soafp

---

As a result of my verification, I learned that there were three people shown in blue text.

The lancer Phalan, the archer Nick, and the swordsman Brandon.

However, if two or more of them joined at the same time, all of it turned into black text.

Most likely, it meant that I had to choose one from among them.

The first one I eliminated was the swordsman Brandon.

His role overlapped with mine, and regrettably, his swordsmanship was several levels below mine.

I didn't feel there was any merit in deliberately adding him to the party.

Both the lancer Phalan and the archer Nick were capable party members.

Nick's skill was “Wyvern Eye.”

It was a fairly rare skill. Not only could he see long distances, but his reactions to moving objects—his dynamic vision—were outstanding.

In the cycle where I learned that recruiting them together resulted in black text, I formed a party with myself, Phalan, and Nick.

Each of us functioned at close, mid, and long range respectively, making for a very stable party.

In fact, although we couldn't win, we succeeded for the first time in wounding that Majin who guarded the road to the Demon King's Castle.

It was strange that it resulted in black text at all.

That meant there must be someone with an even more stabilizing skill.

After that, I continued alternating between recruiting Phalan and Nick, while searching for an as-yet-unseen bearer of a powerful skill.

“Damn it, again!”

The twenty-seventh cycle.

Back in my room once more, I shouted without thinking.

Since forming the party, there had been no progress at all.

Just like always, I couldn't even reach the Demon King, dying somewhere before that point.

I was fed up.

Five years, twenty-six times.

That was over a hundred years.

An endless negative cycle.

During that time, I tried many things.

One was telling others about this skill and seeking advice.

But that didn't work.

The moment I revealed the existence of this skill to someone else, it immediately turned into black text, stating:

“Revealing the secret of ‘Guide' to another.”

In other words, letting others know about this skill was forbidden.

I even considered suicide.

But then—

“If you give up, this deal will be null and void.”

That single line from Kuro stopped me.

More than anything, the lives of those who would be lost in the original history weighed on my shoulders, on my back.

If I hadn't known that, I might have given up long ago.

I remembered Shiro's warning.

[Don't listen.]

Regret crossed my mind—that I should have followed that advice.

But I already knew too much.

The lives that would be lost in five years, that burden was far too heavy to set down now.

Even so, I was being driven into a corner.

After all, there had been no progress for over a hundred years.

During that time, I had tried thoroughly training myself.

I thought that perhaps I could awaken as a Sword Saint immediately, become strong enough to defeat the Demon King alone.

But no matter how much I trained, once five years passed, I returned to that night.

Of course, combat experience itself wasn't wasted, but there was a limit to how much physical strength could be refined.

My father awakened as a Sword Saint at the age of twenty-three.

From that, I concluded that it was probably impossible for me to awaken as a Sword Saint before turning twenty.

I also tried choosing not to set out on a journey.

But that immediately resulted in black text reading “Stayed at home.”

After that, I was conscripted by the country, sent to fight the Demon King's army at age twenty, and killed.

A predetermined death.

No matter how many times I experienced it, I never got used to it.

Even knowing I would return, there was always pain.

Sometimes my head was cut off.

Sometimes I was captured by the Demon King's army, tormented in prison, and killed after brutal torture.

Knowing it was likely impossible, I still dragged companions along with me, letting them die in despair.

If they had never joined my party, wouldn't they have been spared that suffering?

That guilt clung to me constantly.

I wanted to quit. I thought so countless times.

Each time, what came to mind was my father's and my master's unfulfilled regrets.

And above all, the image of my mother clutching the sword left behind and crying, and my younger self who had witnessed it.

“I will kill the Demon King.”

I couldn't betray the me who had sworn that.

I didn't want to betray my younger self by making excuses like, “I was just a child back then.”

“Someday, you'll accept reality too.”

Ignis' words sometimes resurfaced in my mind.

To shake off that weakness, I repeatedly reread the words written in the Guide.

“This book will guide its user to the conclusion known as ‘the Demon King's death.'”

With those words, my feelings toward the two I respected, and the push from who I once was, I somehow kept walking these repeating days.

Hurry, hurry.

Please, please.

I want to see the next red letters.

“Please, appear already.”

I repeated those words in my heart like a prayer.

But still, the days passed without progress.

Though I refused to give up, I was deeply worn down.

There were no clues.

A few days after forming the party as usual and recruiting the lancer Phalan,

I wandered the town, searching for anything that might trigger new letters to appear.

In an area I hadn't visited much before, there was a run-down church.

“Maybe I'll cling to God for once.”

On a complete whim, I entered the church.

From the gate to the main hall, it wasn't very large, but it had a small garden.

Several children were working on something in that garden.

They were all thin, and their health looked poor.

The Demon King had devastated this country.

With parents killed, or parents abandoning them due to poverty, there were many orphans.

This church was probably taking in such children.

(I need to defeat the Demon King quickly and fix this situation…)

As I was thinking that while watching them, someone spoke to me.

“Um… do you have some business with our church?”

The person who spoke was a girl about my age.

She wore a clean but slightly worn, well-used nun's habit.

Her face was well-shaped, but there was a hint of suspicion—or fear—in her eyes.

Perhaps adventurers coming here was rare.

“No, it's not that I have any particular business… I'm looking for someone. I thought I might rely on God's blessing.”

“Looking for someone…?”

“Yes. I'm searching for people necessary to defeat the Demon King.”

When I said that, she furrowed her brows.

“…People necessary to defeat the Demon King?”

“Y-yes.”

The girl seemed flustered… her eyes filling with even more fear as she took a small step back, putting some distance between us.

Did she think she didn't want to get involved in something strange?

Feeling slightly uncomfortable with her reaction, I made a small donation and returned to the inn.

By this point, checking the Guide at the end of each day had become a habit.

Almost nothing ever got added, but—

“This book will guide the outcome known as the Demon King's death.”

Reading that line gave me strength for tomorrow.

Lying down on the bed, looking up at the book, I opened it with that same feeling that night…

And then, red letters I never expected leapt into my eyes.

“Encounter with Saint Lena.”

“A saint!”

I shouted as I sprang up from the bed.

My hands trembled as I held the book, overwhelmed with excitement.

As I traced the written words with shaking fingers, my heartbeat grew louder and louder, as if trying to get in the way.

I struggled to calm my ragged breathing, and gradually the trembling and pounding subsided, but my excitement did not.

A “saint” was, so to speak, a legendary existence.

In the past, there had apparently been Demon Kings different from the one I was now trying to defeat.

Stories told of a saint who “was part of the party that defeated a Demon King,” or who “sealed an unknown evil god that sowed distrust among people and made them fight each other.”

The bearer of the “Saint” skill was the source of such legends.

An extraordinary skill, on par with the questionable existence of the “Sword God” or “Divine Eye.”

There was no doubt she was a person essential to defeating the Demon King.

And among those I had met today, the only one that came to mind was the girl at the church.

Having her join the party—that had to be a mandatory condition for defeating the Demon King.

I could think of no other possibility.

“Yes! Finally, finally, I can move forward…!”

I was convinced.

…Looking back now, I realize I was careless and naive.

From her attitude, I should have sensed that there was some kind of complication.