The moment Usher entered combat, he had a habit of erasing everything except “the opponent and myself” from his awareness. His ability to easily achieve an intense state of focus was a strength even his parents acknowledged.
He stepped forward, leaned his upper body as if taking flight, and flicked his wrist, throwing the dagger precisely toward its target.
Shuk—!
The dagger embedded itself in one of the tentacles of the unidentifiable creature.
[Kiieeeek!!!]
The creature let out a scream, twisting its body in agony.
At that instant, Usher dashed forward.
The opponent, whose body was fixed in place, had limited means of attack—only flailing its limbs. Yet the power within those limbs was incomprehensibly overwhelming, and the poison released upon contact with its claws was undeniably lethal.
Close combat.
It was never easy.
Even a moment’s carelessness would result in his entire body melting away.
Why, then, choose close combat?
If asked, Usher’s answer had always been the same.
“You can see it, so why not just dodge?”
…Sigh. Fine, you’re the best. Damn kid.
“Don’t get competitive with a child, idiot.”
Because he had confidence.
Usher’s senses were so sharp that even the most elite mercenaries once known as the strongest of their kind could only shake their heads in amazement. No, he had been born with such heightened senses from the very beginning.
[Kiiaaaaah!!!]
Usher was different from others.
His ability to perceive the world veered far from the ordinary. He had lived his entire life in such a world. As a result, his way of viewing the world had reached an almost ideal level.
The creaking noises emitted by the creature’s screams, the undulating movements of its tentacles, its breaths, and the pulsations of its muscles—all of these appeared infinitely slow to him.
If he could see it, he could dodge it.
If he could dodge it, he could counterattack.
If he could counterattack, he could win.
The frailty of his physical body posed no obstacle.
Whoosh—!
For that, there were talismans.
He activated a talisman, [Prayer of Swiftness].
Reaching out his hand, Crunch! he grabbed the dagger embedded in the tentacle and twisted it.
With a deft twist of his wrist, he deepened the wound.
Finally, with a snap, one of the tentacles was severed.
!!!
The scream that followed threatened to shatter his eardrums.
The creature, enraged, swung its claws wildly.
Ignoring the ominous noise, Usher moved on to his next move.
Whoosh—!
He activated a second talisman, [Prayer of Piercing].
Screeeech—!
He stomped on the back of its hand with his heel, twisting the flow of air around them.
The distorted trajectory of its claws ended up slicing through its own tentacle.
[Kiiaaaaahhh—!]
It was a reversal of power.
Usher meticulously employed a method that relied solely on the sharpness of his dagger and the creature’s own strength.
It was an extraordinarily effective approach.
Especially so, considering he was currently using the frail body of Bersia.
Whoosh!
Again, he activated [Prayer of Swiftness], raising his speed as he concentrated on the dagger techniques he had learned long ago, pulling out every ounce of precision in his fingertips.
A voice echoed in his mind.
“You can do anything with a dagger. You can throw it, grip it normally or in reverse, slash, stab, or block. You can even combine it with martial arts! It basically lets you do everything that swordsmanship can do.”
“Still, it’s short!”
“That’s the point! Listen carefully. Because it’s short, you can perform intricate moves! If a sword were longer, it’d be harder to execute unconventional sword paths.”
The dagger is the freest weapon among all swords.
It allows the user to perform any action possible within the category of swords.
Its short reach is merely a trivial limitation.
“It’s clearly a superior version of martial arts! Hitting someone with soft flesh can’t compare to stabbing them with a blade using the same techniques!”
…Are you done talking now?
“Oh, it’s on.”
Thus, breaking away from conventional notions, abandoning the thought of using only the blade, and employing the entire body—while merely enhancing it with the blade—
Swoosh, slash, slash, slash—!
Usher carved wounds into the creature as if dancing.
By processing the information relayed to him, he distinguished between offense and defense, thoroughly neutralizing each in turn.
As the talismans were consumed, Usher’s offense grew even faster and sharper.
The creature’s tentacles dwindled one by one until only two or three remained.
It was then.
[Kiiaaaaaah!!!]
Another agonizing scream, one among countless others.
But this time, it was different.
A dying creature exudes malice.
Although this was often said metaphorically, for this entity, it was literal.
This creature had a tendency to release a deadly poison into the air when its tentacles fell below a certain number.
Knowing this, Usher shouted, “Now!!!”
At his call, Rubena gritted her teeth and extended her hand.
Rubena Pradeiri was a coward.
Not because she was born that way, but because the environment around her had shaped her into one.
She was born the child of a prostitute in the slums, a girl who grew up on filthy, muddy ground.
Her childhood was filled with fear—fear of the drunken slaps from her mother and the predatory gazes of thugs waiting for her to grow up.
After receiving her divine revelation, her fear shifted to the greedy eyes of aristocrats.
Until she took on their surname and entered the religious order, the world around her had always strangled her with an oppressive sense of unease.
If one were to consider that her attempts to assert herself, her desire to adorn herself with glamorous things, and her aggressive behavior in putting others down were all desperate struggles to protect herself from that fear, it might be easier to understand her.
In short, Rubena was someone who could only breathe within the walls of her status as a saintess.
This was why Rubena loathed Bersia.
Unlike herself, who was bound by fear, Bersia feared nothing and was truly extraordinary.
Lubena hated her to the point of revulsion.
Because Bersia shone even without the title of saintess.
Because her radiance made Rubena feel like she was losing her own light.
Because it felt as though her otherwise ordinary self, except for hearing the voice of God, was being invalidated.
But if one stripped away that hatred just a little, Rubena’s true feelings became clear.
It wasn’t hatred—it was jealousy.
A desperate need for acknowledgment.
Rubena merely hated the thought of Bersia looking down on her.
She resented Bersia for being more than just a saintess, while she herself was nothing without the title.
And so, she rejected Bersia.
This was who Rubena was.
“We are saintesses.”
With just those few words,
“We can do this.”
And that small acknowledgment,
“Smile. You have a beautiful face, so smiling suits you better.”
Even with just a fragment of such kindness—
Fwoosh—!
Rubena found the strength to act.
Even a simple statement like “You’re special” was enough to get her to stand, for Rubena Pradeiri was a coward who could be moved so easily.
Meanwhile, Bersia, whose martial arts were nothing short of extraordinary, tore through the unidentifiable creature.
Her movements were as beautiful as a butterfly in flight.
Her light-blue hair flowed like a veil, creating a fantastical scene, so much so that even amid the spray of blood and the creature’s agonized screams, Rubena found herself blankly following her with her eyes.
And then, the signal came.
“When I give the signal, please use the Prayer of Purification with all your strength.”
Rubena began weaving her prayer.
This time, its craftsmanship was unlike any prayer she had performed before.
What she now created was intricate and dense, making her previous attempts seem trivial by comparison.
It was an inevitable evolution.
While prayers were a calculated and technical art, their essence lay in the earnestness of one’s wishes.
A desperate plea could elevate a prayer to an entirely new dimension.
“I can do this…!”
She clenched her teeth.
She didn’t want to betray the trust in those unwavering eyes that believed in her success.
She couldn’t allow herself to fail now, for if she did, it would mean admitting she was truly nothing.
And so, the completed prayer—
Fwoooosh!
—engulfed Usher and the creature in light.
Radiance filled the space entirely, leaving Rubena unable to see what happened next.
All she could perceive was the information that followed.
Crack, crack, crack!
A sickening noise resounded.
[Kiiaaaaaah!!!]
A death cry echoed.
And then came a thud, followed by the sound of bones twisting and breaking.
When her vision returned, what Rubena saw before her was this:
Bersia, exhaling deeply, was retrieving her dagger.
At her feet lay the creature, its tentacles severed, its head detached, utterly lifeless.
Bersia then lifted her head and looked at Rubena.
She smiled brightly.
And in that moment, perhaps since the very first time they had met, she said the words Rubena had longed to hear.
“You did great! I knew you could do it!”
Even in such a dire situation, those words seeped into Rubena’s heart.
The way they were spoken—with pride and trust—filled Rubena with an indescribable sense of elation.
Rubena pressed her lips tightly together.
Her mouth quirked upwards, and her cheeks burned hot.
Her chest tingled with a strange warmth.
Quickly, she turned her head away and exclaimed,
“O-Of course! I’m a saintess, after all!”
It was at that moment.
Boom!
“Kyaaahhh!!!”
A thunderous explosion sent Rubena leaping into the air.
Her earlier confidence vanished in an instant.
She turned her head, her face pale.
Behind her, Usher was unleashing a powerful technique.
His expression was grim, his body covered in fresh wounds.
He looked undeniably exhausted.
“Ah, this isn’t the time for this! Let’s move on! We’re almost there, so hang in there!”
Bersia approached and supported Rubena.
Together, they gathered the missing individuals and rushed through the passage once more.
Rubena, struggling to keep her trembling legs steady, followed Bersia.
With one hand, she clung tightly to the hem of Bersia’s robe.