In the days that followed, she learned some Blacksmithing Techniques.
Most of them were simple techniques used purely for smelting, but among them was the Hyperventilation Technique, which had originally been developed to increase work efficiency but was later adapted for actual combat.
After she mastered it, she demonstrated her skills to the Pope. The Pope then placed her hand on the forging hammer, pressing down on it with her own armored hand.
“Your talent is exceptional. I will provide you with the finest resources to nurture the Authority within you. Of all the Saintesses throughout history, you are the most suited for the 『Furnace』.”
The Pope's voice echoed from beneath her helmet, its soft, humming quality making Kaylar's ears itch.
“Someone will surely lead humanity to ultimate victory. Of this, I am certain.”
Kaylar nodded.
She wasn't sure if the Pope had seen it. She hoped she hadn't.
In her fifth year after transmigrating, Kaylar began guiding the younger candidates.
The Saintess candidate who had once shared a dormitory with her had been blown up three years prior.
She had secretly hidden a romance novel involving demi-humans. The cultists had searched it out, and she was subsequently judged to have betrayed the World-Forging Cult.
When that girl fell to the ground, only a tiny shred of flesh still connected her head to her neck. Kaylar still remembered how the child had reached out a hand toward her, hoarsely muttering incomprehensible words.
She had watched that girl die right before her eyes.
And now, sitting before her was yet another candidate. A seven-year-old girl named Lyla.
Lyla asked her what the outside world was like.
Kaylar wanted to tell her that there were many beautiful and fun things outside, and all kinds of intelligent beings.
There were rabbit beastkin with fluffy ears, winged race members with wings on their backs, and gargoyles made entirely of stone.
They all had their own emotions, their own right to live, and their own worthiness to give their all for the life they desired.
She opened her mouth, but in the end, she only said:
“...It's nothing special. The air outside is terrible, the sun is too hot, and it's not nearly as comfortable as it is inside the church.”
She spoke without any expression.
In her sixth year came her coming-of-age ceremony.
The Pope presided over the ceremony herself, calling Kaylar to kneel in the very center of the World-Forging Hall.
The armor-clad woman walked up to her and gently rested the flat of her greatsword on her shoulder.
“I did not place much hope in you at first, yet you have survived. I am pleased. As a reward, I shall grant you one request in the future.”
Kaylar kept her head lowered, saying nothing.
She did not dare let the Pope see her expression.
“Very well.”
The Pope sheathed her greatsword and patted her shoulder.
“You are now a mature Saintess. It is time for you to depart.”
Before Kaylar could even react, the Pope grabbed her by the arm and yanked her close.
“Wait, wait, wait, I'm not ready—”
The hall doors slammed open. The stone tiles beneath her feet rapidly receded behind her as the blinding light of the outside world rushed over her, causing Kaylar to instinctively raise her hand to shield her eyes.
And then, she was tossed right out.
When she crashed onto the grassy ground, her knee slammed against a rock, hurting immensely. The hall doors shut behind her with a heavy, dull thud.
When she turned around, the doors had already vanished.
All around her was a mountain forest, with a small path winding down from the foot of the mountain.
Kaylar lay on the ground for a while, then slowly sat up and cleared her throat.
“Pope, fuck you.”
Nothing happened.
Then, she laughed. After holding it in for six years, she could finally laugh.
Even though the explosive rune was still branded on her neck, her Authority remained unusable, and her life was still held in someone else's hands...
She was out. She was free.
Kaylar stood up, brushed the grass clippings off her skirt, and started walking down the mountain path.
She walked for about two hours, and then she suddenly stopped.
“Wait.”
She patted her pockets. Then, she stood there in a daze for a long while.
She looked down again and searched every possible hiding spot around her legs.
She even reached her hand inside her boots to check, and finally flipped her iron hammer over to inspect every single crevice.
There was no money.
“She didn't give me a single penny?!”
The Pope hadn't given her any starting funds.
And so, she became an adventurer.
She was too poor.
And even after becoming an adventurer, her earning efficiency remained worryingly low.
Because of that god-awful 『Furnace』 and this damn self-destruct rune, she couldn't register as an official adventurer.
There was a physical exam required.
Thus, she chose to become an external adventurer, and thus, she became an incredibly miserable laborer.
There was no personal safety guarantee, the pay for completing quests was abysmal, and there was no insurance or resources.
Her only way out was to take on dangerous quests above her rank to quickly raise her level.
That was exactly what Kaylar did.
And then, she ended up wanted for self-defense.
Out of sheer desperation, she had to rely on the stories she had memorized from the holy scriptures to search for ruins all over the place just to scrape together a living.
Not only did her work become much more troublesome, but her quality of life also took a massive nosedive.
Yet even so, people still came looking for trouble with her.
“...Fine then.”
She had also wondered if such a person might exist.
A symbol of hope, bearing all expectations, making everyone believe that she could accomplish anything.
“...How wonderful would it be if a Hero truly existed?”
She had heard that the Hero had appeared.
But what did that have to do with her?
She left her hiding spot and pursued the unfamiliar aura she sensed.
She went over and encountered three strange people.
A poker-faced knight, a girl who practically glowed, and a black-haired girl.
Only later did she learn that the black-haired girl was the Hero.
A serious and responsible person, someone with a sharp tongue but a soft heart, someone who chose to believe in her.
...
Kaylar stood in place, the rune on her neck burning.
Pain ripped downward from her neck. It felt as if something were peeling away her skin layer by layer, turning her flesh inside out and then back again.
Her hands were trembling. To say she wasn't afraid would be an absolute lie.
She could actually back down.
Landon had said his target was Eladia. As long as Kaylar didn't resist, he probably wouldn't direct his fists toward her.
In that case, it would have nothing to do with her. It had always been that way.
She only had to accept it. Staying alive was the most important thing. A little mistake or failure was nothing. All of it was bearable.
That was why, during her years in the cult, she had never spoken a single word to that candidate girl in her dormitory.
Because speaking up was useless, and doing so might even get her killed. So, she had remained silent.
On her first mission, she had done nothing for that man who screamed the names of his wife and daughter.
Because doing something was useless, and she might have been executed as a traitor. So, she had done nothing.
On that afternoon when she was lured into an ambush during a quest, after driving everyone back, she hadn't gone to the guild to appeal, nor had she offered a single word of explanation.
Because explaining was useless, and she might have been arrested anyway. So, she hadn't explained.
She only wanted to live, because surviving was already hard enough.
She didn't want to kill others, nor did she want to be killed; she just wanted to get by.
There was no need to fight for anything, as long as she could stay alive.
That was exactly what she had thought, before she met those three.
“Never mind then. I believe about seventy percent of it. After all, you aren't even willing to kill someone who wants to kill you.”
The seemingly unapproachable Esper had spoken so calmly, accepting her, a fugitive criminal.
“Ah... Kaylar... can I bother you for a moment...”
The Saintess who always clung to Esper would occasionally come to her to learn those words.
Even if it wasn't for Kaylar's sake, Kaylar could still feel from her that hope of wanting to become better for someone, of wanting to be useful to someone.
She thought that hope was wonderful, beautiful. Even if that hope had nothing to do with her, it didn't matter. A beautiful thing was a beautiful thing. Just by existing there, it made one want to protect it, to let it keep existing.
On those afternoons when they were miserably searching for blacksmith ruins, the poker-faced knight who liked to squat by the stream and sharpen his sword would silently clean up everything, cook a pot of dried meat and bean stew big enough for four, and advise her not to add those wild greens when she pulled them out.
And when she insisted on tossing the greens into the pot, making the stew taste absolutely atrocious, he would prepare other dishes as a substitute without changing his expression.
While Renn cooked, the Saintess, who always spoke so softly as if afraid of disturbing anyone, would earnestly study Greek, memorizing those simple words over and over in her mind. Then, she would look up to steal glances at Esper not far away, only lowering her head when Esper noticed her.
Esper and Kaylar would always find themselves bickering. Perhaps it was some sort of straight-man attribute, or maybe her overly normal personality and values made her exceptionally sensitive to ridiculous things. As a result, they would often start squabbling in the middle of their conversations, continuing until even Renn began to sigh.
To Kaylar, they were no longer just strange travel companions. They were people she knew. People she watched over. People she wanted to keep watching over.
But this time, she didn't want to just watch anymore.
Not to avoid dying, not for some bullshit doctrine, not because she wasn't afraid of the self-destruct rune exploding, and not for any other nonsense.
“Fine, you're all forcing my hand, aren't you?”
She spoke, her voice different from usual, so cold that it felt foreign even to herself. But only she knew what she was truly thinking in her heart.
She was sick of it.
She was sick of watching beautiful things shatter right in front of her, sick of tragedies unfolding before her eyes while she remained powerless, and sick of wanting to do something but ultimately choosing to stand still.
“Is it pretty stupid to reveal my trump card for a group of people I've only known for a few days?”
She thought to herself quietly. Then, the corners of her mouth curled up slightly.
Stupid as hell.
But even so, it was still better than the self who had huddled in the dormitory clutching the holy scriptures, wanting to cry but not daring to make a sound; the self who had squatted behind a rock during a mission, covering her ears; the self who hadn't even dared to raise her head during her coming-of-age ceremony.
At the very least, she could fight for them now.
Boom—
The lingering effects of Holy Healing repaired the wound on Kaylar's neck.
Then, she slammed her iron hammer heavily against her chest.
“『Blacksmithing Techniques: Overloaded Furnace』”
She muttered softly.
Rate on N.U.
