Impressive, Truly Impressive. (1)
Kwaang! Kwaang! Kwaaaang!
Kraaaagh!
The orc formation crumbled rapidly.
At the front line, Iraniel swept through the orcs without hesitation, followed closely by the elven elders.
The elves, their morale already sky-high, surged forward like a raging tide. The orcs couldn't withstand them.
In fear and confusion, the orcs fell without putting up any proper resistance.
And from afar, Lahamod and Munareff were watching the scene unfold.
"......O Prophet, what should we do now?"
"......"
Even at Munareff's question, Lahamod continued to gaze silently at the battlefield.
His mind was extremely conflicted.
'I'm not sure if it was the right choice.'
Regret welled up inside him. Having to withdraw just before fulfilling a long-cherished goal of their doctrine was unbearably painful.
So he kept watching. Just in case, just maybe he could still kill Iraniel.
Iraniel was using just as much power as Lahamod had expected. It was hard to tell whether she was bluffing or not.
'Just a little more...…'
She had already used up much of her energy. If it were him taking such an attack and sustaining such wounds, he wouldn't be able to fight properly.
But the intense holy power was a concern. The darkness he had left behind might have dissipated before it could even drain her energy.
If she wasn't bluffing, then facing Iraniel and the elders together, just the two of them, would be nearly impossible.
To be sure, Lahamod kept observing Iraniel.
Kwaaaaang!
Iraniel still looked unshaken. Like the wind, she moved fluidly, sweeping through the orc horde with ease.
Even the orcs knew just how threatening she was.
Eventually, the great chieftain of the orcs, Grakash, stepped forward.
KRAAAAGH!
The largest and most powerful of the orcs.
Grakash was a savage warrior who had awakened his primal strength through countless acts of slaughter.
His red skin, marked with scars like tattoos, made his ferocity clear.
Kuung! Kuung! Kuung!
Grakash roared with rage and charged at Iraniel.
The pressure from his massive frame felt like it could crush a mountain.
Bulging muscles squirmed beneath his crimson skin, and in his hand, he held a giant axe easily capable of tearing two people apart at once.
The earth shook with every thunderous step he took.
KRAAAAGH!
Leaping like a beast, Grakash swung his axe.
Kwaang!
A tremendous shockwave split the ground. But Iraniel had already dodged the attack.
Without hesitation, Grakash swung his axe again.
Bwoooong!
Another miss. The axe couldn't catch up with Iraniel, who moved as lightly as a feather.
KRAAAAGH!
Enraged, Grakash swung with all his might. It was a blow so powerful it could cleave even a superhuman in two.
Kwaaaaang!
Trees were uprooted, and a storm of dust exploded outward.
Krurrr....
Grakash realized he had failed again. The instinct-driven orc prepared to swing once more.
But Iraniel didn't miss that brief opening.
Pak!
She reached out and placed her hand on Grakash's face.
Her slender hand couldn't even cover half of his massive face, but even so, Grakash didn't dare move recklessly.
He only glared at Iraniel with bloodshot eyes.
Krrrrrrrrrr...…..
As he exhaled roughly, Iraniel spoke.
"It's not because we lacked the power that we left you alone."
KRAAAAGH!
Just as Grakash roared and raised his arm again, a brilliant light exploded from Iraniel's palm.
Kwaaaaang!
With a deafening boom, Grakash's head turned to dust and vanished. His massive, headless body soon crashed to the ground.
Kuwoooong!
Iraniel's gaze was no longer on the fallen Grakash. Her eyes had shifted far off into the distance.
Watching the battle, Lahamod let out a faint sigh.
'I must let go of my regret.'
Apparently, Iraniel still had strength left. Lahamod steeled himself with a bitter expression.
'There are still opportunities left.'
Clinging to a failed effort was unwise. Even if he managed to kill Iraniel here, he wouldn't escape unscathed.
In the end, Lahamod gave up the idea of attacking and turned away.
"Let's go."
"Shall we return to the Holy Land?"
"No. After a failure like this, we can't return."
"Then, where do you intend to go?"
"News of our movement will spread across the continent. Before they prepare, I'll assist with another prophet's mission."
Munareff nodded. Once the word spread, their tricks would no longer work.
It was better to help complete at least one mission still in progress.
Lahamod and Munareff left without further regret.
There was no one left to help the orcs. Not a single one escaped. The orcs were annihilated.
Krurrk.....
Confirming the fall of the last orc, Osval shouted at the top of his lungs.
"Uwooooh! We won!"
"Even that demon ran away!"
"Yeeaaah! Victory!"
The other mercenaries shouted as well.
They truly felt like they had escaped death. Lahamod's display of power had been that terrifying.
Unlike the jubilant humans, the elves wore only sorrowful expressions. They had lost far too many of their kin in this battle.
Still, everyone felt relieved. Had anything gone wrong, they might all have been wiped out here.
Suppressing the blood rising in her throat, Iraniel opened her mouth.
".....You've all worked hard."
The elders and elves bowed their heads slightly. The humans followed suit. No one was an exception.
It was a sign of respect for the great elf who had repelled an overwhelming threat.
Iraniel also bowed her head slightly. A gesture of gratitude to the warriors who fought back the darkness alongside her.
Victory didn't mean the end. Now, the forest had to be restored.
"Move the wounded quickly. Those in good condition, tend to the others."
At Iraniel's command, the elves began moving with perfect coordination.
The Yulian Mercenaries rushed straight to Ghislain. All of them shouted with worried faces.
"Vice-Captain!"
"He's dead, right? He has to be."
"No way the vice-captain's still alive after that. Even monsters should die after this. That's nature's law."
Unfortunately (?) Ghislain wasn't dead. He was being carried on a stretcher, receiving healing from the elven elders.
Yulian hurried over and asked—
"Ghislain! Are you okay?"
"Ahh... of course I am. What about Deneb?"
"Deneb's okay too. She just passed out from overusing her power. The elves are taking care of her right now."
"Good... that's a relief. Let's ask what happened once she wakes up."
Ghislain gave a satisfied smile.
Whether Deneb had awakened to her power or not, he didn't know. But thanks to Deneb, Iraniel had recovered, and Lahamod had been forced to retreat.
It was nothing short of a miracle.
'That's what I call a Saintess.'
At this rate, she deserved to be called one. There were plenty of witnesses.
Of course, she still had a long way to go. Ghislain had seen just how extraordinary Deneb could be—over and over again in his dreams.
Which meant he still needed to confirm her connection to the Holy Stone.
As Ghislain lay there smiling, even while on the brink of death, Kyle spoke.
"This is the first time I've seen you beaten this badly. The enemies must've been really strong."
Osval chimed in from the side.
"The man, Osval! This is the first time I've seen you lose, Boss!"
'If we fought now, I might actually win.'
Osval had a sneaky thought, but didn't dare let it show. Yulian and Kyle were still perfectly fine.
At Osval's comment, Ghislain gave him a look of disbelief.
"What? Who lost? Didn't you see them running away? If they ran, then I won."
"......."
"I mean, I fought them after I was already exhausted, right? I've never lost in a one-on-one."
"...Yeah."
Osval gave him a slightly worn-out expression. Even half-dead, he still talked like that—clear, confident, and shameless.
Maybe he felt the reaction was too lukewarm, because Ghislain reached out and grabbed the staff resting on the same stretcher. But he had no strength to swing it, so his arm just trembled while holding it.
"Agh!"
In the end, Ghislain couldn't hold on and simply laid back down. His pride stung, but there was nothing he could do in this state.
Yulian and Kyle both shook their heads with faint chuckles.
You had to give it to him—his competitive spirit was unmatched. He acted like he didn't care about honor in other matters, but when it came to fighting, losing was clearly not an option.
Noticing their reactions, Ghislain closed his eyes and murmured,
"It's not that I hate losing itself. When I lose, a lot of people die."
It wasn't like Ghislain had never tasted defeat. When he was just a fledgling mercenary, he used to lose all the time—and run away even more.
But ever since his regression, he became someone who couldn't afford to lose.
Because now, he had far too much to protect.
Of course, even aside from that... he just didn't like losing.
'If it's one-on-one, I win every time.'
That belief hadn't changed—from when he became the Mercenary King, to after his regression, and even now in this time-warped past.
His friends, unaware of the weight behind his words, just shrugged and smiled, thinking he was being stubborn about his pride again.
While the battlefield was still being cleared, a new commotion broke out from one side.
"Grand Chieftain!"
Suddenly, Iraniel collapsed, coughing up blood.
Erenes rushed to support her, letting out a scream.
The elven elders ran over and began pouring energy into Iraniel. They didn't even know what was going on—just trying to heal her first.
But Iraniel shook her head.
"It's fine. I'm not injured. There's no need to waste your strength."
"W-what happened?"
To one elder's question, Iraniel answered, looking visibly exhausted.
"Lahamod was watching... so I pushed myself a little too far."
Only then did the elves realize the state Iraniel was in.
On her face—once thought to hold eternal youth—faint wrinkles had begun to show.
Iraniel had burned through her life force just to appear unharmed.
"........"
The elves could only hold back tears, unable to say anything.
Life force, once spent, cannot be recovered. It's like a candle that burns its own wick to stay lit.
In other words, Iraniel had permanently lost part of her power—and shortened her lifespan.
And she had done it without hesitation, to protect her people.
Seeing the sorrow on the elves' faces, Iraniel smiled.
"I've lived long enough. And it's not like I'll die right away, so don't worry too much."
"Grand Chieftain....."
"Go. Tend to the others. I don't need healing."
At Iraniel's command, the elves wiped their eyes and nodded quietly.
She straightened herself and looked around.
She didn't care about the toll on her life. What weighed heavier on her heart was the number of elves who had died.
But what crushed her even more… was the realization that the real war was only beginning.
'The Church of Salvation…'
They had begun to move. And the battles to come would be far larger than anything they'd just faced.
More lives would be lost. Deeper scars would remain.
The thought of that future filled Iraniel with even more sorrow.
And amid that heaviness, her thoughts drifted to the humans who had joined the fight.
'Those humans… sent by the Pope.'
While searching for intruders, she had received a report from Cylan, the external affairs officer. He said there were humans here, under the Pope's orders.
It wasn't hard to connect the dots—these humans who had helped the elves were the ones Cylan mentioned.
'They asked to borrow the Blessing Stone.'
Under normal circumstances, she would never have agreed to meet people with such a request.
But they were now benefactors who had saved the elves. At the very least, she intended to speak with them and hear what they had to say.
She didn't yet know who the leader among the humans was. Once the fallen priest and the black mage recovered, she planned to speak with them first—since they had provided the most help.
'And I'll need to ask why a dark mage was with them, too.'
That part was the most baffling. A dark mage acting under the Pope's orders? That was… an absurd contradiction.
Iraniel looked around again. The humans were grouped together, helping the elves in various ways.
But then, one human stood out to her.
'......Hm?'
A knight in armor was kneeling on the ground, staring blankly into space.
Unlike the others, he wasn't helping organize the battlefield or tending to the wounded.
He was simply… absent, in body and soul.
'I believe his name was… Lionel?'
She had briefly heard the others calling him by that name. He was the one who had stepped up to help with healing earlier.
Judging by his use of holy power, he seemed to be a paladin.
That likely meant he was someone who had received direct orders from the Pope.
Curious, Iraniel approached him and asked,
"Is something wrong? If you're not feeling well, I can help you."
Lionel, still dazed, slowly turned his head.
After staring at Iraniel for a moment, he spoke in a trembling voice.
"M-my holy power…"
"What about your holy power?"
Lionel's lips quivered as he whispered, as though confessing a personal disgrace.
"It's… completely gone."
At those words, Iraniel's eyes widened.
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