Shaaahhh!
Shaaahk!
The Greatsword of Destruction swung relentlessly, plant-type monsters pouring in, and white apples falling from above were all sliced apart in a single flash of the blade.
Focus, focus!
Simon's eyes were fixed on only one spot. At the top of the tree, he could see Figaro's startled face.
[You monster!]
As Figaro's arm moved, massive tree trunks whipped about like lashes.
[Impossible! This is a grave blasphemy!]
Simon quickly stepped aside to evade.
"The one who blasphemed against holiness—!"
Simon recalled everything he had seen on the way here.
A village in ruins.
Villagers drained of all nutrients.
And Sasha, buried with only her face remaining above ground.
"—is obviously you!"
A massive slash shot forward, sweeping away both the plant-type monsters and the whipping tree trunks in one go.
'The distance left, drag out everything I have!'
Simon opened the badge-shaped holy subspace, and Akallion leapt out on all fours as if it had been waiting.
Simon climbed onto its back and poured holiness into Akallion's body.
"Let's go! Akallion!"
—Kruoooooooar!
Akallion began to run at full speed.
Simon locked his legs tightly around its torso, leaving evasion and charge to the beast, galloping like a cavalryman as he prepared a new white magic spell.
Thunk! Thunk! Thunk!
More white apples fell.
Simon curled his lips into a smile as he spread a white magic circle.
'Thank you, Professor Farahan!'
Numerous spears of holiness shot into the sky and collided with the falling white apples, forcing them to explode mid-air.
Seeing the first apple explode, Akallion seemed to immediately grasp the danger and cleverly kept outside the radius of the blasts while running.
[Tch!]
Figaro crossed both arms, and once again, tree trunks came flying in.
Simon thrust both arms forward.
A large shield from Defensive Arts unfolded, safely receiving the oncoming trunks and diverting them aside, allowing Akallion to break through in the meantime.
[What in the world are you?!]
Figaro's eyes turned bloodshot. The skill level was such that one could mistake him for an active priest.
'Eighty percent!'
Simon's eyes widened.
He was almost there. He could now clearly see Figaro with the naked eye.
[Damn it!]
Meanwhile, as he saw Simon charging toward him, fear stirred within Figaro.
'Why are the paladins I requested from the Federation so late?!'
Under the Federation's system, if a saint appeared, they were obligated to descend and protect the saint no matter what.
And this, above all else, was the core of Figaro's plan.
They could not criticize the fact that a man like himself had become a saint, because it was the goddess' choice.
The goddess' power must not be doubted, only accepted as it is.
He wanted to make them feel the contradiction.
'But…!'
To surpass the limits of religion, he had chosen science and research. And yet—
'What the hell is that?!'
A monster that could not be explained by theology or religion.
Something that, right before his eyes, mocked all truth.
'I can't give up like this!'
Fortunately, the closer that thing came to his true body, the stronger and more varied the means he could employ became.
Figaro began to prepare white magic.
White magic circles, made entirely of holy flame, spread from various points along the tree's body, and from them, massive tree trunks shot up.
The trunks were all dyed pure white with holiness.
[Go!]
The trunks poured down like a barrage of spears. Simon maintained the Divine Barrier.
Craack!
The first trunk to approach shredded the Divine Barrier like paper in a single blow.
Simon jerked his head to the side, a fine line opening across his cheek as a spurt of blood flew.
The power is on another level compared to before!
Simon immediately dispelled the barrier, grabbed the Greatsword of Destruction strapped to his back, and swung. The pursuing trunks split apart with loud cracks.
[!]
Now it was Figaro's expression that froze.
Even though this entire tree was the body of Sasha, the vessel of the saint, the trunk cut by Simon did not regenerate.
Figaro realized—
If that blade struck directly, even a saint would die.
[Astonishing to a terrifying degree!]
A monster that seemed born solely to kill a saint.
[From the very first day you became a saint,you have been a worthy and fitting enemy!]
Figaro doubled the number of magic circles and drew forth countless reinforced holy trunks.
He, too, was desperate.
Thud!
At that moment, a trunk erupted from the ground and seized Akallion's hind legs. It flung the beast high into the air.
"Stand back, Akallion!"
Simon jumped off Akallion's back and clung once more to the tree's body.
Progress: ninety percent.
Distance remaining: ten percent.
Now, Simon was running alone, a white holy mantle fluttering as he swung the Greatsword of Destruction at anything in his path.
Slaash!
Shhk!
Slaash! Slaash! Slaash! Slaash!
If it moved, he cut it down without leaving a single one behind.
'Huff!'
Now, even his holiness was running dry.
Holiness consumed mental energy more heavily than Darkness. His head throbbed and his vision swayed.
[Monster!]
Figaro shouted in disgust.
"No matter what happens—!"
Simon thrust his free arm back. Holiness flared to life, forming a holy spear.
"I'll take Sasha—!"
Bands of holiness flew in, wrapping around the spear until it took the shape of a drill.
"—and bring her back!"
BOOOM!
With a thunderous roar, the spinning holy spear shot forward.
It was an image he had seen only once before, on a train, now realized in reality.
[Khuh!]
Figaro raised trunks before him as a barricade.
Crash-crash-crack!
The reinforced holy spear tore through the trunks and drove in deep, stopping just short of Figaro's throat by the narrowest margin.
Figaro's breath caught, his chest tightening as he stared straight ahead in shock.
Simon was now right in front of him.
"Distance remaining—!"
Simon charged forward, the greatsword held ahead of him.
"Zero!"
[It's useless!]
Just as Simon rushed in at Figaro, he noticed something strange.
White apples were scattered around the treetop, something impossible to see from below.
[Detonate all!]
From every white apple, a blinding light erupted, followed by a holy explosion.
Kwakwa-kwa-kwa-kwa-kwa-kwa-boooom—!
A blast of white flame meant to purify all foreign matter except the saint himself.
But—
Somehow, Simon was airborne.
'As long as I'm not hit directly by the explosion—!'
Tap-tap.
He landed.
'—I can bear it!'
Compared to the time with Plema, this degree of white flame was nothing.
"Haaaaaaaah!"
Now, Figaro was only a few steps ahead.
Like an arrow, Simon shot forward, readying the Greatsword of Destruction.
[Boy!]
In the final step, he suddenly couldn't move. Looking down quickly, he saw that a tree trunk had coiled around his waist.
"Ah!"
Figaro was right in front of him!
It was a razor-thin distance, but maybe—just maybe—he could force the cut through.
Simon thrust his front leg forward and swung the greatsword.
Slaash!
A searing pain, like being burned, flared through his right arm.
Simon's vision spun.
'…!!'
A human arm flew high into the air, still clutching the Greatsword of Destruction.
Realizing it was his own arm, an unbearable wave of agony surged over him, making his mind go blank.
'Ghhhk!'
Simon bit his lip hard against the pain, but in that time, tree trunks coiled around his body.
[You let your guard down in the final moment!]
Figaro clenched his fist.
[To think you almost killed me by a single step,I'll commend you for that!]
The trunks began to squeeze with enough force to crush Simon's entire body. If not for Feer's Bone Armor, he would have long been flattened into a lump of meat.
[Boy! You won't last long!]
Feer's Bone Armor creaked and strained, on the verge of shattering. On top of that, his right arm and the Greatsword of Destruction were gone.
'Haa, haa.'
As his consciousness began to fade, Simon saw Sasha's face, positioned beyond Figaro.
She still had her eyes closed, as if unconscious.
'Sasha…!'
Simon stretched out his remaining left hand toward her.
'!'
The moment he touched her—
The space transformed.
No longer the treetop of Figaro, but a pure void. A completely white space. The trees that had bound him were gone, and Simon was free.
[Hello.]
Hearing someone's voice, Simon turned around.
A girl with hair half white, half red, sat upon a throne wearing a colorless dress.
[We've been entangled so much, I thought I'd like to meet you atleast once.]
"You…"
Simon's voice trembled.
"Who are you?"
Her lips curled into a long smile.
'If I were to put it into your human words, you could call me the Essence of Purification.'
That's the Essence of Purification?
She spoke and moved just like a human being.
[This form is an avatar I've manifested, and this place is a mental image I created. How is it? Impressive, right?]
"…There's nothing here."
[This is my interpretation of purification's final state, absolute nothingness. Ah, but enough of that talk.]
She propped her chin on her hand.
[How about making a deal with me, Simon Follentia?]
"A deal?"
The moment she tried to rise from the throne, unseen white chains appeared, binding her tightly.
[As you can see, I'm being held here in an unstable state because of that Figaro fellow.]
"…"
[Sasha and I ended up caught in this puppet show. Disgusting. Revolting!]
Simon drew in a slow breath.
"What's the deal?"
[Set me free. You just have to cut down Figaro.]
Simon looked to his right. Even in this mental space, his right arm was still gone, blood dripping freely.
"Sounds difficult."
She bared her teeth in a grin.
[I'll lend you my power. Just until we get through this situation. How about it?]
Simon couldn't quite understand what she meant.
"I'm a necromancer. Even if the essence of a saint lends me strength, how—?"
[That's an excellent question!]
She even clapped her hands as she laughed.
[You're a necromancer, a legion's contractor, and on top of that, you're a boy! Normally, I wouldn't even glance at you, but ironically—]
Spreading her arms, she smirked.
[You have the 'qualification'!]
"…?"
[You don't know how incredible this is, Simon Follentia!! It's nothing short of a miracle!]
Whatever that meant—
"It's not the time to fuss over means and methods."
Simon lifted his head to look at her.
"I'll accept your offer, Essence of Purification."
Her smile deepened.
[Take my hand.]
She couldn't move, bound by chains.
Simon strode forward and grasped her white hand.
[I'll show you the strongest.]
* * *
The world of nothingness faded, and he returned to the real world.
Simon was still bound by the tree trunks, and Figaro was tightening them around his neck to finish him off.
Nothing had changed or so it seemed.
[!!!]
Figaro's pupils shook.
[No, h-how is this— huh?]
As if panicked, as if forgetting something vital, he frantically patted and searched his own body with both hands.
'…Aha.'
Simon finally understood. The identity of this surging power in his chest.
And the next step was simple.
To release, just a little, of this overflowing power.
Fwoooosh!
From Simon's entire body, a towering blaze of pure white erupted. The trees binding him instantly turned to ash and scattered.
[Why does the saint's power—?!]
Figaro shouted in fury.
Simon's hair turned completely white, lengthening like long locks, undulating like flames. His eyes blazed with brilliant gold, and cloth of white flame wrapped around him protectively.
Fwoosh!
White flame flared at the wound where his arm had been severed, and in an instant, his arm regenerated.
It was the regenerative power of holy flame.
[Khahahahahahahaha!]
Feer roared with laughter.
[Now you toy with the very laws of the world themselves, boy!!!]
Simon reached his newly restored right arm back. In his grasp, an immense mass of white flame rose, solidifying into form.
It was a sword.
An anomaly composed of matter that didn't exist in this world. The pure-white blade was graceful, its edge shaped in curves like flowing fire.
This was the authority Simon could manifest with the Essence's power.
Shhh.
A being who was both legion commander and saint raised the sword.
The blinding, white, burning blade was so massive it could reach the ends of the sky.
And then—
The miracle in the form of a sword descended.
Zhwaaaaaaang!
The white-flame blade passed through, bisecting all creation. Everything within that diagonal line was swallowed by a massive rift of light and burned away.
With just that single strike—
[Kuhhk!]
Figaro's bound body was cleanly severed.
[Ha, haha! Ahahahahaha!]
His upper body tilted. A hollow laugh spilled from his mouth.
His torso struck the branches and fell, his body beginning to disintegrate with a rustling sound.
As he dropped, he reached his hand toward Simon.
The boy with hair like white flame gazed down at him with an expressionless face.
[I—]
Seeing the perfect realization of the blueprint he had dreamed of his whole life, Figaro couldn't think straight.
[I wasn't wrong!]
—A man, accepting the essence of a saint?
—Absurd.
—Please, come to your senses.
How many had scoffed when they heard his ideal?
But look—
In the most perfect appearance and form—
It was that boy who had established the saint's power.
[I salute you, legion commander. No—]
His lips moved for the last time.
[First Saint.]