After flying high into the sky, Shion peered down at everything below her with an intense, predatory gaze. Her eyes glittered like the king of raptors targeting its prey. The ominous aura she radiated only accentuated her bold, striking features. Spotting a group of paladins without difficulty, she began a swift, precise descent toward them, her speed and intent unmistakable.
Lenard, however, was no ordinary paladin. Born a genius, he had mastered Holy Magic to a degree few could rival. Only those who commanded both Holy and Elemental Magic could claim the title of "Holy Mage," and Lenard had done so with brilliance. To a casual observer, he appeared to be a mere swordsman, hiding his true identity—but his fame as a captain of the paladins continued to grow, founded entirely on his extraordinary strength.
His sword techniques were elegant and fluid. Where Arnauld's style was hard and relentless, Lenard's was soft and precise. Their overall abilities were nearly equal, though Arnauld's tenacity in the heat of battle gave him the edge. Yet Lenard's true specialty lay in his hybrid combat—swordmage techniques blending the power of Holy Magic with his swordsmanship. In these moments, he was not just a swordsman; he became a living weapon of devastation.
Lenard's original vision of battle extended beyond paladin duties. He had always believed that mastering Holy attacks was the pinnacle of strength, and that by integrating swordsmanship with magic, he could achieve a level of power capable of tearing anything apart. This obsession began when he was a child, saved by a hero whose might was beyond comprehension. That single figure had obliterated herds of monsters with a single horizontal slash and defeated Oni many times larger than humans with ease. Lenard's hidden village, drowning in despair, was saved that day. From that moment, he had been captivated by the art of the sword.
Even while mastering magic, Lenard trained daily with a wooden sword, recalling the hero's technique and striving to emulate it. After quickly mastering elemental spells, he left his village and journeyed toward the Ingracia Kingdom, waiting for the opportunity to immigrate to the Holy Empire of Luberios. There, he knew, he would need a certain level of Holy Magic to gain approval. Through rigorous study, he reached the required mastery, earning his place as an apprentice paladin and beginning the path toward greatness.
Now, as Shion's shadow approached, Lenard readied himself, every muscle poised, every spell at the tip of his fingers. The battle to protect Luberios—and to honor the hero who had inspired him—was about to begin.
After that, Lenard had to acquire a contract with spirits as part of his duties as a paladin. The spirits he bonded with were "Light" and "Dark." Outwardly, he feigned innocence, reporting only that he had made a contract with a spirit of light. Darkness, after all, was far from the ideals of a hero, and he had no personal interest in it. Thus, the paladin of light was born: Lenard, a figure of righteous strength and unwavering focus.
Then, without warning, a nightmarish creature plummeted from the sky. The earth beneath it gouged lightly under its impact, sending a cloud of dust billowing into the air. Despite the chaos, Lenard remained calm. His mind worked rapidly as he issued clear directions to his squad, who were already bracing for danger.
The target was circled on four sides by pairs of paladins, forming the framework for a simplified Holy Field. Lenard understood that speed was essential. They had to neutralize this threat quickly, both for their survival and to follow Hinata's orders.
The sense of presence he could detect was overwhelming. Even for an A-rank monster, this creature radiated an abnormal aura. Its power suggested it was among the elite of its nation's forces—perhaps even a demon lord sent to strike them. Lenard's Sensor Magic had been signaling anomalies scattered across the battlefield, and the flow of magic essence here was noticeably strange. This enemy, like those he had sensed before, demanded respect and careful handling.
Letting down their guard would be fatal. Acting swiftly was their only choice.
"Activate the Holy Field around the target!" Lenard's voice rang clear, firm, and decisive.
The paladins dispersed in four directions, immediately raising the holy barrier. It formed perfectly, a compact square with twenty-metre sides, unbreakable from the inside. Though simplified compared to the grand original design, it would still impede attacks passing through it. They could not afford the luxury of perfection here; speed was more important than flawlessness.
Lenard carefully guided each paladin in the pairs to set up defensive barriers. These purification barriers would not destroy the monster, but they created space and control over the battlefield.
Attacks could be launched from outside, but only after evaluating the enemy. A single mistake—attacking a rare monster with reflective properties, for example—could worsen the situation catastrophically.
The tension was palpable, the air heavy with anticipation. Every paladin held their stance, waiting for the signal to strike, while Lenard's mind raced with strategies. They could not underestimate this foe. Every movement, every spell, every slash would have to be executed with precision. One misstep, and the consequences would be absolute.
In the eye of the storm, Lenard's calm determination anchored the squad. He alone understood the true weight of the danger before them—and he would not allow panic to cloud their judgment.
The dust settled and a single figure stood where the cloud cleared. Tall and slender, a woman with black hair that held a purple sheen. Her long hair fell down her back and framed a face that was almost beautiful — until you noticed the single horn sprouting from her forehead. Pale skin showed at the collar of a simple kimono beneath jet-black armor that caught every eye. Those purple eyes swung to Lenard, and the woman spoke.
"My name is Shion. I am the number one servant of Atem-sama. Now then, all of you, my master says this: 'Will you surrender or will you die?' Sensible folk like you should understand what that means. Put down your weapons and surrender!" She emphasized "number one" with a proud tilt as she declared it.
Lenard studied her coldly, measuring the threat. This was no ordinary ogre — she was an Oni, the evolved form of the strongest ogres that had lived long and grown terrible powers. Some Oni could even command natural disasters; some were worshipped like local deities. A Named Oni like this was already on a scale more like a regional guardian than a mere monster. Still, the Holy Empire of Luberios recognized only one true god — Luminus, the spirit-child who had blessed the hero and given holy protection. No local guardian or monster could claim that place in their eyes.
"Silence! You evil monster. We will wipe your disgusting existence from this world!" Lenard barked, and with that he ordered his squad to fire.
"Holy Cannon — all at once!" The paladins obeyed, releasing bolts of concentrated holy energy. If an enemy bore the holy attribute the attack might fail, but monsters could not normally negate holy power. The holy and dark attributes were different from earth, water, fire, and wind; they could not simply be brushed aside. Apart from angelic creatures, Holy Cannon was devastating.
Bolts of holy light converged on Shion from four directions.
She only tilted her head, an impatient line to her mouth. "Is that your answer? I'll kill you, you know?" Her frustration was plain — she had expected compliance, not resistance. The air between them crackled with danger; Lenard and his paladins braced for whatever the Oni would do next.
As Shion asked her deadly question, the massive oodachi appeared in her hands almost as if it had always been part of her. Before the paladins could even react, the enormous blade swept through the air, intercepting the incoming Holy Cannon bolts. Light and energy collided with steel, creating a symphony of sparks and flashes that sent vibrations down the spines of everyone watching. The energy from the holy bolts dissipated across the broad edge of her sword, leaving Shion completely unharmed. Not a single dent marred the blade's surface.
Lenard's jaw tightened. He had faced powerful monsters before — some that could almost match the strength of a demon lord — but this was beyond anything he had ever witnessed. Even the simplest Holy Cannon, empowered by the spirits of light and darkness, should have burned through flesh or broken the weapon. Yet here was Shion, calm and steady, holding back a torrent of energy with nothing more than the swing of her massive blade.
He studied her stance. Despite the sheer weight of the sword and the sheer destructive force it had blocked, she moved like water. Her strikes were fluid, controlled, and precise — the speed and grace of a master swordsman, comparable even to Lenard himself. She adjusted the weapon effortlessly, shifting it to parry and deflect, showing not the slightest strain or hesitation.
Lenard's mind raced. This is… impossible. Even if she is weakened, the precision, the control… the speed! I've trained for years to reach this kind of mastery, yet she wields that weapon with ease. The oodachi itself seemed to hum with energy, resonating with her presence like a living extension of her body. It wasn't just a sword — it was a conduit for power that defied natural limits. The holy energy he had poured into the attack, enough to incapacitate most foes of her class, had been absorbed, reflected, or nullified in a single, sweeping movement.
Even as the Holy Field encasing her continued to pulse faintly, constraining her movements, Lenard recognized the abnormality of the situation. This was not a mere local deity-class monster — she was something beyond, a warrior whose very existence seemed attuned to Atem-sama's power. He could feel the magnitude of that divine link radiating off her, threatening to shatter all his preconceived notions of combat and strategy.
He took a deep breath, trying to steady his racing thoughts. We captured her, yes… but the sheer presence, the control, the speed… I cannot underestimate her. One misstep, and every one of us could fall before the blade even touches the ground.
Even as he marveled at her swordsmanship, his tactical mind worked frantically. Maintaining the Holy Field was their only advantage, but keeping it intact against such a force required precision and discipline. Every paladin had to stay coordinated; any lapse, any falter, could turn their final defensive strategy into dust. Lenard's eyes flicked from one warrior to the next, ensuring each position was held, each formation maintained.
And all the while, Shion stood there, serene and terrifying, her purple eyes sharp and assessing, the massive oodachi glowing faintly in response to her own aura. The air around her seemed to hum with energy, the very essence of a warrior born for battle, her movements defying expectation and challenging every ounce of Lenard's experience.
Even in that moment of strategy and calculation, awe mingled with fear. He could only admit, silently, to himself and to his squad: This is a being unlike any I have faced. This is not just a foe. This is a test of everything we have trained for — and we have yet to even begin to measure the scale of her true power.
The clash was inevitable. The air vibrated with anticipation. Every paladin's heart beat in tense rhythm, waiting for the next move. And Lenard, standing at the center of it all, knew this battle would define not only their fate but also the limits of human courage against the extraordinary servants of Atem-sama.